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“You can at least swallow before you talk.” I get up and fill everyone’s glass with wine. “Hope?” I ask.
“Water,” she whispers.
* * *
Dinner was amazing. I have to be honest I don’t think I’ve ever eaten lamb so tasty before.
"Hope, it's okay honey, the guys will take them," my mom tells her as she stands to take the dishes away. She stops, and her hands begin to shake.
Dad and Jackson stand up and begin to collect the dishes together. Hope goes to stand up again but stops herself; she’s trying very hard not to move. As they both walk away from the table, she falls on to the chair holding on to her plate with a tight grip.
I go to take her plate, but she won’t let go. “I followed the rules, please don’t,” she sobs in the quietest whisper.
"Don't what?" I ask as I turn her chair around and kneel in front of her. "I won't do anything that you don't want me to, and I don't have rules. I don't want you to live here with rules. I've told you before, and I'll tell you again, I'm notholdingyou here, Hope. You’re free to go whenever you wish.” Holding on to the arms of the chair I try to look at her face.
“I followed the rules; please don’t leave me with her.” Hope wipes her tears and then starts playing with the end of her sweater sleeve.
I look over at my mom, I'm not playing along with this, and I need to break her out of this.
“My mother won’t hurt you. I promise she won’t hurt you.” I take her hands in mine. “She wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
She pulls her hands from mine. "Scars, yours." She begins to scratch. She thinks my mom abused me, but shewouldthink that as I haven't given her a reason to believe otherwise.
Shaking my head, I take a deep breath in. "Hope, my mom never did anything to me, she adopted me." I retake hold of her hands. "All she wants to do is look at your hands, to see if she can give you some stronger lotion to help with the pain, I just—"
“Okay,” she whispers.
“I’m going to be right in there,” I tell her, pointing to the kitchen. Giving my mom a nod, I get up and walk over to the kitchen.
I lean on the counter as I watch my mom pulling a chair closer to Hope. I take the cigarette from Jackson.
“Leo, I know your heart is in the right place, but are you sure that you’re the right person to help her?” my dad asks as he stands next to me.
I look at Hope's hands shaking as she shows one of them to my mom. Blowing out the smoke, I shrug. "Maybe I'm not, but I'm going to try." I do agree with my dad about helping her. I mean I'm on a manhunt to kill the man who didthistome. I spend my evenings torturing evil men, and I enjoy watching them in pain. So, maybe I'm not the right person to help her, but I'm going to try to make her smile again.
I push myself off the counter as Hope walks over to the kitchen. She walks straight past me and to the fridge, taking out the cheesecake.
"Leo." I turn to my mom, she gives me a nod, and I follow her out to the yard. "I'm going to talk to my friend, explain the situation and hope that she'll be able to give me some medication lotion for her." She stops and fixes me with a concerned gaze for a moment.
“You think that I’m crazy to help her, don’t you?”
“No, I think you’re doing the right thing. Some advice, you want her to open up a little? Maybe you need to open up with her aboutyourpast.” Leaning closer, she gives me a kiss on the cheek. “There’s something different about her. Whatever her past is, it’s not going to be easy for her to break away from the barriers that are holding her.”
I look inside at Hope walking around the kitchen as she plates up the cheesecake. “Do you think—”
“Leo, give her time,” my mom says as she pats my arm.
I wrap my arm over her shoulder, and we make our way back to the house. "I will," I say quietly to her, but more to myself.
Jackson lifts his plate up. “White chocolate cheesecake, Leo, my second piece,” I make my way over to the kitchen to see what Hope is doing.
Leaning on the counter, I watch her cleaning, her hair falling over the sides of her face, so I can’t see it. I’ve still got to see her face again. I mean fully for longer than a second.
"Are you not having any, I mean I would get a slice before Jackson eats it all," I let out a small laugh. "Shall I cut us a piece? Or if you don't want too much, we can share some, and that will leave Jackson with more."
Turning off the tap, she walks over to the cheesecake. She cuts a slice and places it in front of me. I give her a moment as she looks at the forks. Inside I’m begging that she picks them both up; I can only hope that she gives me a little hope to hold on to.
Hope slides me over a fork, softly tapping her finger on the counter. She takes her fork, and on the inside, I'm smiling; smiling that after two weeks I might finally be getting somewhere with her.
