A Dread So Deep Read online

  She should’ve let his foul mood pass but she couldn’t stop the storm rising inside her. “Those pills aren’t your friends. And they’re not for winding down—they’re to help you sleep.”

  Phillip pushed his plate away. “But that's the point, darling, they don't help me sleep. They don't work. Which is why I need to wind down.”

  Christine collected the plates. If she cleared the table she wouldn’t have to talk to him. They wouldn’t fight. If he drank enough, he’d nod off. “I can't talk to you when you're like this.”

  Phillip jumped to his feet and shoved her into her chair. “You can't talk to me?” He brought his face close to hers. “What do you want to talk to me about?” She dropped her gaze to her lap. He gripped her by the chin and forced her to look at him. “Something you need to confess, honey? What did you do?”

  Her heart raced. “Nothing, I...”

  He tightened his grip and pain arced in her jaw. His breath was as sour as his mood. “Just tell me what you did. You’re keeping something from me, what is it?”

  Her throat tightened. “I don't want to tell you like this. I don't want to fight.”

  “Why would we fight?” His eyes burned through her. “What have you done?”

  “Nothing...I...I...”

  Phillip pounded the table and she raised her hands to shield her face. Her heart pounded so hard she couldn’t speak—couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. “God damn it, tell me.”

  She stammered. “I'm trying to but—”

  “But what? You’re just a timid little mouse who can’t speak for herself? I gotta be the bad guy every time? Badger you into it?” Jesus, woman, will you just say it?”

  Christine screamed and knocked him back. He staggered, mouth gaping, eyes burning. “I'm pregnant!”

  Phillip doubled over as though punched. For a few seconds, he didn’t move. When he straightened, his face was a cold and silent mask.

  She shuddered. “Don't look at me like that.”

  His voice was low. Dangerous. “How should I look at you?”

  Christine lifted her chin. “Like you're happy.” His cold stare was her answer. She mustered what little love she still felt for him and stroked his arm. “We made a baby. We’re going to be parents. It’s good news, isn’t it, darling? Shouldn’t we be happy?”

  He sneered. “Happy?”

  Christine drew back. “I know we said we weren't going to have kids but—” She needed to find the right words. Ones that would soothe him. Calm him. “But things were so different then. Even still, we tried. We tried for a long time. You wanted a family, remember? And things are different now. We have money, a big house, the business is doing well. We aren’t struggling like we were then.” She took a step toward him. “It’s a blessing, Phillip. We can be a family now. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? To be a family?”

  “So, the statute of limitation ran out?”

  She gaped at him. “Statute of limitations? Having a baby isn’t a crime.”

  “Maybe it ought to be.” His face twisted in disgust. “You just decided to do it, anyway? You went behind my back and got pregnant?”

  Her cheeks burned with anger. “I didn't plan this. It just happened.”

  He snickered. “You got pregnant by accident? That’s your story?”

  “My story?” She shoved past him. “What's the matter with you? I'm telling you we're having a baby. And you’re acting like I’ve committed a crime.”

  Before she knew what hit her, he had her pinned against the wall. “No. We are not having a baby.”

  She struggled against his hold. “Of course we are. I just told you, I’m pregnant.” She searched his face for the man she fell in love with. He had to be in there, still. “I know it’s a shock. But a baby, Phillip. Can’t this just be our miracle? Can’t we accept that the child we so desperately wanted is finally here?” He released her and stepped back. His expression softened. He was thinking about it—getting used to the idea. She took his hand and held it against her belly. “Your baby. Our baby.”

  He jerked back his hand and twisted away from her, muttering. He popped more pills and paced. “You’re not doing this to me. Making me a daddy. No, I won't allow it.” He leered at her. “The only child I want is you.”

  She stamped her foot. “I'm not your child. I'm your wife.”

  Phillip caught her by the wrist and squeezed it. “No, darling, you're my little princess. Who gets whatever she wants. But you're not getting this.” He squeezed harder to drive his point home. “You’re getting an abortion.”

  “No. You don’t mean that.”

  Phillip dropped her hand. He went back to the table and returned to his meal, as though nothing had happened. She could only stare at him in disbelief. He held up his empty wine glass. “I need a refill.”

  She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. He didn’t like it if she whined too much. Christine could convince him if she handled it the right way. But if he kept drinking he’d only get more agitated, she’d never get through to him. “I don't think you should. You just took the pills. I’ll get you some mineral water.”

  She edged past him toward the kitchen but he caught her by the arm and yanked her back. “Shut the fuck up and get me the god-damned wine.”

  She locked eyes with him. She had to be careful. If she made him too angry he could hurt the baby. Defeated, she went to the sideboard for the crystal decanter of wine. She refilled his glass and set the decanter in front of him. Quietly she said, “You're talking about your own child. Our child.”

  Phillip drained his wineglass and refilled it. “I'm talking about a blob of tissue and cartilage.”

  Christine filled with such hatred for him that she couldn’t move. Couldn’t feel her arms or her legs—just the hot white anger that burned inside her.

  Phillip drained his wine glass. “You should see your face.” He snorted and poured more wine. “It’s pure murder. Like you want to kill me.”

  “And if I refuse to get an abortion?” She gripped the back of her chair. “Then what?”

  Phillip threw down his fork. “You think I'm a moron? That I don't know what you do when I'm not around? You think that little parasite growing inside you is mine? You think I think that?” Christine tried to respond but he cut her off. “No baby, that's final.”

  Sagging against the chair, she wept. “You can't make me. I'll leave you.”

  Phillip went to her and stroked her back. Then pulled her into a tight embrace. “You're so pretty when you pout, honey. It just melts me.”

  She couldn’t pull free. He was too strong and she was too weak. Always too weak. “You’re hurting me. I can’t breathe.”

  Phillip loosened his hold on her. “Let it go, honey. You know I’m right. You’re not mommy material. How can you take care of a helpless little baby when you can't even take care of yourself?”

  She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed but he was immovable. “I'm leaving you. Tonight. You can’t make me kill my baby.”

  Phillip whispered in her ear. “You won’t leave me because I won't let you.” He clamped his mouth over hers, his tongue hot and primal as it probed deeper and deeper. He ran his hands down her back to her thighs, stroking and caressing until her nerves were hot wires burning inside her. And he had the power again. He would make her body betray her will. As he always did. Knowing she couldn’t fight him.

  She whispered hoarsely. “Phillip, please. I want the baby. Please let me have it.”

  He unbuttoned her blouse and grazed her breast with his fingers and a breath caught in her throat. “You see, baby. You want me. Just me.” She groaned, proving him right. He ran his hand up her skirt and found the sweet spot. She groaned louder—her body arching. “You want me so bad you can’t even think.”

  She fought to catch her breath. “Why are you doing this to me? Why?”

  Encouraged by her responding body and he worked her—taking her closer to the edge. “I’m only giving you what you
want.” He ran his tongue down her neck. “Say you'll do what I want and I'll give you what you want.”

  He was a drug she couldn’t fight. Her addiction. Her body responded to his touch regardless of her thoughts or wishes. “Let me go,” she stammered. “Why don't you let me go?”

  Phillip guided her hand to his erection and the spell was complete. “You don't want to go anywhere. You can't. Not without me, honey. I'm the only one who gives you what you need. I’m the only one who knows how.”

  Christine moved into his touch. Needing it. Craving it. “No. I want—”

  “What?” He ground his hips against hers. “What do you want, baby?”

  “I want you.” She surrendered. “I only want you.”

  Chapter 3

  CLASS WAS OVER AND Christine’s students had rushed out in a storm of giggles and chatter. Without them, the room seemed lonely as though it needed the energy of creative young minds to bring it to life. Without them, it was just a big white room with painting supplies. She went to the window and watched as the kids spotted their parents who waited for them. All so happy to see their moms and dads. Even the older ones, who’d cover it up with a smirk and a casual saunter. She could still see that connection, that belonging they had for one another. She wanted that—with her baby, her child. A twinge in her belly sought to comfort her —at least that was how she decided to take it. She couldn’t give up her baby. There had to be a way to convince Phillip to change his mind.

  “Excuse me.”

  The woman’s voice pulled Christine out of her fantasy of motherhood and into a more surreal experience. The blonde looked so much like her they could’ve been sisters. Christine blinked and looked again. Yet nothing changed—the woman still looked like her and was indeed, standing in her classroom. Her hair glowed in the morning light like a halo and her clear blue eyes were intense and guileless. Standing just behind her was a girl, perhaps eleven or twelve—also blond and fair.

  Christine caught herself staring and covered it with a smile. “Yes? Hello.”

  Taking the girl by the hand Christine’s doppelganger approached. “Hi, I’m Julie Beck.” Drawing the girl forward, she said, “And this is Faith.”

  Christine crossed to Julie and Faith, hand outstretched. “Nice to meet you, I’m Christine Logan.”

  Julie shook her hand briefly and kept her gaze on Christine. Something flickered in her eyes—curiosity, concern, worry? Christine couldn’t tell. Still, her little voice told her to be cautious.

  Julie said, “I wondered if it was too late to sign up for the painting lessons.” She laughed lightly. “For Faith, of course. Not me.”

  Christine was relieved to turn her attention to Faith. “You’re interested in painting?”

  The girl bowed her head. “Uh-huh.” She raised her eyes just enough to look at Christine. “I know how to paint. A little. But I want to get better at it.”

  Faith reminded Christine of herself at that age—an old soul, awkward in her ‘tween skin. Christine flipped open the roll book. “We’ve started the beginner’s class already but we’re only a couple of weeks in.” She winked at Faith. “We could squeeze you in if you want. You’d have to catch up a little, but since you already know the basics, it should be a snap for you. What do you think? Sound okay?”

  Faith exchanged a smile with her mother and bobbed her head. “It sounds good. Thank you.”

  They filled out the enrollment forms, then Christine gave them the schedule sheet and welcomed them. “Are you new to the neighborhood?”

  Julie whispered to Faith and the girl moved toward the exit. “I’ll meet you at the car in a couple of minutes, sweetie.” Faith waved goodbye to Christine then glided out of the room. When the door closed Julie turned to Christine. “Not exactly. I lived here a long time ago.” Her voice trailed and she was lost in thought for a moment. “My mom’s not doing well, so we’ve come back to help her.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Christine sensed there was more to the story but didn’t want to pry. “The area has changed a lot in the last few years. Much nicer than it used to be.”

  Julie murmured an agreement.

  “And of course, the Center is probably new to you. It’s only been here a couple years.” Her gaze shifted to the window then back to Julie. “A lot of the kids from the middle school come for the lessons and activities. Faith will probably run into a few.”

  Julie nodded. “We thought it might help her to socialize more easily.” She played with the strap on her bag. “Me too, for that matter.”

  Christine raised her brows. “None of your old friends still here?”

  Julie went to the window to check on her daughter. Her shoulders loosened when she spotted Faith next to a dark blue Volvo. “Not really. Someone I knew once, but I wouldn’t call them a friend.” She pried herself from the window and twisted toward Christine. “They might not be happy that I’m back.” Christine had no response. Julie took a few steps toward the door. “But you can’t let other people affect your decisions.”

  Christine nodded. “No, you can’t.” She waited for Julie to say more but all she got was an awkward smile. Christine straightened papers on her desk to give her hands something to do. “It was nice meeting you. I hope Faith enjoys the class.” Julie stood still, staring at Christine, as though unable to move. She rounded the desk and approached Julie. “Can I walk you out? Or would you like a tour of the Center?”

  Julie stepped back and raised a hand. “No, that’s okay. We’re late for an appointment. But another time? She shook Christine’s hand and held it a second longer than she needed. “It was good to meet you, too. Maybe we could grab a cup of coffee sometime.”

  “Maybe,” Christine murmured. If only Phillip would allow her to have friends. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

  Julie nodded absently then walked out.

  Curious, Christine went to the window and watched Faith. She was at that awkward age—no longer little and adorable but not yet pretty. But she could see the girl would blossom into a lovely young woman. Just looking at Faith reinforced her fantasy of having her own daughter.

  The chime of a text drew her back to the desk. “Have you made the appointment with the doctor yet?”

  And all the joy in her heart vanished.

  Chapter 4

  IN A BEDROOM OF RED and black, in a squeaky wrought iron bed, Phillip made vicious love to his sister-in-law, Melanie Campbell. Melanie liked it rough and welcomed whatever Phillip dished out. He mounted her like a siring stud and she fought him like a wild mare. The sex ended in a bite and growl.

  She rolled away from him, panting. “That was great, lover. But it didn’t change my mind.” Phillip flipped her over, anxious to go again. She pushed him off and lit a cigarette. “I mean it this time, Phillip. Me or them. You have to choose.”

  He copped her cigarette and pulled a hard drag from it. “No, I don't.” He tossed the cigarette in a half-glass of wine on the side table. “I won’t.” He knuckled her chin. “How do you like that?”

  Melanie shoved him and he landed, bare-assed, on the hardwood floor. “You arrogant bastard. Get the hell out of my house.”

  He flapped his hand at the armoire against the wall, still wrapped in moving blankets. “I delivered your piece of junk. What more do you want?” She glared, cat claws out, but Phillip didn’t take it seriously. She was all drama but nothing about her was serious. She had some balls demanding he give up his other women for her. Never gonna happen. He jumped up and chortled. “Oh, come on, baby.” He danced—waggling his junk at her. “You don’t really want us to get out. Do you?”

  A smile lit her eyes but she kept it from reaching her lips. “It’s what I just said, isn’t it?” She pointed to the door. “Take your junk and get out. I'm dumping both of you. She covered her breasts with her arms, as though denying him a treat. “How do you like that?”

  Phillip grabbed her by the arms and pulled her out of the bed. He stared at her full ripe breas
ts and licked his lips. “Impossible. I'm irresistible.” He pulled her into a lovelock and thrust his hips against hers. “You can’t deny that.”

  She yielded to him as she always did. “Irresistible? Is that another word for conceited?”

  “Charming,” he whispered in her ear and thrust again.

  She bit his neck. “Ruthless.”

  He didn’t want talk, he wanted sex. He slung her over his shoulder, threw her on the bed, and climbed on top of her. “Admit it, baby.” He entered her. “You love it.”

  Melanie gasped. “I like it.”

  He started with a slow grind and built up to a steady pump. She writhed under him, anxious and needy. Then he stopped and grinned at her. “Do you think Christine likes Michael as much as I like you?

  Her eyes were glassy with desire. “Oh, you like me, now?”

  He picked up where he left off but slowly. “At this moment? Yeah. I like you a lot, baby.”

  Without losing her rhythm, she said, “How would I know what Christine likes?”

  “She's your sister.” He grazed her chin with his teeth. “Don’t you girls talk about that stuff? What you like?” He snickered. “How you like it?”

  She wrapped her long legs around his waist and thrust her hips upward. “Christine? Tell me that?” She snorted. “I don’t think so.” She pulled a rolling maneuver, landing her on top. “All I know is that she doesn’t give you what you need.”

  Phillip squeezed her breasts until she winced. “Who says she doesn’t give me what I need?” He drove himself deeper inside her, making her cry out, exciting him more. He rolled on top of her and thrust harder. “I never said that.”

  She gasped, on the edge of climaxing. “You wouldn’t be here if she did.”

  He grabbed a fistful of her thick black hair and pulled, bringing tears to her eyes. “Maybe I just like an easy fuck.”

  She dug her nails into his back and arched upward. “Then shut up and fuck. You’re ruining my orgasm.”