~ The Vanity ~

by

Roberta C. M. DeCaprio

The chill of the room once more made Jules shiver. Curling her legs beneath her, and snuggling into the warmth of her robe, she turned the page and read on into the wee hours of the night. When finally she couldn’t keep her eyes opened another second, she replaced the diary in the drawer where she had found it, removed the locket from around her neck and placed it on the bedside table before she slipped off her robe, and climbed into bed.

Lying on the fluffy pillow, Jules’s thoughts turned to what she had read. She could almost picture Calissta Montgomery sitting in front of the vanity and brushing her hair. In fact, Jules could just about see Calissta walking around the room, dressed in the pink organza dress she had favored, the one her mother had sent her from Connecticut. So fond of the garment, Calissta had written an entire page on how she had felt feminine and beautiful while wearing the dress. It was a feeling Eleazar Montgomery had gone out of his way to dash in her; Calissta listed in her diary all the names she endured from her husband’s tongue.

Jules’s eyes finally closed in sleep, her body letting go of the day’s events, her mind releasing all thoughts. But the blissful state was soon interrupted when the nightmare returned and another’s presence filled the room. The same feeling of foreboding that had enclosed Jules the night before resurfaced. Again she struggled to open her eyes.

The quilt was removed and a pair of large hands turned her over to lie on her stomach. Jules tried to push herself up, climb off the opposite side of the bed and away from the trespasser, but her arms and legs grew heavy, like lead weights had been tied to them. Just moving an inch suddenly became impossible.

Jules had never experienced a fear so stark and overpowering. She tried to scream, but no sound escaped. She was paralyzed, in every way, and at the mercy of the imposer.

The menacing hands gripped the hem of Jules’s nightgown and with one tug pulled it up and over her head.

Her insides stiffened, as her naked bottom was now exposed to whoever stood over her. A mixture of humiliation and panic rioted within.

“You are worthless and ugly,” the deep voice spat. “And now you will get what you deserve.”

The hand struck a hard blow across Jules’s backside.

Shocked and frightened, tears escaped through closed lids. Another blow... then another; Jules choked on her sobs as the abuser continued to beat her. Harder and harder, faster and faster, the hand punished her bared bottom until her flesh burned.

Jules’s embarrassment turned to raw fury. Mustering every ounce of strength in her body, she lifted a foot and kicked backwards. Instantly the abuse ceased.

Quickly she opened her eyes and wiggled her head out from under her nightgown. The morning sun burst through the window, a thick silence veiled the room, and once more Jules was alone.

Eleven

A.J. hurried from the bathroom to pick up the hotel phone.

“A.J.... it’s Samantha. Sorry to bother you at such a time, but I thought you’d like to know Regina Forbes is willing to testify.”

A.J. sat down on the bed, relieved by the news. “Sam, that’s great to hear. When did you meet with her?”

“Yesterday evening.”

“Did you get her signature on all the papers?”

“Every one of them,” Samantha boasted. “Now what happens?”

A.J. stood and threw a few more things into the opened suitcase. “With all that’s happened I still haven’t seen the DA in Boston. I guess next on the agenda is to get the papers to him as soon as I get back.”

“I can do that this afternoon, if you’d like” Samantha offered.

“No, Sam, it’s best if I take them. I don’t want any of this coming back to bite you.”

“Now what?” Samantha said.

“I want you to head over to the law offices of Jackson and Pruette on Wellington Avenue in Port Rose. I know Bob Jackson quite well, and he’s looking for a legal assistant. I’ve recommended you.”

Samantha sighed heavily. “Then this is it, I mean, our job is done?”

“Well, I’ll have to testify at a hearing, sign a few papers, but basically, after I get in to see the DA and give him our findings--yeah, it’s all done.” A.J. cleared his throat. “Thanks again, Sam, for all your help. None of this would have come to my attention if you hadn’t found the cross-reference file.”

“The main thing is Mr. Horrighan will have a chance to receive the settlement he deserves,” she said.

“That’s so true, Sam.” A.J. quickly glanced at his watch. “I’ve got a flight out from Sarasota to Boston in about two hours; in fact I thought this call was the hotel desk telling me my cab had arrived.” He closed the suitcase with one hand. “I’ll call you when I get back to Port Rose.”

“What about you, A.J.?”

A.J. sat back down on the bed. “While I was here on the island I contacted the firm of Baker and Associates. In the past I’ve had some dealings with Jerome Baker; nice guy, fair and concerned for his clients.”

“Just the kind of lawyer you are,” Samantha commented.

“Thanks, Sam.”

“So, then this Jerome Baker is interested in you?”

A.J. stood and walked to the window. “That’s what he said.”

“When are you planning on making the move?”

“As soon as I can wrap things up in Port Rose,” A.J. said.

“What about your wife, A.J.?” Samantha asked timidly.

There was silence.

“That day... the day I brought you the plane tickets, when I left I had a flat tire,” Samantha began. “And I couldn’t even call my car club for help because my cell phone was dead. Jules was the one who stopped to help me.”

“Sam--”

“No, you listen to me, A.J.,” Samantha said sharply. “Jules came past the intersection where I had stopped and instantly pulled over. She looked as though her heart had been ripped from her. I saw her wipe the tears from her eyes before she lowered the car window to offer me assistance.”

“What’s your point, Sam?” A.J. snapped.

“My point, A.J., is that I believe your wife was really sick the day your father died. She waited with me for help to arrive and we talked. I’m a pretty good judge of character, A.J.... and can size a person up in a matter of minutes... always could, maybe that’s why I’m interested in being a lawyer.”

A.J. ran his fingers through his hair. “And your conclusion concerning Jules?”

“She’s honest... was telling the truth... she really was sick the day Arthur died. And although she had made a mistake about us, it doesn’t warrant you destroying the relationship.”

A.J. didn’t want to go into his feelings on that matter, especially with another woman. “I’d better hang up the phone, Sam. The desk might be trying to reach me about that cab.”

“Don’t be a pig-head, A.J.”

He chuckled sardonically. “You think now that I’m no longer your boss, you can call me names?”

“Yes,” Samantha said flatly. “Especially when they fit so well.”

He poured himself a glass of water and, while sipping the cool liquid, reflected on Sam’s words. His contemplation brought to mind the talk he had with Finna at Arthur’s memorial. Finna had pointed out that A.J.’s anger and sorrow had clouded his perspective on what Jules was all about. In the turmoil that raged through him, A.J. had neglected to call upon the truth of the matter, and the fact that Jules just wasn’t the sort of person who would do what he had condemned her of doing. Two good and intelligent women saw his wife in the light of who she really was... what was wrong with him? He had been the closest to Jules, closer than any other human being ever got. He shared her body, shared his with her, and he knew she couldn’t lie with a straight face. It just wasn’t in her, yet he’d overlooked all that and the true person she really was.

A.J. rolled his eyes, disgusted with himself. “Sam, a complete stranger, saw what I couldn’t.” He groaned.

Maybe Sam was right on target calling him a pig-head. When Jules hadn’t trusted him, A.J. hurt so badly he wanted something to hurt her back with. He used his father’s death to accomplish that task, banning her from paying her last respects to a man she had cared for and loved for months. Good Lord, how unfair was that?

Again he glanced out the window, admiring the beautiful autumn morning. The first step was to talk with his wife, listen to her side of the situation with openness and acceptance. The next step was to trust her, believe in her again, because he did love Jules--had never stopped. And the final step was to admit he was just too stubborn to see he was part of the problem as well, with the late nights he put in at the office and constantly having his mind on the job.

A.J. sighed heavily. He had his work cut out for him. “One step at a time,” he whispered. “I’ll just take it one step at a time.”

~ * ~

Jules lay for hours, too weak to move. Every bone in her body ached, as well as her raw behind. She hoped that when she didn’t come downstairs, Khandi would realize there was a problem and come upstairs to see what was wrong. Jules couldn’t remember if she had locked the door. She sobbed into her pillow. If she did, Khandi would have to have it broken down in order to get into the room, and then all would find her lying face down, nightgown over her head, bare bottom in full view. But there was more than humiliation that bothered Jules. The nightmare wasn’t just a nightmare, but something that had actually happened. She had the bruised bottom as proof. And it was that thought, that unexplainable factor that frightened her, weakened her, and kept her from moving.

“Get a grip, girl,” she whispered.

Jules began to do the breathing exercises she learned in yoga class a few years ago. This allowed her to become calm enough to regain her strength. When she had finally gathered enough energy to move, she rolled onto her back and slowly sat up. Her behind stung, her thighs burned. She waited for her legs to stop shaking before she stood and made her way over to the vanity mirror.

Jules raised the hem of the nightgown and turned to inspect her bare backside, expecting to see welts the size of boulders. To her amazement, there was not one mark on her flesh. She frowned, confused, and slowly rubbed the sore area with a gentle hand. Pain shot through her. She winced and fell to her knees.

“What the hell’s going on?” she cried.

“It’s what you deserve,” a deep voice replied.

Jules screamed and spun on her knees to face the mirror. To her horror a pair of eyes stared back at her. They were of an extraordinary color, blazing with a hatred that burned through her flesh.

“Stand up,” the voice demanded with lethal calmness.

Jules obeyed; the amber eyes bored into her soul, robbing her of her own will.

“Come closer,” the voice commanded.

Jules felt her trembling legs betraying her, taking her closer to the vanity.

“Put your hand on the mirror,” the voice said firmly.

Slowly Jules reached out and placed the palm of her hand flat against the looking glass. A very large hand met hers. Instantly the energy was sucked from her. As Jules’s spirit drained, the other’s reflection grew stronger. The image of a man dressed in turn-of-the-century garb became clearer and clearer.

Panic like Jules had never known before welled in her throat.

“Do you know who I am?” he snarled, dark eyebrows arching.

Jules nodded, her entire body feeling numb.

He threw his head back and laughed.

Jules shivered, the sinister sound sending chills up her spine.

His mouth twisted with his words. “Then say it... say my name.”

She forced her voice from her throat. “Eleazar Montgomery,” she choked out, before everything went black.