Chapter Seven
Monique awakened to the sound of a soft rain pattering against the window. She slowly sat up, grateful that her pain was a little less intense than it had been the day before. Her ribs still hurt terribly, but the pain felt more manageable at the moment.
She gazed out the nearby window where the skies were gray with heavy clouds. She wondered if it was supposed to rain all day, not that it mattered to her. She certainly had no place to go.
However, she would like to get a shower today. As long as it wasn’t lightning, she could shower in the rain. But how awkward was that going to be? Her cheeks flushed with warmth as she thought of being naked with Jacque so nearby.
Of course, she knew he’d be respectful, and her shower would go off without a hitch. Besides, despite her intense physical attraction to Jacque, she wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship with him except his friendship, and of course, his protection for now.
She put on the same clothes as the day before, hoping to get out of them after her shower.
As with the day before, she sneaked into the bathroom to wash her teeth and brush her hair.
Minutes later she left the bedroom and stepped into the living area where she saw him seated at the table with a cup of coffee in front of him.
For a moment he didn’t seem to hear her approach. His focus was directed out the nearby window. She took the moment to study him. He was such a handsome man and seemed to be so unaware of his own attractiveness.
Why had he chosen this solitary life for himself? Why wasn’t an intelligent, handsome man like him married? What in his life had stolen his smiles? His laughter and joy?
She must have made a noise for his head suddenly swiveled around to look at her. “Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning,” he replied. “You sneaked up on me.” He started to get up from the table, but she waved him back down.
“I can get my own coffee. All you need to do is point me to the cabinet with the cups.”
“On the right side of the sink.”
She opened the cabinet and pulled down one of the coffee mugs. She poured herself a cup and added a teaspoon of sugar from the sugar bowl on the counter. She then carried her cup to the table and sat across from him.
“I didn’t know it was supposed to rain this morning,” she said as she wrapped her fingers around the warmth of her mug.
“According to the weather report, it’s going to be like this all day long,” he replied.
“I hate gray, rainy days,” she said. “It’s like the whole world is frowning.”
“Just think about how good the rain is for the trees and plants,” he countered.
“Oh, I know rain is good, I just wish it would rain only at night and then the sun would be bright by morning,” she replied.
He cast her a half grin. “When you’re in charge of the world, you can make that happen.”
“Ha, if I was in charge of the world, there would be a lot more important things for me to take care of than when it rained,” she replied.
“You’re obviously feeling a bit better this morning. You look a little better except for that colorful bruise on your chin,” he said.
She reached up and touched the sore spot. “I just wish I could have delivered a one-two punch back, but I never got the chance. As far as how I’m feeling, yesterday I felt like I’d been run over by a semitruck. Today I feel like I’ve been run over by a small car.”
“That’s progress,” he replied. “Maybe by tomorrow you’ll just feel like you were run over by a skateboard.”
“One can only hope,” she replied.
“I was thinking of making some pancakes for breakfast. How does that sound?”
“Sounds delicious. Just tell me what I can do to help.”
“You can sit here and stay out of my way.” He got up and stepped over to the kitchen cabinet that held his cookstove.
He pulled it out, then grabbed a box of pancake mix from the pantry closet. While the skillet was warming up, he placed butter and a big bottle of syrup on the table. It didn’t take long before he had a large stack of pancakes ready to serve.
The rain continued to patter against the windows as they ate. They small-talked between bites, discussing favorite breakfast dishes. His favorite was bacon and eggs, and she was partial to cheese omelets. However, they both admitted a fondness for anything that required syrup.
She wanted to talk to him about the people who were still on their list of potential suspects and the few names she had added, but she decided to wait until later in the afternoon. She had a feeling the conversation might irritate him.
“Don’t forget that tomorrow I’m going to work my shift at the store,” she said as he was cleaning up the breakfast dishes.
He turned around to look at her, his green eyes radiating his disapproval. “Are you sure you’re going to be up to it?”
“I need to be there. I need to place a couple of orders,” she said. “It’s important I be there as the manager of the store.”
“The manager?” He looked at her in surprise. “When did that happen?”
She realized she hadn’t told him about her promotion. “It happened on the day that I found the note on my front door.”
“Congratulations,” he replied. “I know how much you wanted it, and I know how hard you worked to earn it.”
“Thank you, I’ve very happy about it, but that’s why it’s important for me to be there. Besides, I want to show everyone that I’m still alive and standing. That’s important to me. I don’t want anyone to think of me as weak. At least it’s a relatively short shift.”
“How short?” He finished with the dishes and gestured her into the living area.
“My shift is from nine in the morning until two.” She sat down on the sofa. At least for now she didn’t feel like she needed a pain pill. She hurt, but at the moment her pain wasn’t overwhelming.
“Personally, I don’t think you’re physically ready for that, but I know not to try to argue with you because you’re a stubborn little…uh…woman.” He sat in his recliner.
She laughed and then winced as pain shot through her ribs. “You’re right, it wouldn’t do you any good to argue with me. However, I do have a big favor to ask you. I’d really like to take a quick shower.”
“No problem. It’s a good time since the rain will help, that is if it’s warm enough.” He explained to her how to turn the water on in the shower. “When do you want to do this?”
“Now, if that’s okay with you.”
“It’s fine by me. I’ll just go get you a bath towel. The soap and shampoo bottles are in the stall.”
“And I’ll go change into a robe.”
Thank goodness she had thrown a sleeveless, terry-cloth short robe in her bag before coming here. She changed into the robe and then met him by the back door where he waited with a huge black fluffy towel.
“The rain has stopped for now.” He handed her the towel. “There are a couple of hooks right outside the stall. You can hang your things up there.”
“Thanks, Jacque.” She stepped out of the door and onto the deck. The air smelled good and fresh as if the rain had washed everything clean. The plants and bushes around the deck looked sparkling green, and it all made her eager to get a shower to make her as clean as the outside world.
The shower was much like the one she had at her shanty.
She hung her towel and then stepped into the square structure and removed her robe.
She reached out and hung it up next to where she had hung her towel.
There was a shelf inside that held a bottle of fresh-scented soft soap and a bottle of shampoo.
The shower felt wonderful despite the water being a bit cool. She washed quickly, still surprised by how many bruises her body sported. They were up and down her legs and all over her ribs. If she dwelled on their presence for too long, she would be a total basket case.
She washed and rinsed her hair, then dried off and put her robe back on. By that time, it had begun to spit rain again, so she grabbed the towel and hurried inside.
“Here, I’ll take that.” Jacque got out of his chair and took the damp towel from her.
“Thanks, I’ll be right back.” She hurried on into her bedroom. She dressed in a pair of lightweight turquoise jogging pants and a turquoise and white T-shirt. It took a few minutes for her to brush out her wet hair and then she returned to the sofa.
“Better?” he asked.
“So much better,” she replied. She offered him a bright smile, but he didn’t return it. Instead, he frowned.
“I couldn’t help but notice the bruising on your legs,” he said, his scowl drawing his dark eyebrows closer together. “I can’t even imagine how badly bruised your ribs are.”
“They are a little black and blue. The bruises on my legs don’t hurt that much,” she replied. “And before you know it, they’ll be gone.”
His scowl eased somewhat. “Are you always so optimistic?”
“I try to be. Mom always told us that we could choose to be either happy or sad. So, most days I choose to be happy. You might try it sometime.”
“How friendly are you with George Trahan?”
She looked at him, surprised by the unexpected question and unsurprised by him ignoring her final statement. “I’m always friendly when we run into each other, but I wouldn’t consider him a close friend of mine. Why?”
“Last night after you went to bed, he came skulking around my back door. He said he was peeking in to see if it was a good time for him to come in and visit with you and make sure you were okay.”
“That’s a bit odd, but George has been a little off ever since his girlfriend tried to kill my sister. Maybe my attack brought back some bad memories, and he wanted to check on me.”
“Maybe,” he replied dubiously. “Or is it possible George killed your mother and he found out what we were doing by eavesdropping at my shanty’s open windows?”
George? Was it possible he had not only murdered her mother but he’d also tried to beat her to death? A small shiver worked up her spine at this thought.