Remembering all those nights made her feel so small. It was just so scary to think about telling him the truth about herself. You are so sweet. He’d never look at her in the same way once she talked to him. Never.
Rafe. He was every hope and dream she’d ever had. He was the answer to every prayer she’d uttered over the last seven years. Please, God, help me. How many times had she wept into her pillow, whispering those words to a God she’d long since decided didn’t hear her? Her life had been a trap. Toward the end, she had nearly stopped praying. Nearly stopped dreaming. Wishes were for fools, she’d told herself, and she’d been far too busy trying to survive.
Then she’d hit bottom. No way out. No way to fight back. No strength to continue the struggle. So she’d run. Straight into the arms of a boxcar bum. Her frog who had turned out to be a handsome cowboy prince.
She gulped to stifle a sob, the highway a swimming blur before her. Sometimes he called her his little angel face. Well, she had news for him. He was the one who was heaven-sent. And if he learned the truth about her, she might lose him. Was it so wrong to hold off and let the days pass in silence? He was the only miracle she was ever likely to get. If she lost him, that’d be it. And, God help her, now that she’d gotten a taste of a life with him, she didn’t think she could go on without him, figuratively or literally. Lonnie had nearly killed her the last time he beat her up. Without Rafe to protect her, what was to stop him from having another go? Next time, he might finish the job.
Maggie took a ragged breath, knowing she couldn’t allow this to continue. If Rafe had said or done something to hurt her feelings, he wouldn’t remain silent and let her go on bleeding. He’d fix things, no matter what the risks to himself. How could she do less? Let the chips fall where they may, she had to tell him. Not later this evening. Not tomorrow morning. She had to do it now.
Minutes passed. Long, agonizing, excruciating minutes. Then, up ahead, she saw the turnoff to the Rocking K. When he turned off the highway, the Expedition bounced over some ruts, jarring her teeth.
“Rafe?” she managed to squeeze out. “Would you mind pulling over? I need to talk to you, and it’s a little hard to have a conversation on rough road.”
He kept driving, his jaw muscle bunched, his lips pressed together in grim silence. Maggie waited. It seemed to her they drove ten miles. In reality, it was probably only two, but every second of quiet seemed years long. If she was going to tell him, she couldn’t let it go until they reached the house. She’d die of shame if Becca or Ryan happened to hear snatches of the conversation, and she absolutely couldn’t take the chance that Heidi might overhear them. At all costs, Heidi was never to know. Maggie never wanted her to feel guilty or indebted to her for what she had gone through to protect her. Never.
“Rafe?” she tried again.
He slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel, shot her a glare, and without slowing down, pulled off to the side of the road. When he finally slammed on the brakes, the Ford jounced and rocked to a jarring stop on the snow-packed shoulder edging the bar ditch.
“You just won’t let it be, will you?” he raged. “Okay, fine. You wanna talk, Maggie? By God, let’s talk. Who starts? You?” He waited a beat. “Oh, that’s right. Little Miss Innocent has no idea what the hell I’m pissed about!”
“I—”
“Shut up!” he snapped, cutting her short. “You wanna play games with me, honey? Well, keep your head down. You’re way out of your league.”
“I’m sorry,” she managed to insert, her voice quaking.
“You’re sorry. That’s supposed to fix everything, right? My heart bleeds. Well, you know what? I’m sick-to-death tired of playing Mr. Nice Guy. So we’ll play this crappy little game your way. ‘Paybacks are hell.’ Isn’t that what it’s called? I give, you pay back. Sounds good to me. I’m so horny, I could screw a knothole right now.”
Maggie saw the pain that lurked behind the anger in his eyes. She wanted to avert her face, to get angry right back for all the awful things he was saying, but she wouldn’t let herself off that easy. This was her fault.
“Would you listen, just for a minute?”
He gave a bitter laugh. “I’m fed up with your bullshit. New game, new rules. A little addition and division is called for at this point. How much do you owe me? Let’s see. There’s the five hundred grand I paid Lonnie.”
Maggie’s breath snagged. “Five hundred what?”
“You heard me,” he rasped out. “Do you think the bastard backed off out of the goodness of his heart? And then there was the money I spent on clothes for you. What did that come to? Dumbass that I am, I never totaled up the tab. Four thousand, five, maybe? Oh, hey, I’ll be fair and cut you some slack. We’ll call it three thousand, five hundred. Then there’s the thirty-seven hundred I blew today. And what do you figure a roof over your head and food in your belly is worth? And the mountain of medical bills, of course.” He fell silent, his glittering gaze fixed on her expectantly. “Quick. You’re a smart girl. Put that calculator brain of yours to work. You’re a lot better with figures than I am. How much do you owe me?”
Maggie couldn’t speak. She just sat there, staring at him, his words barely registering. All she could really concentrate on was that awful, wounded look in his eyes.
“I’ll leave off the food for you and the baby. What the hell. I’ll toss in free board as well and forget the hospital and doctor bills. Off the top of my head, I calculate you’re into my wallet for approximately five hundred and seven thousand. Honey, where I come from, there’s not a piece of ass on God’s green earth worth that much!”
The door handle jabbed Maggie in the back. She realized she had turned in the seat and was shrinking away from him. She straightened, keeping her gaze fixed on his.
“Are you finished now?” she asked. “There’s something I need to say.”
“Am I finished?” He raked a hand through his hair. “Hell, no. Would you be? What’s your going rate these days, Maggie? I hope to God you place a higher value on yourself than when I first met you. A baby bottle and a can of formula?” He gave another humorless huff of laughter. “Five or six bucks, maybe? I’d be dipping for honey until the cows came home and still not get my money’s worth. A hundred bucks a pop. How’s that sound? You’ll only have to spread your legs five thousand and seventy times that way. Divide three hundred and sixty-five days into that, sweet cheeks. Getting laid once a day, you’ll be working off the debt on your back for thirteen years, give or take a few months.”
Maggie felt as if he had slapped her. Both barrels. He was being mean and dirty, no question about it. He made her feel like a piece of trash.
She guessed that was fitting.
“Of course, playing the game your way, you’ll be getting into my wallet every day for those thirteen years, adding to the debt even as you work it off. Living costs being what they are, I think it’s fair to charge fifty bucks a day for your and Jaimie’s and Heidi’s keep. And clothes, of course. Hell, the bottom line, not counting clothes, is that you’ll be hanging around here for twenty-six years or so, and still owe me. Sweet for me, a real bitch for you, but life’s hell. Even worse, I’m older than you are by six years. When my sex drive dwindles, I may only take a crack at you once a week and drag it the hell out until you’re tits up and six feet under!”
Inside the pockets of her parka, Maggie clenched her fists so tightly that her nails lacerated her palms. She knew she had no right to feel angry. But it was there inside her, roiling like acid. Before she could stop herself, she cried, “Is that my cue to run screaming up the road, Rafe?” She drew her hands from her pockets and jerked open her parka, the snaps popping loudly in the silence. “Well, guess again! I’ve been whoring to keep Heidi safe for three years! You really should have stuck to playing Mr. Nice Guy. Trying to play the bastard, you’re the one way out of your league! Compared to Lonnie, you’re a pussycat.”
He jerked as if she had punched him. His burnished face
went pasty, and the mask of anger fell from his features, revealing only the hurt. He stared at her for a long, seemingly endless second. Then, as if a fist drove all the breath from him, he released a ragged sigh and rested his forearms on the steering wheel to pillow his head. “Oh, Jesus, Maggie…” The tendons in his throat became swollen and starkly defined as his face contorted in a tortured grimace. “I didn’t mean it. Please believe that. I didn’t mean it.”
“I know you didn’t,” she said in a voice that sounded distant and off-key. “But I mean this. I’d count myself the luckiest woman alive to work off the debt I owe you for the next twenty-six years. On my back. Standing on my head. Once a day, twice a day. I don’t care. I’d thank God for every minute I was with you. You want me on those terms? Please, say yes. I’ll strip and start paying you back right now!”
His head came up. He turned a bewildered gaze on her. “Say what?”
“You heard me. I stopped feeling terrified of having sex with you days ago. A week or two, maybe. At this point, I’ve moved up to just feeling a whole lot nervous about it, which is something I can handle. There’s only one problem. I can’t in good conscience charge you a hundred dollars a time. Let’s keep it at five dollars. That way, you don’t get ripped off and I have a guarantee you’ll let me stay!”
He blinked and rubbed a hand over his face. As he dropped his arm, he blinked at her again, as if he thought the picture might change if he brought it into better focus.
“I wasn’t edgy about you spending so much on a crib for the reasons you think,” she forced herself to say. “I admit, I was worried about possibly having to pay you back if things went wrong between us. But I never for a moment thought I might be so lucky as to pay you off by making love with you. I was thinking in terms of getting a job after you sent me away and paying you back by the month, a little at a time.” She laughed a little hysterically. “Of course, I didn’t know how much you paid Lonnie. Even working two jobs, I’ll never be able to pay that off.”
He sat erect, his expression still conveying befuddlement. “After I what? Maggie, for God’s sake. Send you away? We’ve covered that ground. All of this because you’ve got some maggot in your brain about me telling you to leave? I’d never do that. Never. How many times do I have to tell you I love you to make you believe me?”
“You love an illusion,” she threw back shrilly, tears rushing to her eyes and nearly blinding her. “Sweet little Maggie, your innocent angel. Well, wake up! I’m not innocent, and I’m sure as hell no angel. Do you remember when I told you Jaimie had no father?”
“Yes,” he said hoarsely.
“I lied.”
“Well, of course you lied. Unless you experienced the second Immaculate Conception, that is.”
“Lonnie is Jaimie’s father.” Maggie felt as if she might vomit. She swung her hand, unable to go on until she gulped. “My stepfather. I slept with him for three years. Whenever he wanted, however he wanted. You name it, I did it. You can’t speak to me like I’m a whore and insult me. That’s what I am!”
He raked his fingers through his hair again, this time pausing to make a tight fist in the strands before releasing them. “How can you say that? A whore? The bastard raped you.”
It seemed to Maggie that the interior of the Expedition had been stripped of oxygen. Black spots danced. Her throat felt frozen. “No, Rafe. Lonnie Boyle never raped me. You’ve believed that because it’s what you wanted to believe, and I was too ashamed to tell you differently.” She watched the incredulous look that slowly came over his face. “He never forced me. Never once. He’s an animal, and his sins are many, but rape is one thing I can’t pin on him.”
A muscle under his eye began to jerk as he gaped at her. The silence between them crackled. Maggie held her breath, mindless prayers bouncing around in her mind, all of them disjointed, none making sense. It didn’t matter. She’d begged God dozens of times to make Rafe not care when she told him, to somehow work a miracle and make him still love her.
Now was the telling moment.
He just kept staring at her as if he’d never seen her before, his dark face frozen with shock. With a jerky laugh, he said, “You were willing, you mean?”
Maggie couldn’t force out a reply, so she merely nodded, watching his face for some sign of his reaction. What she saw was fleeting but soul-shattering. Disgust. He regained control quickly. She’d give him that. But she had seen, nevertheless.
Reaching behind her, she grabbed the handle and threw open the passenger door. Toppling backward off the seat, she grappled to land on her feet on the packed snow. She didn’t pause to close the door. She just ran. Blindly, not really caring where she went, just as long as she didn’t have to see that look on his face again.
Honesty wasn’t always the best policy, she thought wildly, as she struggled through the deep drifts between the trees. She’d told him the truth. She had played fair. And she’d lost. It was as simple and as heartbreaking as that.
Chapter Sixteen
For a frozen instant, Rafe was so taken aback that he couldn’t move. Willing? The images that word called to mind were so contradictory to everything he knew about his wife that he couldn’t credit them.
As the first shock wave subsided, he regained his senses, saw that Maggie was running away from him into the woods, and leaped out of the Ford. “Maggie, get back here!” he roared.
Approximately forty feet away from him already, she whirled to look back, staggering to keep her footing in the deep snow. Even at a distance, Rafe could see the pain that contorted her features. Her stance and the expression on her face brought him reeling to a halt at the front bumper. She looked poised to flee, and he had a feeling one wrong move on his part would be all the impetus she needed. It would be dark soon. The sun was already behind the mountains, and at this elevation, once dusk fell, darkness came with treacherous speed.
“Come back, honey. Please? We’ll talk. We can—”
“No!” she shrieked, bending forward at the waist and pressing a fist to her chest. “I knew you’d hate me if I told you. I knew it.”
“I don’t hate you, Maggie. That’s crazy. I love you. Let’s talk this out.”
If she heard him, she gave no indication. She shook her head wildly. Rafe measured the distance between them, confident that his longer legs would give him the advantage if it came to a footrace. He hoped it didn’t.
“I don’t want to talk. Just leave me alone!” She’d reversed their situation—she had wanted to talk and he’d refused. Now she was the one who wouldn’t communicate. She sobbed again. “Just leave me alone!”
With that, she turned to run, lost her footing, and fell full-length in a drift. As she scrambled back to her feet, Rafe sprang after her. “Maggie, for God’s sake, don’t run off. You’ll get lost!”
She darted away, each step taking her deeper into the woods. Rafe could remember at least a half dozen times over the years when visitors to the ranch had gotten lost out here, the most memorable occurring one summer when a cattle buyer had parked along the road to take a leak. He’d walked only a few feet into woods, just far enough so no one could happen along and see him. When he’d tried to return to his truck, he’d gone the wrong way. A search party had finally found him alive three days later, eight miles from his vehicle.
Rafe crossed the shoulder of the road in two loping strides, tensing to leap over the ditch. As his boot touched ground with his third step, he hit ice where the snowmelt on the road had drained off and refrozen like polished glass. The smooth sole of his riding boot shot out from under him.
He scrambled to keep from falling. The ice was slicker than snot. One of his legs shot forward, the other went backward. He landed hard in a graceless rendition of a ballerina doing the splits. Pain exploded through his groin and lower abdomen. A rock. He had landed on a rock buried in the snow.
He grabbed for his crotch and rolled onto his side in a fetal position. He couldn’t see around the red haze that swam before
his eyes. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t even move except to roll back and forth. Jesus. He was going to die.
The agony held him in a paralyzing grip. For seconds? Minutes? When the pain subsided and his senses started to clear, he realized he had slid down the bank into the ditch and lay in the rushing current of snowmelt. He pushed up on his elbows, dug for purchase, and managed to pull himself out. Once he reached more level ground, a convulsive tide of nausea purged his stomach.
Trembling with weakness, he lifted his head to search the trees. “Maggie?” he called, a little amazed that his voice hadn’t changed to a high-pitched soprano. “Maggie!”
Silence. He rose to his feet and, staggering like a drunk, started after her. Even though it was getting dark, he really wasn’t too worried. He doubted she could be very far ahead of him. Besides, even if it took until after dark to find her, the moon would rise soon. Reflecting off the snow, its brightness would provide fair visibility. Her tracks should be easy to follow. If the trees filtered out the light, he could always go to the house and get a nine-volt torch.
“Maggie! Honey, if you can hear me, holler out and I’ll find you.”
Nothing.
“Sweetheart, I don’t hate you. I love you!” In the dusky light, Rafe missed seeing a low-hanging branch. It caught him across the forehead and almost knocked him off his feet. He swore and executed a drunken sidestep to keep his balance. Now both ends of him were throbbing.
“I don’t give a shit about Lonnie!” he yelled, not exactly in a loving tone of voice. “Maggie, goddamn it, answer me! It’s childish to run off and hide like this. We need to talk this out like two mature adults!”
No answer.
“We need to discuss this!” he cried, his volume inching up another decibel. The words seemed to bounce back at him, diminished and muted. The snow. In places the wind had layered it in gently rounded banks of white nearly as high as his waist. A deep snowpack absorbed sound, and it was entirely possible his voice didn’t carry very far. Could Maggie even hear him? She couldn’t be too far ahead of him, but his calls might not be reaching her.