Oh. My shoulders deflate. “Crowley.” The name of the last man to rape me feels like gritty sand in my throat.Don’t think about that.“I suppose I’m different. Warren didn’t do anything like that with me.”
“Oh, but I think he did,” Eleanor interjects smoothly. “How else do you explain being married to him the same day he met you?”
“He…” I think back on all the events and collapse back into the rocking chair. Well, damn. She’s right. “He said I needed a husband. I told him no.”
“And then what happened?” Now it’s his mother’s turn to ask the questions.
“He left and brought back a judge,” I answer with hesitation, “to marry us.”
“See? Not so different.”
I look up at her. “But he didn’t even know me. I was filthy. I stunk to high heaven and was expecting another man’s baby.” No surprise shows on either of their faces that Warren didn’t father the baby now cradled in the embrace of a woman who calls herself her aunt.
Eleanor takes hold of my hand with her paler one. “When a Shay knows, he knows. And now you and Emmaline are his and part of us.”
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. Just accept it, my dear, because it’sthe truth. Now, come. Since Dove has the most important task of holding the wee one, we’ll have to make do without her.”
Flustered with everything I’ve learned today, I follow her and watch as she rummages through the trunk. “Yes,” she mutters to herself, pulling out a pale yellow and white gingham dress. “The perfect color. Be a dear and put this on.”
I accept it but frown in confusion. “You need someone to wear the dress just to mend the hems?”
“Did I say we were mending hems?” she returns with a lilt. “Silly me. No, dear, I need you to wear it so I can alter it to fit you. And when we’re finished with that one, then we’ll move on to the next.”
Stunned, I almost drop the dress. How many more surprises can one day hold? “To borrow?”
“To keep. They’ve hardly been worn, and I already have plenty of my own. These are all for you.”
“No, I couldn’t possibly accept. Surely?—”
Eleanor cups my shoulders. “We take care of our own, Mara. You need dresses that fit, and no daughter of mine will go without.”
“But I…” I whisper brokenly. Is this what a real family does? Mrs. Overstreet’s harsh words and actions couldn’t be more opposite from this woman and her caring ways. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sweet child.”
And that’s how I find myself standing on a chair and trying on dress after dress as Eleanor tucks and pins and measures.
“I just don’t understand it.” She taps her bottom lip and runs a sharp gaze over my form. “Every one of these hangsoff of you. You should have filled out more since I last saw you. Is Warren feeding you enough?”
Guilt slashes through me. “Yes,” I squeak.
“Hmm…” Eleanor tightens the fabric to highlight my hipbones and glances behind me. “But are you eating it?”
“No…? Not all of it.” Nothing I think of is a good enough excuse. My stomach tangles in knots as I spill the truth in a rush of words. Surely she can understand. “But it’s not his fault. I…I didn’t want to gain too much weight and then not fit into any of my dresses because then Warren would have to spend money on me, and how could I ask him to do that when he’s already brought me into his house? I’m used to being hungry all the time, so it’s really not all that difficult.”
“What the hell?” At the masculine voice, I freeze.
Oh no. Of all times to check in on me, why did Warren have to choose now?
He stands in the doorway, hurt plastered all over his face. “You’ve been going hungry with me?”
I try to hide my wince, but the turmoil in his soulful gaze tells me I failed. And there’s no use denying it. Not when he’s clearly overheard me. “I…I’ve eaten more with you than I have in the last few years.”
“That’s not what I asked.” He crosses the room, each step adding to the shame burning deep inside my ribcage until he’s mere inches away. Both hands reach out to collect the excess material at my hips and pull it taut. Taut enough to see how his fingertips almost meet around my waist. He stares through the dress as if the act alone could reveal how empty my stomach is.
“Mara, darlin’, why…? How could I not see this?” It takes him a few tries to get the words out, and the rough emotion in his voice makes me sway ever so slightly on the chair. As if things could possibly get any worse, a gurgle sounds from mymidriff, and the grip on my hips flexes in response. “That does it,” he rasps. “You’re coming with me to the kitchen right now, and you’re going to tell me what you want to eat.” He sweeps me into his arms.
