“Shit,” he grumbled.
“Potty mouth,” Karli said from the back seat.
“Sorry,” he replied, almost forgetting sensitive ears were in the backseat.
FROM THE OUTSIDE, THE house was nothing spectacular in Willow’s opinion. The color was desert fatigue tan, wedged in between another home and a big ass tree. The house had two floors of living space and a two-car garage under the structure. Karli and Dusty Rose thought it was the most beautiful place they’d ever seen in their short lives.
“Let me turn off the alarm before you guys get out,” he said, pressing the button to lower the garage door.
Raphael quickly exited the vehicle and punched in the code to disable the alarm. He would have to set separate ones and panic codes for each of his new guests, but right now he wanted to get inside, decompress, and think things through. Initially, his plans had been to drop them off and then run out to get a pizza. Willow suggested calling the order in ahead and picking it up on the way home, which would give the man who had driven eight hours a chance to enjoy being back in his own space.
Willow was astute.
Raphael liked that about her.
He wasn’t certain how much he was going to like having her underfoot.
“Welcome home,” he mumbled, opening the rear door for Karli. He trotted around the car to open the door for Willow as well, who he was grateful had accepted his gift of a pair of sweatpants for her and Dusty. He may be a good man, but he wasn’t dead. At 48 years old, everything worked just fine without the aid of a pill or any rubbing creams.
“Wow, this is our new house? Can I have my own room? Daddy, can we explore the house?” Karli asked, running up the stairs to open the back door. Disappointed to find it locked, she tucked the ugly unicorn under her arm, encouraging Dusty to move faster and Raphael to open the door.
He was struggling with her unicorn suitcase, plus his own things, and weapons which needed to be cleaned before he received another phone call.
“Dusty, grab the pizzas, please,” he asked the eldest girl.
Holding onto his own gear, he struggled to climb the stairs. Willow came behind him, removing much of the load from his arms. “Thanks,” Raphael said, unlocking the backdoor.
“It feels and looks like a row house,” Willow said, taking note of all the beige and tan colors on the inside. Nothing in the house gave any sign of who Raphael Hoyt was other than he was extremely neat.
“The maid comes on Monday and Thursdays,” he told her. “She does have a key, and I will let her know you’re here.”
“A maid?” Willow asked, looking at the large stainless-steel fridge.
“Yes, it helps, with my schedule,” he said, headed for the stairs. “Make yourself at home. There are plates in the cabinet next to the stove. “Check the fridge. Marla also buys groceries. Sorry, Marla is the housekeeper. Excuse me for a minute.”
The girls were already upstairs, deciding which bedroom each was going to take. Raphael simply needed a moment alone. Willow afforded him the quiet time as she reeled in her daughters to help make the salad. As they worked rinsing vegetables, she took the time to climb the stairs herself.
A bedroom facing the rear of the home held a queen-sized bed with a salmon colored coverlet loosely draped across the base of the bed. It had been six years since she’d slept in an actual bed versus the foam mattress in the camper that had sunken in the middle and gave her back fits. The room also held a balcony that overlooked an inlet. From where she stood, she could see the boat Raphael had spoken about tied to the dock outside the back door.
“Hmm,” she said, wanting all of it to be real and not a momentary thing that she would have to give up in a few days’ time. More than anything, she craved a stable home for the girls as well as herself. The bathroom made her sigh. A deep tub with bath jets almost made Willow want to strip down and bypass the veggie pizza altogether, but it had been a very long time since she’d enjoyed the taste of hot pizza.
“Willow,” she heard his deep voice say, “tonight, I would like for the girls to sleep with you in here. They need time to adjust.”
“Okay,” she said softly, touching the edge of the bed.
“The door does lock, but I will place an additional lock on it, for your own peace of mind,” he said.
“Thoughtful of you,” she said.
“I’m also hungry, so let’s get some pizza, find out how the girls are taking all of this, and then we go from there,” he said.
“Be right there,” she told him, walking into the bathroom with bright lights. In the mirror, she stared at a reflection she barely recognized. Thick, tangled hair sat on her head like it couldn’t make up its mind if it planned to be an afro for the day or to scare small children in the rear of a school bus.
Using her fingers, she parted the thick mass, braiding one half, then the other, bringing it to the nape of her neck. She could see her entire face and for a woman of 38 years, Willow liked the way she looked.
“Mom! Mom, come on! We are starving,” Dusty Rose called from the base of the stairs.
Willow quickly ripped away the white sheer dress, leaving the sweatpants and Raphael’s shirt on her body. The life of captivity was over. Today was a new day. Tonight, she would sleep without fear and be ready to tackle whatever the morning would bring. Quickly she washed her hands, drying them on a soft towel, sighing at the idea of a hot soak and soft, fluffy towels to dry her bottom.
“Shit, he may not want me to get used to this because if I do, he will never get rid of us,” she said, checking her teeth and heading for the stairs.
Raphael was waiting for her as well. Immediately, he noticed the two small changes—one to her hair, the other tearing away the white flimsy material—made a powerful statement. Willow had intentionally allowed the ragged edges of the torn fabric to be seen, versus removing his shirt, then taking off the dress. This was her statement to him that she was ready to live. The styling of her hair also sent him the same message, that the woman was ready to live. Six years she had said.
Six damned years without the touch of another person except the girls. Six damned years with no one to talk to but the girls. Six long years of lonely nights without the touch of a man. He gulped hard as Dusty Rose made him wait at the table to be served. Raphael knew at the exact minute on a Saturday evening in late May that the servings were about to get far more bountiful.
It was time to get back on the horse, but Willow Rayne was one filly he couldn’t ride. The timing was wrong. The situation called for him to be her hero, not the man who took advantage of having a lonely woman in his house. The past had a way of climbing on the copier and making a replication of itself.
He wasn’t going to play that game again.
DINNER PROGRESSED NICELY, with the girls unable to sit still long enough to bite or swallow. They wanted to see the beach. They wanted to see the inlet. They wanted to play in the water. They wanted to sleep in their own rooms.
“Daddy, do I get story time tonight?” Karli asked.
“Oh, you were serious about that...I thought you were kidding,” he said, looking at a 10-year-old whom he assumed was too old to be read to at night.
“I wanted to read A Wrinkle in Time, but Him wasn’t able to find it for me,” she said, wrinkling her little forehead. “He ripped apart the copy Mommy had out of meanness, and I knew he was lying about finding me another copy. That man did not value the use of the imagination.”