Chapter 1
"I love you."
Her heart skipped a beat, clenching in pain before hammering frantically in her chest. That always happened when his voice replayed those words in her head.
The train had finally arrived. The Texas Eagle was notoriously late. She'd taken it often enough to know the misery of waiting. This was to be the last time she would ever have to wait for it. This would be her last trip north to Chicago.
Lugging herself up the narrow steps to the passenger compartment of car thirteen, she scarcely noticed the other people that hurried to their seats. His words, whispered in passion during that last night together, played on in her mind until she wanted to scream.
The train had started rolling forward before she realized the woman beside her was speaking.
"I'm sorry?" she said absently to the smiling face in the window seat.
"My name's Miranda DeJaynes," the woman replied. "What's yours?"
"Taren. Taren Gasparini."
"Are you going all the way to Chicago? I'm getting off at Bloomington."
Taren smiled slightly at the older woman. Mandy seemed so happy, her eyes sparkling with irritating merriment.
"Yes," Taren replied softly. "Union Station."
"Business or pleasure?"
Taren was unsure how to answer. The last thing she wanted was to make small talk with a stranger.
"I'm on my way to say good-bye to someone," she murmured.
Her eyes dropped to the old newspaper in her lap as she pretended to read, hoping the woman would take the hint. She wasn't disappointed when Mandy went back to the letter she was writing.
It didn't take long, or maybe it seemed like a lifetime, before the train began to slow. A voice on the PA system announced they would be arriving in Bloomington. Mandy stood, touching Taren's shoulder briefly.
"I can see the loss in your eyes, young lady," she said. "Don't let it eat you alive."
Then the woman was gone. Once the irritation of intrusion had dissipated, Taren thought about the woman's words. She thought of happier times and a startling smile. His impassioned whispers came back once more and she felt her heart fragment a little more.
Tears, bitter and hot, blurred her vision as she stared at the speeding landscape outside the train window. They slipped down her face unheeded. When the train finally pulled to a stop at Union Station, she didn't bother to compose herself before disembarking.
A cab took her to the lake front. It was here that she would say good-bye. The wind whipped her dark hair as she watched the waves crash over the shore line. It was here that she had first met him.
The sun began to set, casting a peculiar glow over the darkening water. Her dreams were tossed like the waves by the cruelty of fate. Salty tears mixed with the spray on the wind, drenching her face and clothing.
Darkness was coming for her, welcomed by the loneliness in her heart. For Taren, the water didn't seem as cold as it did the first time she had waded in — with him at her side. She felt nothing at all when the water lapped at her knees, and then at her thighs.
She didn't struggle when it overtook her, covering her head, pulling her into the murky blackness below.
"Taren," a voice whispered, "what are you doing?"
She opened her eyes, saw him there, his hand reaching out to her. In the water, as she was, she could not answer, could only think her reply: I miss you. Why did you leave me?
"I didn't, love. I'm waiting for you on the shore. You must live, you must swim to shore."
When he disappeared, she kicked furiously for air, breaking the surface to scream out his name in terror and joy.
"Alistair!" she cried, gasping and gagging as she swam with all her strength. "Alistair, I'm coming."
The water pulled at her clothing, threatening to suck her down with each stroke she took. In desperation, she fought against the wind and waves to go back to the man who awaited her. Fatigue began to overwhelm her body, robbing her strength. In those last fleeting moments before giving herself up to death, she took one more breath of sweet air.
"I'm sorry, Alistair," she sputtered.
Two strong arms seized her, hauling her back to the surface and the life-giving oxygen above. She felt his heat, felt the power of his frame pressed to her back. He had come for her at last, had saved her from the blackness of death.
"Alistair," she sighed as he laid her down on the sandy beach, "but they said you'd died."
The lamp, some distance away, did little to illuminate his blue eyes, but they seemed somehow different. His smile was just as brilliant, but not the same one she had last seen six months earlier.
"What were you doing out there?" he asked.
His voice was different, too. His thick Manchester accent was gone. None of it made sense except that he was there and she was no longer alone. She smiled softly, allowing her cheek to snuggle into the palm of his hand as unconsciousness took her away on a blissful, floating dream.
The sun was shining brightly when she woke again. It didn't take long for her to discover that she was dressed in a man's tee shirt and was safely ensconced between the sheets of a comfortable bed.
"You gave me quite a scare."
Her head turned toward the sound of the voice, her eyes focusing on the tired-looking man in the chair beside the bed. She frowned at the stranger, taking a moment to survey the room around her.
"Where am I?" she asked softly.
"My room," he replied, "at the Hotel Allegro."
Her vision flew back to his face. Alarm was evident in the dilation of her wide eyes.
"Who are you?" she demanded. Her hands instinctively clutched at the sheet that covered her, snugging it tightly under her chin.
The grin that split his tired face was startling, lifting his features, giving him the appearance of an impish boy. Leaning forward, he placed his elbows on his knees while he surveyed her from head to toe.
"You'll do," he chuckled, before getting to his feet. "My name's Cord, Cordova Perry. Sorry to startle you, but you're safe enough here. What were you doing out in the water last night? A little late for a swim, wasn't it?"
Taren declined to answer, glaring at him as she continued to clutch at the sheet. He was handsome enough with his dark eyes and amiable grin, but the way he looked at her made her feel like a hunk of meat on a platter.
"Okay," he said, shaking his head. "Who's Alistair?"
The tears started to flow. She felt foolish and miserable and lost. How could she cry in front of this stranger?
Without hesitation, the man sat beside her on the bed, pulling her close to him, stroking her tangled hair. She tried to resist, but all the months of grief had weakened her, wracking her with painful sobs. She felt as if her body were turning inside out.
He said nothing, just held her tight while she cried out her pain. When it was over, she was exhausted and he was soaked with her tears. In an effort to compose herself, she pulled away to settle back against the pillows once more.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, staring at the sheet that covered her. "I don't know what came over me."
"Never apologize for being human," he returned.
His hand touched her damp cheek before he stood to pick up the phone. He spoke into the receiver for a few moments, but Taren didn't pay attention. She was too lost in her own misery and embarrassment.
"So," he said after setting the phone back in the cradle, "I believe we can rule out accident as the reason for your being in the water. Want to tell me about it?"
"You're the one who pulled me out, aren't you?" she asked.
"You don't have to look so disappointed," he said.
"I'm sorry. I don't want you to think I'm not grateful."
"You'll excuse me for saying so, but you don't look all that grateful. You thought I was Alistair, didn't you?" When she only stared at him, he added, "You called me by his name on the lakefront."
"I'm sorry," she said again, casting a glance at the window.
"Stop apologizing," he fairly growled, "and you can forget the window. It's sealed shut."
"I wasn't thinking of jumping," she yelled, sitting upright.
"Ah, so you can get angry," he said, chuckling. "That's a good sign."
"Sign of what?"
"A sign of life. A sign that you have some spirit left."
Taren opened her mouth to let him have it, but a knock at the door interrupted her. She cast a startled glance in that direction, clutching the sheet tightly about herself.
"Just in the knick of time," he grinned, striding confidently toward the door.
Cord admitted a young man in a hotel uniform, bearing a tray. Once the man had deposited what looked to be a huge meal on the serving table, Cord slipped him a few bills and closed the door behind him.
"Breakfast is served," he announced, waving a hand at the table. "Come and get it."
Taren could only clutch tighter to her covering, eyeing him with some distrust.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"Where are my clothes?"
"I sent them to be laundered. They were wet and smelled like Lake Michigan. Let's get you fed so you can get washed yourself. There's a robe in the bathroom. I'll get it for you."
When he returned, he was at least polite enough to turn around while she stood to put it on. By the time she stepped up to the little table, he was holding a chair for her.
"After you eat, we can see what to do about getting you home. So, what's your name?"
"Taren."
Cord froze, staring at her like she'd grown an extra head. Suddenly he didn't look so congenial. Frowning, he took the seat opposite her.
"Where do you live, Taren?"
"I don't ... I'm from Springfield. Why?"
He ignored her question, pulling the lids off food and offering her samples of the copious plates crowding the table.
"I'll see you get home. Eat."
"Please don't trouble yourself," she replied quickly. "I'll get myself home."
"How?" he demanded, staring directly at her. "I found nothing on you — no money or even an ID. No car keys, either. How'd you get here?"
"Train," she said, taken aback by his sudden sharp tone. The man looked positively angry.
"I didn't find a train ticket on you, so I assume you didn't plan to survive your swim."
The man was being insulting and she'd had enough. Pushing back from the table, she clutched the robe closed tightly beneath her chin as she stood. She was embarrassed, angry and hurt.
"Thank you, sir, for your assistance. I'd like my clothes now. I want to leave."
"Sit down," he barked.
"Excuse me?"
"Sit down, Taren. You need food or you'll be ill."
"Why the hell would you care?"
"I don't, except I promised my friend I'd find you and look after you. If I'd known what a weakling you were, I'd never have made that promise to Alistair."
At first shocked, her emotions soon turned to anger. She couldn't believe that he would make a joke out of so much pain.
"What kind of sick game are you playing?"
"Taren Gasparini," he said slowly, watching her eyes. "That is your name, isn't it? I had hoped that your calling out his name last night was just a coincidence, that there was another Alistair that you were yelling for.
"I was there when Alistair had his accident, held his hand while he breathed his last. I told him I'd take care of you, but all I knew was that you always met in Chicago."
Standing, Cord walked to the desk on the far side of the room. From the briefcase sitting on top he pulled something out and walked back to her. What he handed her made her breath catch in her throat. It was a picture of her and Alistair laughing joyfully and mugging for the camera.
"I would have thought he'd have better sense than to hook up with someone weak enough to give up on life," he said.
"What would you know about it?" she hissed, blinking back her tears. "You'd have to have a heart to know what having it broken feels like. He was my world."
"That makes you pretty sad."
"You're a prick," she stated coldly as she turned toward the phone. "Call whoever has my clothes and get them in here now."
"Sit down," he ordered. "I intend to keep my promise."
"You can forget it. I don't want anything from you. I want out of here now!"
"You don't get off that easy," he said, advancing on her. "I'm glad he's not here to see you now. You look like shit. The girl in the picture was a lovely creature, but you look nothing like her. When's the last time you ate something? What did you do to yourself?"
"I died," she screamed, dodging his hand when he reached for you. "I got a telegram in the middle of the night that told me my life was over. He took the best of me with him and I never got to say goodbye, damn it."
"That brings me to another point. If you were supposed to love him so much, why didn't you bother to show at the funeral?"
His question was insulting and it hit too close to home. Her knees betrayed her, refusing to hold her up any longer.
"I couldn't," she said, swamped by the feeling of utter defeat that had been with her since that fateful night.
"Why?" he demanded.
She raised her eyes, beseeching him for understanding, humiliated beyond words.
"He never knew about me, about what my life was like," she whispered. "He was too good for me. I didn't want him to know where I came from. After ... after I lost him, I lost my will to..." Her voice trailed off, leaving a pregnant silence hanging between them.
"Suppose you explain it to me," he said after a long pause.
"What's the use? You don't care and I don't want to talk about it. I just want to get out of here."
"Fine," he growled, snatching the phone from the cradle, "I'll have my car brought around and I'll take you home."
"No, please," she said, suddenly desperate, "I'll get there on my own."
"Don't be a fool. How are you going to get clear to Springfield? I made a promise-"
"I said no, damn it. Jesus, don't you know when to quit?"
"What's your problem?"
"I ... I don't have a home. I don't have any place to go. Are you happy now? Now you know how pathetic I am."
Cord set the phone down again, his frown deepening. Pulling a chair closer to her, he sat down, giving her a moment to compose herself before speaking again. She was shaking from head to toe, her eyes downcast and forlorn.
"Okay, tell me what's happened to you."
"It's really none of your business," she whispered.
"I'm making it my business. I told him I would take care of you. His last thoughts were of you."
Taren struggled against the fresh onslaught of tears that threatened to spill over. It was all she could do to draw a steadying breath and face the man.
"You don't have to keep that promise," she said with conviction. "I release you from it. Just let me be."
"No."
"Why? You've made your view of me quite clear. Why bother?"
"Taren, Alistair knew that you had a somewhat humble background. The man was no fool. That's why he asked me to look after you. How did you end up homeless?"
She laughed. It was a harsh, rasping sound without mirth. Pushing herself from the bed, she walked to the window to stare at the gray clouds that gathered on the horizon. The sky was joining her in mood.
"It's a long, ugly story. Someone like you, with all your advantages, could never possibly understand. I'm just another throw-away, something disposed of because I was inconvenient. When I met Alistair, I never knew what it meant to be loved. He showed me that. When he died, he took my hope with him."
Cord was suddenly behind her, placing a careful hand on her shoulder. She flinched slightly, pulling away as if she'd been burned.
"It can't be as bad as all that," he said, letting his hand drop.
"What would you know about it?" she hissed, rounding on him. "I've been on my own since I was thirteen. That's ten years of struggling to survive. I'm tired. I'm worn out and I just don't want to fight anymore."
"So Alistair was just a means to an end, then," he growled, angry once more. "You were using him to pull yourself out of the gutter."
There was silence. Her body tightened with tension, looking as if she might explode into a million shards at any given moment. What Cord saw was rage in her eyes, a look that threatened death.
"I-loved-him!" she ground out between clenched teeth.
"So you say, but you have a hell of a way of honoring his memory. Look at you. He used to tell me how beautiful you were, how full of life. You look like hell. What is it, drugs?"
She raised her hands, emitting a vicious growl when she shoved with all her strength against his chest. Her attack was useless as he captured her hands and held her at bay with little effort. What little strength she had dwindled quickly, leaving her panting and drained. He pushed her down in a chair, allowing her time to catch her breath.
"You're as weak as a kitten," he said.
"Starvation will do that."
"How long since you last ate anything?"
She frowned as if confused by his question. The tired eyes she turned back to him told the story too well. She'd been hungry for a long time.
"Let's get some food in you," he said as he pulled her from the chair. "You'll feel better and then we can talk about what to do for you."
Taren didn't argue anymore, just ate until her belly ached. Once she was finished, she was exhausted and in need of a nap. When she woke it was to a glowering Cord who watched her from across the room.
"I thought you were going to sleep the day away," he said.
A quick glance out the window told her that she'd come close to doing just that. The sun was shining again, but was hanging low in the sky.
"I tossed your rags in the trash," he said, piling shopping bags on the foot of the bed. "They came back from the laundry looking a little worse for wear. I took the liberty of sending out for a few things for you."
"What choice do I have?" she grumbled, looking at the labels on the bags. He'd been generous, buying only the best.
"I hope they fit. What size do you wear?"
"I don't know," she answered weakly. "I haven't shopped in a long time."
"Which brings me to another point. If you were so broke that you didn't have a place to stay or food to eat, how'd you manage the money to buy a train ticket?"
"I stole it."
"You stole it?" he asked, incredulous. "Any chance the police are looking for you?"
"Not likely. The man I took it from would have a hell of a lot of explaining to do if I opened my mouth to the cops."
"We have a lot to talk about, Taren. Get a shower and get dressed. We'll talk over dinner."
Dinner was a strained affair at a restaurant near the hotel. She felt out of her element, watching the rich people around her as she struggled to maintain her composure.
"You need to eat, Taren," he said, eyeing her critically. "You're too thin."
"Sorry I don't measure up, big guy," she bit back, poking at her food. "Everyone's staring at me."
"It's your imagination. Just relax and eat. Surely Alistair took you to places like this."
"Yeah, but he wasn't glaring at me like I was the enemy."
"Point taken," he said, sitting back in his chair. "I'll try to be more congenial. Will that help?"
"Not much, but it's a start."
"All right," he smiled, "tell me how you got yourself in this predicament."
"'Predicament?'" she said, nearly laughing at his veiled attempt. "Interesting choice of words. So you want the whole sordid story or just the highlights?"
"Oh, I think I'd like to hear the whole thing. No need for secrets here."
"Okay, fine," she began, laying her fork in her plate. "I was born 23 years ago, give or take, to a woman who wanted nothing to do with me. As long as I was around, though, she could draw money from public aid, so she kept me. The man who donated the sperm never bothered to acknowledge me. I found out that he was killed in prison when I was five. With me so far?"
"Go on," he said, nodding curtly.
"Jolene — that's the woman's name — didn't have much time for me. She preferred to go out partying and getting laid by whatever diseased prick that came along. Having a kid around was like throwing water on a flame, so she mostly kept me in a closet.
"When I was nine, she had another baby. I had this baby brother to take care of, but I didn't mind. I liked him. He had a dad, though. His dad took him away and she didn't do anything to stop him. She was glad to be rid of him."
Taren stopped to let the memory of that loss dissipate before continuing, "By the time I was eleven, the men she brought home had started looking at me. She hated me for that. Suddenly she noticed me and the result was not good. She took to beating me. I guess she figured that if my face was messed up bad enough, no one would look at me."
"But they did," he said, the glower returning to his face.
"Oh, yeah. And touched, too. Or at least they tried. I learned to run and I learned to hide. When I was thirteen, though, one of them caught me. Jolene came home to find him on top of me. He nearly got the job done, too, but she stopped him. Then she blamed me for it and kicked me out."
"So you were a kid on the streets."
"Something like that. The grandmother of a friend took me in for a little while. It was nice to be there and I liked it. She was really old and sick, but taking care of her was easy and she liked me. Then one of her neighbors decided that child services should be called in and they took me away from her."
"People should learn to mind their own business," he mused, taking a sip of wine.
"Or step in when it's really needed," she sighed in return. "They put me in foster care for a couple of months, then forced Jolene to take me back. She put me in the hospital a week later. After that was a string of foster homes. No one wanted me. They kept tossing me back. Until the last one, that is."
Her last words were spoken with such vehemence that he felt his own jaw tighten. He watched her eyes as she continued.
"Marvin," she said, "was the ruler of that house. The sick bastard liked to sodomize the kids."
She waited a moment, struggling against the bile that was rising in her throat. There was a hiss of breath whistling between Cord's teeth that did little to help.
"The night he decided to come after me," she continued, "was one of the worst in my life. He was angry because I'd ditched school and the social worker had called. I bled for a week after what he did to me. I decided that I was going to be better off on my own, so I ran away."
"Where'd you go?"
"I lived for a while on my own, on the streets, but there are people out there..." She let her voice trail off, her eyes misting with unhappy memories. When she continued, her tone changed, became more determined. "I headed south, thinking that the warmer climate would be better for someone with no home. That was a mistake. It doesn't matter what the temperature is outside, it's still cold when you're alone. By the time I was sixteen, I had worked my way back to Springfield. I was able to get into a shelter, but it wasn't long before someone started poking their nose into my business again. Apparently, they didn't believe me when I said I was eighteen.
"So I had to run. I got to Jolene's house, made a deal with her. She'd give me a couch to flop on if I got a job and paid rent. So that's what I did. It worked for a while, too, until one of her boyfriends decided he wanted more to do with me than her. He wasn't that bad a guy, was real nice to me, and he never laid a hand on me. Jolene didn't like it anyway and out I went. By that time, I had a good job, one that would let me rent my own place."
"So you finally had a place of your own."
"Yeah. I actually felt pretty good about it. They have these programs, you know? Where kids can get their GED's? Anyway, I got into one of them and managed to get my diploma. I was a pretty good student and I liked school. So I was able to get a job that was a little better. With that I was able to take a night class at the local college. I wanted something better than what Jolene had."
"So what happened?"
"Jolene," Taren said through gritted teeth. "She found out that I was making better than minimum wage and wanted her cut. She showed up at my job, threw a fit. I ended up losing the job because of her. Had to leave school, too."
"How old were you then?"
Taren watched him, noting the darkening of his expression. At this point, she no longer felt like telling the story, but she was determined to finish it. She'd never let anyone know the details she was giving this man and it was cathartic.
"Twenty. The landlord didn't care that I was struggling, not that I blame him. He had a living to make too. I managed to find more work, but it didn't pay enough so I had to take a night job. That meant no more school. I worked hard. I wanted to save up enough to get me out of there and away from Jolene.
"Have you ever been tired, Mr. Perry? I mean really tired, like you want to lie down and die, tired."
"No. Can't say I have."
"Well, you're lucky. It sucks. So I worked hard — eighty hours a week sometimes. I socked away every dime I could get my hands on. Pretty soon I had a few thousand dollars in my account. I decided to move to a city and Chicago seemed like the most logical choice. That's why I was up here. I was looking for work on my only week off all year and met Alistair. I never did find a job that week, but I did find a reason for hope. After that, I sort of lost sight of my goals. I just wanted to be with him."
"That sounds like Al. He could lead a saint astray," Cord grinned, thinking of his old friend.
"Yeah, well, I started taking time off from work to come up here. I wanted to see him, but I didn't want him to see how I lived. It was just this side of squalor. What little I had was secondhand and all of it fit into a two-room apartment. He was so fine and beautiful..."
She ended on a sigh, dashing at a tear that spilled over on her cheek. With a sniff she sat up straighter in her chair, blushing angrily at herself.
"I hate cry-babies," she muttered, clearing her throat. "All I seem to do anymore is cry. Anyway, I wasn't watching out for myself too well. I guess I was too distracted. We met twice a month and I wanted to look good for him, so I spent some money on clothes and the train to get back and forth."
"So that's what happened to your money, huh?" he asked, shaking his head.
"Not all of it. I tried to be frugal. I hunted for bargains and got the cheapest train tickets I could get. Sometimes I bought them months in advance. Most times I could go round trip for less than $50. But, when I was gone, Jolene had one of her boyfriends going through my mail. She found my bank statement."
"So she hounded you for the money and you gave in."
Taren snorted, nearly laughing at his assumption. She shook her head, grabbing her fork to stab viciously at the cooling chicken on her plate.
"You really have a low opinion of me, don't you? No. She stole it, forged my name and everything. By the time I figured it out, the power company was threatening to shut off my lights because my checks were bouncing."
"Did you go to the police?"
"Yeah," she snorted again. "I went to them, and the state's attorney. They didn't care. They had bigger fish to fry. I took it up with my bank and they said there was nothing they could do about it unless there was a witness who was willing to come forward and point the finger at her. She cleaned me out and there wasn't shit I could do about it."
"Taren, why didn't you go to Alistair?" Cord asked, watching her eyes closely. "He would have helped you. I never saw a man so in-love as he was with you."
"I didn't want to," she said quietly. "I didn't want him to know how pathetic I was. How long do you think he'd want me if he knew I was born at the bottom of a trash heap? I shut off my phone to cut expenses and picked up a third job that I could work from home. It wasn't much, but it kept the lights on."
"That must have been why he told me he was so worried about you."
"What do you mean?"
"About a month before the accident," Cord began, resting his elbows on the table as he leaned closer, "he told me that he could only reach you on email. Said he could only talk to you on-line while you were at work. He was concerned when you canceled your phone. I think he knew you were having a hard time."
"He was such a sweet guy," she murmured. "I didn't deserve him. I couldn't figure out why he would want me, but he did. He asked me to marry him."
"Why did you turn him down?"
She sighed, laying her fork gently in her plate once again. Another tear slipped out, spilling unheeded onto the table cloth.
"Jolene. I knew it wouldn't be long before she found out about us. She'd be after him for money to feed all her habits. My mother is a drunk, Mr. Perry. She's mean and nasty and selfish. She doesn't care about anything or anyone but herself and she'd have made his life a living hell. I couldn't do that to him."
"Alistair was a big boy, Taren. He could've taken care of himself — and you, too. He'd have put a stop to her nonsense."
"I couldn't do it to him. He deserved better."
"You did, too, Taren."
His words were spoken so softly that she was afraid he hadn't heard him right. One glance at his face, though, showed a glimmer of sympathy. She was at once relieved and angered by it.
"Well, she was my burden to bear, not his," she stated emphatically. "I just didn't want him to have to deal with her. He didn't give up, though. He kept at me until I finally told him yes — if we could be married in England. I thought if I could get far enough away, she wouldn't be a problem."
"That was just before the accident," Cord said, shaking his head again. "Al was walking on air. Said he was going to marry the prettiest girl in the world."
"Don't start that again," she said. "I know what I look like. I'm underweight, I've aged ten years and I look like a dirtbag. No need to rub it in."
"I wasn't going to say that. I was going to tell you how happy you made the man, how grateful I am that you made his last days the best of his life. I'm curious as to how you ended up on the streets, though."
"I'm not really sure myself," she sighed. "I kind of lost track of things after I got that telegram from Alistair's brother. I think I just climbed inside my own head and got lost for a while. Jolene was at me again, wanted money. She lost me another job. Showed up at my office three days in a row — drunk, as usual. The boss finally had enough and told me I had to go.
"I don't blame him," she added when she saw the expression on his face. "He had a business to run and didn't need some crazy drunk woman causing havoc. Of course my other two jobs just weren't enough to keep me afloat. I sold everything I had worth selling, but it didn't bring much. So I packed what little I had left and walked away. The landlord was about to serve eviction papers anyway. I just figured I'd save him the effort. He put up with a lot from me."
"Why didn't you find another job?"
"What's the use?" she asked. "It wouldn't be enough to get away. As long as Jolene was around, she would spoil everything. And ... and I just didn't care anymore. Let's face it. Once Alistair was gone, my whole reason for being was lost."
"So that's when you decided to rob someone and kill yourself," he said. His eyes told her how much she disgusted him.
"Not even close, Mr. Perry. I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. It's none of your business anyway. I went to Jolene. The winter was pretty hard and I was cold and hungry. I guess I figured she owed me something for all the hell she put me through. Whatever the reason, I was pretty desperate. She agreed to take me in for a few days, but told me I had to be out before her boyfriend got back from some trip he was on.
"That was fine with me. I just needed a bed and some food. But he got back early. He came in when she was out. He was a sick, nasty-looking scumbag. The guy was on something and he didn't care that I wasn't her. He wanted to fuck me and that's all there was to it. So he tried."
"Did he hurt you?"
The vehemence in Cord's voice surprised her. He seemed almost angry about what the man had done.
"Yeah. He beat me up pretty good, but I managed to stop him. I broke Jolene's prize possession, her crappy little TV, over his head. I thought I'd killed him, but he was still breathing. I started to run, but then I got mad. All I've been doing all my life is running. I'm sick of it. It never solves anything and all you get are blisters on your feet. So I decided to go through his pockets. I found a lot of money, $800. I took every last dime and flushed all his drugs down the toilet."
"And then you ran."
"Yep. I took off. I thought about where I should go and what I should do, but $800 doesn't get you very far. One day I found myself at the train station in Springfield with just enough left to get me to Chicago, so that's where I went. I gave the cab driver the last of my cash when he dropped me at the lakefront. You know the rest."
Cord was silent, mulling her words over carefully. His expression was less than charitable, but he no longer looked disgusted at her. He called the waiter over and paid the bill. Without a word, he escorted her from the building. They walked in silence for some minutes before he spoke again.
"The way I see it," he said, "you need several things: a job, a home and an education. I'm prepared to help you with all those things."
"Why?" she asked, stopping in her tracks. "I just told you what kind of person I am. Why would you want anything to do with me?"
"No, you told me the kind of hell that your life's been. That doesn't say anything about the kind of person you are. Truth is, you're a hell of a woman to survive what you have. I think I see what Alistair saw in you. It's that spirit of survival and a need for something better."
She burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably. People stared as they passed, but she didn't notice.
"God, I miss him," she moaned. "I miss him so bad."
"I know, Taren," he said soothingly as he wrapped his arms around her. "I know you do. It seems he was the only bright spot in your life. It must have been rough for you when you lost him."
"I don't want to live without him. I didn't get to tell him good bye. He never knew how much I loved him."
"He knew," Cord said, stroking her back. "He used to talk about it all the time, about how lucky he was. You should say your farewells, though."
"It's too late now," she sobbed. "He's gone and there's nothing I can do about it."
"You leave that to me. I'll take care of it."