Tragic Beauty (Beauty & The Darkness #1)(29)
He shakes his head and chuckles. “Boy, she was a wild lil’ thing back then. Like one of them feral cats. She’d sneak around and watch you from a distance with the biggest, bluest eyes you’ve ever seen and a mess of hair as white as the sun. But if you looked at her, or smiled at her, or said so much as one word to her, those eyes would get so wide and she’d just run off and you wouldn’t see her for a while. Oh, it took a little time, but she came around. If she wasn’t hangin’ nearby, reading one of her books, she’d be watching Helen play with the horses, or lingering ‘round the workshop while I worked on the tractor, always wearin’ a dress that looked two sizes too big and these little cowboy boots that were never the right size. Sometimes she’d ask a question or have something to say in this voice so soft you wondered if it was just the breeze picking up. And she was really starting to come around, but…” He pauses, and a heaviness sets deep into his eyes. “But after her momma left, she didn’t talk for the longest time. Broke our hearts watching her go through that.”
“Ava said she left when she was nine.”
Ben nods and brings the chair back down with a thud. “And her daddy became the sorriest son of a bitch around. He was angry, all the damn time. He’d drink and get into his rants and break shit, and Helen and I would look over and see Ava huddled under the porch, hiding from him. Or if she wasn’t there, you’d see her running off to the hills, giving her daddy space when he got goin’. She was smart like that, you know. She knew when to keep away from him. Oh, he never hit or nothin’ like that. If we’d a thought that, we’d a stepped in. I even went over one day and made sure he knew that. Didn’t help his attitude towards me none, but I didn’t give a shit. But, for all his ragin’ and drinkin’ and being about as useless as a dull knife, he loved her in his own way.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah, I guess I’d have my doubts too, but when Ava was ‘bout thirteen, I saw a side to him…” He pauses, and by the way his lips press together I know I’m not going to like what’s coming. “She was attacked, walkin’ home from the bus stop on a Friday, by some lowlife driftin’ through town. He had her down in the ditch, fightin’ like crazy when I drove by and scared the fucker off. I tried runnin’ after him, but these damn ol’ legs failed me. When I brought her home, and told her daddy what had happened… I’ll never forget that crazed look in his eyes. He grabbed his gun and was out the door so fast. He spent the entire weekend, day and night, driving ‘round looking for the guy. Was about the only decent thing I ever saw him do for her. No, he loved her alright. If I had to guess though, I’d say she reminded him of what he lost. She looks just like her momma. Beauty like that’s a damn curse if you ask me.”
“Did they ever catch him?” The odd tone of my voice catches the old man’s eye.
“No. They never did.”
He rubs at the scruff on his jaw and lets out a long breath. “Anyway…after her momma left, Helen sort of took her in after that, showed her how to do things, adopted her in a way, as much as her daddy would let us. She got her cleaned up and brushin’ her hair, and taught her a bit in the kitchen, things like that. Taught her how to ride too, which she took to like a fish to water. Loves those damn horses out there. Loves ‘em more than anything. Only time I ever saw her smilin’ was when she was either buried in one of those books, or out ridin’ that little bay mare, Sadie. They was like two peas in a pod. They’d go galloping through the hills, her long hair wavin’ all about. Sweetest thing you ever saw.”
Ben smiles, like he’s remembering, but the smile quickly fades. “Tore Helen to pieces when Ava came over with a note she’d written, asking if she could take Sadie to town for groceries. Here she was, barely ten years old, and she was having to figure out how to feed herself and her lousy-ass daddy. Christ, she was so damn strong, that kid. And it took a while, but over time, she started talkin’ again. Just a few words mind you. Still doesn’t say much.
“Then after Helen passed, and her daddy took ill, and he started needing lots of care, things sort of changed. Oh, she’d come around, to check on the horses, check on me, bring over some food, but…well, it musta been hard on her. What she’s been through in her little lifetime woulda broken most twice her age. And, how she turned out…so good…so kind… My wife hadn’t smiled much since we lost our son, but…she made my Helen’s last years…” The old man’s voice trails off and I see his lips tighten and his eyes turn glassy. I look away, giving him space and needing my own. I know there are no more words coming.
I stand and walk to the living room and see the mess from the fight earlier. Fuck. Just what she needs. Another asshole in her life, breaking shit. I bend over and pick up what’s left of the lamp and set it on the side table, then try to prop the coffee table back on its legs, but it’s a goner. I drag the bouquet of roses out from underneath it, along with a book that fell, splayed open. It looks worn, and old. I look at the spine. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontё. I rub my fingers along the page, then close it carefully, and lay it on the end table with the roses alongside. There’s not much I can do about the wall now, but I’ll make sure it gets fixed, along with everything else. In the middle of the room, I see the red rose lying on the carpet. I pick up the broken stem with both hands and run my fingertips over the petals…the petals that once touched her lips.