Judith Bowen - The Doctor's Daughter

Johnny woke up for supper, cheerful but still very drunk. He ate two huge platefuls of the concoction she’d made, complimenting her on her cooking. Then he dug the key out of his jeans pocket with a sly grin at her and swaggered onto the stoop outside, where she could hear him relieving himself. When he came in, she went out with the same object in mind, finding some privacy behind a bush to one side of the cabin. There was no outhouse that she could see, but there was probably one a few yards . down a nearby trail. She wasn’t about to hunt for it, though. Johnny was waiting for her on the stoop when she returned.

“Thought I’d let you sneak off on me, eh?” he said with a snort of laughter. “Not a chance, babe.”

“When are you taking me home?” she demanded. None of this struck her as being the slightest bit humorous.

“Whoa, don’t get your shorts in a knot, babe. I’ll drop you off tomorrow somewhere. Canmore, Calgary, wherever you wanna go. No sweat.” He followed her back into the cabin and locked the door again.

“Why are you locking up?” she asked. She didn’t like the idea of a locked door with a fire in the stove. Or Johnny. He was drunk. What if he upset an oil lamp or something?

“Keep out the bad guys,” he joked, winking at her. “You can’t be too careful these days. There’s a lotta riffraff out there runnin’ around.” He gave her a significant look and dropped the key back in his pocket. Virginia went into the bedroom to return the magazine and surreptitiously tried the small window there. It was either nailed or painted shut. There was no way she could get out without breaking the glass. Well, if she had to, she would. Maybe when he passed out again.

Half an hour later it was too dark to read. Luckily her captor had shown no interest in lighting the lamps that were lined up on the kitchen counter. Johnny fell asleep sprawled out on the sofa, with only an inch or two left in the whiskey bottle. Virginia hoped that was the only booze the cupboards would yield.

She tried the bedroom window again. It wouldn’t budge. Then she went back into the main room and tried the window he’d opened earlier. It was stuck, too. She looked for some kind of tool in the kitchen drawer, but didn’t come up with anything more lethal than a dull knife, which she took into the bedroom. She began chipping at the paint that covered the window frame.

“Whatcha doin’, babe?”

Damn. Virginia put down the knife and cleared her throat. “Nothing,” she called back. She froze for a few moments, then heard snoring again.

She was trapped here. But did she really want to get out now and try to make her way through the dark forest? She could get seriously lost. For tonight, anyway, things seemed pretty hopeless.

She might as well go to bed. She picked up an afghan that lay on the end of the bed and carried it into the main room. Johnny was stretched out on the sofa. She unfolded the afghan and draped it lightly over his snoring form. With any luck he wouldn’t wake up until morning.

Then, just in case, she jammed the kitchen knife between the door frame and the door itself of the bedroom as a temporary lock and studied the sagging double bed. When had the sheets last been changed? Did she want know? For extra security, she lodged a rickety chan under the latch, then took off her jeans and sneakers, leaving her socks, shirt and underwear on, and climbed between the fairly clean-looking quilt and blanket that covered the bed. She could only hope that morning would come soon. And that Johnny would be sober enough to drive her to the nearest town.

It was so quiet. Except for the soughing of the wind in the trees and Johnny snoring in the living room, there wasn’t a sound. And it was getting so dark. There wasn’t even a moon.

Despite her certainty that, exhausted or not, she wouldn’t sleep, she did, only to awaken suddenly in a horrible fright, the room pitch-dark, and with the stinking, whiskey-laden breath of her captor in her face. He obviously had broken into the room somehow and fallen across the bed. He was trying to kiss her.

“Johnny!” She wrenched her face away. “Stay away from me!”

“Whassamatter? Doc’s daughter too good for me now? Eh?” He persisted, rubbing his whiskery face over hers. She wanted to gag when his damp mustache swept across her mouth.

“Get off me!”

“Shut up, you stuck-up bitch,” he growled, grabbing her hair. “Kiss me. The way you used to.” Real fear stabbed Virginia’s heart. This wasn’t the Johnny Gagnon she knew. She realized at the same time that he’d taken off his clothes. He was stark naked on top of her on the bed, only the tattered quilt between them.

He plunged his tongue into her mouth and she gagged. He swore and grabbed the quilt off her and tore at her panties. Virginia fought him, scratching his shoulders and pulling his hair. She was filled with complete panic and the strength of ten women.

Johnny swore in French several times and slapped her, then fumbled with himself, his other arm holding her down on the bed. She realized he was trying to rape her. She screamed. He laughed. “Go ahead. Nobody’s gonna hear you, babe.” She screamed again and twisted, desperately trying to free herself. “Come on, honey, settle down. You used to like this, remember?”

He thrust and thrust again. Nothing happened. Obviously he was too drunk to maintain an erection. Then he slumped suddenly, weighing her down so heavily she could barely breathe. Omigod.

He’d passed out again. On top of her. Stark naked on top of her. Virginia wanted to scream again, this time with hysterical laughter. But she was afraid she’d wake him. The impulse turned to painful whimpers as she heard his breathing slow, and the wet, sloppy, ragged sound of his snoring again. His breath overpowered her and made her retch. She tried to wriggle out from under him, with no success. She told herself to calm down, to save up her strength for one huge effort once he was deeply, fully unconscious.

Gradually, over the course of the next hour or so—she had no idea how long she lay there, terrified—she wriggled herself ever so slightly away from him. Inch by tiny inch she moved, so that less of his weight pressed her into the lumpy mattress springs.

But it was no use. There was no escape. Johnny woke up. He raped her twice before morning. The second time, the birds were singing mightily in the trees outside and it was nearly the gray of first light. Battered and feeling sick beyond words, Virginia pushed the unprotesting Johnny off her and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She no longer cared if he tried to stop her. There was nothing more he could do to her, except kill her.

She stood, shaking, and looked down at the man she’d once loved with all her innocent teenage heart. She hated him now. She hadn’t known hate could flood the heart as hotly and thickly as love.

She groped in the dark for her jeans. She couldn’t find her panties. She felt around for her shoes. She realized she’d put her hand on another pair of jeans, Johnny’s, in the darkness. She thrust her hand in his pocket. The key. Then she groped around until she found her shoes.

“Where you goin’, babe?” Johnny groaned sleepily, and she froze. She couldn’t believe it. He acted as though they’d just shared a night of consensual sex. As though this was just the morning after, one among many morning afters.

“I’m just going out to pee,” she said, willing her voice to steadiness.

Johnny moaned something indistinguishable and buried his face in the mildewed pillow.

She slipped into her jeans, shuddering. She had a few dollars in her pocket, for the Danish she’d planned to buy the morning before. She hadn’t brought a purse. Then she walked to the door of the cabin, opened it, closed it quietly behind her and turned the key in the lock from the outside. Squeezing her eyes shut, she threw the key as far into the long grass as she could.

She made her way to the Jeep and, in the rapidly lightening forest, managed to hot-wire the vehicle with shaky fingers. Some of Johnny Gagnon’s early lessons had been well learned, she thought ironically. The engine roared as she put it in gear and retraced the path they’d taken the previous day. If Johnny pounded on the cabin door, she didn’t hear it. She didn’t hear anything. All her thoughts were on getting away and blocking the entire incident out of her mind.

That afternoon, after she’d showered and scrubbed herself until she was raw, she phoned the police. A constable picked her up at the Prescott cabin and she gave a statement at the area headquarters. She knew Johnny was as good as in jail. She didn’t mention the rape, and when they asked her if she’d been hurt, she said no, she was fine. A month later, she was subpoenaed to testify against Johnny Gagnon in court and he was sentenced to nine years for armed robbery, grand larceny, assault and kidnapping, to be served in a federal penitentiary.

Three weeks after that, Virginia knew her dreams of a law degree were over. She needed to make a living, starting right now. She was pregnant; she was going to have Johnny Gagnon’s child.

CHAPTER THREE

“Y-YOU MEAN I HAVE the job?” Virginia sat a little straighter in the hard oak chair facing Pete Horsfall’s desk.

The old man spread his hands wide, an indulgent smile on his good-natured face. “I don’t see why not. Everything’s in order here—” he rearranged a few papers on his desk, then leaned back, still smiling “—and if I can’t do a good turn for the doc’s daughter, I’d like to know why not.”

“I don’t want the job because I’m Jethro Lake’s daughter,” Virginia said firmly. But she knew that wasn’t the real reason Horsfall was hiring her. It was because she was qualified, maybe even overqualified, for the job.

“No, no—you’re not getting the job because you’re a Glory girl, my dear. Heavens, no! It’s because you know the work and I’m convinced you’ll do a fine job for us. Have you seen Lucas yet?”

“No.” The thought of working with Lucas Yellowfly made her a little nervous. She hadn’t seen him in years, not since that crazy night they’d spent together after her graduation. Talking, laughing, kissing, looking at the stars. Not that anything serious had happened—but it had made Jethro mad enough that he’d shipped her off to New Brunswick on practically the next train. “You said he wasn’t in the office?”

“No. He’s stepped out for the afternoon to go to a christening celebration. You remember Joe Gallant?” the older man queried from beneath grizzled brows. “Farms out toward Vulcan way.”

She nodded. She had a faint recollection of the Gallant family. Joe and his sister had been a few years ahead of her in school.

“Well, Joe’s finally married. Last year, to a real nice girl from Calgary. Honor Templeman. A lawyer! Oil- and gas-business law. Maybe Doc and your ma told you, eh?” When Virginia shook her head, he added, “Honor may do some title work for us a few days a week when her baby’s a little older.”

“I look forward to meeting her.” Virginia smiled. “Well, I’d better go. I left Robert with Mom for the afternoon.” She stood up and extended her hand. Pete Horsfall shook it warmly.

“I’m looking forward to meeting the little gaffer. P’rhaps Doc and I can take him fishing one of these days.”

“Robert would like that,” Virginia responded, smiling. She thought of her small, serious, bespectacled son. Fishing on the Horsethief River with a couple of old men would be a fine experience for him. That kind of thing was exactly why she’d made up her mind to come back to Glory. It was time to settle down, to stay in one place long enough for Robert to make friends. He’d start school in September, kindergarten, and it was time she quit running and made some long-term plans in her own life.