by Bex Dane
"Daddy, why do you have these marks on your skin?"
Cass glances at me. We've told her some of the story, but not everything yet. Someday when she's older we'll let her know about Arthur Morganstein. Right now, she doesn't need his name in her head.
"They tell a story," I answer her.
"Tell me the story."
The pines needles crunch under my boots as I think about how to answer this one. "It's about a boy who had bad things happen to him." Cass reaches out and touches my arm over the scars. I grab her hand and squeeze it as I smile down at Willow. "And then things got good."
"That sounds good. Will you tell me the rest of the story?"
"I'll tell you the parts your momma lets me tell you."
Cass laughs. "The kid appropriate parts."
"All right. But when you're older, I'll tell you the grown-up parts."
"Eww. Does it involve you and Mommy, ya know?" Willow makes a circle with one hand and pushes her finger through it.
"Willow. Where did you learn that?" Cass acts shocked but she knows Willow picks it up from her brothers.
"I know lots of things." Willow replies like she's twenty-five instead of five.
"Oh Lord. We've got a wild one on our hands." Cass rolls her eyes.
"Let her be wild," I repeat Cass's own words from earlier. It's hard to watch her and her brothers grow up, knowing the world isn't fair and they'll face a lot of challenges, but one thing they can always be sure of. They have a home in these mountains they can come back to anytime, and they will be welcomed unconditionally. They have a family that loves them no matter what hardships they face. Hopefully, that gives them the strength they need to believe even when life seems bad, love can make it good.
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Playlist
"Arthur" by Christopher Cross
"Falling Like The Stars" by James Arthur
"For My Daughter" by Kane Brown
"Ghostbusters" by Ray Parker Jr.
"Knock Three Times" by Tony Orlando
"Leave Her Wild" by Tyler Rich
"Outnumbered" by Dermot Kennedy
"Rapture" by Blondie
"Scars" by Sam Smith
"The First Cut Is The Deepest" by Sheryl Crow
"Ticks and Leeches" by Tool
Coming Soon - Memorizing Mace (Twist Brothers Book Two)
*This excerpt contains spoilers and possible gun violence triggers.
Loralei
"Here are your referrals. Try to see these specialists within a few days." The doctor who treated me in the hospital smiles and hands me my discharge papers.
As she leaves, Mace's adopted mother, Mila, walks in the room with a case of luggage. "I brought you some clothes."
"Wow. Thank you. That's very thoughtful." As I sift through the case, I notice she included my signature pieces like a navy-blue headband, nautical scarf, and even anchor earrings. "How'd you know my style?"
"Mace told me a little, and I looked you up online. You're fun to shop for." Mace noticed my preferences in clothes? He doesn't seem like a details kinda guy, but it's nice that he thought of me and asked Mila to find things I would like.
In the bathroom, the navy Dockers and a blue and white striped stretch boatneck top make me feel like myself again.
When I come out of the bathroom, he looks me over and smiles. I'm not sure what it means to him that I'm back but he seems pleased.
In the hospital parking lot, the California sun blinds me. How many sunny days like this have I forgotten? I don't feel like I missed any seasons. All I have to go on is what Mace is telling me. I'm putting so much trust in him and I'm not sure if it's wise, but he's convincing, and I don't have a lot of other choices. He says my family is out of town now anyway, so I might as well give him a chance.
Mace walks me out to a black Chevy pick-up truck. At least I think it's black. It's so dirty, could be gray. Tangled necklaces made of feathers and bones hang from the rearview mirror.
He helps me into a cracked-leather seat and pulls a well-worn seat belt over my shoulder. He grins as he snaps the buckle in place. I'm kinda liking this special treatment from the stranger glass man with gorgeous hair who smells like wood and looks like a movie star.
"It's not a Maserati, but it's reliable."
"Hmm? What? No. I wasn't thinking anything bad. I like it. It has character."
He chuffs a laugh and walks around the front of the truck. He climbs into the driver's seat and looks over at me with a gentle smile. "How're you feeling?"
"I'm a little unsteady on my feet but my body feels okay now."
"You should rest one more night and we'll start tomorrow."
"I really don't want to rest. I'm so anxious now to know what happened. I'm worried about my family. Please tell me now."
He stares at me for a few more moments. White flecks in his cobalt-blue eyes make his whole face seem like it's glowing. He nods and says, "All right. I'm gonna take you to your dad's studio and tell you there."
That seems odd, but I go with it. Driving to Camarillo, he hums along with the music on the radio. He switches the station several times during each song like he's listening to three songs at once. His stations are eclectic like him. He easily switches from metal to classic rock to pop to country. He's carefree and mellow in a way I never could be.
Mace takes me to the Valentine Amphitheater. Before getting out of the truck, he pulls a taupe cotton work shirt from behind the seat and slips it on over his T-shirt. Watching him button it up and pull his hair back has me mesmerized. Is he trying to hypnotize me? The man should play with his hair all day long making women swoon.
"Ready?" he asks me with an easy-going smile, but his eyes are tight. My stomach drops like a lead weight. This is bad. Very bad. He's an easy going guy and he's nervous. This can't be good.
My hands tremble as the cool air of the office building where I work hits us. The normal receptionist isn't in the lobby today, and the girl working now doesn't even notice us come in.
He stops in front of the fountain at the end of the hallway to my office, positioning us like we were at the exact point of my last memory. I'm coming from the hallway, and he's standing in the lobby waiting for me.
"I remember this. I remember walking out and seeing you in that shirt."
He nods. "Good. You were wearing a navy-blue headband and your scarf had anchors on it."
"You remember what I was wearing?"
"Like it was today." He grins.
"For me, it is today." This is so surreal.
"Yeah. You were looking up at me with your big brown eyes. You hiccuped." His voice is soft and gentle.
"Yes. So embarrassing."
"It was cute."
Heat flushes my cheeks. No one thinks hiccups are cute. They are all-together humiliating, but I remember being shocked by his long, curly hair with sunkissed highlights, his strong jaw, and his Goliath size. He seemed more like a statue than a real man.
Hiccup.
"Shoot. Darn it. Anyway, I said I'd show you where the stained-glass window would be so you could measure it."
"And then?"
"That's it. I don't remember anything else. Did I show you the window?"
"Yes. Let's go." He walks us over to the front door of the amphitheater, and we walk down a long corridor. The empty amphitheater echoes and creeks as we stop beside the stage.
"Why are we here?"
"This is the hardest part. It's gonna hurt like hell and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wish I could take this away from you, but this is what happened and probably why your brain is blocking your memories." He sounds so tortured and uncomfortable.
"You're freaking me out."
"Just remember, you're safe. I will not let anyone hurt you."
"Okay."
He puts earbuds in my ears and shows me a dark screen. Muffled crunches make it seem like we're walking down the corridor. My father's voice filters in, and the shot pans up to him on the stage.
"I'm a big fan
of your father's," Mace's voice says in my ear. He was with me in this same corridor.
My father's face is drawn and sweaty. His suit is ill-fitting and rumpled. Is he crying?
"And my wife… my dear wife… who stood by me through it all." His tone is off. He's unusually upset. "Come up here, my sweet Roslyn." There's a bitterness in his voice I've never heard before.
My step-mom walks slowly up to him with concern on her face. The crowd stays silent.
She places her hands on my dad's chest and sobs. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry you're hurting."
"It's a pain I've never known. A pain of betrayal. Lies. Deceit. It's made me doubt everything I ever thought was true."
"No. Don't do that. We'll overcome this like we have all our other challenges."
"Challenges? Stealing and cheating. I can't trust anyone anymore. Everyone is out to get me."
"I'm not."
"You too. They all are."
Why are they talking like this? It's breaking my heart.
My father reaches into his jacket pocket and the hairs on my neck stand up. He pulls out a gun!
My breath gushes from my chest as the loud bang rings through the amphitheater and vibrates in my head.
My step-mom's mouth drops open. She grips her stomach and collapses to the stage.
It's like a dream. It can't be real.
The crowd gasps.
My father points the gun toward his mouth. The video goes dark.
Something strong hits my stomach and I'm flying around. I'm upside down over Mace's shoulder.
The second bang I hear in the earbuds ripples through my entire body like lightning.
With that bang, my life explodes.
He runs fast. His shoulder pushes into my tummy with each step. The sound of his footsteps echoes in the earbuds. It's like it's happening in dual worlds. Both of which are impossible.
He flips me upright and plops me down in the passenger seat. He runs around the front of the truck and hops in.
"Get down," his voice says through the earbuds. I duck my head below the dash.
He withdraws a gun from the glovebox and aims it at the theater doors.
I expect to see people and police any moment now rushing out of the amphitheater, but there's no one.
"I don't need this weapon today. It's not loaded. I wanted to recreate as much for you as possible."
I can't understand him. "Recreate? This isn't real?"
"It's not happening right now. It absolutely did happen a year ago. We're safe now."
This is so confusing. "Did that really happen? What I saw on your phone?"
"Yes."
"No!" My dad wouldn't do something so horrific.
"I'm sorry. It's true."
I'm numb. I'm stuck in a horror movie. A loud screeching noise burns my ears. He pulls out the earbuds. "Emergency vehicles showed up."
What's he saying?
"Take some time and process this."
"Process this? You are a liar! That's fake." I point to his phone. "That's not real. You're trying to con me."
"I'm not. You ready to see news footage?"
"I don't know."
He opens a video on his phone. News reports. Emrick Valentine killed his wife and himself. Murder-suicide. Another video shows me in a black dress at a funeral.
"That's me!"
"Yes. I was sitting out here in the parking lot watching on the big screen."
"Why didn't you come in?"
In the video, Griffin puts his arm around my shoulders and leans his head against mine. "You had your people around you." He looks down.
"Oh my God! No. No."
I'm not here. This isn't happening. I can't breathe. I can't process. My brain is spinning out of control. I'm not me. My life isn't what I thought it was. I hear screaming. I feel arms around me.
I'm crying in his lap. He's rubbing my back but I'm numb. I'm numb.
A huge sob tears through my gut and flies from my mouth. My face is wet. My heart is thumping. This can't be what happened in the year I've forgotten. Please, no. Anything but this.
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