“Sure,” I said as I studied her. The color was still high in her cheeks and her eyes were still shining. I couldn’t resist. “That Trevor is pretty cute, isn’t he?”
She smirked as she flipped a few pieces onto my plate. “He’s a little young for you, isn’t he? Besides, I thought you were with Daniel.”
“I’m not ...” God, she had a knack for making me feel old. I was only fifteen years older than her, for God’s sake. “I’m talking about you.”
She picked up a piece of pizza and gave me an innocent look. “What about me?”
Deep breaths, Becca. “Trevor is clearly interested in you.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to date anyone right now. And, besides, he’s too old for me.”
Well. I guess that put me in my place.
Chapter 10
After I finished my pizza, I went back upstairs to organize my new office. I set up my desk and computer and took a moment to check my email.
I found a reply from Jackie, who told me again how excited she was to connect with me—how she couldn’t wait to be my first customer as soon as I was up and running. An actual customer! That had to be a good sign. I was on the right track, right?
I made a note to find her file, and then paused to do a little happy dance.
I went back to cleaning my email, only to see I had another message from “Friend.”
Subject line, I know something you don’t.
My earlier excitement seemed to leach out of me. Really? Another one?
I didn’t really want to open it, but nevertheless, my mouse clicked on it practically on its own accord.
Like before, it was just one sentence.
You’re being set up.
I stared at it. I’m being set up? That made no sense. How was I being set up? What was I being set up for? And by whom?
And why?
My mind flashed immediately to Gwyn and that strange voicemail. Is that what this email was referring to? That Daniel was right after all, and I was being set up as Gwyn’s stalker?
But that still left so many questions … one of which being how this “friend” could possibly know. I considered my previous theory—that it was CB sending me these emails.
But then how on earth would he even know Gwyn had received a voicemail?
God. Was it too much to ask to have just one normal day, without strange emails and voicemails and Redemption drama?
For lack of a better idea, I moved the email to CB’s folder to join the first. I felt like it was important to keep a paper trail, although I was becoming less certain that CB was the one behind it.
But if not him, then who?
I was still mulling it over when my phone rang, startling me. It was my mother.
I didn’t particularly want to take it. On the other hand, would there ever come a time when I did want to?
I clicked “answer.”
“Rebecca, this is unacceptable,” my mother’s voice burst out from the phone. “Why haven’t you called me back?”
Sighing, I stood up from my desk, feeling like I needed to pace as I spoke to her. “Because I don’t want to fight with you.”
“Then stop throwing your life away,” she snapped. “Stop all this nonsense about staying in Redemption. Come home, and let’s put all this unpleasantness behind us.”
“Did you really just say I was throwing my life away?” I asked in disbelief. “How is staying in Redemption throwing my life away?”
“Oh, come on, Rebecca. Don’t be so foolish. You’re better than that.”
I paused my pacing, straightening my shoulders. The old Rebecca wouldn’t have even questioned what she had said. I would have simply accepted I was being foolish, and I wouldn’t have pushed.
Of course, the old Rebecca would have already left Redemption.
“No, I’m serious,” I said. I wanted to hear her answer. I wanted to know precisely what she thought. “How am I throwing my life away?”
“What do you think I mean? You have no future in Redemption. Your future is here, in New York. You have a good job, an apartment, your family, all waiting for you here. And the sooner you come home, the sooner your new life can start.”
“I see,” I said, staring out the window at my wild and colorful garden, where some of the herbs and flowers I needed for my healing business were already growing. “How do you know that?”
My mother paused, like she had been caught off guard. “How do I know what?”
“That my future isn’t here in Redemption?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not really,” I said. “I have a couple of really amazing opportunities here ...”
“Opportunities?” My mother practically choked on the word. “What possible opportunities could there be in Redemption that wouldn’t be in New York?”
“I’m thinking about starting a business,” I said, the words out of my mouth before I could even think through how wise it was to share them with her. “I’m also thinking about starting my art back up.”
My mother groaned. “Rebecca, you have to be practical. What do you know about starting a business? What about starting a family? You’re not getting any younger.”
“I have a family,” I said stiffly. “Chrissy ...”
“Isn’t yours,” my mother interrupted. Then her voice softened. “Look, you are being an excellent stepmother to take care of her the way you are. You’re going to make a wonderful mother. That’s why you need your own family. A husband who can provide for you. You don’t need to be worrying about business and art and paying the bills and all that other stuff. Come home to New York. Let us help you get a fresh start before it’s too late.”
Before it’s too late. The words bounced around in my head. Was that what I actually wanted? There was a time when I thought that was exactly what my life should look like. And Lord knows, I had certainly tried to make it so, doing my best to marry men who were acceptable to my family.
And look where that had gotten me. Soon-to-be twice divorced.
Maybe that was my answer.
I had failed not once but twice before, doing as my mother suggested. Perhaps this was all a sign that my journey was meant to be on a different path.
“Like I already told you, I’m staying here,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “I feel like this is what I need to be doing right now. Not going back to New York.”
“That’s your final decision?” my mother asked. “You’re not going to change your mind?”
I paused, watching a bright-yellow mass of feathers splash around in the bird bath. A chickadee, I assumed. “I’m not changing my mind.”
My mother was silent for so long, I thought she might have hung up on me. Finally, she spoke. “I didn’t want to do this,” she said. “But you leave me no choice. If you don’t come back now, that’s it.”
A sense of foreboding began to brew inside me. “What do you mean, ‘that’s it’?”
“Exactly how it sounds,” she said, her voice harsh. “You won’t get another penny from us. Ever. We’re cutting you off. And when this business venture of yours fails, you’ll get no help from us. No job offer, no apartment, no nothing.”
I couldn’t speak. Even though I knew this was always a possibility, to have my mother say it like that shocked me into complete silence.
“We’ll give you a week,” she continued. “That should be plenty of time to tie up any loose ends and get yourself on a plane. We can figure everything else out later. If you’re not back in New York by this weekend, that’s it.”
She paused for a breath. “Do I make myself clear?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but no sound came out. I tried again. “Yes,” I said, my voice a strangled whisper.
“Good,” she said, her voice softening. “Rebecca, I know this seems har
sh, but truly, it’s for your own good. Someday, you’ll thank me.”
With that, she ended the call.
Numb, I dropped my phone on my desk, not wanting to touch it.
I was being cut off.
What was I going to do?
I stared around me at the space I had just spent hours fixing up. It looked so promising. My beautiful new desk. The brand-new, empty planner just waiting to be filled up with to-do lists and goals. My herb-drying and plant-growing corner. My painting nook practically bursting with fresh, new supplies.
Was it really just a few minutes ago that I had been so excited about my new client and all the new possibilities? Now, I felt sick.
Was I fooling myself this whole time? Could I really make it in Redemption, knowing my safety net was officially gone?
My phone buzzed. Startled, I jumped back, like it was a snake. I didn’t want to see who it was. What if it was my mother again? I knew I didn’t want to talk to her.
But it wasn’t. It was Daniel, saying he could be over in a couple of hours.
For a moment, I could only stand there, frozen in indecision. Did I really want him to come now? When I was seriously considering packing everything up and leaving in less than a week?
On the other hand, maybe having him over would somehow help provide the clarity I was searching for.
I stepped closer to the phone to let him know I’d be waiting.
***
Something was wrong.
I could tell from the look on his face as I let him in. His smile was strained, and he didn’t meet my eyes.
Oh God. Now what? Could this day get any worse?
“Want a beer?” I asked.
“That sounds good,” he said. I went to the fridge to fetch it, and poured myself a glass of wine, too. As much as I wanted to open up a bottle as soon as I hung up with my mother, I forced myself to wait until Daniel showed up. I was a little afraid once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop, and I’d be completely drunk by the time Daniel arrived.
He was standing by the big kitchen window, staring out at my garden, but I got the impression he wasn’t actually seeing it. I handed him his beer.
“Thanks,” he said, and took a long swallow. I sipped my wine and wondered if I should start the conversation.
“I know this is a strange question,” he said, finally breaking the silence, “but did you happen to leave the house before we got here to move the desk?”
I gave him a puzzled look, but he kept his gaze trained on the garden. “Yes, I had to go to the store to pick up beer and ingredients for Chrissy to make the pizza. Why do you ask?”
“Did you stop anywhere else?”
“No.”
“Did you see anyone?”
My mind flashed to JD in the beer section. “Like who?” Was this about JD somehow? How could Daniel know?
At last, he turned his head to look at me. “So, you did see someone?”
He was in such a strange mood. Dare I tell him about seeing JD? I remembered The Tipsy Cow, then … when Daniel saw me sitting next to JD and had assumed we were on a date. I didn’t think I could possibly handle another conversation like that, after everything else that had just happened with my mother. “Well, yeah, there were other people in the store,” I said, not wanting to lie, but resisting full disclosure. “I’m not sure who you’re referring to. What is this about?”
He sighed, long and deep, and drank more of his beer. “It’s Gwyn.”
I blinked. “Was Gwyn at the store? I didn’t see her if she was.” Did she see me with JD? And did she tell Daniel?
He shook his head. “She’s claiming you left a note on her car.”
I was having trouble comprehending what I was hearing. “A note? What note?”
“There was a note tucked in the windshield, and she claims you left it.”
“I didn’t leave her a note. I’m not even sure what type of car she drives. Where was she parked? At the store?”
“In front of her apartment.”
“I don’t even know where she lives,” I said, exasperated. “What did this note say?”
He was quiet for a moment. “It said, ‘Why don’t you do everyone a favor and disappear too?’”
My eyes went wide. “Seriously? She thinks I wrote that?”
“That’s what she’s saying.”
“But ... I don’t understand. Why would she think that? Does it look like my handwriting or something? Does she even know what my handwriting looks like?”
“The words were cut from a magazine.”
“What, like a ransom note?” I spread my arms out wide. “Look around. I don’t even have any magazines.” I could feel myself getting more and more upset. This, on top of everything else that happened today. I wanted to scream, to cry, to lash out at Daniel. How could he think I would do such a thing? Maybe this was a sign—that I needed to move back to New York. If Daniel wasn’t even in my corner, maybe I needed to quit forcing the issue.
“Becca, I’m telling you what she’s saying. Not what I believe.”
That broke through the fog of anger. I paused and took a deep breath, turning away so he couldn’t see the tears that suddenly filled my vision.
“But ... why?” I asked quietly, squeezing my eyes shut to try and prevent the tears from falling. “Why would I possibly do that to her? Why does she think it’s me?”
I felt more than heard Daniel sigh from behind me.
“She claims she never had any issues at all until you came to Redemption, and that you’re trying to drive her away. She says you’re the only one who would benefit from her leaving, and it’s ‘obvious’ that you feel guilty for ‘stealing’ me.”
“Did I?”
“Did you what?”
I dashed my hand across my eyes and turned back to face him. “Did I ‘steal’ you?”
He gave me a slanted smile. “I guess in a way you did … years ago.”
I could feel a half-smile forming on my lips as we stared at each other, the air between us tingling with electricity. He reached over and gently touched my face with his finger. “I wish I didn’t have to have these conversations with you,” he said softly.
I was having trouble breathing. “It’s not your fault,” I said, trying to keep my voice clear, but gasping a little.
He gave me his sideways smile again. “Isn’t it? I wish I could be as sure. I was trying to hurt her as little as possible when we broke up, and now I wonder if I somehow gave her the wrong impression.”
The front door slammed. “Honey, I’m home.” Mia’s voice floated past us, causing us both to jump apart. “Oh,” she said, standing in the kitchen doorway. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Her wicked grin said otherwise, and it occurred to me that she would have seen Daniel’s car in the street.
“I should get going anyway,” Daniel said, setting his beer bottle down on the kitchen table. “I’ve got to be at the station early tomorrow. See you later this week?” I nodded.
He grinned. “Great, I’ll shoot you a text later. Always nice to see you, Mia,” he said, as he walked past her.
“Always nice to see you, too,” she answered, but her eyes never left mine. As soon as we heard the front door close, she raised her eyebrows. “He didn’t have to leave on my account.”
I shrugged and sipped my wine. “You heard the man. He has to work early.”
She headed over to the kitchen to pour a glass for herself. “But, still. He could have stayed a little longer. I could have made myself scarce.”
I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. “It’s fine, Mia. Really.” My tone was brusquer than I intended.
Mia eyed me over her wine glass. “Trouble in paradise? Did I interrupt a fight?”
“No, nothing like that.” Should I tell her about Gwyn? About the strange emails
I’d been getting? About my mother’s ultimatum? Suddenly, I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and bawl.
Mia took a closer look at my face and put the wine down. “Hey. What’s going on? Did something happen?”
I shook my head and tried a smile that felt way too small. “I’m okay. Really. I just don’t feel all that well all of a sudden. I think I’ll go lay down.”
“Of course,” Mia said, but I could see she didn’t believe me. “I’m pretty beat myself. Will probably go to bed early.”
I took a moment to top off my glass before heading upstairs, but not before noticing the dark, puffy circles under Mia’s eyes. She looked drawn and tired, despite sleeping more than normal as of late, and her hair hung limply around her face.
One problem at a time, I told myself as I slowly made my way up the stairs. Mia was probably just overworking herself and stressed about starting school.
I had enough of my own problems to worry about.
Chapter 11
I opened my eyes and found myself back in the psychiatric hospital—in the same room with the same depressing view of the back of the grey building.
How did I end up here again?
I tried to get up, but found I couldn’t move. I looked down at myself and saw I was wrapped in a strait jacket.
How did this happen? I tried to wrench myself free, but stopped when I heard the clanking.
I was also chained to the bed.
Before I could figure out how I could escape, the door to my room opened, and there stood Nurse Ellen. A slow, cruel smile unfurled across her face. “Did you really think it would be that easy, Becca?” she hissed.
I struggled against my binds. “What are you talking about? Would what be ‘that easy’?”
She took a couple of steps closer to me and held up her hand, showing me a long, sharp needle. “Time for your medicine.” A single, clear drop slid down the needle and onto the floor.
I tried to lunge away from her, but between the strait jacket and the chain, I couldn’t move. “I don’t want any medicine.”
Her smile widened as she came closer. “How do you expect to get better if you don’t take your medicine?” She bent down, and I could see something was wrong with her head. Her hair was smashed down on one side, and ... was that blood dripping down her cheek?
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