Ryan

"Jeremy, why don't you show Barbara to the guest bedroom on the second floor?"

"Okay!" Jeremy said, jumping down his stool. Barbara followed Jeremy, picking up her skirt so it wouldn't drag on the floor. She was at the bottom of the stairs when she finally turned to me.

"Um- do you mind lending me some clothes?" she asked. "This is not very suitable for sleeping and I'd like to take a shower, so..."

"Oh. Of course," I said, standing up. I'd been staring at her like an idiot and I didn't even think of that. "I'll put them on the bed if you wanna go ahead and shower."

"Thank you," she said and followed Jeremy upstairs. I kept staring, as I'd been doing the entire evening. She looked breathtaking all dolled up in a dress. Barbara was a beautiful woman, but today she was incredible.

I shook my head and stood up. I needed to snap out of it. I'd told her I wasn't looking for a real relationship. And while a part of me was beginning to regret those words, another part knew that I couldn't get entangled with her right now. Not until the situation with Miranda was clear. I had to find a way for Miranda to see her son on a regular basis now that she was clean.

The problem was that sometimes, it seemed like she didn't want to see Jeremy. She didn't even want to make the effort. If she only spent enough time with the boy, she'd see how much she was missing out on. But I would make it work for Jeremy's sake. I would find a way to bring his mother back to his life.

I didn't want him to have a childhood like mine; constantly pushed aside by my parents, always wondering whether I even mattered to them. Whether I was worthy of their love.

Going to my room, I got a change of clothes from my closet and went down to Barbara's room.

We didn't have any women's clothes in the house, so mine would have to do. I should've asked Jordan to bring a change of Jenny's clothes when I picked up Jeremy, but I hadn't thought that far ahead.

The shower was on in Barbara's attached bathroom. I put the clothes on the bed next to her clutch and left.

I shot her a text to meet me downstairs once she was done. I had questions she had the answers to.

After a hot shower, I checked on Jeremy. The boy had started taking his showers on his own around six months ago. Now he was cuddled beneath his blue comforter, already drowsy. I closed the dark curtains and crossed the green rug. The bedside lights illuminated the blue, green and yellow mural right behind Jeremy's bed.

"Did you brush your teeth?" I asked, sitting beside him.

"Uh-huh." He yawned. "Barbara said she likes my room."

"You brought her here?" I asked. Jeremy loved his room. He was the one who chose the jungle theme and most of the colors and decorations, and he was proud of it.

"Yeah. I asked her if she wants to see my room. And she said yes. She told me she'll get me a hammock for my birthday present."

I smiled. "A hammock. That's a good idea. Do you know what that is?"

"Uh-huh. She showed me pictures when I asked. I get to chose the color."

I ran my hand over his silky hair. His eyes were drooping already, but there was a small smile on his lips.

"Will Barbara still be here in the morning?" he mumbled.

"I guess so," I said. "If she doesn't leave early, you might see her when you wake up."

"Okay, wake me up early then," he said, the tail of his words a sleepy mumble.

I chuckled and kissed his hair. He really liked Barbara, and he wasn't the only one. "Goodnight, son."

He was snoring softly when I closed his door and went downstairs. Barbara still hadn't come down. I lit up the fireplace and turned on the coffee maker. I got more blankets from the cabinet in the living room and set them on the couch.

Just as the coffee maker finished the first cup, soft steps padded down the stairs.

"Don't laugh," she said upon seeing the smile on my face. I couldn't help it. She was swimming in my clothes. The hoodie was almost to her knees. Her sleeves and pants were rolled up. Her hair was up in a bun, with a few strands framing her flushed face.

I'd been wrong. She was even more beautiful like this.

"I'm not laughing. Coffee?"

"Sure, thank you," she said, "cream and-"

"And two sugars, I know," he said. We'd been eating together for a few months now, I knew how she liked her coffee.

She went to the fireplace and looked at the wooden puzzles I collected.

"You can touch, you know," I said.

She glanced at me before picking up one of the puzzles and sitting down on the couch. Her small frown turned into a fascinated look as she figured out how to dismantle the tiny elephant. I was also fascinated, not by the puzzles, but by her open expression. It was as if she'd shed a mask. Was it because we were alone, and she now felt safe with me? That thought was heart warming.

I turned off the main lights, keeping the place illuminated by the fireplace's dancing glow, the kitchen's under cabinet light and the floor lamp in the corner.

Armed with two steaming cups of coffee, I joined Barbara and gave her one. She thanked me, took a sip and put the cup on the table. I took one of the blankets and sat on the armchair.

She didn't take her eyes off the wooden pieces as she tried to put them back together. Her skin looked golden under the orange glow, her hair silky honey. I let out a deep breath and settled back in the chair. I felt... peaceful. At home. This was nice.

"This is actually fun," she said, absently. "Did you collect all of them?"

"I collected some. Some I made myself."

She looked up. "You make them?"

I nodded, oddly embarrassed. "I have a little studio downstairs."

Not many people knew of my addiction to making the tiny wooden contraptions. But I found I didn't mind sharing it with her. "Maybe I'll show you later, if you want."

"I'd love to," she said. "That sounds like fun."

She went back to the elephant. It took her a few seconds before the elephant was back in one piece. She sighed, put it back on the mantle and settled down with the blanket around her shoulders.

"Well," I said, "where do we begin?"

Barbara stared at the cup of coffee like it held an answer. She opened her mouth and closed it several times before heaving a deep sigh. It was still odd hearing such a sound from her when she was usually very controlled.

"It happened seventeen years ago." She paused, looking into my eyes, as if searching for something. Then she spoke, "At the time, Eleanor and her father had been living with us for a few years. Well, I think it was a few years, I didn't really have a good sense of time back then..."

Her voice faded.

"You didn't go to school?" I asked.

"I went for the first couple of years. But then a teacher started asking questions because I always showed up dirty. I remember the kids in school. No one wanted to sit next to me because I stank. I think back then I took a shower once every couple of months, at most, and my mom wasn't exactly Mrs. Clean." She shook her head. "Anyway, she switched me to homeschooling after that."

"No one questioned her?" I asked, disbelief coloring my tone.

"You can get away with a lot of shit if no one really cares," Barbara said. "And no one cared enough about a dirty little girl."

The flames played in her eyes, setting them ablaze.

I was furious. How could someone turn a blind eye to a child in that state? I couldn't even begin to fathom what Barbara had had to go through as a child.

"Anyway," she said and took a sip of her coffee, "Eleanor's father was a creepy bastard. He and my mother got along just fine. As messed up as this might make me sound, I was glad that I was no longer alone at home. Having Eleanor with me was a blessing. I was so fond of her. I loved having someone I could talk to and play with; even though she was a few years younger than me.

"We went through a lot. I tried to shield her as much as I could. But I couldn't always do it because..." she stopped talking. Her knuckles turned white around the mug.

"Because?"

"I was mostly chained up in another room," she said.

My head reared back. "Chained?"

She nodded. Putting her coffee on the table, she pushed away the blanket and tugged up one of her pant sleeves. There was a pinkish scar circling her ankle. The color was faded and the skin looked bumpy. She quickly covered it.

"My God," I whispered. How could a parent do that to their own child?

Tucking her legs beneath her, Barbara pulled the blanket all around her, as if needing to shield herself from the memories.

"As screwed up as it is to hear, I was used to their brand of torture," she said. "But one day... one day they went too far."

She took a deep breath and looked at me. "They brought home a man. I guess he paid them to... have some time with us," she said. "He liked little girls."

Bile rose in my throat. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse. I rubbed my face. "What happened?"

"I guess I was a little too old for him. I was eleven back then," she said, swallowing thickly. "So he decided to take a turn with Eleanor first. He wanted me to watch."

She shut her eyes tightly. Guilt punched my guts. I had made her talk about this. "You don't have to-"

"No," she said. "I have to. You should know."

After a few minutes, she opened her eyes again. "My mom undid the chains and threw me in the bedroom with him and Eleanor. The sick bastard had a video camera set up to film the whole thing.

"Eleanor was frozen on the bed while I watched from a corner. Mom had threatened me that if I did anything, she would... Anyway, she threatened me. But when I saw him take off his pants and the disgusting look in his eyes while looking at Eleanor... I just couldn't.

"I knew that Eleanor's father kept a gun in one of the drawers in the nightstand. Eleanor had told me about it. So I took my chance and took it out." She shut her eyes tightly.

"You knew how to use a gun?" he asked.

She swallowed. "Oh, yes. They taught me when..."

Her breathing was growing ragged. I wanted to move beside her. I wanted to hug her and tell her to stop. Yet I couldn't move for fear she would push me away.

"I knew how to use a gun," she said, opening her eyes. The beautiful blue was veiled by a sheen of tears. They did not overflow. Barbara blinked them back. "I shot him. Several times until he didn't move anymore. My mother and her boyfriend barged in, but they were too late because that asshole had fortunately locked the door. They had to break it down. I was frozen. My mother slapped me, then the two took turns kicking and cursing. I still had the gun, it was cradled in my hands. It was a miracle it didn't go off and shoot me.

"All I could think of then was to make it stop. To make everything stop. Then my mother and her boyfriend turned to Eleanor. They started beating her. I knew they were going to kill her. Her small body wasn't going to make it. She wasn't used to the beating as much as I was. So I shot- I shot them. I was a lousy shot at eleven, but I fired and kept firing until the gun clicked off."

She looked at me, and for the first time ever, her lips pulled up at the corners and Barbara gave me a small smile. But I was frowning. Her words triggered a distant memory.

"I don't know if you remember," she said, and as she spoke, my memory became clearer until I could see the thin little girl she'd been, "but you were there. I had fled the house with the gun in my hand, looking for help because Eleanor had lost consciousness. I met a teenager. He stopped his car and called the police. He stayed with me until they showed up."

I gaped at her. "My God," was all I could say.

I couldn't reconcile the thin, dirty kid in my memories with the woman sitting before me. She had been so small, skin on bones, running in the dark streets with a gun.

I remembered that rainy night. It had been the day of my grandfather's funeral.

I had been very close to my grandfather. His death hit me hard. The day of his funeral, I couldn't bear the grief and the pain. I'd taken my car and just drove. I didn't know how I ended up in that sketchy, dark street.

No one was around because the rain was heavy. Then I saw a child running, barefoot, wearing a thin shirt and pants, her hair a matted tangle of light brown around her.

I stopped the car and ran out, looking at the houses nearby to see if anyone would come out to claim the child. But no one did.

"Hey!" I called over the rain. "Where are you going? Where are your parents?"

The child froze at the sight of me. The street light reflected off something in her hands. Only then did I see the gun. What in the world was a kid doing out with a gun in the middle of the night?

Then she pushed her hair back and I saw the bruises and the blood. On her face, on her clothes, on her arms.

"Can you call the police?" she asked, her voice small and amazingly firm. "Please? My sister won't wake up and- and- and they're dead. I think. Can you call the police?"

I pulled out my phone and made the call right away. I told the dispatcher the situation and our location. The little girl stayed right next to me under the rain, every so often looking over her shoulder.

"Get in the car, the police are coming," I said, opening the passenger door of my car.

She shook her head and took a step back. I realized how it looked like and quickly closed the door after fishing out my jacket. Of course a little girl wouldn't get into the car with a stranger. What was I, an idiot?

And not just any little girl. She must have been through hell and back from the look of her. I looked at the gun in her small hand. The way she held it made it seem like she knew how to use it.

"Here, take this," I said, offering my jacket.

"No," she said, taking a step back. I held up my hands and leaned against my car, looking down the street. I could feel her gaze on me.

I glanced at the kid. Her eyes were blue, clear even in the dark street under the faint light. But her pupils were huge and she was shivering. What had this poor kid been through?

My clothes were soaked minutes later when the police car parked nearby. One of the two police officers was a woman, I was glad to see. But it didn't seem to make any difference for the girl.

After they took her statement, one of the officers took the gun. They ushered her into their car. She hesitated a moment before turning towards me.

"Thank you," she said and went in.

I had to wait for another police car because the girl mentioned dead people, and the police officers both went to check the situation. Seeing as a little girl had a weapon, it wasn't looking good so I didn't blame them for going both.

After more officers arrived, I gave my statement and had to stop by the police station a couple of days later. But other than that, no one told me anything about the little girl and what happened to her.

Now I knew.

I looked up, blinking away the memories. Goosebumps peddled my skin despite the warmth. Meeting her incredible blue eyes, I shook my head. "I can't believe it," I said. "Have you always known?"

"Yeah," she said. "You haven't changed much."

I leaned back and rubbed my face. It took me a minute to come to terms with it.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

She raised an eyebrow. "And tell you what? Hey, I'm that little girl you found seventeen years ago. Let's be friends?" she said. "Really? Me?"

I chuckled. "Right. But you told me now."

"Yes." She picked up her cup of coffee again. "You're a good listener. I never realized it, but talking about this actually... helps, somehow."

"You never talked to a therapist."

"Sure, but I wasn't really willing to speak. I also had to go through a behavioral program since I literally killed two people. Thankfully, the bruises and the video footage in the bedroom was enough evidence to rule it as self defense."

"They couldn't have sentenced a child to prison?" I said. "Could they?"

Barbara shrugged. "I was eleven, below the age of criminal responsibility. But I do know that the video helped a great deal."

"I see. So Eleanor's father survived."

"Unfortunately. He was unconscious when the officers and I went back. I had shot him in the back and the leg. It was a miracle he survived in the first place."

"Lucky bastard," I murmured.

"I don't know if I would call him lucky," she said. "Apparently, the inmates in the prison he was in didn't appreciate the nature of his crimes. I guess messing around with children didn't make him popular. They had to relocate him a few times."

I chuckled. I guess there were some good people in prison. "Good."

After a few minutes, she spoke. "I'm not really sorry for killing them," she said, looking straight at me. To see my reaction? "I don't regret it."

I smiled. "Sweetheart. I'm only sorry you didn't get the other bastard, too. The world is a better place without the lot of them, believe me."

She blew out a breath and took a sip of coffee. It must be cold, yet she continued to drink until she put the empty cup on the table between us.

"Well, the secret's out," she said, a hint of a smile on her lips. She was a sight for sore eyes.

"It's amazing how the world works, isn't it?" I said, still unable to believe that I'd known Barbara all along. "What I want to know is how the hell did your father manage to keep your existence out of the spotlight? I mean, the case must have been pretty big back then, but the press didn't get wind of it."

"My father must have thrown enough money around, so the case didn't get out," she said. "My grandmother took me in. I'd never met her before, but she was willing to put me in her home."

"What about your father?"

She scoffed. "My father would have been happy to see me rot somewhere else. He wanted nothing to do with me."

"Because of his wife?" he asked.

"That, too. But he didn't really care as long as I didn't affect his life."

Graham Owens was a piece of work, alright. A nagging suspicion popped in my head. "Did he know about the way your mother treated you?"

"Did he know? Probably." She shrugged. "She was using me as a card to get as much money out of him as possible.

"I remember one ànight he came over, before Mom met Eleanor's father, and they were having an argument. I heard everything and I understood that he was my father. I remember the excitement I felt as a kid. I had always thought that if my father showed up, everything would be alright. I sneaked out of the room. He saw me, bruised and dirty and thin, and turned around and left. I remember calling for him and wanting to go with him.

"From then on, my mother took to chaining me because she didn't want to deal with me running out on her. I was the source of her drug money, you know."

"That's fucked up," I said. "I knew Graham was a ruthless asshole, but I figured every business man has to be a little cruel sometimes. But to do that to a child, to his own child..."

Barbara smiled. "Yeah, well, I was no walk in the park to deal with, either. I think I made him regret walking out on me."

Her smile widened, and it went right to my heart.

"I remember when I first moved in with grandma, I was a little skittish. But I soon figured out that she was different, and I also figured out from listening in on her conversations with my father that they were a big shot in New York. I missed Eleanor and wanted to make sure she was alright. So I threatened them both that if I don't see Eleanor, I would tell everyone in school that I was Graham Owens' daughter."

I laughed. "Really?"

"Yes. It worked, too," she said. "I got to see her every other week, and my grandmother took care of her until she turned eighteen."

"Your grandma was good to you?" I asked. I had very few memories of Agnes Owens. Mostly of meeting her in formal functions.

"Good," she said. "She was the only person I could actually call family, other than Eleanor."

"I still can't believe your father did that," I said, shaking my head.

"He doesn't care about a lot of things," she said. "In that way, his wife is better than him. She, at least, cares a great deal about her son. Even at the expense of other people."

"What did she tell you when she pulled you away tonight?" I asked. "I'm guessing she wasn't exactly inquiring about your health."

"Aren't you nosy?"

I grinned. "You know I am."

She shook her head, smiling. "She wanted me to give up the CEO position for Billy. My dear brother already talked to me about it before, but I didn't take him seriously."

"That wouldn't fly with the board of directors," I said. "You're doing a great job. Only fools would change you."

"Thanks." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, I pretty much told them the same thing."

"That you're good?" I asked, teasing her.

"Well, I am good," she said. I laughed. "Anyway, the position was something Grandmother Agnes talked me into accepting. I still see it as something she left me. I won't leave if I don't absolutely have to."

"Graham is the chairman, right?" Ryan asked.

"Yes, another reason why I don't think Billy is getting it," she replied with a smile. "Billy might be his son, but Graham won't let something like bloodline get into the way of making money."

How she could smile after everything she'd been through was beyond me. She was an incredible woman. I moved to sit beside her. Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, I pulled her close and kissed her forehead. She sucked in a sharp breath.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Nothing," I said. "I just think you're amazing."

She leaned her head on my shoulder with a sigh. "Tell me about your childhood."

I put my head on hers and spoke.

If I was a smart man, I wouldn't let this woman go. I shouldn't.

But I needed to deal with Miranda first.

--- ---- ---

Thoughts?

I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far. Let me know what you think!

Don't forget to vote and comment. I appreciate it.

Much love <3 <3 <3

M.B.

P.S: check out my other story Learning to Live! (where Barbara makes a quick cameo!)