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I look out the window at the trees and hedging passing by. There are no houses down this way; there’s not even cattle in the huge fields that line both sides of the lane. The lush green countryside is uninterrupted, and I imagine this would be a lovely spot for an afternoon stroll on a summer’s day.
‘You do trust me, don’t you?’ Sketch repeats, concerned.
Sketch is paying good money for my service today. If he doesn’t want me to cook or clean, there’s only one other chore I can think of.How dare he?I shake my head and sniffle back my heartache. I thought Sketch was a gentleman. Maybe my mother was right about men. Maybe all men really are monsters.
‘Annie, what’s wrong?’
‘I wasn’t expecting this,’ I say, sounding calmer than I feel.
‘Expecting what?’ Sketch smiles. ‘We haven’t arrived yet.’
‘I’m not that kind of girl, Sketch,’ I add, with a firm nod of my head.
The car comes to a sudden, rough stop in the centre of the road, and I jerk forward in the seat, almost sliding clear off.
‘What kind of girl, Annie?’ Sketch keeps his grip of the wheel, but he turns his head to face me.
‘You know what I mean,’ I say, impressively managing to keep the tremble out of my voice. ‘I’m notthatdesperate for money, Sketch.’
Sketch drags his bottom lip between his teeth and nods his head slowly. His eyes narrow, dragging his brows close to his nose.
‘Okay,’ he says, starting the engine again. ‘Okay.’
I sit still and silent unsure what he’s going to do. I wonder if he’ll lose his temper and hit me. My mother said this was how it started for her. Just a gentle slap every so often when she made a mistake or disappointed my father. It didn’t grow into something more sinister until after my father’s accident.
Sketch turns away from me and gives his attention back to his car. The rear wheels spin, chewing up mud and spitting it in all directions.
‘Where are you going?’ I ask, beginning to lose my composure.
‘I’m turning around,’ Sketch says firmly. ‘I’m taking you home.’
‘You are?’
‘Yes. Right now.’ Sketch jerks the steering wheel, and the engine roars as the back wheels struggle to get a grip on the mucky road beneath us.
‘But I thought…’ I mumble, ‘I thought…’
‘This damn mud,’ Sketch grunts, twisting the steering wheel from side to side.
‘Sketch.’ I whisper his name gently as if the sound flows through my lungs like oxygen.
‘I know exactly what you thought, Annie,’ Sketch huffs. ‘You’re not that kind of girl. I understand that. But I’m not that kind of guy.’ Sketch shakes his head in disgust. ‘How can you not understandthat?’
The nervous racing of my heart slows, and it’s replaced with a dull ache and regret. I’m looking at him, and I know he must see me out of the corner of his eye, but he refuses to turn his head and make eye contact. The corners of his lips are twisted into a subtle frown, and his shoulders are round and slouched forward. I think I’ve really hurt him. I’ve hurt him much more than a slap or kick could ever hurt someone.
‘I’m sorry. I just thought…’ I look out the window at the vast green fields that seem to stretch on for miles. ‘It’s just so isolated out here. You said you’d pay me to work for you, but then you didn’t want me to clean or cook… and the only surprises I’ve ever known have always ended in tears.’
‘Not all men are monsters, Annie.’ Sketch sighs. ‘I’m nothing like your father.’
I feel Sketch’s hand on my shoulder. That warmth of his palm finds its way through my cardigan encouraging me to turn my head back.
‘I would never, ever expect a woman to sell her body for a man’s pleasure. Never, Annie.’ Sketch shakes his lowered head.
‘Sketch, I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I got it all wrong. Please don’t be angry.’
Sketch looks up at me. His rosy cheeks are a little paler than usual, and his warm ruby smile has flattened. His turquoise eyes sparkle beautifully, but there’s no missing the sadness etched into the faint, weathered lines of his young face.
‘I don’t know the ins and outs of what you’ve been through, Annie,’ Sketch says and a subtle croak breaks in the back of his throat. ‘I’m not sure I could handle knowing, if I’m honest. But I do know this; there are good men in the world. Honest, hard-working, decent men. As long as there is strength in my bones and air in my lungs I’m going to work hard to prove to you that I’m a good man, Annie. I’m going to take care of you, if you’ll let me.’
