direction. “Enjoy your bath.”
Alone in the bathroom Kate had to somehow negotiate the tiny buttons on the dress herself, all the while with tears pouring from her eyes, because how that bath mocked her, from the fragrant water to the froth of bubbles, to the candles dotted around it to the petals on the floor.
Isaak had, in his own way, been romantic—every detail had been taken care of, and all this was beautiful….
And so very wasted on her.
No, there was no triumph now as she recalled the hurt and disgust in his voice when she’d threatened him with the police and Kate winced as she recalled that she’d slapped him too.
Kate had spent most of her life trying to keep control. Don’t run, Kate, had been her mother’s oft stern warning. Keep your knees together when you get out of car, a frequent other. Don’t answer back.
She had just lost her head for the first time and yet he hadn’t so much as pointed a finger at her.
No, there was no feeling of victory as she stepped out of her bridal gown and then took off the lingerie. Then she struggled with the clasp of the choker and briefly remembered Isaak’s fingers playing idly with it. With a yelp of rage and frustration, she tore at it so that all the pearls clattered to the marble floor.
Isaak lay there, his fury fading as he heard her desperate sobs while knowing that there was nothing he could do—if he went in she might start screaming, but it was agony to listen for, in his heart, he knew that he was not the cause of her tears.
And sob Kate did as she lay in the delicious water.
She had wanted his kiss, yet had not had the courage to continue.
Kate lay there till finally her tears abated, then she got out and dried herself and put on the delicate nightdress. She ran a comb through her wet hair, calmer now but worried to go out there and wondering what her reception would be.
She crept out and saw that the shutters were still open and stared out again, wishing she could have her time back, wishing she could have better explained things to Isaak and then jumped a little at the sound of his voice.
“Things will seem better in the morning?”
She managed a watery smile but he didn’t see it as Kate didn’t turn around. “I doubt it.”
“Of course they shall.”
“I’m sorry I slapped you.”
“You’re not the first.”
“And for…”
“Go to sleep, Kate.”
It was a long lonely night on the sofa and she lay there for ages, unused to having another near while she slept, surprised by his kind words when she had come out of the bathroom.
Isaak wasn’t even close to the man she had imagined him to be, Kate thought as finally she fell asleep.
Isaak did not sleep.
Just before dawn, he got up to use the bathroom and saw the dress strewn on the floor and all the tiny pearls scattered everywhere.
Walking back to bed, he paused for a moment and looked at Kate asleep on the sofa. Her hair had curled and her eyes were swollen. He didn’t know whether or not to wake her and tell her she could have the bed, yet he chose not to for she finally looked peaceful.
His anger at her words had long since faded. He understood them perhaps, given that she had looked into his family background and would know his black family history—it was not a lineage to be proud of. His grandfather had gone to prison for assaults and the rape of women and his father had been in and out of prison too—his method of communication was his fists, or at times his boots or belt. If Kate knew all about it, given her issues she would have been terrified.
Poor baby, Isaak thought as he got back into bed.
Chapter 6
K ate woke to her alarm and placed the throw rug over the sofa and then walked over to the bed.
“Come in,” Isaak mumbled sleepily, throwing back the covers. “To the neatest honeymoon bed in history.”
He actually made her smile as she climbed in.
“I’ll just move over a little,” Isaak said, “and put my arm around you. Is that
Learning to Kill: Stories