Where We Meet Again

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Where We Meet Again Page 21

by Wilson, A. M.


  “If, God forbid, anything happened to me, your Aunt Kiersten would be there in a heartbeat. I also know deep down, even if he and I don’t always get along, that Law will be too. He’d never, ever leave you to fend for yourself.”

  He and I could hate each other for the rest of our lives, but now that he knows the truth, he won’t go anywhere. She’s his family, and Law’s nothing if not loyal.

  I loathe myself for my past mistakes and having to hurt him not only once, but twice. I got Evelyn out of the mess I made the first time, and out of the second, I gave her the one person who I trusted with my life. Now it’s time I learn to forgive myself, because neither of these things I can bring myself to regret.

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because. Once upon a time, I knew him better than I knew anybody. Before Kiersten, before you were born, before my brother died, I had Law, and he was my best friend. That might have been what feels like an eternity ago, but those good qualities in people, honey, they’re made in the beginning, so I know. I know he’s not going anywhere for you.”

  “They are?”

  “Mmhmm.” I give her another squeeze. “It’s also how I know you’re going to be a wonderful, kind, selfless person, because that’s who you are now. That’s not going to change. But, honey?” I wait to continue until I have her full attention, because I need to make sure she understands this next part.

  Using the blanket, she dries the last of the tears off her cheeks. “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry you’re missing out on not having a dad. But I need to know you understand that’s not what Law is to you. You need to let him be in your life how he can and not make him feel like he has to be something he isn’t.”

  “I still think he’d be a good dad,” she mumbles, but the spark of attitude tells me she gets me.

  “Evelyn.”

  “I understand, Mom.”

  “Good. Also, I love you more than enough for two parents, so you’re pretty lucky.”

  “I love you too.”

  We stay cuddled for a while, talking quietly about visiting Maggie soon. Once her sadness trickles away, she bounces back into my Evelyn and suggests we play a game. After nearly three hours of Monopoly, which she wins, I make us gourmet mac ‘n cheese (from a box), and we eat dinner in front of the TV, watching Grey’s Anatomy.

  Too many people die in this damn show. I spend half the time blinking back tears and the other half trying to not choke on my mac ‘n cheese.

  23

  Law lowers the glass of whiskey to his chest, leans back in the black leather office chair, and regards the disordered mess of papers scattered over the oak surface of the desk. The evening light seeps through the drawn shades surrounding him; the four-seasoned porch bathed in a dim glow. One lamp is lit, the one to his right, and a single spotlight shines directly on the cream envelop he found just that evening. Days have passed, drunk off alcohol and the desperation to find evidence, anything to prove or disprove what she said.

  It never once crossed his mind that his father, the man who gave him a life full of support and encouragement, not only when he lost his babies and his cheating ex-wife but all the time, hid something of this magnitude.

  Cleaning out the house months ago, Law only came across one thing in the old office files that seemed strange. Even then, the single explanation most feasible for the monthly deposit into a secret bank account was that it was business related. The account was in his father’s name, a high interest savings account at a different bank than the one he used for his regular finances.

  That was it. It was also the clue that led him to the envelope.

  He’d been in town for a week when, hungover and desperate, he wracked his brain for a clue. It was then he remembered the bank account.

  He checked for a safe deposit box. And with luck, he’d found one.

  In the box holding a stack of bonds and investments that Law had intended to deal with later was the envelope. The moment his eyes hit the looping scrawl, he knew it was the one.

  Now, days after his discovery, he just has to convince himself to open it.

  There’s only so much a man can take, and when it comes to the woman he loves, he wants to take everything. Love, however, is an emotion like any other, and sometimes, it isn’t enough.

  He wants it to be. The love he’s carried for her never left. Fuck, laying eyes on her in that coffee shop for the first time since she’d disappeared from his life, that love came surging back.

  There hasn’t been a doubt in his mind; from that moment forward, he was going to have her. It wouldn’t be easy. They both had their work cut out for them, but she had belonged to him always.

  But hearing those words come from her mouth, the truth he saw in her eyes and what that meant about what he knew about his life, it eviscerated him.

  His life had been a lie.

  That father of his, who seemed to selflessly provide him with his heart’s desires, had been a mirage. Like the illusion of water in the desert, the closer her words brought Law to the truth, the faster it dried up.

  Poof.

  Gone.

  Answers wait in front of him, but all he’s capable of is lifting that glass to his mouth, taking a hefty swallow, and setting it back down.

  Repeat.

  So much time passes that the dim light fades, and a blackness creeps out of the angles of the room.

  The chair beneath him creaks when he shifts his weight. Law’s head falls back, and he rubs a hand over his eyes, willing himself to get it over with.

  Her ghostly voice echoes in his ear, urging him.

  Pick it up. Pick it up, Law. Pick it up.

  He picks it up, turning the smooth cream paper in his fingertips.

  Open it!

  Law runs his thumb over his name written on the front. It’s his full name, a name he’s loathed since he was a kid. She used to call him that when she was ticked and trying to make him the same.

  Why he tried to force her to call him that in Arrow Creek, he didn’t know. It was more torturous to him than it was to her, he’d put money on it.

  Law pulls his Leatherman from his pocket, switching the blade up with his thumb, and in one fluid movement, slices the envelope open. Inside are two pieces of lined paper folded into thirds.

  He leans forward and drains the rest of his drink in one swallow. Resting his elbows on the desk, he retrieves the letter and opens it.

  Lawrence,

  To say the diagnosis of Pancreatic Cancer is a relief is an understatement. By the time you read this, I’ll be dead. I know that won’t stop you from wishing I were alive so you could kill me yourself. Believe me, son, I understand. Too many times over the years I wanted to take the coward’s way out. The pain of the heinous things I’d done was unbearable, but living through every day after was my penance, and mine alone to bear. Taking my own life would have only added another loss in your life, something you’ve had more than your share of since you were sixteen years old.

  As I write this, I am still shocked to know this secret has lived on. When I sent her away fourteen years ago, I thought it was only a matter of time until she came back. Weeks turned into months, turned into years without a sign of her, even after her brother died. I waited. I was always waiting for that moment the other shoe would drop, and she would come back to demand her due.

  I know I’m rambling. This isn’t easy to tell you, after of living a lie for so long. I’m going to come out and say it now, and son, I hope you have it in you to forgive her. Forgive her, because the sole responsibility for what happened lies on my shoulders.

  I raped her, and she got pregnant.

  I’m ashamed to say how long it took me to believe that it wasn’t just sex, but there’s no responsibility I can place on her. She was sixteen, that in and of itself is rape by the definition of the law, but besides that, she didn’t come onto me. She didn’t want me. If she could have, she would have said no.

  You don’t want the details; in fac
t, they’ll only hurt you, but I’m giving them to you, anyway. I hope that you will understand, and in the chance your paths cross again, you can forgive her.

  You told me how you broke her heart. What I hid from you is that I already knew that. She came to our house after school that day. She was upset and crying. I was upset and drunk.

  Something else I hadn’t shared with you, until right now, is that I knew about your mother’s affair long before we told you. We waited until you were out of high school to split up, but the week before this happened, I knew. And to deal with that, I spent a lot of time drunk.

  I found Cami crying on your bed that afternoon. Nothing I said calmed her, so I went to get her a drink of water. To this day, I don’t know what crossed my mind. I’d blame the alcohol, but that doesn’t make it right. I drugged her with your mother’s muscle relaxers. I thought they’d help her relax, so I crushed two in her drink. How she didn’t taste them, I’ll never know.

  You need to know she never consented. I touched her and kissed her, and I think she was too shocked to do anything. Within minutes, she was unconscious. By that point, I’d lost control and couldn’t make myself stop. Nothing I say will make you understand my decision, and my thoughts and feelings are unimportant, so I’ll leave it at that.

  She came to me weeks later, pregnant, and when I’d suggested it, refused to have an abortion. That’s another thing I’ll never understand. A simple procedure could have avoided much, but I was far too selfish to respect her decision. Instead, I’d forced her away, offering her cash and monthly support in exchange for her disappearance.

  Cami took the cash, ten grand, but refused the monthly payments.

  And as you know, she never came back.

  If you never see her again, I at least hope you can forgive her for leaving. She stuck up for what she believed in and proved her strength.

  I, on the other hand, look forward to the day this cancer kills me, and I have paid my final debt.

  I love you, son. You don’t have to forgive me and I don’t expect you to, but learn to let the past go before it kills you too.

  Dad

  P.S. There’s a saving’s account with County Living Financial with my name on it. See that the lawyer gets the money to Cami. There’s no price that will change what I did to her, but I hope it helps.

  Law braces, hand gripping the corner of the oak desk as the bile rushes up his throat, and there on the floor of his father’s office, he vomits.

  24

  As days turn to weeks, I go straight passed concerned into pissed. Law hasn’t come back. Seventeen days have trickled by since he walked out of our lives, and there’s been radio silence ever since.

  I drove by his house on more than one occasion. Each time it was dark. His truck wasn’t in the drive whether it was day or night. He hadn’t even left the porch light on. All of that led me to believe when he told Evelyn he was going home, he meant Logansville. The thought concerns me.

  The timing of things really suck. Law’s dad had passed away last November, and there’s been no shortage of guilt that if I’d told him the truth when I first ran into him in September, he could have had a chance at closure with his father.

  It’s all conjecture at this point.

  I can wonder and assume things until I’m blue in the face. The reality is, I don’t have an honest clue about what Law feels after I revealed the truth. He could hate me, his father, the both of us, himself. Not knowing, and the fact he isn’t here and hasn’t been in seventeen days (and counting, even though I told myself I wasn’t), is what eats me up inside.

  I’ve lain awake at night hoping he’s safe. He shared a bit about his past, his life with Steph, and it burns me knowing I hurt him once again when he’s already suffered a lifetime of hurt.

  As we near three weeks without him, I get angry. Mostly because he’s letting Evelyn down.

  She started physical therapy for her hips, which is a struggle to work around. Nerve damage and numbness leaves us with an uncertainty that we don’t know if it will be permanent. Not feeling like her old self and not knowing if she ever will again or if this is her new reality wears on her. Add that to the emotional trauma from the accident and Law’s disappearance, and I worry even more about her wellbeing.

  Any attempts I make talking to her or cheering her up fail miserably.

  The light in all of this is that tomorrow she’s going back to school for the first time since winter break, and I hope getting out of the house and seeing her friends puts a smile back on her face.

  A storm cloud parks over our house. Bad moods run rampant. Even Kiersten shows up after picking up some groceries, cursing.

  “I am swearing off men. Done. Never again. I’d rather be celibate for the rest of my life.”

  “You and me both, sister,” I grumble and move a pork roast from the grocery sack to the freezer. When I turn around, she cocks an eyebrow at me. “What?”

  “You’ve sort of already done that. This is about me. And my uncontrollable love of co—Ow!ˮ The pyramid of cans she juggles slips, and one hit her square in the toe. She drops to her ass and cradles it.

  “That’s why we don’t talk like a sailor when children are in the house.” Goodness, Evelyn is right down the hall.

  “I hate you. I’m done. Put your own groceries away and give me some ice.”

  I stick out my tongue. “You love me and you’re just pissy because you’re sex deprived.” I hand her a bag of frozen peas.

  She leans in my direction and hisses. “No, I’m pissy because Rhett eats my pussy like a god and suddenly decided he doesn’t want to anymore!”

  I suck in a breath so hard my saliva shoots down my windpipe. “Jesus,” I croak, choking on my spit. “Oh, my god, shut up!”

  “I know,” she responds miserably. “This is what happens to me. I find a guy, we have the most amazing, mind-blowing sex, and then they disappear. I’m not that crazy, am I?” She must see the look on my face, because she adds, “Don’t answer that. Rhetorical question.”

  “I think the problem is you find all sex mind-blowingly-amazing and get attached.”

  She shrugs. “What can I say?”

  I stuff what feels like eighteen bags of Doritos in my cabinet when a spontaneous idea comes to me. I feel it so strongly in my gut that my hand freezes mid-air, clutching the bag so hard I’m sure it will pop. “Hey, so… crazy idea.” Instead of putting it away, I drop the chips to the counter.

  “What’s that?” Kiersten stops inspecting her toe to look up. I’m a shit actress, but I try my best to be nonchalant.

  “Maybe you should go on a date with Nathan.”

  Her eyebrows crease a little and her mouth twists to the side. She pulls the corners down, then gives a quick shrug. “Yeah, maybe. He’s cute.”

  “Really? Want me to nudge him in your direction?”

  She grins and sticks out her hand. “Nah. I like to play with my mouse before I eat it.”

  Of course she does. Reaching down, I grip her hand and help her up, taking the peas from her and putting them back in the freezer.

  “Now that the groceries are put away, whatchya making for dinner?”

  I roll my eyes. “Seriously, if you don’t get in touch with Nathan, I’m doing it for you. You’d be so less annoying if you were somebody’s girlfriend. At least you could annoy them instead of me.”

  Kiersten opens her mouth to defend herself, but a knock sounds at the door. “Is that who I think it is?”

  The same thought crosses my mind seeing as she’s here, Nathan and I still aren’t exactly BFF’s again, and the only other person who’d show up unannounced would be Law. Immediately, my earlier ire resurfaces. “It sure as hell better not be.”

  A buzzing begins in my ears, and my hands curls into fists. I don’t want to be angry with him. We’ve had enough arguments to last a lifetime. It’s just if I have to pick an emotion to show him anger is the safest. If he wants nothing to do with me, then I don’t want to show him
I care. That I’ve been worried about his disappearance. Vulnerability is a weapon, and I’m determined not to let him hurt me again.

  I check the peephole, in control enough not to go pissed-off-momma-bear on some unsuspecting girl scouts, and inhale sharply at what I see.

  A hand braced on either side of the doorway, Law stands on my porch with his head hanging between his arms. As if he senses me watching him, he looks up. Anguish scores through me at the raw, red rims of his eyes and the purple circles beneath them.

  “Open the damn door, Cami.” His voice pleads raggedly and barely controlled.

  I lower from my tip toes and flip the locks. Footsteps pad down the hall, and the unmistakable clunk of Evelyn’s crutches follows, but I don’t look in that direction. My only focus is getting that door open before my heart squeezes so tightly that it stops.

  The door flies open, and a blast of icy air hits me.

  Law’s hands drops from the wood frame. He takes a step forward. That is all he gets before Evelyn bursts past at a speed that isn’t conducive to her safety and slams into him. No hesitation, he wraps her up tight in his arms.

  I hold it together. Barely. From my peripheral, I can see Kiersten trying to catch my eye, but looking at her would have me falling apart. I keep it in check by clenching my jaw and staring straight ahead. This moment would have been a lot sweeter if I knew where I stood with Law. Seeing as I don’t, it simply cuts deep.

  They exchange words that are too quiet for me to hear, and when they come apart, Evelyn is smiling. That doesn’t hurt so much as it’s bittersweet. My throat goes dry.

 

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