by Ivey , Tasha
"No!" I interject. "What they did, Brooks . . . they, not you. You don't apologize."
He shakes his head, pacing even more quickly now. "I told her, Laura. I called it off. The wedding, it's all over."
"I don't know what to say," I whisper, conflicted. "What's your dad going to do?"
He stops dead in his tracks and faces me, putting his hands on my shoulders. "I don't care. Not at all. I'm actually . . . well . . . ecstatic." His broad hands slide down my arms, and he takes my hands. "Don't you understand what this means?"
"Brooks, no. Don't say it. Just because you think it's over now, doesn't mean that it's really over. They'll find a way to suck you back in, and you won't have any other choice."
"I won't let them change my mind."
"You say that now, but how do you know for sure? I can't do this. I can't take it."
He releases my hands and slides his arms around my waist, pulling me close to him. "I do know for sure. I'm quite certain about a lot of things. And one of them is my love for you."
"Brooks," I groan.
"I'm in love with you, Laura. I don't know how it's possible in such a short time, but I do."
I push away, willing myself not to cry. "Brooks, listen to me. I'm going to back to Alabama. I can't see you anymore."
"You don't mean that." He reaches for me again, but I step away.
"Yes, I do. I've already told my grandmother, too. It's easier this way."
He slumps, stunned and defeated. "I can't believe that I've waited thirty years to say those words to a woman, and it was all for nothing."
"You've never?" I sniffle, tears blurring my vision.
"No, because I've never meant it, until now."
Before I ever say the words, I feel my heart breaking, knowing that I'm lying to myself and him. "I don't love you."
A solitary tear trails down his face before he swipes it away with his hand and walks to the door. "I wish you the best." And he's gone.
As soon as the heavy wooden door closes behind him, I throw myself onto the bed, and I lose all of the control that I fought so hard to maintain. I cry . . . and I cry like I never have before. I do love him, somehow, but telling him that I didn't was the only way I could protect myself. This hurts. There's no way that my mom could have made it through something so painful and traumatic and still found happiness through it all.
Desperate for guidance and answers, I blindly reach over to the nightstand and feel around for Mom's journal, but the wooden table is bare. After darting frantically around the room, searching all possible locations, I finally remember where I left it. I took it out of my bag when it started to rain at the marina and stuffed it under my shirt to keep it dry. I still had it in my hand when I went into Brooks's house and saw . . . what I saw, and I remember putting it down on the couch arm during all of the confusion.
Now, I come to the realization that I have to find the strength to face him again in order to get it back, a thought that overcomes me with deep despair all over again. I don't know how I can, after what I said. I don't even know why I came here in the first place. I'm going to be leaving here with way more heartache than I arrived with.
Until then, though, I just want to go to bed and stay there for a few days. Pulling the heavy quilt over my head, I curl myself into a tight ball and cry myself back to sleep.
Chapter Eighteen — Consequences
Brooks:
When I was on my way to Laura's house—on her grandmother's bicycle in the pouring rain—I only imagined how much my life was about to change for the better. I just knew she felt the same way, and we could be together now. I never, for one second, believed that I would be losing her. But I have.
She doesn't love me.
Now, on my way home, speeding down the asphalt in my truck, I feel my life careening out of control, and I have a sudden urge to keep going, to pass my house and drive forever, not caring where I end up. I want to disappear, but I know I can't, not yet. I will not be a coward; I will face my father. I have nothing left to lose.
"What the heck happened in here?" Ashton inquires as soon as I storm into the house. She and Will are crouched over beside the kitchen cabinets, picking up slivers of glass and carefully dropping them into the wastebasket.
Ignoring her, I perch myself upon a bar stool and put my head down on the counter, pressing my face against the cool surface and closing my eyes. Please let today be a dream.
An unexpected clatter beside me forces my eyes open. Pieces of my cell phone lay all around my head, and Ashton is standing over me, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.
Heaving an audible sigh, I push myself upright in the chair. "What?"
"Oh, come on," she rants. "You may not be a genius, but you're not stupid."
"Okay, fine, let's see if I can summarize my day for you," I sneer sarcastically. "First, I went to Laura's house, and her ex was there. Later on, Laura and I walked into the den and caught her ex and my so-called fiancé going at it, naked, in the floor. So, I called off the wedding and made Jacqueline leave. Of course, dad called within minutes—he's on his way here, by the way. And, finally, we come to the part of my day when I told Laura that I love her."
"Oh, Brooks!" Ashton cheers. "You told her."
Will, who has been silently listening in on the conversation, pulls himself up off the floor to join Ashton. "That's big, man. Huge. You've been saving those words up all these years. How did it feel?"
"Let me put it this way, I would rather go through the pain and suffering of marrying Jacqueline than to experience that feeling again. She . . . she doesn't love me. And she's moving away." I stand and sulk toward my bedroom. "So, to sum it all up, it sucked."
I slam my door behind me and throw myself across my bed on my stomach. I'm spiraling into a state of reckless depression, and I don't know how to make it stop. When I woke up this morning, at least I knew what my destiny had in store for me, whether I liked it or not. But now, there's no Jacqueline—thank God, no money, no job, no home, and worst of all, no Laura. The prospect of having Laura in my life was going to make it worth losing everything, and now that she's gone, too, I have nothing to hold on to and no idea of what lies ahead.
Not saying, though, that I would change my mind about Jacqueline. Laura is under the impression that my father will find a way to make me marry Jacqueline, but after what I've been through today, there's no threat he could make that would affect me. If he tries to do the same thing to Ashton or Stephen, I'll find some way to stop him. This has to end . . . somehow.
"Brooks?" Will slowly pushes the door open. "Can I come in?"
I roll over and nod.
"I would ask if you're okay, but I guess I already know the answer to that question."
"I'll be fine."
"Hey, uh, listen . . . you mind if I borrow your truck a while? I was going to get out and run some errands."
"Where are you going at this time of the day? It's almost dark."
He shifts his eyes around the room nervously. "Just some stuff I want to do."
"My dad is almost here, isn't he?" I ask, finally realizing why he wants to get out of the house.
"Yeah. He just called Ashton because he couldn't get an answer on your phone. He'll be here in thirty minutes. He hired a limo service to pick him up from the airport."
"Of course, he did. Take off. It's probably best that you and Ashton get away from here for a few hours. It'll get ugly, I'm afraid."
"But I want to stay!" Ashton, who has been eavesdropping in the hall, pops into the doorway.
"No, Ash," I insist. "Just let me have a few hours to say my piece. I don't want you to be dragged into it right now. Please, it's important to me that you're not here when he gets here."
She walks over to my bed and runs her fingers through my hair, kissing me on the forehead. "Call us if you need us, and we'll be here."
Sure enough, in exactly thirty minutes, I hear a car coming up the drive, and I walk out on the porch to greet my father. E
xtreme displeasure doesn't even begin to describe the look on his face. He's so mad that his ears are burning like two crimson light bulbs on either side of his head, and that disapproving scowl that he usually wears in my presence is more hardened than usual. I hold the door open for him, and he bursts into the living room, silently scanning the house for any other visitors. Finally, he nods his head toward the den, and I hesitantly follow him down the hall.
"Alright," he begins, seating himself in an oversized leather chair, "you wanna tell me what's going on?"
Suddenly feeling as if I'm in a mob boss's office, I sit across from him on the couch. "Let's just skip to the end. I'm not getting married, so I'm ready to accept whatever punishment you deem necessary."
"You're getting a little ahead of yourself there, boy. It ain't that easy. You see, you're messin' with my money, and when you mess with my money, you better have a damn good reason for it. Don't think I won't beat you like a rented mule; you're not too old. Start talkin'. . . and then it'll be my turn."
"I hate her, and I'm not going to do it. You don't realize that we are all her pawns. She wanted a way to secure her future financially, so she put the idea in her father's head. She's having some lawyer draw up these pre-nups that are ironclad and greatly benefit her and her family if we divorce. You'll still be making a killing, but she'll be coming out with a lot more than was originally agreed upon. Plus, I caught her screwing some guy today, right here in this floor. I honestly don't care what she does, and I know she's been messing around. But, I'll be damned if she's going to do it in my house and right in my face."
He zips across the room and stands over me. "You will marry her!" he yells, his voice echoing throughout the house. "You think I don't know about the contracts? They think they're being smart, but I'm smarter. All I have to do is run their business into the ground. As soon as they start losing money, they'll be begging me to buy their stock. Then, I'll flip the switch and turn it all around. We're going to be the only ones who win in all of this. It may take a few years to get there, but when they sell it all to me, we'll have it made."
"What do you mean 'a few years?'" I jump up and shout, getting right in his face. "You told me that I could divorce her as soon as the contracts were signed."
"I was just telling you what I had to, to get you to agree to marry her," he admits, proud of himself for fooling me.
"Well, let me tell you something. It's all over now. I don't care what happens to the company. I don't care what happens to me. So just do what you have to do."
He crosses his arms. "Alright then, suit yourself. You have one week to get out of this house, and one more week to get out of your house in Fort Worth. Within that two week period, you'll also need to find a new job; you are now unemployed. I'll allow you to keep the money in your bank account, since you earned it. But, that truck is company property, so I'll be expecting it back at the end of the two weeks."
"Fair enough. Consider it done." I fume as I start down the hall.
"Hold up there . . . not so fast. I'll be leaving here tomorrow at noon to get on my return flight. You have until that time to change your mind, so you have . . ." He looks at his watch. "Fifteen hours to come to your senses."
I spin around on my heel, refusing to dignify him with a response.
Ashton finally comes in around midnight, and she crawls into bed with me. "Should I even ask how it went?"
I sit up and give her the play-by-play of the argument with our dad, and I tell her his decision, my punishment. "It's finally over, Ash. This is what my life has come to."
"You know I'll help you in any way that I can," she offers, rubbing my back in slow, gentle circles. "You can hide out at my place for a while. He'll never know you're there . . . It's not like he ever comes to visit me or anything."
"Thanks. I may have to take you up on that. I have plenty of money saved up, but it may take a while for me to find something, considering that I also have to find a new job and a new vehicle."
"You'll get it worked out. I know you will."
She kicks off her shoes, pulls the blankets over us, and reaches for the television remote. As she lies next to me, I remember many nights cuddling in bed with her when we were younger. Whenever she was upset or our parents were fighting, I would sneak down the hall to her room and read stories to her or just lie there until she fell asleep. I was her protector, the one she had to rely on. And now, she's returning the favor.
I open my eyes and find Ashton asleep beside me, the light from the television flickering on her peaceful face. Gently rolling out of bed, I glance over at my alarm clock—harshly glaring the time of four twenty-two a.m.—and I creep out of the room, careful not to wake her.
I have intentions of going into the kitchen to get some water, but a faint glow temporarily sidetracks my plans. Looking down the long stretch of hallway toward then den, I sigh. Will must have fallen asleep in there again, or left a lamp on. Either, of which, is highly likely.
But, for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I step into that room to find something unexpected. My father is sitting on the end of the couch, his head in hands and a book resting in his lap. The floor creaks beneath me, and he startles, looking up at me with an expression that I have never seen on his face. Sadness.
"Dad, what are you doing up? What's wrong?" I ask, thinking the worst, noticing the lamp light reflecting off the glistening streaks trailing down his face.
He shakes his head. "Sit down, son."
"Look, if this is about marrying Jacqueline, my answer is still the same."
"Please, sit down," he pleads, his eyes overcome with grief.
After I sink into the cushion next to him, he picks up the book from his lap and places in carefully in my hands. "Brooks, where did you get this?"
"Oh, man! It belongs to my friend, Laura. She'll be sick when she realizes that she left it here."
"Have you read it?"
"No, but she's told me all about it. It was her mom's journal. Why?"
"So, you know?" He looks up at me.
"Know what? It's just about her mom's teenage relationship with some guy named Joe. That's all I really know."
He opens the journal, pulls out the faded photograph, and carefully rests it on top of the worn cover.
"Dad, I don't get it."
He points to the boy. "Don't you know who this guy is? Joe? Didn't she tell you?"
"She doesn't even know. She hasn't read the whole thing yet."
"Just look at the picture closely, son. Real close."
I pick it up, bringing it only a few inches from my face. "No freakin' way."
Chapter Nineteen — Revelations
Laura:
I have decided that the birds are a lot more happy to be awake than I am. Normally, I love to watch them at the feeder every morning, delighting in their gleeful chirps. Today, not so much.
Finally giving up on my futile attempt to sleep all day, I force myself out of the bed and decide to start packing up my room. It will be better to just get it over with and get out of here as soon as I can. I dig the flattened cardboard boxes out of the closet, throwing them carelessly into my room as I free each one from behind the jungle of clothes. Then, after finding a roll of tape, I begin to reconstruct them.
Light footsteps coming up the stairs put a stop to my task, and I bound to the door, jerking it open just before my unexpected visitor has the opportunity to knock. Raising his fist to the empty space where the door once stood, Brooks freezes, his hand suspending in mid-air, and looks at me with such trepidation, almost cowering.
"Brooks, we've already said all we needed to say."
"I know," he says solemnly, stepping back to allow an older gentleman to come forward. "And I apologize for the intrusion."
"Hello there. Laura, is it? I'm Brooks's father; you can call me J.B."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Tucker," I reply, a little embarrassed. I offer my hand and suddenly spot my mom's journal in the hand that would have normal
ly reached out to meet mine.
Brooks takes the journal from his father and extends it out to me. "Laura, you, uh, left this at my house."
"Yes, I realized that last night. Thanks for bringing it to me." I just can't figure out why he and his father had to make the delivery. As if this isn't awkward enough.
Brooks's dad nudges him with his elbow and nods toward me, urging him to speak. "Can we come in for a few minutes?"
"I don't think it would be a good idea right now. And I have a lot of packing to do."
His father steps forward, his eyes wide, staring at me in awe. "Miss Laura, I assure you that we aren't here to disrupt your day, but I do feel that it's important to speak with you."
I pull the door all the way open, allowing them to cross the threshold, and I wave them toward the living area. Mr. Tucker situates himself at the end of the sofa, and Brooks continues to stand, urging me to take the remaining space on the couch. Once I am seated, he plops down in the floor beside me.
"I have to be brutally honest," I blurt out. "I am really confused about why the both of you are here." Brooks and his father look at each other.
"The best way to explain that is for you to read the last two entries in your mom's journal," Brooks reveals, reaching out to tap the worn leather cover.
"You read it?" I allege. "You had no right to do that!"
Mr. Tucker places his hand gently on my arm. "It's my fault that he did. Please, you'll understand if you just read. Then, we'll understand completely if you still want us to leave."
I sigh loudly and lean back, opening the journal to where I had left off.
July 21, 1978
I don't even know where to begin. I haven't ever felt so hurt or alone in all of my life. When Joe told me last night that he needed to see me today, I had a feeling that it wasn't good. And I was right.
He picked me up just after lunch, and we drove out to the old pier. He was acting nervous and distraught, and every smile he forced onto his face was a clear indicator that something was wrong. He didn't say a word on the way, he just kept glancing over at me. I could feel it in my gut. I could feel it coming.