Chapter 7 Maya
Maya
Dammit Emma. She convinced me to get out of bed and come to the table for breakfast, promising it would be good for me. Nick sits at the table looking like he just stepped out of a GQ Magazine—the epitome of male perfection. My heart skips a beat.
Glancing down at the hand-me-down clothes Emma gave me, my subconscious eats away at how I’ve never been good enough to have anything nice of my own. Not that I’m not appreciative, because I am, but for once I would love to know what it’s like to feel beautiful in my own skin and appearance.
Judging by my reflection in the mirror, I’m getting smaller by the day. I look like I actually did die and they forgot to tell me.
It’s been days since I last showered. I add it as the single thing on my list of to-dos for the day. After my fit last night, my eyes are somehow more sunken and puffy than normal.
After Mama died, I was forced to wear hand-me-down clothes from our neighbors. Most of them too baggy for my small frame. I was thankful, nonetheless, but Daddy always made it a point to tell me how worthless I was for having to accept handouts from others.
It’s not like I had anyone to impress, even if I was able to find clothes to fit me. I never had time to date, nor did I want to.
More hours at work meant more time away from Daddy and his buddies. After work, I earned extra cash by doing “favors” for my boss’s son, Trevor, and his best friend, Kaleb.
I kept every spare dollar I made in a hole in the sheetrock behind my mattress until I had enough money to take my GED with the plan to get the hell out of Whiskey Rivers one day.
Trevor was nice enough to cover my shift for a few hours the day I took the exam.
Truthfully, I think he felt bad for me and my situation, even if he would’ve never admitted to it.
As much as I had hoped to go to college one day, that just isn’t in the cards for someone like me. When I was little, I wanted to be a nurse, just like Mama, but someone as broken and damaged as myself could never care for others the way she did. Now I just wish I could disappear.
Nick doesn’t look up as I take a seat at the table, holding my arms tightly to my body in attempt to take up as little space as humanly possible. My nerves are so bad I might throw up.
Emma sets a plate of French toast and bacon in front of me. I realize I’m famished when I’m hit with the delicious smell. Hopefully I can hold it down.
Thankfully, Ethan strolls in and breaks the tension radiating between Nick and myself. “Ahhh look what the tide carried in. Good morning, Rivers.” Ethan plops in the chair next to me, pouring me a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice before pouring one for himself.
“Good morning,” I squeak, my cracking voice barely a whisper. Shit. I didn’t add “sir” to the end of that. A flash of panic floods my veins, wondering if I am going to be in trouble for forgetting my manners. I instinctively tense, not daring to look up from my plate.
I wait for a blow that surprisingly doesn’t come. My daddy would’ve had me laid out on the floor by now.
Wait…he called me Rivers. I didn’t give any of them my last name, and I made sure not to have any identification on me the night I jumped into the river.
“How do you know my last name?” I struggle to get out, hoping I’m not stepping out of line by asking this.
“Baby girl, your face is ALL over the news! You’re the new local celebrity. Everyone in the southeast is looking for you.” He bats his pretty blue playboy eyes at me. “Here, look.” He pulls out his phone and shows me a news article.
Local Woman Wanted for Questioning in Explosion That Killed One
My last school picture is plastered on the front with a news article about the explosion that killed my father. They know I wasn’t in the house. My head starts swimming.
Of course they would be looking for me. I’d be stupid to think otherwise. Still, I don’t have any regrets over what I did. For the first time in my life, I feel liberated. He deserved to be wiped from this planet.
“Still thinking of trying to run?” Nick finally speaks, his menacing tone making the hair on the back of my neck rise.
I don’t reply. I don’t know what I am going to do now. I can still run; I could survive on the streets. The house I grew up in was barely more than a rundown shack.
My father used all the bill money for drugs or gambling. Half the time we didn’t have power or water, and unless I was waitressing at the diner, or a friend felt sorry for me, I didn’t eat.
I flinch as Nick tosses some documents my way.
“Nicholas Kane Ryker! Try something like that again and see what happens!” Emma whacks Nick in the back of the head with a newspaper. “Your mama raised you to treat a lady better than that!”
Nicks jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue back with her. “Yes, ma’am.”
Ethan can’t hide his snickering. In fact, he’s now laughing hysterically. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t crack a smile too. Guess we know who rules the roost around here—it’s not Nick.
“Emily Ryker” is the name on the Mississippi driver’s license, birth certificate, passport, and social security card. But the picture is of me. It’s a modified pic of what I’d look like if I was a healthy weight.
“Thank you, but…”
Nick interrupts me before I can finish telling him I’ll be fine on my own. “But nothing. It’s not an offer. You can keep your identity here, but for all intents and purposes, you will be my niece, Emily.” His gaze finally meets mine.
“I’m not staying here. I’ll be fine on my own.” I sit straight, asserting myself. It’s uncharacteristically bold of me to stand up to a man like Nick. He might very well punish me, even if Emma is here.
It wouldn’t be the first time a man’s done that. My father used to let his friends spank me just for fun when I was a child. They held me in their laps and ‘tickled’ me in uncomfortable places. When I tried to fight back or get away, they would hold me down and spank me while laughing.
I shudder. Nick notices but doesn’t bring it to attention.
Nervously, I fidget with my fork, imagining myself stabbing him in the carotid artery if he makes a move in my direction.
I refuse to let him play the part of the creepy uncle.
I will kill anyone who dare lay their hands on me without my permission ever again.
“What are you going to do? Run the streets? Ridiculous. I saved your life, got you a new identity. Congratulations, cupcake, you work for me now.” His face is stern.
“I never asked you to save my life. Whatever kind of work you’re offering, I don’t want it. Your word might be law around here, but this is not my castle and I’m not some Cinderella that needs your charitable glass slipper.” I hold my gaze firm, afraid to look away.
Let him punish me for standing my ground. Better yet, let him put me out of my misery since he won’t let me do it myself.
A grin tugs at the edges of his lips. I blink, fully convinced I’m hallucinating.
It’s still there when I open my eyes. “You start in a few weeks. Until then, you’ll stay at the farm until I figure out what else I am going to do with you.
” He stands and rushes out the door before I can even ask what “the farm” is.
Probably a body farm.
My breathing finally returns to normal. I’ve been holding it since I tried to stand my ground with the totalitarian.
Looking down at my plate, I realize I haven’t even touched my food. Where I was previously starving, the thought of food now sickens me. I let out a shaky breath, in disbelief of myself for not cowering to Nick.
“Don’t look so sullen. You get to work with me, too. That in itself should make you want to agree to stick around.” Ethan gives me a wink and a wicked grin.
“What kind of work do you do?” I give him a lowly smile back. It’s a little better knowing I’ll be working with Ethan; I’m comfortable around him.
“I’m not sure what he’s got in mind for you, but whatever you must be thinking, it won’t be that bad. Nick won’t hurt you, I promise. You’re safer with us than on the streets. Eat up and let’s go to the farm. You’re going to love it there.”
He completely evaded my question.
I can’t lie, the trip to the farm was kind of fun. Ethan had the windows partly down most of the way. The wind was blowing my hair all over the place. I even laughed a few times.
He sang off-key very loudly to most of the songs on the radio. My favorite was when he sang “Backstreet’s Back” by the Backstreet Boys at the top of his lungs.
So often the music we listen to is tied to our emotions. The night of Mama’s accident “The Chain” by Fleetwood Mac was still playing on the radio. The thoughts that must’ve been going through her head that morning haunt me.
I shake them from my wandering mind and focus on Ethan. He looks like he could join a boy band. I don’t see any family resemblance between him and Nick.
Maybe he ended up being his nephew in similar circumstances to my own. He seems happy, definitely not like someone who’s being held captive against their will like me.
We ate lunch at a Mexican restaurant. Other than the diner I waitressed at, that was the first time I’ve been to a restaurant since Mama died. It’s also the first time in several weeks that I’ve been able to eat without worrying or throwing it back up.
Ethan told me about the farm on the drive, but as we pull in I realize his words haven’t done it any justice. The massive plantation-style house has giant ornate pillars adorning the massive wraparound porch.
“Nick’s great-great-grandparents built this place. But now his mom is the only one left other than the caretakers and ranch hands who live here,” Ethan states.
Greek Revival architecture is something I’ve only seen in a book. I knew these houses existed in the south, but we sure as hell don’t have anything this nice in Whiskey Rivers.
The house sits about a quarter mile back from the road with a white wooden fence lining the perimeter. Beautiful horses of all different colors graze on the luscious green grass on both sides of the driveway. Some are even lying down and napping in the sun.
I pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming and will be staying here. This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen in my life.
“What happened to his father?” I ask, hoping I’m not overstepping here. Nerves hit me like a ton of bricks. I don’t belong in a place like this.
“Passed away two years ago in a farming accident. Don’t worry though, you’re safe here. Everyone knows you’re coming and is under orders to make you feel at home.” He gives me a soft smile.
A flock of chickens scatter as we pull up the stamped concrete circle driveway. “Home sweet home,” he says with excitement, jumping out of the car.
My room is on the second floor. I have to climb a huge hardwood grand staircase to get up here. With every step, I’m thankful the only thing I have to carry is the small duffle bag of clothes Emma gave me. I’m still weak from my secondary drowning incident.
In the middle of my room is a huge four-poster bed, similar to the one I slept in at the beach house. The fluffy stark white linens are fit for a king. I’m positive this comforter is down too.
Nick must like keeping things the same. I wonder what it was like for him to grow up here. From the rich wooden floors to the farmhouse décor, it has such a warm, homey feel. Unlike Nick’s cold, sharp personality. But damn if he isn’t devastatingly good looking. My spine tingles at the thought.
I’m curious about what kind of work he is going to force me to do. I whisper a quiet prayer that whatever it is involves staying right here on this farm.
Ethan comes in and plops down on the bed.
“I’m going to stay here with you for a few days and make sure you get settled in alright.
” He stretches, fanning his arms out on the bed.
“I have my own room that’s just down the hall.
If you decide you want to have a slumber party, there’s a home movie theater downstairs.
I’m down for face masks and fluffy pajamas, just don’t ask me to paint my nails. ” He laughs.
I can’t help but crack a smile. Maybe being kidnapped won’t be so bad.