Port in a Storm

"Everything is alright," Dave repeated. "Everything's alright. Relax. Calm down. Breathe through your belly. Breathe in and out. Slowly."

"Dave..." I mumbled brokenly, feeling my breath catching again.

"Shh. Relax. I'm right here. Breathe with me."

I did. Felt it getting better. I lifted my head, scanned the dimly lit room. It wasn't spinning anymore.

"Better?" Dave's voice came again.

"Mmm."

"Drink some water."

I did, reaching for the bottle on the side table. Took two gulps, felt it travelling down my throat. Then I clutched the phone with both hands, biting my lip.

"Dave?"

"Yes, love? Feeling okay now?"

"Yeah. Thank you."

"Please." He laughed softly. "Remember the early days, when you used to have panic attacks at everything?"

"You used to help me through it." I wiped sweat from my brow, put my head down on the bed. "I didn't get them anymore."

"Then why did you get one today?"

I bit my lips, squeezed my eyes shut, and let it go. Told him everything I'd learned that afternoon from Amy, and everything I'd found out about my Aaron. He ran a financial company with hundreds of investors. He also hobnobbed with a lot of influential business people. Perhaps Amy was right. Perhaps he did have connections.

I had no clue when all that had happened. The last I remembered, Aaron was a worthless fella with an affinity for alcohol. I'd never thought he could run a business of his own.

Dave listened quietly, then sighed.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Of course I'm sure!" I exclaimed. "He's dimpled and sandy haired and he's supposed to be thirty now!" I paused, trying to stop my hands from trembling. "He was the first person to ruin my life..." I murmured. "If he hadn't ambushed me that night, I—"

"Vivienne." His voice was firm, almost reproachful. "Calm down, please." He sighed again. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know." I pinched the middle of my forehead, the breeze coming in through the window and caressing my face. "Amy was pissed off that I'm so keen to help her."

"Naturally. She thinks he'll get more violent if he gets to know she sought help. I'd say you were braver. You hit him with a knife and escaped."

"He didn't have connections. Aaron does. What..." I didn't want to say the words. Didn't want to remember it was the first guy I'd ever loved. "What if he really kills her? Most abuse victims are killed after they escape..."

"I don't think she wants to escape. And you'd rather not do anything when she doesn't want it. Don't invite trouble into your life, please."

"Dave—"

"Vivienne, I'm sitting here miles away and worrying sick about you. Hearing you having a panic attack and not being able to do anything. If you invite danger into your life—"

"I'll be fine," I tried to assure him, despite knowing his fears weren't unwarranted. If what Amy had said was anything to go by, Aaron was indeed dangerous. "I cannot be at peace when I know she's in danger. I want to help her, really."

"You aren't welcome, you know that, right?"

"Yeah. She won't know."

"You'll help her and she won't know?"

"Yes."

"How—"

"Dave, it's late. Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

"Getting rid of me, huh?" His voice was quiet, kind of troubled.

"No. It's really late. You have a conference in the morning."

"Will you be okay?" His voice was thick with concern. I took a gulp of water and tried to think how to answer that question.

*

"Organic tomatoes!" Mum held up a brown bag in front of my still sleepy eyes, dangling it happily. "Right from my garden. I know you'll love it."

She walked past me, crossing the living room, and heading straight to the kitchen. I looked at the clock. It was barely eight. I hadn't been able to sleep at night, and was woken up by the doorbell just when I'd been drifting off.

"I'm putting these in the fridge," she announced, going about doing her own thing. "You want me to put some in your omelettes?"

Omelettes?

I scrubbed my drowsy eyes, not sure what was happening. Dave had been on the phone with me for a long time, soothing me, trying to make me understand that I shouldn't be putting myself in danger for someone who didn't even want help. I knew he was right. I didn't want him hurt, and if anything happened to me, he'd be absolutely gutted.

But I also wasn't someone to sit quietly and tolerate a crime. If I wasn't welcome...well, I just had to find another way.

"Are you alright?" Mum came up to me, cupped my face with both hands. I nodded, looking away.

"Dave sent you, didn't he?" I asked quietly. She smiled.

"He loves you, sweetheart," she patted my cheek. "You think he can be alright when he fears you might have a panic attack again?"

"I'm fine. I'm just..."

"What's the matter?" she asked, studying my face. "You haven't had a panic attack in ages." She shook her head when I opened my mouth to reply. "Don't tell me it's just stress. I won't buy that."

"Mum, I'm okay now. Please." I brushed her hands away, then walked over to the kitchen and poured myself some water. My head still felt a little heavy from last night. A moment later, I felt arms coming around me.

"If it's personal I don't want to know." Mum spoke quietly, untangling my tresses with a hand. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

No. They were nice people. I didn't want to bring them into this. Dave wouldn't like that. He wouldn't say anything, but he wouldn't exactly be pleased either. I didn't want to take advantage of their love for me.

"I have a day off today," I smiled, turning around. "Would you come with me to Bridal Barn? I saw a few designs that I love but cannot make up my mind..."

Mum smiled, understanding that I didn't want to talk about whatever was troubling me. She let it be.

"I thought you were designing your own dress?" She raised her eyebrows. I laughed, nodding.

"Let's show it to them, see what they say. Okay?" I held her hands, biting my lip. "I've also got Dave's measurements for the suit."

"You have?" Mum's eyes widened. "Oh my god. When?"

"When he was home last week. I had to stand on the bed and measure him," I giggled. "He just has to choose a design now."

She laughed, kissing my forehead. "You're a little minx, you know that? Just what Dave needed for a wife."

Then she hugged me, and I felt the lump in my throat reappearing.

If anything happened to Amy, I'd never be able to forgive myself.

"Would you like my tomatoes in your omelettes?" Mum asked again. It took me a moment to realise what she was talking about, and then I nodded mechanically.

Mum smiled and went off to the kitchen.

*

"Hey, kiddo."

I felt a prickle rush up my spine. I knew that voice, knew the words, without needing to look over. It was quiet in here, just me and some press materials. I shivered.

"Simon." I kept my eyes on my work. It was late afternoon. I'd been there from morning that day, writing out PR materials, doing consultations with Michael and the others, working with the photographers to get the best shots. Michael had said Simon would be here today, and it was just about the right time for him to show up. He wasn't a morning person.

"How's everything going?"

"Grand." I crossed my arms against my chest, stepped back a little. Then I looked over.

"Good to have you."

"Yeah." It was Simon all right. Same as always. It had been ages since I'd actually seen the man face to face, instead of through Michael, or a manager, or an event promoter, but Simon never really changed. The same old suit, the same gaze, the same smile.

I'd been working on the project for over two months now, but hadn't met Simon so far. I'd actually been a little relieved when he hadn't turned up.

"Got here a couple of hours ago," he said. "Was watching you at work."

"Oh." We were standing in what was supposed to be the bar. We had been doing photoshoots all morning, but I hadn't been happy with any of them. It wasn't the photographers or their work. There was something lacking in that place. "Am I living up to expectations?"

"Exceeding them. You always know my taste."

"That's why you've hired me, after all." I looked back at the work, feeling happy with the way things were turning out. I knew I was being paid crazily for the job, but I still felt good about the work in itself. "Thanks for putting in a deputy for me at Kingston. I couldn't have handled both of these together."

"I know. I'm always happy to have you sorted."

"Are you?"

"Kiddo..."

"Don't." I turned away. "Don't call me that."

"I call everyone that."

"I know." Inhaling deeply, I tried to rein in my pulse that had been racing for some reason. "I'm not 19 anymore."

I heard him laugh. Felt my skin breaking into goosebumps.

"No, but you're still the street smart girl who doesn't hesitate to call it like it is. I haven't forgotten what you did for me all those years ago." I heard footsteps getting closer. I moved away, my heart pounding in my chest. "I'd be lying if I say I wasn't surprised you didn't seek my help when that prick was beating you up," he said quietly.

"Please," I breathed, my eyes screwing shut.

"I understand," he said sympathetically.

"This is a job, Simon. It's not..." I sighed. "If you've hired me for any other reason than this..." I gestured at the room. "...I don't want to know about it. And if you want me to know about it, I'll be going home and not coming back." I turned to look at him finally. "Thanks for the opportunity, sir. I won't let you down."

"I see." Simon nodded, stretched out a hand. I shook it carefully. "If there's anything I can help you with, let me know."

I pulled my hand away.

"I have to get back to work," I said, averting his gaze.

"I know the feeling." Simon gave me a thin smile. I didn't return it.

*

The traffic was crazy. It was almost four in the evening, and the rows of vehicles around me refused to move. I turned off combustion and leaned back in the seat, my eyes drawn to the newspaper on the other seat.

I picked it up, scanning through the pages to see if there was something on the seminar Dave was a part of the other day. I smiled when I found a piece, with an accompanying picture of a row of top surgeons from around the world, which included my handsome man. Dave looked like he was the youngest among them.

My heart swelled with pride. Dave was a well-rounded man, not only an expert neurosurgeon at a young age, but also an amazing human being—level-headed, compassionate, wise, and definitely more educated than me. Despite a privileged background, his parents had made sure he grew up just like any other child. So he'd volunteered at parks and shelters, waited tables at pizza parlours, and taken the train home as a student. No wonder he knew every tree and every waiter by name.

I must have done something good in a past life to have found a soulmate like him.

The traffic started to move. I put the paper down and started the car. I didn't really have any work at the Kingston that day, since Simon had taken care of everything. But there were a few messages that I needed to respond to personally, and was on my way to do that.

Something caught my eye as I approached the hotel. In the narrow lane right next to the building, there was a car, and a man trying to force a woman inside it. I halted, poked my head out to see what was happening. To my horror, I saw it was Amy, being manhandled by what looked like Aaron.

He grabbed her arm. Amy cried out in pain, tried to pull away, but Aaron was too strong, too rough. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but they were not nice things for sure. He dragged Amy by her arm, opened the door of the car, and tried to herd her inside. She was crying, putting her arms around her belly, trying her best to push him away. Then he kicked her in the stomach. Amy crumbled in pain.

That was enough.

I stepped out of my car, slammed the door hard enough so he could hear. Aaron looked over his shoulder, saw me walking towards him. He shoved Amy inside the car, slammed the door shut.

"Let her go," I said, my blood boiling. Aaron turned, looked at me. He hadn't changed much. Messy hair, cold stare, macho attitude. The dimples were also the same. Even without smiling, they stood out like punctuation marks in his cheeks.

Aaron Hill. The guy I'd been in love with all those years ago. I shivered inwardly when the thought came to me. I hated to admit it.

I crossed my arms against my chest, waiting for him to recognise me. He didn't. Yeah, I'd changed a lot. I had styled hair, makeup, high heels, and sunglasses now. Barely any resemblance with the 17-year-old he used to know.

Aaron shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to scare me. "That's my girl," he announced, his voice slow and a little slurry. "I can do what I want with her."

"You can't." I tilted my head to a side, inched closer to him. "If you don't want me to call the guards, let her go."

He laughed gruffly, shaking his head. "You're threatening me?" he leaned in, his voice turning low and dangerous. "Do you know who I am?"

"Oh, yes. I do. You're Aaron Hill. A worthless, shameless farmer's brat." I stepped past him while he still tried to get over his bafflement, and headed to his car. Amy was inside, writhing in pain. My heart began to hammer in my chest.

"How...how do you know that?" His voice sounded weak and frightened. I looked at him, all the anger I'd felt towards him for twelve long years rushing back to me. Amy didn't look well. She needed help.

"You raped your best friend's sister." My voice broke as I said the words, and I swallowed to make myself speak again. "You spread rumours about her in the town. Made her flee the place. But you know what?"

I stepped closer to him again, stared at his baffled face. "She's not afraid of anything," I spoke slowly, looking into his eyes through his sunglasses. "Not anymore."

I went back to his car, opened the door to help Amy out. Aaron charged towards me, grabbed my hand.

"You're not taking her anywhere!" he growled, his grip firm on my hand. I looked down at where he had grabbed me, then back at his face. Without giving him another chance, I kicked him in the groin, my heel digging into his flesh. He winced, his grip slackening.

"No one grabs me," I said between clenched teeth. "Don't you dare come close to her again! Do you get it?"

"You—" He tried to grab me again, but I held his hand, twisting it. He groaned, his face contorting in pain. I kicked him again, and this time he staggered a little. The noise had alerted the guards at the hotel, and they came out to see what the matter was.

"Get that man!" I told them, and two of them promptly got into action, grabbing Aaron firmly. I helped Amy out, carefully took her to my car.

"Ms Robinson..." She reached out for my hand. tears rolling down her face. "My baby..."

"You'll be fine." I held her hand and tried to assure her, "Relax, okay?"

She was obviously in pain as I got into the car and started it. Amy was stroking her pregnant belly, biting her lip as she tried not to sob. There were visible marks on her face and neck, a few on her wrists. Marks I recognised so well.

I sped up, my hands trembling against the steering wheel as I headed for the hospital where Dave worked since I knew people there. Amy shed silent tears while the doctor checked her up and announced that she'd had some internal bleeding because of the hit. She was given an injection for the pain and bleeding.

"The baby's fine?" I asked the doctor. She nodded.

"But she's obviously stressed and underweight and malnourished," she gestured at Amy. "She has all chances of going into preterm labour."

"No..." Amy squeezed her eyes shut, her grip tightening around my hand. I put an arm around her, pulled her in closer.

"So what do you suggest for her?" I asked the doctor.

"She needs complete bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy, along with a proper diet and supplements."

Given her situation, complete bed rest was out of question. I thought for a while, trying to find a way out.

"Is it okay if she remains in hospital for a while now?" I asked.

"I can't," Amy protested.

"Of course you can," I retorted. "You'll be taken care of here. You want your baby, right?"

She nodded, wiping off tears. I smiled at the doctor.

"She'll remain here," I announced. "Make sure she receives the best of care."

The doctor nodded, and left the room. There were just the two of us there now, and Amy broke down again. I held her, and she clung on to me, her body jerking with little hiccuppy sobs. She felt skinny in my arms. She was close to her second trimester but hadn't put on much weight. I was sure the baby was going to be underweight.

"You were right," she croaked, still sobbing against my shoulder. "I shouldn't have trusted him..."

"It's okay," I gently patted the back of her head, trying to get my racing heart under control. "You're safe now."

"He said that he'll kill the baby..." She looked at me, moist horror in her eyes. "I want my baby, Ms Robinson," she grabbed my hand with both of her hands, as if begging me. "Please help me.... I don't want to lose my child... He'll..he'll..."

"He can't do anything." I held her hands in mine, tried to look strong even when it was agonising me. I didn't know when Aaron had come to the city or what he did for a living or how he got all that money, but I did know that I'd to save Amy and her baby from him. He wasn't anything to me anymore. He was just another abusive arsehole.

"You want me to help you?" I asked, cupping her face with my hands. She nodded, still crying.

"Fine. But you have to stay here, in the hospital, okay?" I smiled at her. "Just take care of yourself. I'll do the rest."

"But if I don't go back..."

"If you go back now, he'll get more aggressive." I lay her back against the bed, wiped off her tears. "Just trust me, okay? I know what I'm saying."

"He's dangerous," her voice fell to a whisper. "He said he'll ruin me if I try to leave... That he's got photos of us...and..."

She covered her face with her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

"What photos?"

Amy looked up, bit down on her lip to stop the tears. I sat beside her, held her while she tried to speak again.

"I managed to steal the photos from him yesterday," she finally said. "He was drunk and passed out...and..."

She glanced at her bag. I fetched it from the table and handed it to her. Amy opened the bag, fished out a brown envelope and handed it to me.

My eyes widened when I saw the contents. Photographs. Lots of them.

Aaron and Amy together. Snuggled up on a couch. Snogging. Amy beaming as she ripped into a birthday present, sat cross-legged on an expensive hardwood floor.

I shuffled through them. Amy curled up in Aaron's lap, head in his neck and fast asleep. Amy naked, giggling and shoving the camera away as she stepped out of the shower. Amy looking up, eyes heavy and skin flushed, lips parted on what had to be a moan.

I felt like I'd throw up right there.

"Good job." I hugged her, stroking her hair, even as my blood boiled with rage. As if what he'd done with me wasn't enough, he had to ruin a young girl's life. "Relax, okay? You'll be safe here."

"I don't feel safe..." She croaked. "He'll... If he gets to my family..."

"He won't. Trust me, please." Then after some thought I added: "Would you want me to call your mother? Ask her to come and be with you?"

She looked like she wanted to say yes, but remained silent.

"Would you want that?" I repeated. She swallowed, then nodded slowly.

"But she doesn't know anything." Amy said nervously. "She'll be really worried when she sees me like this."

"She doesn't know you're pregnant?"

She shook her head. "Do you want her to know?" I asked.