The Blood Orange Moon

She hung up the phone, turned, and stepped on the foot pedal of the trash can. Holding the bag away from her as if it was contaminated, she dropped it into the garbage and then turned to Amanda. "All the toiletries you need are already in your bathroom. You'll find your uniforms hanging in your closet, and we'll have new undergarments delivered in the morning. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Amanda said, relief washing over her and pushing the confusion aside. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You can thank me by going upstairs this instant and getting into the shower. Wash your hair long and hard, and scrub yourself thoroughly, understood?"

"Understood, ma'am."

"You may then relax the rest of the evening. Get settled in and make yourself familiar. I'll be dining out tonight, and there's food in the refrigerator. You may help yourself. You will, of course, clean up after yourself. There's a television in your room. You may borrow a book from the library if you wish. Just remember to put it back when you're done. And you may not read it in the library, either. When you're not working, you should restrict yourself to your room or the kitchen." Her eyes narrowed and she gave Amanda a long, hard look, her eyes sweeping over Amanda's body from head to toe. "Do you understand all of this?"

"I do, yes ma'am."

"Very well," she said, turning and picking up some mail on the countertop. "You may go."

Amanda turned to leave, already looking forward to the long hot shower, when she was stopped by her new employer's icy cold tone. "Just one final thing, Amanda."

Amanda turned and looked at her, the face in front of her now cold and menacing. Amanda cringed, feeling a chill race from her shoulders to her lower back.

"The room across the hall from yours," Barbara Roberts said, her lips twisting as she spoke. "You will never, under any circumstances, go into that room. Is that understood? Never. It is strictly off limits, and I will know if you've been there. Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal clear, ma'am."

With that, Barbara once again turned her back and flipped through her correspondence. Amanda was frozen for a moment. Then, fighting to keep herself from running, she made her way out of the kitchen and toward the stairs, seeking the comfort and quiet, soothing privacy of a long, hot shower.

* * * * *

"She's very pretty," he observed.

"So you're pleased?"

"Very pleased."

"She's not too . . . too plain? I mean, she looked like a ragamuffin. Those clothes and that ...that underwear." Her nose pinched at the memory.

He gave a light laugh. "The clothes don't matter much. She'll have uniforms when she's working and little else when she's not. Besides, Charles has great taste in women's undergarments. Really great taste."

"So you're pleased," she said, enjoying the relish in his voice as he talked about her. "Good."

"Know what's better?" he asked.

"What's that, dear?"

"She's flat ass broke. I mean, you see her? Not a penny to her name." He chuckled. "Hell, her underwear had to be what, four years old? From Wal-Mart? Hell, does their stuff even last four years?"

"Do you suddenly have a taste for the other side of the tracks, dear?" she said, a genuine smile creasing her lips.

"Doesn't matter where they come from," he said. "What matters is that this one won't be in any position to run off like the last two did. Not for a long time."

"Maybe not ever," Barbara said.

"Exactly," he concurred. "Still, you've got to make sure. Tonight."

"Of course," she assured him.

Then, against her wishes, an involuntary shiver went up Barbara Roberts's spine at the sadistic glee in his voice.

She still didn't understand, but this was her only way to keep him near. The only way to keep him from abandoning her like all of the other men in her life had.

CHAPTER TWO

Amanda felt rejuvenated after her shower. Rather than putting on her raggedy old underwear, she looked through the closet and dresser in her room. There were several pairs of soft gray sweatpants and some baggy, hooded Northwestern Law sweatshirts. She pulled them on, then sat on her bed, and looked around.

The knock on the door startled her, and she watched as it opened and Barbara Roberts entered. The look on her face seemed a tentative attempt at warmth.

"Amanda dear," she said.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I forgot to tell you something today."

She looked at Amanda waiting for a response, but Amanda remembered the tests earlier in the day and remained silent, her hands folded on her lap. A cloud passed over Barbara's face, but was then replaced with the same forced smile with the slightest hint of teeth, which reminded Amanda of a wolf's snarl.

"I see you've found some clothes to wear."

Before she could keep it in, Amanda blurted, "I'm sorry. I thought it was-- "

"Of course it's okay, dear. You need to wear something when you're not working, and you certainly didn't bring any clothes with you, now did you?"

"No, ma'am," she mumbled. "And thanks."

"Thank you," Barbara corrected. "Thanks is too common. You must say 'thank you.'"

"Yes, ma'am," she said, her eyes on her lap. "Thank you."

"That's better. Now, the reason I came here was to tell you something I forgot earlier. At night, before bed, I usually take a tea with brandy and lemon in the library. Eight o'clock. I ask that you join me for that so we can review the day and go over anything that will need to be done. Can you do that?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Then I'll see you tonight."

"Eight o'clock," Amanda confirmed.

She shut the door, and Amanda waited to hear her footsteps retreat down the hallway.

Instead she heard a click as the door across the hallway was unlocked. Then she heard voices, but she couldn't make out the words. There seemed to be two of them, but Amanda couldn't tell.

A few minutes later, the door across the hallway closed and Amanda heard the click as it was locked.

Who else lives here, she thought.

* * * * *

Barbara was surprised, when at a quarter of eight, Amanda slipped into the kitchen.

"You're early," she said.

"I thought you wanted me to make the tea."

"Do you know how to make tea, dear?"

The girl flinched. "Not really."

Barbara smiled. "Come here and I'll show you. I'll make the tea at night--I don't expect you to do that--but you'll be expected to prepare it during the day as the mood strikes me. You might as well learn to do it right."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Barbara went through the routine of making loose leaf tea. "Four minutes, Amanda. Not a second more nor a second less. Four minutes for the perfect tea. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good," she said.

Once the tea was complete, she placed the cups and saucers on a tray with lemon and said, "Please bring the tray to the library."

Amanda did as she was told. Once there, Barbara waved to a chair and, her back to Amanda, poured something--Amanda assumed brandy--into each.

"Here you go, dear," Barbara said, passing a cup and saucer out to Amanda before settling herself into the deep leather chair opposite the girl.

"You already know what needs to be done tomorrow, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled. "Good. Then tonight I want you to tell me a little bit about yourself."

"About myself?" the girl said.

"Yes. You know: Your past, were you married, where were you raised, do you have a family? Things like that."

Amanda hesitated, her face giving a fleeting look of fear before changing to hesitation and embarrassment. Her eyes dropped to stare at the cup of tea, and her words were so soft they could barely be heard.

"Don't have no family," she started. "My folks were divorced, and Daddy ran off with another woman when I was little."

Barbara fought the urge to correct the girl's grammar. A fight helped by the joy of what she was hearing.

"Haven't seen him since I was ten or eleven," Amanda continued after a moment. "Mama died a couple years later, when I was thirteen. The cancer ate her away there toward the end."

"Oh you poor child," Barbara said, masking her smile as she sipped her tea.

Amanda sipped her tea also and made a small face.

"Take the lemon peel and rub it around the edge," Barbara encouraged her. "It will make the tea taste far better."

The girl did as she was told, then took another sip. She didn't make a face this time, but took another, deeper sip.

"This is very good," she said.

"You've never had it before?"

"No, ma'am."

Barbara was pleased. This was going to be easy. "Go on, child. Where did you go after your mother died?"

"My brothers went to live with some cousins in Kansas. They couldn't take me though, so I stayed with my grandpa."

"Where?"

"Chattanooga."

"And he took care of you?"

She hesitated. "Mostly, but it was real hard sometimes. Grandma was gone by then, and he was all alone. There wasn't enough money, and he took to drinkin' sometimes when the black moods came over him. But he tried his best, I guess. I mean, there really wasn't much choice, was there? For either of us."

"No, dear. There wasn't."

Amanda gulped the rest of her tea and then looked at Barbara, shame washing over her face as she saw Barbara still had half a glass.

"Sorry, ma'am, but it's real good."

"Don't be embarrassed, dear," Barbara reassured her with glee. "You can have two per night. No more, though, or you won't sleep well and you'll be useless to me the next day."

Amanda nodded in relief. She put the saucer and cup on the end table next to the chair.

"So did you have any boyfriends? A husband? My goodness, how old are you?"

"I'm twenty-four," she said. "And yes, there was a boy. Clint. We were engaged." Her eyes got a faraway look, and Barbara knew she was picturing him. "We were gonna get married. Then he joined the Army so he could get money for college. He was smart, but he came from the same kinda home I came from. They didn't have much money, so they couldn't help him."

A tear started to trickle down Amanda's cheek, but she didn't seem to notice. Instead, her jaw clamped shut and trembled as her eyes glistened.

"Was it one of the wars, dear?"

She nodded, and her voice was scratchy when she spoke. "Iraq. A month before he was s'posed to come back home."

Barbara felt a chink in her armor, her heart going out to the poor girl. Then, in a flash, she remembered the purpose of this, and she stood.

"Let me make you another tea, dear," she said, picking up her cup and saucer. When Amanda started to rise to follow her, she said, "You just sit back down and take try to relax. I'll be right back."

He was there when she got to the kitchen, his face a sinister smile. "She's perfect."

Barbara's sympathy for the girl was forgotten, and she smiled back at him. "She sure seems to be."

"Seems to be? Oh no, this is the best one yet. She'll have to stay. She's got nowhere else to go. No matter what happens, she's all alone. She can't run off because she's got nowhere to run off to."

"You're pleased," Barbara observed.

He rubbed his hands together. "Damn straight I'm pleased. We're gonna start tonight."

"You don't think it's too soon?"

"The key is starting slowly," he said, his eyes picturing it as he verbalized his plan. "Not too much, too soon. Still, it should start right away. Once we really get her there, she'll be used to it. Think it's expected of her." He flashed a broad grin of dripping teeth. "Look forward to it, even."

Barbara was pleased with herself, but only in that he was pleased. Then her sympathy came back, as did her revulsion at his tastes and urges.

Still, if this was the cost of keeping him near, she'd gladly help him as much as he demanded.

* * * * *

After Amanda settled down, she thought she heard voices coming from the kitchen. After a moment, her curiosity got the better of her, and she made her way slowly on stocking feet toward the bright entry.

"Oh," Barbara said upon seeing her, the surprise causing her to nearly drop the saucer and tea cup in her hand. "Whatever are you doing, child?"

Amanda bit her lip and said, "I wanted to help."

Barbara's face relaxed, the tight smile replaced with a patronizing look. "No need. I told you I would get it."

They walked back to the library, and once again, Barbara added brandy to the tea with her back to Amanda. This time took a moment longer than before, but Amanda's mind didn't process it as she waited for sounds from the kitchen.

"What are you looking at, dear?" Barbara said, suddenly looming in front of her and holding out the fresh drink.

"I'm sorry," she replied. "I was just thinking."

"You are feeling better I hope."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Barbara said, giving a furtive glance toward the kitchen before resuming her seat. Taking a sip, her eyes narrowed as she looked at Amanda. "This may be a bit forward, Amanda."

"What?"

"What I'm about to ask you, dear." She took another sip, placed the tea cup on the end table, and sat back in her chair. "You may not understand why I need to ask, so I'm going to explain it to you before I do."

"All right," Amanda said, her eyes falling to the tea cup as she rubbed a lemon rind around and around the rim.

"As you know, my husband is a very powerful man. With that power, comes responsibility, too. The responsibility to be above suspicion. Of anything. Do you understand?"

"I think so."

"I will make it clear. There can be no scandal even remotely associated with the Senator. None whatsoever, not in his life or in mine, and that includes this house and the people who live in and work for us. Now do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Amanda said.

"Good, because I would never ask this of anyone unless it was so important." She took a sip of her tea, and Amanda used the brief respite to take a longer drink of her tea also. The cup still in her hand, Barbara said, "Are you still a virgin, dear?"

Amanda choked as her tea went down the wrong pipe. Then fear, embarrassment, and shock all coursed through her veins at the same time, flushing her cheeks.

"You can be honest," Barbara said. "No judgment will be made. This is, after all, the twenty-first century. But we need to know if any problems from your past will arise."

Amanda relaxed, but then felt herself sag again at the thought. "No," she whispered. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I . . . well, we--me and Clint--we couldn't wait until we were married and all. We . . . well; we decided not to wait is all."

"My goodness, child, how long has he been gone?"

A faraway smile came over her face. "I last saw him just over three years ago. He died 'bout a year and a half back."

"And there's been no one else?"

"No, ma'am," she said, the smile trembling and her eyes dropping to her lap.

"You must be so lonely."

"I get by."

"I'm sorry if this has been hard on you," Barbara said, her voice softening. Amanda hadn't heard this tone before from the woman. It was almost as if she was . . . as if she cared. "Would you like to call a friend tonight? Maybe your grandfather?"

"He died, too," Amanda said. "Little over a year ago. His liver."

Looking back up, she was confused to see Barbara's smile disappear to a look of concern.

A smile? She'd seen it. The woman had been happy at the answers.

But how?

What kind of woman was she working for?

And living with?

* * * * *

"Pat, this is David. David Roberts."

"David!" he exclaimed. "Long time no see. How're you keepin' yourself?"

"That's why I'm calling, actually."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. It's Barbara, Pat."

"What about her?"

"You or Debra seen her lately?"

"We ain't seen hide nor hair of her in months, actually. Debra was just mentioning that the other night."

"That's why I'm worried, Pat. I think she's really falling apart."

"Haven't you seen her?"

"Not in several months, I'm sorry to say."

"Why not?"

"It's been . . . difficult. Ever since last year, she's really taken a turn for the worse. And every time I come home, it just seems to get worse. She gets worse just by me bein' there."

"How so?"

"The anger, Pat. All the time. And she makes it clear as a bell. She can't wait for me to leave."

"Maybe she should see someone."

"She won't. I've tried, but she refuses."

Truelson said nothing to that. After a moment, Roberts continued, "Listen, I know how busy y'all are down there. And I know I may be askin' a lot. Still, if you or Debra could find some time to maybe drop in on her and let me know how she's gettin' along, I'd really appreciate it."

Truelson sighed through the phone and said, "Of course, David. You know we will. I'll do it myself, and I'll make sure Debra drops by, too."

"Thanks, Pat."

Roberts was about to hang up when Truelson stopped him.

"You hear from them, David?"

Roberts sighed, then said, "Not directly, no."

"Debra's really hurtin' here."

"We all are."

"We gotta think of somethin' here."

"Other than just give 'em more time, Pat, I'm not really sure what we can do. The ball's in their court."

"I know it was wrong, David. Fine, I can see that now. But your boy got his revenge. Does he really have to take away our only daughter, too?"

"I don't think it's about that, Pat."

"Then why?"

"I think he's afraid. Her, too, maybe. Definitely him."

"Afraid of what?"

"Of letting us back into their lives. Afraid we'll meddle and manipulate them again."

"But we won't."

"Tell him that."

"I've tried, but he just hangs up on me. And Sandy refuses to pass along messages. Refuses to even say anything other than they're doing fine and they're happy. Hell, she didn't even tell me about the pregnancy. You did, for Chrissake."

"Yeah, it hurts. Trust me, I know."

"But you'll keep trying?" Truelson begged.

"You know I will," Roberts promised.

"Thanks."

"Yeah," Roberts said, and hung up the phone.

* * * * *

"You're back," Amanda said, watching as he hovered over her bed and ran his fingertips along her t-shirt.

"I always promised I'd be back, didn't I?"

"But I thought you were gone for good," she said. "Kilt over there in Iraq."

"Amanda," he said, and she could see the white teeth in his smile beneath the shadows of his face, "I always told you we'd be together forever."

"Mandy," she corrected. "Only Grandpa calls me Amanda, Clint. You know that, baby."

"I know, honey." His fingertips brushed over the thin layer of fabric covering her nipples, twirling lazy circles. She felt her nipples enlarge with her arousal.

"It's been so long, Clint."

"Too long."

"Yes. Way too long, baby."

"But now I'm back."

"You promise?"

"You know I do."

"I was so scared."

"Don't be. I told you I'm back, and I'm never gonna leave you again."

"What's that?" she said, her eyes trying to focus on the silvery glint in his left hand.

"Remember when we always talked about shavin' you down there?"

"No."

"You don't remember? Don't remember promisin' you'd try it? See if you liked it?"

"I don't remember, baby."

"I remember," he said, anticipation in his voice. "Anything to make me happy. That's what you said. You sure you don't remember?"

She bit her lip, her eyes trying to focus on his face but only seeing the gleaming white of his smile and the maroon jacket with white sleeves and lettering.

"Where'd you get that coat?" she asked.

"I've always had it."

"I don't remember it."

He pinched her nipples, and the jolt of pleasure made her forget what she was saying.

"You're gonna like this," he said, his hands sliding down to her waist and pulling her panties down.

"You gonna kiss me down there?" she said, raising her hips to help him along.

"Not tonight, Mandy. Tonight we're just gonna do this, okay?"

"And if I let you, then you'll kiss me down there?"

"If you're a good little girl, then I'll kiss you down there."