Page 28 of Mine before Dawn
For a while, there was only the sound of water and the creaking pipes in the walls while she rubbed her face against his rough chest hair like a cat.
Then she continued in a whisper, “I was grateful for my periods, you know.”
His arm was tight around her, like he was barely holding onto control.
“At least while I bled, that monster stayed away from me.”
A murderous rage flashed through him so sharply it frightened even him.
“And then?”
“I got pregnant. I was seventeen.”
She was silent for a while, as if walking through quicksand to find her next words.
“And he died when I was five months along. I prayed to God not to strike me down because I was so happy he was gone. He was an evil evil man.”
James studied her face carefully in the low light. Her face held no tears now, only a weariness which was born of disappointment and acceptance of her fate.
She gave a small shrug.
“I love Tanay now.” Her fingers toyed absently with one of his shirt buttons lying on the floor nearby. “He kept me alive.”
Then, as if trying the words out in her mind before floating them into the room...
“But when he was inside me…” Her voice was barely audible, shame bleeding from the secret she had told no one else. “I hated him a little. Maybe a lot. That monster put him in there.”
James stroked her hair awkwardly, hurting for her.
“My parents would not take me back.” Her lips twisted faintly. “During the wedding ceremony, the father gives the daughter away. It means she belongs to another family after that. There is no coming back."
She laughed without humour.
“So, when my husband died, I belonged nowhere. His first wife did not wait for the fourteenth day to push me out and close the doors.”
James felt something ugly rise in his chest at the thought of her—seventeen, widowed, pregnant, abandoned.
No wonder she looked at the world like it might turn on her at any second.
“You belong here now,” he said finally.
Asha shook her head against him.
“No.”
“You do.”
Her eyes met his then, uncertain in the dimness.
James brushed damp hair away from her face with surprising gentleness for such rough hands.
“That was their failure,” he murmured, answering a question she had often asked herself. “Not yours. None of it was your fault.”
For a long moment she simply stared at him as though she did not quite know what to do with his words.
Then slowly, very slowly, her body relaxed fully against him. James held her through the night hours while the rain battered the town outside. Before first light, he crept out like a thief.
Chapter 11
