Chapter 9
Despite the humidity outside left in the wake of the August rain, Gio turns on the heater as he takes us away from those monstrous men and the city of New Orleans.
It helps to dry our clothes, ease the tension in my muscles, and lull Delilah asleep as I hold her in my arms in the backseat of Gio’s car.
I kiss the top of her head as Gio’s words echo through my mind.
There’s a part of me that knows he’s right.
I did everything I could to keep Delilah safe both tonight and every night before.
But, somehow, that truth doesn’t quell the ache in my chest. Maybe I did the best I could tonight, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have tried to escape Clive sooner, before Delilah saw him hit me.
That doesn’t mean I couldn’t have spent our money more wisely so that we wouldn’t have been at the mercy of a shelter and now, a perfect stranger with a gun strapped to his hip, an eagerness to use it, and secrets I’m sure I never want to uncover.
As my weary gaze finds Gio, I know I am forever indebted to him.
It’s a fact I loathe, a debt I can never repay, and yet, I’m grateful to him for saving us and the job and place of residence he’s offered.
Though, as he continues driving through the dark night on a bridge that seems to never end, I wonder where this place is that he’s taking us.
And, as my eyes drift from him to the clock, finding it just past midnight, I wonder when—if—I’ll ever be comfortable enough to join Delilah in peaceful sleep. God knows, I need it.
My head hurts with memories of the day. They are so vivid and a blur at the same time.
The past twenty-four hours feel more like a month than a mere moment.
My feet ache, as do my shoulders from carrying the weight of our forgotten packs.
Perhaps, most of all, my skin itches in each place those men touched me—my neck, chest, ankles, and the space between my legs.
If I wasn’t so tired, I would scratch myself to the blood just to rid myself of the lingering sensation of their touch.
Even still, I’m not sure it would be enough.
No. I will carry the memories of this night with me, just like the ones of Clive and all his many crimes against my flesh.
It’s then that I squeeze my thighs tightly together as if they are a locked door, the key to which I’ve buried somewhere so deep inside me no one will ever find it. I never want to be touched, violated, like that again. Perhaps I won’t.
My eyes find Gio once more. He promised to keep me—us—safe.
And, while I’m not sure why—why he picked me, wants to help me—or even why I believe him.
In this moment, I think I do. Gio Moretti will protect me.
At least, that’s what I tell myself so that I can finally give in to my heavy eyelids and succumb to a long-awaited slumber.
My closed eyes flutter as I rouse from sleep.
Blurry images of a man with dark hair play behind them.
He carries Delilah up a staircase, and I follow, wearily, until collapsing on the last step.
The two of them disappear behind a large wooden door and then he comes back for me.
“Gio, just Gio.” Those words and his voice echo through my mind.
He leans down and scoops me up as if I weigh nothing and the next thing I know…
I open my eyes, groggily so, as sunlight pours into the room. I moan, rolling over amongst the pillowy-soft bedding and wrap my arms around Delilah. Though, as I do, the rest of the memories from the night before flood me and I suddenly realize where we are.
I gasp and push myself up in bed, quickly assessing our surroundings. I was so exhausted and desperate last night I can hardly trust my own judgement in accepting Gio’s offer. Though, finding Delilah and I are safe and alone in the nicest room I’ve ever seen helps to ease my anxious stomach.
Inhaling deeply, I run my fingers over the white comforter.
It’s the softest thing I’ve ever felt. As my body adjusts to the first good night’s rest I’ve had in what seems like forever, I take another breath, and another and another, until I’m forced to cover my mouth to avoid waking Delilah.
I pinch my eyes closed as my cheeks tighten and fresh tears drip down my face.
I cry quietly in utter relief. It’s the same relief I felt last night when I finally woke from my state of shock in Gio’s arms.
No one has ever saved me before. When I met Clive, I thought he was my savior, but I was quickly proven wrong.
But Gio… I uncover my mouth and wipe the tears from my cheeks.
Gio could still prove me wrong. I don’t know him or why he was there last night or why he wants to help me, as he puts it. I know nothing about him and here I am…
“Okay, stop,” I whisper aloud. With an onslaught of anxious and fearful thoughts, I feel my sense of relief drifting away, and I’m not ready to let it go yet.
I want to cling to this feeling as long as humanly possible, because it’s a feeling I don’t know that I’ve ever truly had.
And so, with resolve, I assess the rest of the room and focus on the potential positives of the present rather than the perils of my past.
My eyes drift to the stone walls and the vaulted ceilings framed with wooden beams. They make the room look like something from a fairytale—beautiful and enchanting, yet cozy and homey.
There’s a cream-colored rug jutting out from underneath the bed, an upholstered chair in the corner, and a fancy-looking armoire across the room.
While the furniture is minimal, the room itself is huge.
If it weren’t for the windows on either side of our massive bed, there would be enough room for Delilah and me to have our own.
Speaking of windows, there’s a ton on every wall except for the one with two doors and a large stone fireplace.
Wow! I pull my knees to my chest. Not that I’m looking for a reminder of home, but that fireplace reminds me of the best of the Northwest, although with a French-cottage flare instead of Western.
If this is the guest room, I can’t imagine what the rest of the house looks like.
Although the amount of sunlight streaming in through the sheer linen curtains does pose a slight problem in the morning, I’m truly speechless.
Glancing at Delilah and finding her still asleep, I hop out of bed and decide to do a little more exploring, seeing as I’m sure she and I will spend most of our time here.
We’re not guests. I’m an employee and she is my responsibility, not Gio’s.
I’m sure once my tasks for the day are done, we’ll retreat here.
Which is fine by me. I like the quiet and we’re used to keeping to ourselves.
Although, as I make my way to the three large sets of glass-paned French doors overlooking the back of the property, I think we might prefer the outdoors.
“Oh my gosh.” Behind the house is a garden of sorts.
There are raised wood-framed beds which are currently empty but would make great places for fresh produce or flowers.
They are surrounded by gravel which extends to a sort of courtyard with a wooden farmhouse table and more.
Beyond that are hundreds of trees and, in the distance, I catch a glimpse of something that looks like a walking trail.
Hmm. With such a big house, it only makes sense we’d be on a large piece of land.
And, if I’m remembering correctly, the drive here was long.
Perhaps because there’s not this much natural real estate in the city of New Orleans. “Where are we?”
“Mommy?” Hearing Delilah wake, I return to her. As I walk across the room and sit on the side of the bed closest to her, I catch myself smiling. It almost doesn’t feel natural.
“I’m here, sweetie. Good morning.” I brush her hair from her sleepy face.
The tangles in her hair let me know our next shower will be a long one and perhaps a bit painful.
Although, with our packs abandoned on the street next to the shelter, I’m not sure when that will be.
We have nothing to wear and what point would a shower be if we’re forced to re-wear these filthy clothes?
Honestly, the first chance I get I’m burning this dress.
Once my favorite, now the dingy cream-colored fabric is a harbor of tragedy and torment.
“Where are we?” she asks as she sits up in bed. Her blue eyes widen just as mine did as she takes in the room. I smile as I see the awe in her expression. It reminds me of how she looked at the paintings at Broussard’s and the massive macaroni and cheese Gio ordered for her.
So, maybe I don’t know him. But, since meeting him, we’re smiling again. And that’s something, isn’t it? It’s then that I notice a handwritten note on the bedside table.
Good morning, Darcy,
I hope you slept comfortably and find yourself rested this morning.
I left some shirts for you in the armoire.
I thought you and Delilah might be able to make them work until we get you set up with a few more things.
The bathroom is the door on your farthest right.
You’ll find basic toiletries in the vanity to get you through the morning.
Come downstairs whenever you’re ready for breakfast. That is, if I haven’t burned the house down by then.
- G
Gio’s words tug at my lips. Looks like we’ll get that shower after all.
It’s then that I look at Delilah and say, a bit reluctantly, but still, “We’re home.
” The truth is, I don’t know how long this arrangement with Gio will last. I know he’s up to something shady.
He has to be. And, while I have enough of my own problems to worry about his, if his problems threaten Delilah’s safety, then we’ll have no choice but to leave.
That is, if he’ll let us. He killed three people last night, and I witnessed it.
What if—? No. I won’t let myself think of this place as another prison.
For my own sanity and after everything I did to escape Clive, I can’t.
But I suppose only time will tell. Are we home?
Or have we traded one master for another?