Haunted Heart Page 5

  “Thank you,” Duncan said politely as he took the offering and sipped the hot, sweet liquid carefully.

  Ruben ducked his head, his long strands of dark hair obscuring his expression. Duncan could have sworn the boy appeared pleased, though, and that in turn made him happy. To relieve the boy’s loneliness and discomfort for even a moment spoke to Duncan’s heart.

  For a while, neither of them spoke as they drank their coffee.

  “I have some scones, if you’d like,” Ruben said quietly, staring at the floor. “Cookies too.”

  You’re sweet enough. That bit of information Duncan kept to himself. “Thanks, Ruben. Maybe later.” When Ruben’s soft smile faltered, Duncan hurried to add kindly, “I just don’t want to presume anything. You’re not obliged to cater to my hunger for cookies. Say, uh… they wouldn’t be chocolate chip cookies, would they?”

  Ruben let out a small chuckle that he clearly hadn’t intended to release. “Yes, they are as a matter of fact.” Before Duncan could say anything else, Ruben rushed out of the room, and mere moments later he brought a glass jar with him, filled to the brim with cookies. He placed it on the table and opened the lid. “I baked them yesterday. They’re not warm anymore.” His apologetic tone didn’t sit well with Duncan.

  “Damn, these are good.” And Duncan wasn’t exaggerating as he munched on a cookie, delicious to the point of savory. “No lie, Ruben. You’ve got a gift for cookies.” Making yum-yum noises, he ate the cookie and immediately grabbed another. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  Ruben chuckled, ducked his head again, and shook it. “No. Go ahead.” As Duncan ate and drank, pondering how to address the boy’s… well, all his issues, Ruben spoke. “I’m sorry I missed the deadline on the cover.”

  “Is there something wrong with—”

  “No. No. It’s done.” Ruben stared at the floor still, and Duncan was baffled. “I thought that after the way I behaved last time, you’d not want to work with me anymore, so I….”

  Now things were beginning to make sense to Duncan. “So, you breached the contract on purpose by missing a deadline, putting us in the position to terminate your contract.”

  Ruben was obviously ashamed, and he seemed to shrink into himself as he nodded. “Yes. I acted so heinously and… I was sure you thought I was mad as a hatter, so I—”

  “No, Ruben. Absolutely not.” Duncan made sure his voice was confident and adamant as he interjected. “EP—and I to a greater extent—still wish to work with you. If that is something you’re willing to do. You have such amazing talent. I know we… um, I would be at a loss without your wonderful imagination. Every picture from you just warms my heart. Every time.”

  Finally, Ruben looked up. In fact, he was staring at Duncan, wide-eyed and astonished. “R-really…?”

  Duncan smiled in relief. “Yes. Absolutely.”

  The tension in Ruben’s body eased visibly as he smiled, letting out long breaths as if he’d been holding air in. “I’ll go get it.” He jumped up and ran out of the room. The scent of bamboo and orange blossoms wafted Duncan’s way, and he wondered if that was from Ruben’s shampoo or soap or aftershave. In any case, he sure liked it.

  When Ruben came back, he had a mock-up in his hands. He handed it over to Duncan.

  The image was that of a man, bent over in a twisted fashion so his muscles bulged, his back arched, and his body appeared taut, as if in pain. You couldn’t see his face. He had a black collar with protruding spikes around his neck. Every nuance of skin tone, every shape of light and shadow, every emotion and sensation had been captured by the artist, giving it the feel of a zoomed-in scene where in the dark around the male subject, unknown, thrilling, even dangerous actions were taking place.

  Duncan stared at the picture, enraptured. Ruben had managed to fit the whole BDSM theme of the book in the cover. The distorted figure could have been in agonizing pain or caught in the heights of pleasure. That dualism of possibilities was what gave the picture its potency.

  He knew at that moment he was head over heels in love with the creator.

  “Jesus, Ruben….” Duncan was at a loss for words, unable to look away.

  “Is something wrong with it?” Ruben asked shyly, concerned.

  Duncan snorted and shook his head. “It’s perfect.” He looked up at the beautiful boy in front of him, and the urge to yank him into his lap grew exponentially. His self-control was waning fast. “So, this is ready? I can take it with me?”

  Ruben nodded, biting his bottom lip and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Yes. I’ll e-mail the rest of the mock-ups. I’ve already scanned the picture onto the laptop, so I can send over several sizes.”

  Duncan couldn’t stop staring. Ruben was utterly captivating. He seemed so small, lost in clothes too big for him, fragile and in need of sheltering. Yet there must have been more to him. After all, his wild imaginings spoke of eyes that saw the wonders of the world, and more. Duncan longed to set that part of Ruben free.

  Ruben stared back, then started blinking, as if unsure. Squirming, he finally sat back down on the couch. Something seemed to be on his mind. “D-did you go see my brother?”

  Duncan didn’t wish to be dishonest, so he nodded. “Yes, I did.” He put the drawing on the couch beside him, leaned his elbows on his knees, and locked gazes with Ruben. “Please, I hope you can forgive my intrusion. I guess I only sought some confirmation I hadn’t hurt you—”

  “Hurt me?” Ruben cocked his head, confused.

  “By prying. By, um, forcing us to meet in person.” As intrigued as Duncan was about Ruben, he felt bad for pushing the boy past his limits. “I mean, I don’t even know your orientation, but I still spoke out of line.”

  Ruben bit his bottom lip. “Y-you mean when you said you were attracted to me?” As Duncan nodded, Ruben’s eyes clouded, and he looked like a whipped dog. “So… you didn’t mean it?”

  Duncan sighed and rubbed his forehead. He’d been in relationships before, but for the first time he felt lost as to what to do. “I… I am gay, Ruben, and I am attracted to you. But I would never do anything inappropriate or go against your will.” He wasn’t so sure that he’d behaved quite as gallantly, considering his admission of desire, as tame as it had been.

  Suddenly, Ruben, though unsmiling, let out a part chuckle, part snort. “From what I’ve learned about you… Duncan… I’m sure you wouldn’t.”

  Overjoyed at Ruben using his name, Duncan let out a relieved breath and managed a smile. “Thank you, Ruben. I’m glad to hear that.” He tried to choose his words carefully as he said, “I should have made sure of your orientation and interest before saying anything. I apologize if I offended you. I’ll do my best to be professional from now on.” Not wishing their relationship to be too distant, he hurried to add, “We could be friends, though. If you’d like.”

  “I’m gay too,” Ruben blurted out. Then he turned red as a tomato. But before Duncan could respond in any way, he continued, “What did Ben tell you about me?”

  Skating on thin ice, Duncan knew he could easily avoid the upcoming confession by stating the truth, that Benjamin had told him nothing. But wouldn’t withholding the truth be a lie in itself? Duncan didn’t wish to be dishonest.

  With a heavy heart, he said, “He didn’t tell me anything. He’s very protective of you. But… I pieced a few things together myself.” He looked away to the unlit fireplace, hoping that gave Ruben some privacy and a chance to hide his reactions if he so chose. “Your grandmother, Rose, did a pretty good job of burying the article in the Seattle Times. About… the burglary and….” God, he couldn’t even say the words. Rape. The mere concept was too horrible to contemplate, and the words refused to form on his tongue. “I’m sorry, Ruben. So very sorry.”

  He ran out of steam, fell silent, and expected the worst. Getting kicked out. Again.

  Chapter 9

  WHY AM I not panicking? Ruben stared silently, like a statue, at Duncan on the couch opposite him. The handso
me man looked so crestfallen, so broken—for me!—that it gave Ruben a kind of inner calm he hadn’t expected.

  His hands were folded in his lap, but they didn’t tremble. He heard birds singing in the trees outside, so his heart wasn’t so terrified that it practically beat its way out of his chest. His soles and thighs weren’t itching and twitching the way they did when the compulsion to run overrode his reason. And he didn’t feel like cowering, hiding, or crying.

  Ruben watched Duncan with rapt attention and careful scrutiny. In casual style, the man wore a simple, white dress shirt with a light-brown wool sweater over it, and dark jeans. There were dark circles around his sky-blue eyes, as though he hadn’t slept well in a while. He had blond stubble, like he hadn’t shaved in a day or two. His hair was mussed, not bedhead hair, but ruffled by the wind and perhaps by anxious hands. His gaze was directed away from Ruben, stubbornly locked on the fireplace, as if it was somehow interesting. Ruben appreciated the time Duncan was trying to give him. It was considerate and sweet in a way he had no experience with, but he knew he liked it.

  “Thank you, Duncan.” There was more he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure if the time was right. Maybe it was too soon. Besides, he had no idea what to do about the attraction they apparently shared.

  Ruben sure felt a whole host of things, some emotional, others more physical. His gut clenched, but not in an evil twisted knot, and a kind of mellow heat slowly filled him from the groin outward. Duncan was so beautiful, in a rugged, outdoorsy kind of way. Ruben could imagine him on the back of a horse or a motorcycle with ease, sun streaking his hair, his eyes glinting in the light.

  Letting out a long breath, Duncan held his coffee cup with both hands. Ruben saw he was trembling. “Do you, maybe, want to talk about it?” Duncan sounded so off, his tone uncertain.

  Suddenly, Ruben felt an overwhelming need to spill out all his secrets.

  Would he, though?

  Then again, Duncan had been completely upfront and sincere from the start. With that in mind, Ruben made his decision.

  “It… didn’t happen quite like that….” He paused, puzzling about how to continue.

  Duncan gaze looked up at Ruben, both sympathy and curiosity in his eyes. At least he looked at him squarely, not averting his gaze. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Grandma Rose… well, she didn’t have all the facts. I… I lied to her.”

  Warily and worried, Ruben observed Duncan’s reactions from under his brow. For what it was worth, Duncan seemed to have a hard time believing that. “Why would you lie to her?”

  “I was… ashamed and embarrassed,” Ruben admitted quietly. This time it was his turn to stare into the depth of his black coffee, left in the dark about Duncan’s reactions. “You see, I… I invited him in.”

  A sharp gasp from Duncan was the only indication he was listening intently.

  Ruben felt mortified but braved on. “He was handsome, and he flirted with me. I was seventeen, with no experience to speak of, and his attention made my belly flutter. No guy had ever looked at me like that. How could I resist?”

  It was a relief not to see Duncan’s face. Ruben was feverish, madly thinking about all the possibilities. Was Duncan disappointed? Was he angry, or pitying, or sympathetic? What Ruben couldn’t understand was how and when this man’s opinion had become so important to him that it dominated his moods, the highs and the lows alike.

  “It wasn’t your fault.” Duncan’s voice cracked, but it was strong and adamant. Clearly he believed what he was saying. Surprisingly, that made Ruben feel a bit better.

  Still, he distanced himself from the past events as he walked down memory lane, like he had been taught by the psychiatrists. “He came posing as an event planner, hired by Rose for one of her charity functions. I knew so little about that part of Grandma’s social life that I had no way of knowing if it was true. He seemed to know so much about Rose. So… I let him in.” He tried to say it with nonchalance but doubted he was successful.

  Duncan sighed, and it was an almost despondent sound. “You lied because of his false story. You lied to protect Rose from the reason why you’d let him in.”

  Ruben nodded, thankful Duncan understood. “Yes. That and being gullible. I should have known better. But he smiled and cajoled, and I was smitten. A teenage crush.”

  “That’s perfectly understandable,” Duncan said, his tone soft and soothing now. He was offering Ruben comfort with his voice, and it worked like a charm. “We instinctively trust people who are kind to us. It’s part of our psyche, I think. It takes a hardened and callous person to betray that faith. Especially what… that man did.” Duncan took a harder edge to his words when he spoke the last part.

  “Thanks for not saying evil. That would’ve been a bit melodramatic.” Ruben tried to bring some levity into the situation with a chuckle, but it rang hollow.

  “I didn’t say he wasn’t evil,” Duncan retorted, his tone laced with cold fury. He feels that for me. Ruben wasn’t sure how he felt about that. A part of him liked it. “I’m afraid I’m one of those people who doesn’t get it. How causing another human being unspeakable pain and trauma can make someone hard and horny. It’s sick. To want to… force it, to violently take, to be brutal. No, I don’t understand it. And… I do think that man was evil to do what he did.” Duncan lowered his gaze, fidgeting nervously. “To someone as beautiful as you.”

  “So ugly people can be raped, then?” Duncan’s gaze shot up, eyes wide with disbelief and growing anger. Ruben flushed with embarrassment. He had meant that as a joke, but since he didn’t have much experience with humor or social situations, he was clearly unsuccessful. “Sorry….” Ruben could feel Duncan’s eyes boring holes in him, and it was a sickening feeling.

  The silence stretched to uncomfortable lengths, growing more awkward and thicker by the minute.

  “Ruben?” Duncan sounded gentle again, and Ruben felt totally unworthy. He wanted to run to a corner and sniffle, and he hated being so utterly weak. “You are a good person. I believe that with every ounce of my being.” Tears did cloud Ruben’s vision then. “What happened to you on that day, for a young man unaccustomed to smooth talkers…. You did nothing wrong.”

  “I shouldn’t have let him in.” Ruben just knew he sounded miserable to the point of whiny.

  “That’s what men like that count on. Their charm, their smiles, their whole approach is tied to your trust. Lies come easily to them. It is all too easy to fall for their unspoken promises. You didn’t do anything wrong. He did.”

  Slowly, Ruben nodded. He longed to believe what Duncan was saying. But doubts and fears had plagued him for so long they had eroded his self-confidence into holey swiss cheese.

  “Please, tell me,” Duncan asked. His tone was husky, but Ruben had a feeling the fury he radiated was aimed at his attacker.

  Ruben felt small, and the instinct to curl into a ball was strong. He fought it. “He came in. We talked in the parlor. Small talk, nothing serious. I offered him coffee. He said yes, and I went to make it. I… I didn’t hear him walk up behind me. He hit me with something, on the back of my head. I was dizzy and in pain. I fell on the floor. He half dragged and half carried me to the bedroom. I don’t know why he moved me. He tore my clothes off. Then he was on top of me….”

  Taking deep, calming breaths, Ruben focused on the routine of going over what had happened, using simple words and short sentences, minimizing the effect. The shrinks had taught him this, and he was grateful not to have to go into deep descriptions.

  “You don’t have to—” Duncan started to speak, his voice all but broken.

  Ruben shook his head, quieting his guest. “No. No, it’s fine. The shrinks said it would help to use words to go over it instead of mulling it over in my head.” Then he realized he had just admitted to Duncan he had been in the care of psychiatrists. It was an intimate knowledge of his past, even though he had never been admitted to an asylum, and he had never seen the inside of a padded ro
om.

  “I’m glad if the doctors were able to help you,” Duncan said, sounding a bit relieved. “Everyone in the damn country sees psychiatrists. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Especially if they helped.” There was some humor in his voice, and Ruben appreciated his downplaying the severity of it. Ruben had suffered from depression at the time, but he had overcome that.

  The agoraphobia had come later, out of the blue, catching him by surprise. After all, a whole week had passed since the incident in question before Ruben had gone out, intending to walk down to the mailbox as usual. But everything had started spinning. Then what had been a clear blue sky felt like a roof made of cement, collapsing on top of him with so much weight it would crumble him into dust.

  Rose had found him half a minute later in a fetal position on the porch, screaming his head off, unable to move.

  After that, he’d seen the shrinks via teleconferencing, and it had been too impersonal and distant to aid his anxieties in any meaningful way. Ruben had tried so very hard, but nothing had come of it. Rose was the only one he allowed near him. He had even pushed Benjamin away.

  So here he was, five years later, trapped in the house where it all happened, unable to leave but praying he could.

  “Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to finish,” Ruben said finally, his tone hushed to a near whisper. “I saw the clock on the nightstand as he…. It lasted for exactly seven minutes and twenty-nine seconds. He used a condom, at least. But it hurt a lot. It was my first time. If there’s a magical sweet spot inside me, he sure missed it.”

  Duncan winced in empathy, and Ruben liked him all the more for it.

  “When he was done, he took the condom with him. Then he slapped my face, punched me in the gut, kicked me a few times. There was more but… the memory’s distorted. Too much pain to see through clearly. When he went away, I heard him ransack the house downstairs. Later I learned he had stolen some of Rose’s jewelry and a couple of antiques. After that he left.” Ruben sighed. It had been a long time since he had last recounted this real-life horror story. As usual, he felt drained of energy, of the will to live, of light within. But, somehow, he also felt better for it, lighter, and he knew it was because he was telling this to Duncan. The man seemed to understand and empathize—and still care.