by Lily White
My pinky squeezed hers. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. I was at your practices. I saw how beautiful and graceful you were.”
Soft laughter shook her shoulders. “I could say the same about you and your art.” Raising a single brow, she dared me to argue. I knew better than to step up to the challenge.
Silence fell between us, pregnant with a topic that had lingered like a heavy cloud since the moment I left the hospital.
“Are you going to agree to the testing and treatment with Dr. Silva? Now that you know Delilah has never come home?”
Closing my eyes, I rolled my head over the wall, my heart beating with a slow lazy pace, like a dirge for the sister I’d lost. “Yeah. I’ll call him tomorrow and see when he’d be available. I’m not sure how I’ll get to the hospital or even his office now that his practice is further away.”
“I’m sure Angela and Dr. Silva can take care of that.”
“She does too much for me,” I breathed out.
“Who?”
“Angela.”
Michaela shifted, her body lifting and lowering again as she straddled my lap. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she waited for me to open my eyes and lock my gaze with hers.
“She loves you, Holden.” Pausing, she swallowed, tears glistening in her honest eyes. “And I love you, too. We’ll do anything it takes for you to get better.”
Choked up by her sincerity, I grinned to realize that although this town had taken one family from me, it had also replaced it with another.
Fear laced my voice when I asked, “What if I never get better? What if the head injury isn’t something Dr. Silva can fix?”
“Then it sounds like you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not,” Del answered from the bed.
My eyes clenched shut to hear her voice, a voice I knew wasn’t real.
A warm palm cupped my cheek. “Holden, open your eyes and look at me. I’m real. I’m here. And regardless of what happens, I’m never leaving. Not unless you force me away. And maybe not even then.”
It was my turn to laugh. Opening my eyes, I locked my stare to hers. “Oh, yeah? And how would you force your way in?”
A devious smile tugged at her lips, her response enough to shake me from my misery and force a deep laugh from my lungs. “I’ll call Angela. She’ll hold you down and talk some sense into you. And while she does that, I don’t know. I guess I’ll just show you my boobs to make you remember how much you want me.”
Wiggling her brows, she leaned forward to softly kiss my lips. My hands moved to her back, tugging her closer. “Hmmm,” I murmured, “I’m suddenly forgetting what they look like. I think I need a reminder right now.”
Her laughter burst against my lips. “Carry me to our bedroom and I might just show you more than that.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice.
Lifting her up, I walked us out of Delilah’s room, leaving behind a memory that refused to remain locked in my mind and moving toward a life that promised happiness and absolution for my crimes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Michaela
Time couldn’t have moved slower over the next several weeks, each day sinking me deeper in dread that the stress of the police investigation would hinder the progress Holden was making with Dr. Silva.
Although the injuries Holden suffered were permanent, Dr. Silva was optimistic that a coordinated effort in counseling, rehab and medication would heal Holden and return him back to who he had been before the accident that almost took his life. Already I’d noticed a difference in him, those moments when he would pause outside Delilah’s bedroom door, his hand on the knob, seconds passing before he would shake his head and walk away to continue on to his studio - the best rehab of all.
We both worked to pay the household bills, but I’d made a conscious effort to save as much money as possible to keep him stocked with canvases and other supplies. The paintings he was creating were worth every second I spent working in the diner and serving a town that had come to hate me for what the police investigation had uncovered.
Sitting outside a conference room with Angela by my side, I wrung my hands in my lap as we waited for Mr. Grinshaw, Dr. Silva and the other victims from town to arrive. Today we would learn whether the State would press charges against me for not reporting Jack missing, and whether charges would be brought against Clive Stanton and the other boys involved in the parties. I hated to think it fortunate that they’d continued their activities over the Christmas break, only because the Statute of Limitations hadn’t run out for criminal charges to be filed.
Laying a warm hand over mine, Angela stopped my fidgeting. “Stop messing with your hands. You’re going to rub your skin off if you’re not careful.”
“I’m just nervous,” I confessed on a shaky breath. “Not so much for myself, but for the other girls. They deserve justice in this.”
Angela squeezed my hands. “They’ve already gotten some justice. The state police have been doing a great job of clearing out the drug dens on Holden’s side of town. It’s too bad the local police are only helping because a spoiled, rich asshole was murdered by one of them.”
My heart fell into my stomach. I’d been relieved to learn that Jack’s death has been blamed on a drug deal gone wrong, but I still felt a tiny bit of guilt for the lies I’d told to make that happen. Regardless, he’d received an expensive funeral with almost everyone in town in attendance. They’d cried and remembered him as a great man. Thankfully, I was out of reach and wasn’t forced by my parents to appear and play the role of the broken-hearted girlfriend.
“Yeah, well, that’s good, I guess.”
“Good?” Angela clicked her tongue. “Perhaps now that neighborhood can become a decent place again. More middle income families can return and make something of it. It would breathe new life into town and balance out the bullshit power of the rich and elite. I’m also ecstatic that Officer Shay lost his job. From what Mr. Grinshaw told me, all the dirty cops who were bought and paid for are being run out of town.” She paused until I looked over at her. Lowering her voice, she said, “You’ve done good in this, Michaela. It sucks that you had to go through hell to cause these changes, but you fought back and the town has you to thank for it.”
Sighing, she wiped at her eyes and straightened her shoulders. “I’d be an idiot not to admit I was wrong about you. Over the past weeks, you’ve proven yourself to be a strong, competent woman. And the help you’ve given Holden - the hope you’ve given him - it’s more than I could have ever asked for. I’ve never seen him happier, and I have you to thank for it. I know it hasn’t been easy for you to stand back and watch him struggle. But you stood there regardless, like a damn rock he could cling to when he wasn’t strong enough to stand on his own. It takes a real woman to handle everything you’ve been dealing with while also being the strength for a man as stubborn and hardheaded as him.”
A smile split my lips and I couldn’t refute Holden’s stubborn will. Thankfully, it was that same stubbornness that helped him step away from the delusions and fight to stay by my side in the real world.
“We need to give her a funeral, you know?”
Nodding Angela agreed. “Yeah. I know. Perhaps lowering her into the ground by her parents will push Holden to let her go once and for all.”
Silence fell between us for several minutes. Angela breathed out loudly to break it apart. “What are you going to do with him once everything is over? You two can’t stay here. It’s not good for him. He needs to get out there and away from the town that tried to tear him apart. He’s a better man than working at a diner washing dishes. And quite frankly, you’re better than waiting tables. Both of you need to go.”
Tears slipped over her eyes to say the words. She would miss us as much as we would miss her.
I’d already considered what we would do once the criminal investigation was over. “I was thinking about taking him to Chicago or New York. He needs to be in a place where he can show h
is art. I truly believe that if people saw his talent, he would have people banging down his door asking for portraits or other paintings. He has too much talent for it to be hidden away in a small studio. But those cities are expensive. I’m not sure how we’d survive. I could work, I guess. Pay the bills until he got on his feet. Then maybe he could make enough on his art to support the bills while I finish college. I just don’t know where we’d find the money to move.”
“You could sell his house,” Angela suggested. “In fact, when we leave here today, you should go home and tell him to put it on the market.”
Lifting my brows at the thought, I added, “If I leave here today. They could still attempt to get me in trouble for not reporting Jack missing. The Tranquil Falls Police are still adamant I had something to do with it, even if it was a deal gone wrong.”
Even though Officer Shay was gone, Jack’s parents had been pressing hard for charges to be brought against me, suggesting that I’d witnessed the murder and run off without reporting it.
Locking her eyes with mine, she said, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. Mr. Grinshaw will deal with their asses. Jack assaulted you that night. You had every reason to run off. It’s not your fault that rich little snot wasn’t smart enough to stay away from shady drug dealers. He got what was coming to him.”
Before I could respond, Mr. Grinshaw arrived with Dr. Silva in tow, three girls I recognized from school walking in behind them. Mr. Grinshaw glanced at his watch and walked into the conference room, asking all of us to wait for a moment while he determined if the police and prosecutors were ready for us to enter.
While Dr. Silva moved to stand near Angela and me, the girls gathered near the other end of the waiting room, talking amongst themselves, their eyes glancing over as they smiled shyly in my direction. I smiled back, not holding it against them that they were angry that I’d known about what was occurring at the parties and had waited so long to say a word about it.
I’d be angry, too, but I’d convinced myself over the years I was in high school that the parties were common knowledge, each girl knowing what they were getting themselves into. Sadly, they hadn’t understood how bad it had been. Only I knew.
Placing a hand on my shoulder, Dr. Silva quietly asked, “How are things at home, Michaela? With Holden?”
Glancing up, I smiled. “Good. He hasn’t seen Delilah in over a week. I think the medications are working.”
“That’s good,” he answered. “That’s what Holden told me the other day, but I wanted to confirm. Is he avoiding her room?”
Nodding, I sighed. “He stops outside the door every once in a while, but he never goes in. He goes to his studio instead.”
Before he could ask another question, the door to the conference room opened, Mr. Grinshaw waving us all inside. My stomach was in knots as I stood from my seat and followed the line of people moving in. Having Angela and Dr. Silva beside me helped to keep me from chickening out and turning around.
Walking through the door, I saw three detectives and two men in suits sitting on one side of the table, their expressions sharp and focused on each of us as we entered. We took our seats on the opposite side of the table and waited for the men to speak.
One man stood up, his shirt perfectly pressed, his badge gleaming where it was clipped to the belt at his waist.
“Thank you all for attending this meeting today, I’ll make the introductions brief as I’m sure you all are anxious to know our decisions. My name is Detective Ross Clayborn. Sitting here beside me are Detectives Winston Jones and Mark Lansk. On my other side are the two prosecutors who will be taking these cases to trial, Eric Holtz and Timothy Franks.”
His eyes found mine, that grey stare driving daggers inside me. “Ms. Michaela Paige. I’ll start with the charges against you. If you’ll give me permission to speak frankly in front of the other attendees, I can explain our decision.”
Nodding my head, I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat.
He nodded in return, his brown, short hair barely moving. “Charges will not be filed against you, Ms. Paige...”
A collective sigh burst from Angela, Dr. Silva and myself.
“Given the circumstances of the evening Jack Thorne was murdered, and given his assault against you that led to your running to Mr. Bishop’s house, we’ve determined that you had no duty to report a murder you were not aware occurred. We’ve spoken with the other young women seated at the table today, and they’ve all given us information that makes it highly likely your story is true. Seeing that Mr. Thorne was involved in other sexual assaults and was a known drug user, it’s safe to surmise that your story is truthful.”
My body withered in my chair, the relief so obvious that Angela reached over to place her hand on my arm as if it would give me strength not to crumble from my seat.
Ever the professional, Detective Clayborn ignored my reaction and turned his attention to the other girls sitting at the table.
“Regarding Clive Stanton, Derrick Mills, and Rex Pritchard, you’ve all provided corroborating testimony that has convinced us to press charges against those young men for sexual assault. I’ll ask that if any of you receive threats or any other harassment after the charges are filed and the men apprehended, to immediately contact me or the other detectives or prosecutors seated at the table and inform us of such activity immediately. We will do our best to protect you from any negative consequences that may come with your testimony against these men. Do you understand?”
Two of the girls were crying, sniffles sounding as they nodded their heads in agreement.
“I also must warn you that you will be asked to testify at trial,” he turned to me, “as well as you Ms. Paige. It won’t be easy, but there are advocates who will stand with you and assist during that process.”
Again, the girls nodded silently, and I nodded as well.
“If we’re all lucky, the men will plea and a trial can be avoided. But I want you all to understand that you may be called to testify publicly. Does anybody have any questions?”
I shook my head, as did the other girls.
“Well, then we can conclude this meeting and move forward. I wish you all the best and will be in contact should I need anything further.”
Silently, we stood from our seats and walked from the room, my legs barely holding me as up as Angela wrapped an arm around me to hold me steady. While Mr. Grinshaw and Dr. Silva said their goodbyes to us and walked the girls out, Angela held me back, offering a shoulder to cry on as I finally allowed myself to crumble.
Patting my back, she spoke soft words in comfort, her hand gliding down my hair as she kissed my temple and waited for me to calm down. When I was finally strong enough, she held me at arm’s length and locked her eyes with mine.
“I don’t want you to worry about this anymore, you hear me? What the man just told you in that room is that you won. You get that, right? You’ve not only cleared Holden’s name in Jack’s death, but you’ve stopped those awful parties and potentially saved future girls’ lives. That makes you a hero, Michaela. That makes you large.”
Laughter broke through my tears. “Holden gave you the large speech, too?”
She grinned. “Yeah, and the first time he told me I was large, I almost decked him right there. I thought he was talking about my weight.”
More laughter burst from my mouth, the tears finally drying. “Sometimes I wonder if he doesn’t deserve a good smack to the jaw.”
Wrapping an arm over my shoulder she led me from the room to walk outside. “Yeah, well, if he ever does anything stupid, you be sure to let me know. I have a hell of a right hook when I’m pissed enough to use it.”
My smile couldn’t have been wider. “Okay. It’s a deal.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Holden
Winter had finally broken, spring sweeping in to push buds out from the tree branches, a touch of color over what had been a bleak landscape when I’d buried my parents two ye
ars ago.
It was fitting that the day Delilah was laid to rest would bring warm sun and a comforting breeze, the snow having melted away as new grass blistered over the ground. Budding flowers touched the bushes that surrounded the cemetery, Michaela walking to my left while Deli stood in the distance.
No, the hallucinations hadn’t ceased entirely and I’d been honest with Michaela and my doctors that, at times, my sister still stared back at me despite having been gone for years. I didn’t acknowledge her openly. I didn’t believe she was actually there. But it was hard to ignore her when she called out to me, hard not to flinch at the sound of her voice begging me to promise her she wouldn’t be alone.
Perhaps seeing her so clearly was a consequence of my mind, the mental snapshots I’d always used to create my art now breathing life into a memory that was far too present and visible. I could only hope that burying her ashes beneath the ground would free me of the pain and sorrow that kept her tethered to me in the moments when my mind slipped across the veil from what was real to what was imagined.
Squeezing my hand, Michaela drew my attention in her direction. She didn’t have to speak to let me know she understood my sister was in view, she simply locked her eyes to mine in a show of encouragement that I would, one day, overcome. There was no room for doubt when it came to Michaela’s unwavering faith in me. She was cheerleader, support system and protector all in one - a woman so dedicated to the man she loved that she would become anything just to ensure I could reach the stars.
Her astute dedication wasn’t one-sided. I would fight for her as fiercely as she fought for me, our shared love not a relationship built on seeing to our own happiness, but to each other’s.
When you broke it down to the most basic part of the relationships that lasted despite the odds, you found two people looking out for the other’s needs, without having to worry for their own. She knew I watched her back, and I knew she watched mine, our perfect trust pushing us forward.