Freed by Tara Crescent

love.”
    “It must have been nice to be rich,” she responded wistfully. “When I turned sixteen, my mother gave me a hundred bucks. I took that money and my savings from four years of odd-jobs and I bought a beat-up Taurus. That thing was a death-trap. You could see the road underneath because bits of the floor had rusted through. I could have used a Ferrari.”
    “Is that what you believe?” I asked her. “Do you think money buys you some kind of protection from harm?”
    “I do,” she said, her jaw set in a stubborn tilt. “Alicia needs money to live, remember?”
    I ignored the fake cover story. “I know it seems that way to you,” I responded. “But money is a tool. It can be used for good, but it can also be used to control a person. My father wanted me to fall into line, so he sent the car.” I shrugged. “It didn’t work.”
    “How much is it worth?”
    “I have no idea,” I replied.
    “And it’s just sitting there? You should sell it and donate the money to a charity.”
    I looked at her, embarrassed. “You know, I’ve never once thought of that?” Inwardly, I smiled. The gesture of generosity would drive my father insane. “What cause would you support, cherie ?”
    She had a sad look in her eyes. “Can you give it to a domestic violence shelter?”
    That seems fitting. He had caused so much pain, and would serve as a tiny measure of atonement. Yet so much still remained to be done. “I will,” I promised her.
     

Chapter 10
    Ellie / Jenny:
    The next morning, the two of us poured over maps and train schedules. I’d downloaded some travel guides onto my e-reader and at Alexander’s request, I made a list of attractions I wanted to see. Roman ruins, mostly. The Pont Du Gard was not far away from Arles. Nimes had one of the most amazingly intact Roman amphitheatres in the world. Carcassonne had a famed medieval walled fort.
    Alexander surveyed my list with an amused smile. “What?” I asked defensively.
    He shook his head and stroked my cheek. “I haven’t played tour guide in many years,” he said, sounding indulgent. “ Allons-y . Let’s do this.”
    We would wake up early in the morning and get on a train, heading to one of the places on my list. France’s rail system was excellent; most places were less than two hours away on the high-speed trains. We would tour the attraction and Alexander would insist on ordering a bottle of wine for lunch, something I was happy to let him do. We would have long and leisurely meals, talking about what we’d seen. In Avignon, I protested passionately over the greed of the Popes in the Middle Ages with their lavish tapestries and their coins of gold, while the peasants starved in the streets. Alexander’s lips twitched. “Why do I get the feeling that I’m also being attacked here, Jenny?” he asked dryly.
    But I wasn’t attacking him, not even in the slightest. I’d never been on a vacation before in my life, and I was just enjoying myself. The South of France was a pretty glamorous destination and Alexander was an excellent travel companion, patient and good-humoured. He took me to eat some truly exceptional meals in small tucked-away restaurants I would have never discovered on my own. He made me laugh.
    He still worked for Dylan. Sylvia was going to be in Paris soon. I was being an ostrich, burying my head in the sand, ignoring all these things. I told myself I was entitled. One week, I reasoned with myself. Surely, I’m allowed one week of pretending.
    I refused to consider that I might be falling in love with him.
    In the night, tired from our day of exertion, we’d tumble into bed. Some days, he’d reach for me and we’d make love. No toys, no gadgets. Just hands and tongues, fevered breathing and bodies in contact. Other days, I’d nestle in his arms and fall asleep. It was idyllic. It could not last.
    ***
    On the last day, we planned to stay close to home. I wandered among the fields of lavender, arm in arm with Alexander.