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“Didn’t anyone support you?”
“Yes, Pam’s a good friend of the family and she was great. And the Bradys all flew to my defense.” Fleur allowed herself a smile. “You don’t want to be on the wrong side of the Bradys when they do anything en masse. Dad was so mad he went down to the sheriff’s office and almost got himself arrested, bawling Sheriff Taylor out. He only let it go because I begged him to, and Mom said that he was making things worse.”
Rick leaned back in his chair, looking at her thoughtfully. “And dancing was a way to forget.”
He’d realized what everyone else had failed to notice. She’d give him his due, Rick was good at this. A little too good for comfort.
“This is between you and me, right?”
“Of course. Anything you tell me is entirely confidential.”
She’d trusted him this far. Rick might be infuriating but he was straight down the line infuriating. “I’d always taken dance lessons, and they made me feel strong. I threw myself into my practice sessions, because that blotted everything else out. When I told Mom and Dad at fifteen that I wanted to go to theater school, they were just happy that I’d found something that I loved... And I did love it.”
“But you hadn’t forgotten what happened. Like everyone thought.”
“No. Theater school was a way of getting off the island.”
“There’s one thing I don’t understand...” Rick’s brow was furrowed, as if somehow he was straining under the weight of this. Trying to take it from her shoulders. “Why is everyone still talking about this now, after all this time? And who’s Mollie?”
So he’d heard what the women in the bakery had said. Fleur had been wondering about that. “Mollie Gardener. Her father worked for Evan’s father, he looked after the house and the boat while the family was off the island, which was most of the time. Evan’s family left after what happened and they never came back. The house was sold and so Mollie’s father lost his job.”
“But... In what universe is that your fault?”
“In Mollie’s universe. She was an only child and her father was a widower. He went to Boston to get work, and met someone. She was a good bit younger than him, and they married and had more children together. He had a lovely house on the island, overlooking the harbor, and Mollie always thought that he’d pass it on to her when he retired. But when he left for Boston and got married again, he sold it, and Mollie’s never forgiven me for it.”
Rick was finally lost for words. But that was okay, because the outrage in his face said it all. It warmed Fleur, in a way that she couldn’t have thought possible. He got to his feet slowly, his brow furrowed.
“I think you need to get out of bed now, Fleur.”
“I’ve already done my physio...” Disappointment curled around her, like the black fog that had been dogging her ever since she’d arrived here. “Don’t you get it?”
He planted his hands on the rail at the end of the bed, leaning toward her.
“I get it. What happened to you was horrible, and terrifying. It destroyed your belief in this place as a safe haven. For anyone to suggest that you were at fault is despicable. But if you let that get in the way of your recovery, then you’ve let them beat you. I know you’ve got it in you to fight.”
“I’m tired of fighting. I just want to leave again and get on with my life.”
He shook his head. “That’s not going to work, Fleur. You can run away to the mainland if you want, that’s your business. You can keep all the hurt over not being believed a secret if you want. But if you let it break you, that takes away your best chance at making a good recovery. Then we’ve both failed.”
“No... It’s...” Fleur felt herself flush. Nothing stung like the truth. “Damn you, Rick.”
That slow smile of his spread across his face. “That’s the spirit. Get out of bed.”
* * *
The assault had been bad enough. But the thing that seemed to be eating away at Fleur was that the very person whose job it had been to protect her had thought that her word wasn’t enough. It was nothing short of criminal to treat someone who had just been attacked that way.
He’d taken one hell of a risk. He knew now how difficult it was for Fleur to get out of bed and start putting her life back together again. But he also knew how important it was that she do it. Giving up had thrown his own life into a downward spiral, and if Fleur made the same mistake his heart would break for her.
And she’d come through it. Not without a few choice words flung in his direction as she eased herself off the bed. Not without batting away his hand as he stretched it out to help her. But that was what he liked about Fleur. She gave as good as she got.
“I suppose it was you who left that leaflet in my room, about the library’s Fright Night?”
“Yes.” He put his hands into his pockets. Now that Fleur was back up and fighting, all he needed to do was roll with it.
“It’s behind the chest of drawers...” She pointed with her crutch in an obvious indication that he should retrieve it. Rick leaned across, peering down the gap between the furniture and the wall, and then shifted the chest of drawers out of the way. The paper dart slid down onto the floor and he picked it up and unfolded it.
When he turned, Fleur was right behind him, and she grabbed the leaflet from his hand. “It’s really soon—there’s not much time.”
