Betrayed: Powerful Stories of Kick-Ass Crime Survivors

by Allison Brennan

  What followed was a litany of well-wishes, more platitudes, and assurances along with several more doses of the hard truth. She was on her own.

  The next two years passed slowly for May, but she kept her head down and pushed through. There was no shortage of challenges. When flagging sales forced the bookstore to downsize the staff, she was one of the first to go, but she found a new job waitressing which paid more and provided her with flexible hours. She also moved into a newly constructed duplex which smelled clean, like a new beginning.

  Situated directly across the street from a park bordered by a small wood, Marcelle often played on the jungle gym and slide while May put out a blanket for herself and his new sister, Sophie.

  The best part of the move, however, was a godsend named Ellen Johnston. A transplant from southern California, Ellen referred to herself as “an old, retired hippie.” She brought joy and laughter to May and Marcelle on a consistent basis. She and May became friends from the day Ellen moved in.

  Ellen told her, “I’m not pushy, but I am nosey. Okay, I’m a little pushy too, but I’ve gotten used to it, so you might as well too.” She also declared herself a ready and willing daycare service whenever she was needed, and would accept no payment for babysitting those two “little angels.”

  May nearly wept for the welcome attention, having been kept at a small-town arm’s length as “that woman.” She didn’t volunteer much information to anyone about her situation, but there was an ample supply of verbal fertilizer readily piled onto her reputation by others. Baby machine. Welfare mom. Slut.

  On a day when the four of them went to the market, Ellen overheard two women gossiping about May. “You know, she doesn’t have a husband, but she’s got those kids. She ought to have a tubal ligation.”

  Ellen followed after them and spoke loudly enough for most of the store to hear. “If anyone needs to get their tubes tied, it would be you two. I’m sure there’s a good bovine veterinarian available to get the job done.”

  May hustled the kids into the nearest aisle when the shouting started, but she smiled inwardly to herself. It had been a long time since anyone had defended her honor, and she hadn’t expected the support to come from “an old, retired hippie.”

  In the middle of a spring morning the following year, an envelope with no return address arrived in the mailbox. It sat on the table with the junk mail for two days before May took the time to open it and find a cashier’s check inside.

  “Seven-thousand dollars?” Ellen was incredulous. “Who’s it from?”

  “I don’t know. Could it be from Carson?” She read the enclosed note aloud. “Consider this overdue assistance for you and the kids.”

  “Carson is your ex?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has he ever contributed to the children’s welfare before? Financially I mean?”

  Still staring at the check, May slowly shook her head.

  “Could I see the note?” May passed it to her. She found paper and a pen to quickly diagram the sentence. “I agree. I believe it’s from him.”

  “What makes you say so?”

  Ellen turned the paper around and slid it across the table, “You see the wording here?” She had circled the words “overdue assistance,” “you” and “kids.”

  May clunked her elbows on the table. “I guess I’m dense. I’m not following.”

  “Hogwash. You’re not dense. Never disrespect yourself, hon. You’re in shock.” She pushed the paper closer. “Okay, the sender used the word assistance, emphasized by the word overdue. Assistance in this case might mean support, as in child support, but he doesn’t say support. The word was carefully chosen.”

  “Because?”

  “Maybe because he’s trying to establish himself as a responsible party in the eyes of the state human services department. Who knows? The sender also used the word you in the familiar. This isn’t some charity organization. It’s a person who doesn’t care about the tax code. This is someone you know or have known. Lastly, he used the word ‘kids’ to describe Marcelle and Sophie.”

  “So?”

  “If he had used their names, it would have sounded less personal, like someone looking in from the outside, but he didn’t.”

  “Using their names would be less personal?”

  “You’ve heard the expression ‘it goes without saying?’ It does here because he’s connected to you through the children.”

  “How did you learn to do this?”

  “Hippies have to eat, too. Way back in the day, I used to work for a contract lawyer. I learned a lot about the importance of words on paper.”

  May sat back in her chair. “What you’ve said makes sense.”

  “But you already knew this on some level.” Ellen leaned in. “You can tell me it’s none of my business, May, but was he a good father before you split?”

  May turned away, staring off as if she could look through the kitchen wall. “He had his problems, but I saw a glimpse of what he could be like when he spent time with Marcelle. They were happy together.”

  “But?”

  “I need some time to think about this, Ellen.”

  “I know you do, sweetie.” Ellen’s chair creaked as she shifted her weight. “And I want to help you. Life isn’t simple. It’s messy and loud and it’s in your face, but it must be lived. The trick is to make life complimentary to your soul.”

  “Ellen…”

  “I know I’m pushing, but hear me out. Examining your life isn’t much different from making sense of this sentence.” She tapped the paper. “You break it down. You write out where you’ve been, where you are and where you’re going. When someone or something comes knocking at your life, you want to be damned careful before you let them in and allow them to disrupt it.” She stood. “I’ve got to go check my roast.”

  “Okay.”

  May knew Ellen didn’t cook roasts. She laid a hand on May’s shoulder as she walked by, and May rested her cheek on it for a moment before Ellen left and closed the door. May would be up all night deciding what to do with the check.

  After a brief search on the Internet, she found out Carson owned a three-bedroom condo in an expansive new housing development north of the Brinks. She wasn’t surprised. He had always been driven to succeed.

  The next morning, she sat in her car, trying to decide whether to get out or not. While switching the defrost fan to high, she looked up to see Carson framed in his open front door. He disappeared inside and reemerged under an umbrella. Walking to her car, he signaled for her to open the window.

  “May, won’t you come inside?”

  “Are you sure it’s alright? I’m not intruding?”

  “You could never intrude on me, May.”

  She searched his expression, seeing none of the coldness from their last meeting. She wanted to believe her eyes and told herself the only way to find out if Carson had any place in her life was to talk with him about it, but it wasn’t only her life which concerned her, but the lives of her children.

  Carson opened the door and hurried to place the umbrella above her. “Allow me.” He took her hand and helped her from the car, trotting with her through the downpour to his home.

  Once inside, he offered her something warm to drink. While he busied himself brewing coffee, she took in her surroundings, unable to fathom why Carson would spend so much money to make a living room look so spartanly furnished. She was afraid to touch anything. When he walked up behind her, she jumped, and he spilled the hot coffee on his hand, staining the sleeve of his shirt.

  She took a couple of steps back when he winced, putting a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s nothing, May. Be right back.” He disappeared into the kitchen, returning with fresh cups on a tray and set it on the coffee table. “This is what I should have done in the first place.”

  “Thank you.”

  He wiped up some spilled coffee with a napkin. “I was surprised to find you sitting across the street when I op
ened my door, but I’m happy to see you.”

  “You are?”

  “Of course, May. Always.”

  “But the last time we saw each other…”

  He raised his arms and May flinched, but she saw his eyes were closed and his hands were shielding him, as though he were trying to hide his face.

  “I’ve tried to forget what I did back then and how I behaved toward you. I can’t forgive myself. I’ll never find redemption without your blessing. Could you ever forgive me?”

  May hesitated, pulling on her shoulder strap, swinging her purse onto her lap. She extracted the anonymous letter and the check. “I need to ask you something.”

  “Yes, May. I sent those to you.”

  “Could you tell me why?”

  “Why?” He slumped back into the overstuffed cushions of his black leather sofa. “The one question I never expected is why.”

  “But I don’t understand.” She clutched the check to her chest. “You were so clear about wanting no part of our family. All this time, not a word and then you send me this?”

  “It’s only fair”—he crossed his arms— “since I’m a party to your situation.”

  “That’s a sterile way of saying you’re the father of my children.”

  “I don’t mean it to be. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

  “Then see your daughter and your son.” She set the check on the coffee table. “Your children don’t need money as much as they need to see their father. Let them see who their father is.”

  “See who their father is…”

  May sat through a minute of silence before she put a hand on his knee. “Carson, talk to me.”

  “Their father is not the same man he was two years ago, May.” He stood, walked to the opposite side of the room and leaned against the wall, facing her. “I’ve changed and I’m still changing, and I want to be the kind of man those two children can be proud of.”

  “It’s a noble ambition, Carson, but the kids will never be proud of someone they don’t know. They need to spend time with you.”

  “You’d permit me to?”

  “Under the right circumstances, yes, of course.”

  “The right circumstances?”

  “Yes.” She waved a hand around his lavish home. “You obviously have a lifestyle now, and I have mine. We’ll have to arrange it so they can intersect for the sake of the kids.”

  He stepped toward her, arms outstretched. “You surprise me, May, but then, you always did.”

  She stood, leaving the check on the coffee table. “Thanks for the coffee, Carson. I’ll be in touch.” Marching for the front door, she left him standing in his living room and splashed through the puddles on the way back to her car without looking back.

  She started the engine, drove several blocks, and pulled over, fighting the urge to hyperventilate.

  The first arranged meeting fell on a warm summer solstice, and whether they were channeling their mother’s apprehension or they’d been bitten by the antsy bug, the kids were wild. May thanked God for the guiding hand of “Aunty” Ellen.

  Marcelle had accidentally spilled his juice on Sophie’s new coloring book and sat with his chin on his chest, his hands folded in his lap while his sister rained tears on the table.

  “It’s alright, Marcelle.” Ellen tousled his hair. “Sophie knows you didn’t spill your drink on purpose. She’s upset about her book. We can get her a new one.”

  Marcelle brightened a bit. “Can we go get her one right now?” At the suggestion, Sophie stopped wailing.

  “We’ll have to wait until later.” Ellen replaced his glass with a juice box. “You know your daddy is coming to see you.” Sophie started crying again.

  “What’s all this? Why are you crying, little one?”

  Marcelle and Sophie stared at the tall man standing in the doorway of their kitchen. Ellen stood back with her hands on her hips.

  May entered the kitchen in her bathrobe, her hair in a band and an eyeliner clutched in one hand. “Carson, you’re early.”

  He smiled broadly, producing a bouquet from behind his back. “I’m sorry, May. I couldn’t wait.”

  She held the flowers loosely, allowing them to flop to her side. “Okay. I’ll be out in a few minutes. Carson Brinks, this is my best friend, Ellen Johnston.” She laid the flowers on the table and disappeared into the bathroom.

  Carson watched her go and extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Ellen.”

  Ellen picked up Sophie, who was now as silent as a tomb, sucking her thumb. “Do you always walk into other people’s homes without knocking first?”

  Carson pointed to the door. “It was ajar, so I pushed it open. I didn’t mean barge in.”

  “It’s precisely what you meant to do.” She bounced Sophie on her hip. “You’re the kind of man who’s used to having and doing exactly what he wants.”

  “Oh really? And you’ve surmised this how?”

  “First impressions.”

  He ran a finger along the edge of the table. “My apologies.”

  She set Sophie down and patted her behind. “Marcelle, take your sister and help her put on a clean T-shirt. The pretty blue one.” Marcelle took his sister’s hand and slowly walked around his father and out of the room.

  “But I just got here.”

  “You couldn’t wait, huh? Funny how you’ve waited years before showing any interest in them whatsoever. You’re here because May loves her kids, but visits like this one are a privilege you have to earn.”

  “I’ll try to live up to your expectations.”

  “You know, I’ve met about every kind of selfish, egocentric man you can imagine over the years, and you’re no different from the rest of them. Your kind are fascinated with whatever shiny object is in front of you. Listen up. May and her children aren’t playthings. You need to treat them like human beings. If you can’t, you need to stay out of their lives.”

  “Holy crap. You’re an up-front old broad, aren’t you?”

  “I’m the most up-front old broad you’ll ever meet, sonny. Don’t break her heart.”

  “Wow.” He leaned down to her, grinning. “You sure told me. Finished?”

  “Not even close. Remember, I live right next door.”

  “How convenient.”

  “See you around, sonny.”

  Carson watched her go and shook the conversation off to search through the kitchen cupboards for a vase.

  The visits continued over the next three months. It was a wonderful time for May’s kids, doing things they’d never done before. They went boating, caught their first fish, and even attended day camp with their father while May worked.

  She believed she had seen genuine change in Carson. He seemed to come alive when he was with the children, and she had noticed the effect which the presence of a father in their lives was having on them, and they had grown a bit closer.

  On a late August Saturday afternoon, the restaurant hostess seated a beautiful young woman near a bright corner window. She met May at her station. “See the woman at table seven, dressed to the nines? Is she someone you know, May?”

  The woman stared out the window. She wore dark sunglasses, and her long, dark hair flowed well below her shoulders, reminding May of the way she had worn hers while dating Carson.

  “No, I don’t believe I’ve noticed her before.”

  “Okay.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, she requested you as her server.”

  May looked again, picking up a fresh pitcher of water. “Thanks, Sarah. I’ll take care of her.”

  Ice clunked into the water goblet as she filled it to the brim. “Good afternoon. Looks like a beautiful one out there.”

  “Are you Maybelle Jarreau?”

  “Yes.” May laid a menu on the table. “Do I know you?”

  “You should. Damn, but you are cute. Wholesome.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” The woman held the goble
t but didn’t lift it.

  “I’m sorry, but you mentioned I should know you.”

  “I’m Samantha Waverly.” She waved a hand and May detected the slightest hint of alcohol. “We have a mutual… I don’t know what you’d call him.”

  The rush of realization and blood flooded over and through her, but May pressed on. “You’re speaking of Carson.”

  She sipped her water. “You two have a significant history.”

  “I’m sorry, but our history is none—”

  “Of my business? No, it isn’t. It’s yours and yours alone, but you will be ill-equipped to manage your life without all of the essential information.”

  “And I suppose you’re here to supply me with it.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but I work here and my boss is watching.”

  “I know, and I don’t want to get you into any trouble. Trouble is what I want to help you avoid.” She removed her sunglasses, revealing dark bruising and slight swelling around her left eye.

  Both of May’s hands rose to cover her mouth.

  “I didn’t have a good concealer when I left the condo.”

  May dropped into a chair across from her. “Samantha, I’m so sorry. What happened?”

  “Let’s put all of our cards on the table, shall we?” She put the sunglasses on. “He’s a hitter. Carson Brinks is a hitter, but you already know he is, don’t you?” Unsure of how to react, May turned away. “That’s enough of an answer.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “Maybe.” Samantha waved her hands at her face. “But this happened last night.”

  May stiffened.

  “He’s been seeing you and your kids again for a while now. He and I have taken weekend trips together for several years now, but those stopped about three months ago. I thought he loved me. I’ve been following him for the last few weeks and I called him out on a few things yesterday, which is why I’m sporting my latest look.” Her confident smile broke, and a couple of tears spilled out underneath her glasses.