Chapter 4
HAROLD
Icheck Selene’s feet the next day, and they are looking much better. As the doctor instructed, I clean the wounds and change out the bandages, leaving them looser to better allow healing. If she’s grumpy about being kept in bed, unable to get around except to use the outhouse, she doesn’t show it.
I’ve never met someone so full of good. She is always in high spirits, complimenting my meals, appreciating everything she receives to the fullest extent. Nothing in Selene’s world is to be taken for granted.
Do you have a wife at home? she asked me when I first found her, and now it feels as if I do.
She is there when I get home from a long night of work, greeting me even in the pre-dawn, lamenting as I once again sleep on the cot.
But I don’t mind it at all, not if it means she gets to sleep in a comfortable bed after years of resting her head on a bare floor.
I saw the room. Smelled the scent. All she had was a chamber pot and a candle, and little more than a ragged blanket. The pure evil of that man transcends my understanding. If he weren’t dead already, he might have been once the constable found him.
I am not a murderous man. That has never crossed my mind until now, until meeting Selene and seeing for myself what one human being was capable of doing to another—not to mention his own daughter.
Perhaps the evil rotted his heart until it gave out.
Now I spend my time home from work attending to Selene, cooking nutritious meals for her that I hope put fat on her bones again.
I convince her we ought to go into town on Sadie and purchase her some clothes, because mine are much too big.
She can put some weight on her feet without wincing, so the time is as good as any.
But her reluctance to spend my money on something for herself is powerful.
“I can’t accept this,” she keeps saying as we ride into town.
“It’s my pleasure to do it.” I smooth a hand down her shoulder to assure her. “Besides, those clothes are beyond repair. Even after washing, they…”
I trail off, not wanting to say aloud how foul they smell despite the soap and water. But she understands with a defeated sigh.
“I won’t be responsible for stinking up your home. But only the bare minimum.”
“The constable is obtaining the deed to your father’s house,” I remind her. “Once you have that, you will own it. Though there is the lien with the bank.”
She winces. “I don’t want it. I desire nothing to do with that place.”
“Then you can sell what parts belong to you, and if you really wish it, you can repay me.”
Selene sits up straight, nearly bonking me in the nose. “Oh, I could! That’s good, then. Please add the clothes to my tally.”
When she tilts her head to grin back at me over her shoulder, I almost fall off the horse. She has been mostly meek until now, as if afraid of offending, of crossing a line. This playfulness is new, and the mischief in her smile makes my knees go slack.
We reach the tailor and tie up Sadie at the post outside. I open the door for Selene and she peeks inside, as cautious as she still is. Patiently, I wait until she steps through, and I follow her.
“I’ll be out in a moment,” calls the tailor from the back.
The shop is well lit by the big window, showing off pre-made garments in varying styles and colors.
Selene is drawn to the first rack, where a lemon-colored dress hangs, covered in a cheerful pattern.
She plays with the hem, then the neckline.
Stepping in, I lift it off the rack for her and hold it out. “Would you like to try it?”
“I couldn’t wear that,” she says, though it’s easy to hear in her voice how much she would like to.
“What’s stopping you?” I ask just as the tailor emerges. She’s a wrinkled woman with silver hair pulled back in a tight bun, who stands up straighter when she sees Selene.
“And who might this be?” she asks, going right past me.
Selene bends her head. “Selene Mayfield.”
“I knew it!” The tailor snaps her fingers. “The Mayfield girl. Goodness, I haven’t seen you in a long time. Not since you came in as a girl for new clothes.”
Selene squints, like she’s trying to remember but coming up blank.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know your name like you know mine.”
But the tailor doesn’t appear perturbed. “You were much younger. Here, you want to see if this fits? I can always adjust it for you.” She takes Selene by the arm and guides her into the back, chattering the whole way. I decide to sit in one of the two chairs and wait.
Not a few minutes later, Selene emerges in the dress. My breath sticks in my throat at the sight of her, her hair straight and black, her pale skin like ivory against the yellow dress. It brings out the gold flecks in her eyes.
“Lovely,” I say without thinking. Selene covers her cheeks.
“Thank you.” She turns to the tailor. “How much?”
The older woman glances at me from the corner of her eye, and I nod in response.
“I think you should pick out what you want first,” she says to Selene, “and we’ll figure out the rest later.”
Then the tailor whisks her off again, and I am treated to an entire parade of outfits—skirts, dresses, and warm leggings to go underneath them. Selene also settles on two shirts and a jacket, though she fights the jacket.
“I can’t keep sharing mine with you,” I say in a joking tone. “I need it myself.”
Guilt crosses her face, and I regret my words immediately.
“Half off.” The tailor’s stern declaration turns both our heads. “The jacket is half off if you buy the rest.”
“Done,” I say before Selene can interject. I came prepared for this, so I fish out the coins I brought and slide them across the counter. The woman counts them out, all while Selene mutters objections to the amount of clothing we’ve decided on.
Then we’re on our way home, new acquisitions stuffed into the saddlebag. Immediately upon arriving, Selene takes a long bath, then changes into her new dress.
I am stunned by the figure that walks out. She is already putting on some weight, her cheeks softer, her bones less obvious. The dress is loose, but it will fill out as she does.
Perhaps I will cook up some fatty bacon tonight.
“Wonderful,” I say, getting to my feet. Then I reach into my pocket to pull out the tortoiseshell hair clip I purchased while she wasn’t looking, and her eyes get big.
“What is that?”
“For this.” I turn her around, then lift up her hair and bind it with the large clip, keeping it out of her eyes. “There.”
When Selene turns back to face me, her eyes are turning red.
“Thank you.” Her voice is tremulous. “I’m glad it was you who found me in the woods that night.”
I want to bring her into my arms, to comfort her by holding her, but I also don’t want to encroach. She should feel safe here after what she’s been through.
“Me too,” I say. “So I could see you in that dress.”
Though she is crying, her cheeks are pink, and there is a slight smile on her soft lips.
I will hoard every one of them.
SELENE
I don’t deserve this man’s kindness, as easily as he gives it away. Not while I’m keeping such a great secret from him. He ought to know what he’s brought under his roof.
Yet, I am selfish. I like it here in Harry’s home. He’s fairly clean, though once I can get around on my feet better, I get into the dirty corners he seems to have missed and clean them to shining. It is a small house, but sufficient for one man.
Not so sufficient for one woman and one man who are not sleeping in the same bed.
I worry about Harry having the cot every night, but he refuses to trade with me.
“Perhaps we could build another bed,” I suggest. “Something more comfortable, and then I can have the smaller one.”
He quirks a brow at me. “You won’t let this rest, will you?”
I square my shoulders. “No.”
“All right, then,” he says with a sigh. “I’ll ask Nick to make one. He’s the carpenter who lives down the lane.”
Somehow I’ve found myself spending even more of Harry’s money, which sours my stomach with guilt. But I won’t be the reason he wakes up with a stiff back, either.
Then the constable brings me the deed to my house. Now that means I owe the bank a good sum of money—or I find someone to take it off my hands. Not that there are many takers for the cursed house out in the woods.
Harry helps me search for buyers, and we draw up posters together to hang around the township. Eventually, a young man with a wife and small children contacts us, and I offer him an extremely reasonable price so I can be rid of it, broken door and all.
He accepts. The bank transfers the lien, and I make a small sum of money after expenses. Enough to cover my own costs for a few years, at least, which is the most I could ask for. Immediately I pay back Harry for the clothing he bought me, but he refuses to take compensation for the food.
“It’s mine to give,” he says, surprisingly authoritative. Usually he’s softer than this, but he won’t stand for me trying to push him coins across the table. “You can spend your own money when you go to the grocer’s.”
That suggestion cows me again. Going out into the world by myself?
The thought makes my skin itch. The walls of the house are comfortable and quickly becoming familiar.
But I haven’t been out on my own in my life.
Even before he locked me up, Father always went with me to town.
He was protective even before it became obvious that I was an omega.
It was during my first heat at eighteen that he locked me up. It’s too early, he’d said, furious. They’ll find you. Rape you. Torture you.
And I believed him. Even now, what if I went out alone and an alpha caught wind of me? During our heats, anyone can smell it. What if it comes back one day while I’m at the butcher’s?
Harry senses my hesitation and strokes his beard thoughtfully.
“Why don’t we go today?” he asks. “To pick out some food that you would like, too.”
“I like everything you cook!”
His lips turn up at the edges. “I knew you’d say that. But you have to go out of the house sometimes. I know it must be hard for you, after so many years inside.”
I turn away, not wanting him to see the miserable expression on my face, and he scoots his chair closer.
“I promise, the world is not the terrible place your father said it was. There are many good people out there, just living their lives.”
I want to believe him. I want to live in a world where that’s true. But I only have his word versus Father’s.
“Let’s go out together today,” he says, cautiously taking my hand in his big fingers. “Introduce you to some people in town before you try to go out on your own.”
I would much rather read with Harry, maybe complete a few chores. I still remember how to do laundry, and it doesn’t require leaving the cozy little house.
“Fine,” I say, when Harry makes it clear he’s not going to relent. “I’ll go with you.”