Forced to Change Ch. 40

The following morning I sat in a chair in the library with a leather bound copy of Little Women in my hand. I couldn't remember anything about the paragraph I'd just read, reread, and reread again. The words blurred together.

"Katie, are you in here, dear?" Mrs. Donnelly stood in the doorway looking around the large room. "Oh, there you are. I have some hot chocolate. It has almond extract and nutmeg. Lots of whipped cream, too."

I looked up and smiled weakly. "Thank you, Mrs. Donnelly."

"I think you've earned the right to call me Natalie or Nat after all this time." She had a nervous energy without appearing so.

"My father..." I started but couldn't finish the sentence.

"Yes, Kenneth raised you right. But really after everything you've been through you've more than earned the right to call me by my first name." Mrs. Donnelly smiled at me and patted my hand.

I returned her smile and said, "Natalie." After a moment I finished with, "Feels weird."

"Consider it a vanity issue. Mrs. Donnelly makes me feel old, dear." She smiled a knowing smile as she sat in the chair across from me. She handed me the drink and watched while I sipped the chocolate concoction.

"It's very good. Thank you, Natalie," I said. "Still feels weird, though."

Natalie laughed. "Humor an old lady. Now, I know you don't want to talk about what happened yet. Just know you can talk to me. Whenever you're ready."

"I know," I said.

"You've changed so much. You've grown into such a beautiful woman. Mature beyond your years." Natalie clasped her hands in her lap. "I feel like I owe you an apology."

"Why?"

"Well, I stopped talking to you when you really needed someone. I wish I'd been there for you more than I was after your father died. He and I became good friends and then you were so... I wish I could have stopped myself from... Oh, Katie. I shouldn't have let the fact that I thought about PJ every time I looked at you keep me from being there for you." PJ had been her nickname for Paul. Her eyes glistened. "I hated that you came back. That all the other students came back. Everyone but my son."

"What happened to Paul wasn't your fault," I said. "It was mine. He was trying to stop them from taking me. I'm so sorry, Mrs. Donnelly."

"No. Never think that. It's my fault and I know it. If I'd been a better person, I could have been there for you. PJ would have wanted that. He certainly wouldn't have blamed you. I don't. Really, I don't blame you at all." Mrs. Donnelly sighed and shifted in her seat, picking imaginary lint from her pant leg. "At the time he was going to marry you. Did you know that?"

I blinked rapidly, my mind blank. I took a small sip of my drink before I answered. "I had no idea." I leaned my head back against the chair and watched Mrs. Donnelly.

At lot had changed about her over the years. When I first met Mrs. Donnelly she'd been a youthful, creative, energetic, stylish and graceful mom. She encouraged and supported my relationship with Paul from the start. Natalie had aged gracefully since I was in high school, but the youthful, energetic parts of her personality seemed to be missing, as if they'd died with her son.

"I really got close to your father while you were away," I arched an eyebrow at her choice of words. She spoke as if Cantana had been some sort of vacation for me. A part of me didn't want to think about what she meant by 'close.' "Even he wouldn't understand what I did after he died. He knew how hard his death was going to be on you. Kenneth didn't want you to know..."

"What? What didn't my father want me to know?"

"Oh, I swore I'd never tell you. I just don't see how it could hurt for you to know. Not now." Natalie stood up and paced in front of the fireplace. "Kenneth wanted to die. He was in so much pain, and he could see that you weren't ready to let him go. He knew how much you needed him after everything that had happened. He arranged to have himself killed when you weren't there. He had someone assist him with his suicide."

I sat in stunned silence. Bomb number two in the same amount of minutes. I couldn't believe it, though it made perfect sense. I even understood why Jared used my father's middle name. It wasn't a coincidence.

"I loved him so much," I said, and although Mrs. Donnelly probably assumed I meant my father or maybe even Paul, I meant Jared. He'd been honest with me. Always, and once again I'd been proven untrustworthy with his information.

"Please don't hate him for it. He just didn't want you to watch him die. He didn't think you could handle it. Not after Paul," Natalie said.

I thought of the man I'd spent the last week with and I forgave him. I forgave him, but he was gone. He'd left me alone. I couldn't stop feeling my loss, knowing I'd probably never see him again.

"I think I'm ready to tell you," I said after a moment.

"I'm ready to listen," Natalie said and we talked until the hot chocolate was room temperature and the cup half filled.

***

First, Natalie confirmed the fact that it was Mr. Donnelly who had paid to have me rescued. I asked why no one had ever told me. She was cryptic in her response, but once again that was on my father. She finally confessed that he was the one who hadn't wanted me to know. Joe had said as much on the plane ride but I'd been reeling from the fight with Jared.

The only problem I had with that was I couldn't figure out why Joe was mad at Mr. Donnelly. Joe said not to trust Mr. D. but I didn't know why. I imagined the money was a pride thing for my father. He'd felt helpless and humbled asking my deceased boyfriend's parents for my ransom.

"You're in love, dear," Natalie said after I finished my edited version of events from my past week.

"Yes." I smiled weakly. "But what do I do?"

"Well, I don't know. I haven't been in love for a long time," Natalie said sadly.

"But I thought you and Mr. Donnelly..."

Natalie laughed to herself. "I love him. I'm just not in love with him," she said with a hint of bitterness in her tone. "He was dangerous and poor, everything my father hated when I met him as a child. I was naïve, smitten, and bullheaded. But Paul worked hard to earn the respect of my father and our marriage was a good arrangement. He's changed so much. He's not the Latin hunk who swept me off my feet, but I still love him." She sighed. "The saddest part is we haven't shared a bed for years. Since PJ was murdered. He has his indiscretions and I pretend I don't know about the hotel room downtown." She blushed and pursed her lips, having the grace to look embarrassed by her statements. "Listen to me talking about my life as if I have something to complain about."

I smiled and took her hand. "He's a really good man."

"Yes. He is, in a way. He has his dark side, too. Most men do. I really believe things will work out for you and your new man. You just need to have a little faith, dear. If life has taught me anything, it's to hope. Even when hope seems to die just a bit every day. When it feels like there's nothing you can do. When it seems the only option is death. That's when God shows up." She nodded, as if trying to convince herself. "You do survive. You get past any moment and when you look back on it, you go, 'Oh, see right there. That's when it changed. That's when it got better.' But while things are falling apart, it doesn't feel like God is there. That's when only faith can pull you through to the other side. My advice is why don't you pray on it?"

"I know you mean well, but I don't think God cares too much about me." I bowed my head.

"I'd say that God loves you more than you know." Natalie patted my hand again. "Just look at all the things you've survived. Assassination attempts, kidnappings, all of that business in Cantana. You seem to be in the grips of death and yet you survive. Your new beau sounds like a guardian angel to me, dear."

"I guess if you want to look at it that way." I smiled and Natalie laughed.

"Get some sleep, dear. We'll talk more when I get back from Detroit." She stood up and collected the tray from the table we shared.

"Thank you, Natalie. For everything." I felt a bit awkward as Natalie hugged me tight.

"I'm a mother, dear. Even if I don't have my child anymore. That's what I do." She winked at me as she left the room.

***

That night I tossed and turned from my second fevered dream of Jared. I could see his face and feel his body. I ached for my time in the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was proving useless, but I wished I'd never asked to leave when I was awake. In my dreams I hadn't asked for the date. I was still with him and nothing had changed.

Being awake was too painful because I missed Jared so much. I wanted to take back everything I'd said to him in the hotel room. If he honored the things I'd said to him, I'd never see him again. My dreams didn't tell me what to do or how to fix anything. They were pure fantasy, playing out what I wanted with my soul. I moaned as I felt and smelled Jared around me. When I woke up, reality hurt, and the thought that I'd never see Jared again clenched my heart and broke my spirit.

"Katie, are you sleeping?" he asked.

"No," I whispered in response. My heart leapt into my throat as I turned into his arms.

"It's Paul, sweetheart."

I was still happy, I'd missed him so much. "Paul?" My eyes snapped open and then fear poured through my body as I tried to sit up. My mind was disoriented and craving sleep because I craved the fantasy of Jared. I was a broken, self-pitying mess.

"What are you doing? Here? In my bed?" I almost screamed the last.

"I brought you a glass of wine," Mr. Donnelly said while sitting up. "You were tossing and turning so hard, I tried to comfort you."

"Sorry, Mr. D. I just, well. I was surprised," I stated simply.

He crossed to the door and shut it quietly behind him. I reached over to the nightstand and switched on the lamp. I blinked my eyes as the room bathed in soft light.

Mr. Donnelly walked to the edge of the bed and sat down again. "Here," he said, handing me the glass. I tried to smile while accepting it. I was sure I failed miserably and was back to only being able to provide a grimace when I attempted the gesture. The thought made me think of Joe, which made me think of Jared.

Mr. Donnelly seemed in high spirits, as if he had good news to share. At first I was irritated, part of my kneejerk reaction that he'd always been such an ass to me. Knowing he'd paid to have me rescued colored the way I saw him now. Yet Joe's warning warred with the new image. I shook my head and sighed.

"Thank you, Mr. Donnelly," I said quietly, taking a small sip from the glass. The taste was familiar. I didn't remember when I'd had it before, but the wine was sweet and bitter at the same time. My throat felt parched. The wine was a blessing and I took another sip.

It was the first time I had been alone with Mr. Donnelly since I'd arrived back in Michigan. I opened my mouth to thank him for the rescue from Cantana, but then everything clicked. I knew why the wine tasted so familiar. I set the glass on the nightstand with trembling fingers. My mind and body went on full alert as time slowed down.

"Natalie was concerned when you disappeared..." Mr. Donnelly was saying, but his voice sounded as if it reached me through a wind tunnel. Panic filled my body as my heart pounded loudly in my ears. He rubbed his hands over his thighs, his face turned away.

I moved up the bed away from him, searching for a weapon. The glass of wine Mr. Donnelly had brought me had the same stuff in it I was forced to take every day in Cantana. It was the same drug that caused me to be sterile. He continued talking to me and I just nodded, not saying a word or hearing anything he said.

"Where's Mrs. Donnelly?" I interrupted.

Mr. Donnelly turned and stared at me with a look in his dark blue eyes that made my blood run cold. Fingers of ice ran up and down my spine. I remembered too late where Mrs. Donnelly was, and in that moment I wished more than anything that I'd gone with her.

"Spa weekend," he said as I thought it. "She's down in Detroit. She does that. Spends my money—well, her money. It's my money now. Don't you like the wine?"

"It's a bit bitter. Um, I usually prefer white wines." I swallowed hard and tried to smile again. I wondered if Joe had gone with her.

"Hmmm, you prefer white wine. Yes, I did know that about you. You should drink it anyway." He chuckled and sat back on the bed, making himself at home. "Natalie told me all about your little adventure. Doesn't really match what you told the police, though. So I have to wonder exactly what it is you do know, Katie."

"Mr. Donnelly..."

He cut me off with a hard look. "Joe went with her. The staff has the weekend off, too. We're completely alone. Since it's just you and me, I thought now would be a good time to have that talk. Please, Katie. We must stop playing these games." He moved closer to me and I froze.

"Mr. Donnelly, I don't know what you mean," I said, fighting the urge to run screaming from the room.

"Don't you? Don't play coy now. We both know what you are. I knew it the day we met. You seemed so sweet, so young. Your skin was flawless. Such a pretty shade of brown, really. But that's not the truth, is it?" He sighed as his hand reached forward to stroke my cheek. I froze again, not moving a single muscle. He pulled away, as if he'd changed his mind.

"Remember? I asked, 'What's the maid doing sitting at the table?' just to see your cheeks flush. And they did. It was so sexy and incredibly sweet. Delicious." Mr. Donnelly licked his lips.

I finally flinched, either from his almost-touch or the way he'd just described me. Probably the latter. No, both. I'd flinched from both.

"I'm, um, well, so tired." I stretched my arms over my head, pretending to yawn. "Maybe we should save this talk for the morning?" My voice was steady, even as fear pumped adrenaline through my system.

He laughed. "I think now would be better. Make no mistake, this conversation is six years overdue." He moved closer to me on the bed. I only shrank away a little from his advance, even though every cell in my body was primed to run. He had an amused look on his face.

"Mrs. Donnelly would..." I started.

"She hates you, you know. She has ever since you came back from Cantana. She can't stand the sight of you."

"I had no idea." I stood up, putting the queen-sized bed between us. "I'll go home. I'll pay you back for everything. I'll just go home."

"No, you won't. I don't think you could pay me back. Not now. I paid a lot of money for you because of her. Do you have any idea how much I've spent? Come now, Katie." His hand patted the spot I'd just vacated on the bed.

"No." I backed away from him.

"I've earned you, haven't I? I paid for you." He sneered at me from across the bed and stood up.

"Mr. Donnelly, I'm not... I didn't..." I couldn't quite find the words to respond. I would have said thank you, except for the fact that he'd just tried to drug me. I wasn't really sure he would have taken it the way I meant it.

"Six years ago I paid for you. I wanted to tell you, but then that guy kept getting in the way. Jorge wouldn't listen to me. He felt betrayed. It wasn't what I wanted. He did one thing right, didn't he? He made you perfect. The perfect slave. Fitting, don't you think?"

"Asshole!" I felt insulted by his words, though I wasn't sure what the hell he was talking about. I didn't know what Jorge Riaz had to do with our conversation. If everything he was saying was true, he'd been responsible for me ending up in Jorge's hands. My stomach dropped to my feet and I felt sick. I didn't stick around to find out more. I darted to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind me. Then I forced up the small amount of wine, it was a challenge with my stomach's cooperation.

Mr. Donnelly pounded on the door. I felt somewhat safe with a door between us, but the bathroom really wasn't a weapon-friendly place. I looked at the cover on the back of the toilet but dismissed the idea. It was too heavy to hold at the ready. I tried to tell myself to think straight. Keep the panic at bay. There must be a way to get out of this.

I was dressed in a long-sleeved t-shirt and pajama pants, no footwear, on the second story of a mansion, too high off the ground to jump. There was too much snow on the ground to go barefoot, even if I managed to survive the fall.

I started the water running in the sink, then I flushed the toilet, still trying to figure out what to do. Why does this stuff keep happening to me? Really, does God just hate my black ass?

"Katie?" Mr. Donnelly whispered through the door in a way that made my skin crawl. "What's wrong? Don't you want to finish your wine?"

"No, Mr. Donnelly. I'd prefer you leave. I'm tired and I just want to go back to bed. Please leave me alone."

"But I paid for you. You know I paid a lot of money to bring you home," he said.

"And I'm grateful to you for it. I mean, I really appreciate it. Thank you, Mr. Donnelly. Really. Thank you and good night," I said firmly.

"You're welcome, Katie. But don't you want to come out here and thank me properly?"

"Uh, no. Not really. Definitely not."

"Why not?" He tried the door handle and knocked again. "Please come out, Katie. Come finish drinking your wine like a good little girl."

"You're making me very uncomfortable, sir. I'd rather save this conversation for the morning—with Mrs. Donnelly present. You know, your wife."

"I like that, you calling me Sir." He said in a way that defined the word 'perverted.' "You were so disgusting when you first got back from Cantana. Scarred up and unpalatable. You weren't my flawless little girl anymore. I was really disappointed about that. Noel made you suffer, didn't he? I didn't like that at all. What Jorge failed to understand was that you belonged to me. I'm not sure what it is. You're so different now. It's like you're broken, but not. I don't know what changed. You're ready now, aren't you? Ready for me? Please, Katie, come finish your wine."

"Not gonna happen. Go away. Leave me alone," I yelled. I hit the back of the door. I couldn't believe anything he was saying. I was willing to stay locked in the bathroom all weekend if necessary rather than have Mr. Donnelly lay another finger on me.

I had water. There was no food, but who could eat in this situation? Apparently the only person hungry between the two of us was Mr. Donnelly—but not for food or wine. Jared and his creepy stalkery stuff were better than the crazy perverted ass on the other side of the door. I stepped back, shaking my head.

Be a victim or a survivor.

Despite my resolve to survive this latest dilemma, I had no idea what to do. "I'll be out in just a minute," I said, fear vibrating through every word.

"Okay," he said through the door. He waited exactly one minute and not one second longer. "Aren't you coming out now? We really do need to finish our talk. And you need to finish your wine."

"Okay." Two could play the insane game. "I'll just take a quick shower first." I winced the moment the words were out of my mouth. The last thing I needed was for Mr. Donnelly to picture me naked.

"Good. Yes, that's a wonderful idea," he responded, sounding a little too happy.

I searched under the sink for a weapon and found some cleaning supplies. At least one thing felt like it was going right, finally. I breathed a sigh of relief and started the water running the tub, then pulled the opaque curtain closed.

After taking the cap off the bottle of industrial-strength cleaner, I hid behind the door. It was a plan that depended on a few things, but it was the best I could come up with on such short notice with a bathroom lock standing between myself and a psycho. It was an opportunity to take control.