Dunaway's Crossing by Nancy Brandon Read Free Book Online Page A

excruciating thrust, not even relaxing when he finally shuddered and loosened his grip. She turned her head and sucked in air. The bedspread was wet with her tears, stained with the blood from her mouth. She kept her face turned from Ben as she listened to him fasten his trousers and leave the room.
    When she could no longer hear his footsteps, she drew her knees to her chest and lay on her side as she wept, pain still pulsing through her. After a few minutes, she gathered the strength to stand, and she shuffled across the room and picked up the robe. She used it to catch the blood dripping down her leg.
    Wincing with each step, she crept to her bathroom and turned the tub tap for a second time, numbly going through the all-too-familiar motions of the aftermath of forced sex. She watched the water fill the tub as she wiped tears from her cheeks, her legs still shaking, her backside still throbbing. Gingerly lowering herself into the tub, she reclined so that most of her weight rested on her spine, not her bottom. Part of her knew she should be heartbroken or horrified or shocked. Instead, all she could think of were practicalities. As heinous as Ben’s brutality was, this rape had not hurt as much as the first one. And at least this one would not result in a baby.

C hapter 6

    O nly a handful of passengers scattered across the platform of Pineview’s small train station, most of them country folk returning home, hugging loved ones who had come to greet them. A cluster of Girl Scouts in uniform waited for passengers to deboard, eyeing their prospects timidly, afraid to make their approach to sell Liberty Bonds. Will watched them skeptically. Every scout to save a soldier? Who came up with that slogan? It would take more than Girl Scouts to save the men he killed in France. He removed his wide-brimmed hat and ran his hand through his straight brown hair. Then he replaced the hat and turned for a full view of the platform.
    Where was she? Ralph had said to look for a petite woman, well dressed with dark hair. In the last five minutes Will had seen no one fitting that description, and in this town, he’d expected her to stand out. Eyes still on the train, he stepped backward toward the ticket office when he felt a bump, then heard a sharp, high-pitched cry. He turned and cursed himself. “Oh, no. Ma’am, I am so sorry.”
    She sat on the cement platform, wearing a ruffled white shirt and a brown skirt. She’d drawn her knees to her chest and buried her forehead in them, so that he saw not her face but the top of her hat. He knelt beside her.
    “How could I be so stupid?” He took her satchel, which lay beside her, and cupped her elbow with his palm. “Let me help you up.”
    She shook her head emphatically, holding up a white-gloved hand. “Let me take a moment,” she said into her knees. Her back rose and fell a few times before she lifted her face and revealed tear-streaked cheeks. Immediately, she searched the pavement and found a small drawstring bag. She picked it up and withdrew a handkerchief.
    “My God, I’ve hurt you,” he said, still holding her elbow. “I’m so sorry.” Will’s neck and face burned with humiliation as well as the late summer heat. But his gut wrenched in confusion as well. Had he really bumped her hard enough to draw tears?
    “Can I get you anything?” Stupid question. What could he possibly get her? What should he do? He couldn’t let her sit on the hard pavement, but she didn’t want to get up. A group of people had clustered around them, which exacerbated Will’s embarrassment to full-fledged shame.
    “No, no,” the woman said, waving her small hand. “I’m fine, really.” She blotted her cheeks with the handkerchief and then looked at Will with round dark eyes that pulled him in like a riptide. “I’m more surprised than hurt.” A curled lock of dark brown hair escaped its pin and fell against her cheek. He almost had to step on his hand to keep from brushing it away