For now.
Chapter 36
Now eat your bloody sandwich
Clara
“Well,there’s the makings of a sandwich, love,” said Martha. “But I know you can be a wee bit of a fusspot about how it all goes together. Rafe said you’d prefer if I let you spread the pickle.”
Zach laughed. “Fusspot? More like obsessional.”
I managed a weak smile for them as I took the kitchen stool and sat down. After a few minutes, I realised Zach was still watching me as he made his cup of tea.
“Zach, you don’t have to hover. I’m fine.”
“Can you just eat the sandwich?” he whispered, shooting a furtive look at Martha who was pretending she couldn’t hear us. I could always tell when Zach was stressed. His face would get tight, and he would start rapidly blinking in a nervous tick left over from childhood.
“I’m eating fine,” I told him. “You don’t need to worry about––”
“Rafe saidthat––”
“Oh my God,” I snapped. “Can you pleasenotkeep quoting Rafe all the time? It’s like he’s your new Yoda or something.”
Zach huffed. “It’s not my fault if the man knows what he’s talking about when it comes to you.”
“Yes, Cla-Cla,” put in Ozzie as he ran into the kitchen, kicking the football that technically wasn’t allowed in the house in front of him. Despite the fact he’d only met Zach two weeks ago, they were already fast friends – and he’d immediately picked up Zach’s nickname for me. “I mean, ifDaddysaid that you should eat a cheese and pickle sandwich, then you should really eat it. He can be a bit grumpy if you don’t do what he says. He’s quite bossy.”
I smiled at Ozzie. “You’re right there, your father is bossy.”
“What’s that now?” Rafe’s deep voice sounded from across the kitchen, and I looked up to see him filling the doorway. He was still wearing his long overcoat, as was his habit now. He tended not to take it off until he’d made sure I’d seen him in it. The sneaky bastard.
“Bossy, Daddy,” said Ozzie helpfully. “Superbossy. Sometimes super grumpy if you don’t get your own way.”
Rafe’s eyebrows went up as he strode into the kitchen, scooping Ozzie up for a hug before letting him get back to his football and giving Zach a quick back slap as he walked past to get to me. Then, as was also becoming his habit, he swept my hair away from my face, over my shoulder and kissed me on my temple. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting my own way,” he said against my hair in a low voice, and I suppressed a shiver.
I felt that voice everywhere, from the ends of my hair right down through to the pit of my stomach. Memoriesflooded back of howverybossy Rafe could be and howverymuch he did want his own way, leaving me lightheaded. But then the fog of anxiety settled over me again and those feelings disappeared like smoke.
“Eat your sandwich, darling,” he said close to my ear in that same low voice.
A direct command from Rafe seemed to be almost impossible to resist. When I started slicing the cheese, he gave me a brief side hug as a reward before moving back.
Rafe wasn’t pushing things with me. It was all light kisses and side hugs and unending patience. As big and abrasive as Rafe could be, the mind-bending gentleness and patience he demonstrated with me were so unbelievably attractive I almost couldn’t breathe.
“You’ll feel better once you eat,” he said.
I knew he was right. I’d been losing weight that I really couldn’t afford to lose again. But as Zach put a cup of tea in front of me, my stomach was churning. In order for my appetite to return, I needed to feel safe and, unfortunately, that was still not the case.
Logically, I knew that Rafe’s house was a safe place, but I still had trouble convincing my mind and body of that. To be honest, it was nearly impossible to adjust to the new reality. None of my father’s network were free men. The only ones with even the prospect of freedom were Skinny Pete and Ruben as they’d agreed to testify against the family. The three of us were all snitches now. The irony of Skinny Pete’s threats a few weeks ago was not lost on me.
If my father were ever released, he would be well into his eighties.
It was impossible for me to reconcile this new reality where everything that had terrified me since childhoodhad simply been removed. Even if my father hadn’t been immediately detained that day, there wasn’t much chance of him being a threat to me, seeing as he had a broken wrist, a number of fractured ribs and some facial fractures.
It wasn’t clear how he had obtained these injuries either. The explanation so far was that he’d “resisted arrest”.
I knew exactly how painful a broken wrist and fractured ribs were.
Exactly.
