Deidre looked away. “He was older and stronger and a leader in the community. He kissed me and I let him.”
Laurel’s chest hurt. “In the car?”
Deidre nodded and tears fell onto her chest. “Then I pulled away, and he said I was a tease. He was right—I did kiss him.”
“That doesn’t make you a tease.” Laurel grabbed her mom’s hand, pain nearly turning her vision dark. “Mom. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Deidre swallowed and her entire neck moved as if it hurt to do so. “He wouldn’t stop. I fought him, but he wouldn’t stop.”
Oh God. Laurel bowed her head. Heat blasted through her chest. She was the result of a rape? “That’s why you won’t ride in cars? You can’t be in a vehicle.”
“I know it’s dumb,” Deidre said. “But the second a car door closes on me, I’m right back there, fighting to make him stop.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Laurel asked, knowing the answer even as she asked the question.
Deidre just shook her head. “Oh, Laurel. It’s so confusing. I hate him and what happened, but you’re the best thing in my life and have been since the second I first felt you kick inside my belly. You’re everything, and I only see good when I look at you.”
A fear she hadn’t realized she harbored rolled away from Laurel. “Oh, Mom.”
Deidre wiped off her face. “There’s more. He brought me home, and Carl was outside. Carl saw me and immediately knew what had happened.”
Laurel stiffened. “Then what?”
“Carl went after Zeke, and they fought. Zeke had a knife,” Deidre whispered.
Laurel’s shoulders dropped. “Uncle Carl’s injuries are from Zeke Caine?”
Deidre sniffed. “Besides cutting Carl’s face, Zeke bashed his head against the car. Carl was in a coma for nearly three months.”
Pain seemed to weight the air and Laurel struggled beneath it. “Why?” She tightened her hold. “Why didn’t you tell anybody? Go to the authorities?”
Deidre shook her head. “I was seventeen, Laurel. My parents had died. Zeke came to the hospital and told me he’d kill us all if I said anything.” She wiped her eyes. “The church owned the farm; my parents had just worked the land. Even if Zeke didn’t kill us, and even if anybody would’ve believed me, where would we go? Blake was farming and just married, and Carl was in a coma. So I kept quiet, and I made Zeke sign the farm over to us.”
Laurel blinked. “You did?”
“Yes.” Finally, color slid into Deidre’s face. “I know it’s blackmail, but I didn’t want him or the church to have a hold on us. Carl would need a place to recuperate, and as it turned out, I needed a home for a baby.”
Laurel gentled her hold. “Did he know? Did he ever find out about me?” It’d be nice for him to know her before she killed him for this.
Deidre shook her head. “I don’t know. Our farm is far enough away from the church that I didn’t see him again. On purpose. I gave birth to you here and then home-schooled you until you went to college. Until you and I left town. If he did know, he never came looking for you. Thank God.”
So much for having missed out on having a father. “I’m so sorry, Mom.” Laurel shook her head. “Even so, I have his eyes and hair. How did nobody notice?”
“He was bald by the time he came to Genesis Valley and definitely by the time I met him. As for his eyes, most people never noticed them because he wore contacts or glasses. I only saw his real eyes once, and it was that night. I don’t think any of it was planned. I don’t know why Zeke hid his heterochromia, but he must’ve had a reason. Most people, especially in town, have no idea he has different-colored eyes.” Deidre shrugged. “Most people in the church didn’t know, either. It was a well-kept secret.”
“When Abigail Caine was here the other day, you knew who her father was?”
“Yes. I know who she is, but I wasn’t ever going to tell you,” Deidre whispered.
Laurel stood and leaned over to hug her mother. She kept her hand and pulled her mom along, past the basement stairs, to a square-shaped room with comfortable chairs and multicolored skeins of yarn everywhere. Many assault victims learned to cope by creative means. “You started knitting when we were back east. Was it a counsellor’s suggestion?” She gently pushed her mom into a chair with a heaping basket next to it.
“Yes.” Deidre automatically reached for round needles and the yarn to make a blanket. “I taught you to deal with stress the same way.”
Laurel took the other seat. “It’s a good way. I love you, Mom.”
The needles started to clack. “I love you, too,” Deidre murmured.
Laurel shook her head. “For so many years, you and Carl have stayed out of Zeke Caine’s way. Away from his church.”
