I move on to the stack of phone transcripts and push the papers in his direction. “A few years ago, I discovered it wasn’t random at all.” I motion to some of the highlighted passages and watch as Hank’s jaw hitches as he begins to make sense of what I’m inferring. I move on to the two bank withdrawal receipts and am not surprised when his eyes narrow into slits. He gets it.
“Your old man ordered the hit?”
“My father, yes.”
Hank bobs his head slowly in understanding, as he thumbs through the pages of transcripts.
“So, who are you really?”
“Sara.”
He shoots me his “don’t bullshit me” look before continuing to leaf through the remaining papers now scattered from one end of the table to the other.
“Christina Harcourt.”
Hank raises his chin as his bushy gray eyebrows rise up in surprise, as if I just gave him the missing piece of the puzzle. “No shit. So, my girl is a fancy pants billionaire.”
I give him a small smile before setting him straight. “Hank, you know that’s not true. Hell, you’ve been paying me under the table all this time. I’m definitely no billionaire. And the last time I checked, my pants came from Wal-Mart.”
At that, he gives me a little chuckle. He turns his attention to the window while I gather up the papers and photos and place them back in the envelope. I’ve only got one more person to share this nightmare with, then I can hide this envelope forever.
I take a forced breath and wrap my hands around my mug for warmth, before breaking the momentary silence. “My family, well, it’s difficult to explain. After my mom died, without her there, there was nothing. No affection. No attention. No love. Just extravagance. I never cared about the cars, the homes, the clothes. I just wanted to feel like I mattered to them. I just wanted them to love me. I know from the outside it looked like I wanted for nothing, when in reality I got nothing I really wanted.”
I go on to give him the abbreviated version of my family and what life was really like once my mom was gone, and can see the muscles in his neck tighten while the hand he has resting on the table clenches and opens repeatedly.
He asks about CJ, or as he’s been renamed by Hank, “Pretty Boy,” so I start at the beginning with that first night at Cadillac Ranch, which leads to talk of my job at the hospital, and finally, that night at the gala.
“That’s it. The story of my life.”
I take a sip of coffee as we sit in uncomfortable silence. I never considered what might happen if Hank found out the truth, quite frankly because I never expected the truth to be discovered. Now Hank is back to looking out the window, absorbing every sordid detail he’s been forced to hear and see, and I’m left feeling that familiar ache when I’m about to, once again, lose someone in my life. Since I’m pretty sure this is where our story ends, I seize the opportunity to lay it all out for him.
“I watch you and Iggy a lot, you know, when you’re not paying attention. You two may bicker and argue like an old married couple, but he loves you through and through. And I know you feel the same way about him. You both surround yourself with people who are loyal and hardworking, and appreciate everything they have. You’re rich in every way that matters, Hank. I envy that. I envy you.” I set down my coffee before finishing.
“I’ve grown to consider many people here in this small town as close friends. You, however, have become more like family. You’ve given me a roof over my head, money in my pocket and, most importantly, space to heal. You are the proof I so desperately needed that good people and second chances do exist. You’ve never once questioned who I am or what my story is. And most importantly, why I’m here. You always have my back. Always lift me up. I’ve come to love you like family. Thank you for everything you’ve ever given me and done for me. It’s more than I can begin to ever thank you for.”
A short, curt nod is his only response as he continues to stare intently out toward the parking lot. I can only imagine what he’s thinking right now. The bell chimes on the front door. Keeping my focus on Hank, I ignore the customer. I can’t leave this table until I get a better gauge on how disappointed he is in me for misleading him all this time.
I’m wringing my hands on the table when Hank reaches over and pries one away, gently taking it in his own, then sandwiching it with his other and giving a soft squeeze. “Your momma was right, darlin’. You definitely make a beautiful Sara.”
My vision begins to blur around the edges, and I can’t help to look away. Holding my breath, I suck in my lips and fight back the tears.
“I’m thinking it takes a lot of strength to rewrite your story. Some of that strength is from your momma, but I also think a lot of it comes from you.” He squeezes again, silently urging me to look his way, needing me to understand the depth of his words. “And, for what it’s worth, it sounds like Pretty Boy may deserve one more chance.” It’s at that moment I sense someone standing beside me. It’s CJ.
He gives me a small smile then looks to Hank. Still encasing my hands in his own, Hank narrows his eyes at CJ, then finally looks back to me and lowers his voice an octave. “But trust me, if he fucks up again, they’ll never find his body.”
CJ looks good. Bigger. Broader. Definitely better than I remember. I know because I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off of him. Even during the craziness of the lunch rush. I can’t help but wonder, if everything hadn’t gone to shit that night in Father’s office, where would we be now?
When my shift is over, I take him upstairs so I can change out of my uniform, and we can finally have the talk we should have had years ago. I take a seat next to him on my loveseat, tuck my legs under me and focus on my fingers knotted in my lap. I want desperately to touch him but there are difficult things to discuss first. Mainly, the large envelope sitting on my coffee table.
“CJ, I …”
Gently, he interrupts, “Don’t, okay? Just give me a minute.” He throws an arm over the back of the sofa, and even though our bodies are only inches apart, he never touches me. Having him this close, I have to force myself from crawling onto his lap and wrapping my arms around him. I watch as he takes in every inch of me, starting at my face and neck, working his way to my shoulders and chest, then down to my waist, thighs and calves. As his eyes travel back up, he finally speaks.
“I get it now.”
I look at him, confused.
“Why you left. I don’t just get it. I see it.” He pulls one of my hands free and begins to run small circles over the top. I immediately feel my rapid pulse slow. “Because it allowed you to become you, but even better.”
I lose the fight and jump onto his lap, wrapping my arms tightly around him and burying my face in his neck. He doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate, grabbing on to me equally strong. As we sit in silence and hold each other, I let every emotion loose, putting everything out there for him to see. We have nothing to hide anymore.
Sliding my cheek along his, I brush our lips together and breathe him in. His hands slide up my back as one takes hold of my head and forces my mouth down on his. The kiss is warm and deep, a reacquaintance kiss that says so many things.
I’m sorry.
I missed you.
I love you.
But more than anything it says that together, we are solid and strong, with a courage and tenacity that is all us.
I pull away and instantly take in my favorite shade of blue. His eyes are smiling as I run my thumb over his cheek and across his bottom lip.
“You’re really here.” I sigh.
He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear and whispers back, “I’m really here.”
“You found me.”
“Of course I did. I told you I’d never let you go.”
His words hurt me in the best way. “CJ?”
“Yes, beauty?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
We’re lying on my small twin bed, my head on his chest as he runs faint circles on my
back with his fingertips. Like I never left.
“How did you find me?”
As my head rises and falls with his chest, I know this answer is painful for him when his hand momentarily stops. “It took four PI’s and more money than I care to admit. When you said you would run away to somewhere small and unknown, you weren’t kidding.”
I lift my head, resting my chin on his chest, and look into his eyes. “You’re not the reason I left, CJ. You have to know that. There’s so much more to this than seeing you that night at the gala.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean, something happened that night and …”
He squeezes me. “Christina, I know.” My eyes widen and I swallow hard as he begins. “When I left the stage that night, I tried calling you a hundred times. Max finally answered your phone, so I told him how I fucked up. But he already knew. He ripped me a new one, to say the least, but I didn’t care. I deserved it. All I wanted at that point was to know you made it home safely. I called him again when I finally landed and, even though it was morning and he’d yet to go to bed, he told me he was on his way to pick me up. I could tell in his voice, something was wrong. He drove us to an empty parking lot and explained everything that happened that night, starting in your father’s office.”
He pauses before taking a deep breath and whispers darkly down to me, “I’ve never wanted to hurt another human being the way I wanted to hurt your father that night. All I could think about was you, alone, dealing with this. I’ve never been so angry.”
At the agony covering his face, I lean up and kiss him before wrapping an arm securely around his waist. “Max wanted me to let you go, that you had it worked out on your own. At first, I thought he was right. After all, if you couldn’t trust me, how would I be able to help you? But after a few hours, I decided that I didn’t care. You could hate me all you wanted, all that mattered is that you were safe. So I called Max and told him I was going to find you, even if you told me to fuck off when I did. I think he was just as worried about you, maybe even more so, because he was afraid what your father might do if he got to you first. So we put together every bit of information you had given us, followed the few leads we had, but it was no use. We kept coming up empty. I had no choice but to go to my family for help.”
I cringe at his words, at the thought of bringing other people into this ugliness. “Finding you became my priority. My obsession. You were all that mattered. They knew something was wrong and they wanted to help. That’s when I broke down and told them everything. My dad didn’t hesitate to hire the best. All we had to go on was that you were in the western region of the country, based on the little bit of information Max was able to get from the bus company. You paying cash for everything didn’t make things any easier on us.” He says that last part with twinge of admonishment to his voice.
He takes a lock of my hair and twists it between his fingers. “In the meantime, I couldn’t deal. My dad took me out of the office and put me in one of the factories, working on a line and loading trucks, which was the best thing for me. The physical work helped me deal with all of the guilt and anger that constantly ate away at me.”
He stops and looks up to the ceiling, running his palms down his face. I give him the time he needs. He’s suffered more than I ever realized since I’ve been gone and it’s twisting knots in my stomach to know I’ve caused him pain. Finally, when he lifts his head, his demeanor has changed. “Do you have any idea, Christina? Do you have any fucking idea how hard the last two years have been?”
I nod my head and fight the tears that are building, because yes, I do know how hard they’ve been. But only on me. I’ve only thought about myself. Hearing about his heartache, everything he and his family have been through because of me, the tears begin to flow. I slide over his body so we’re chest to chest and bury my head in his neck. As I wrap my arms under him, he enfolds me securely in his, and lets me cry. Between sobs I stammer, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
As my tears subside, I lift up and am amazed to see the peace in his face. Because despite everything we’ve been through to get to this point, all that matters now is that we’re here.
Thank God he fought for us.
Thank God I have him back.
Thank God he loves me.
He doesn’t say a word, just holds me tighter. Never letting go.
Five Years Later
“Una especial, por favor, mantenga la salsa.”
“Viniendo justo, cariño.”
“Gracias, Moises.”
After CJ found me, he never left. It wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns though. A lot can change in two years. During our time apart, we each spent a good amount of it being angry. When he wasn’t mad at himself for hiding the truth, he was mad at me for leaving him behind so easily. When I wasn’t working through the lies about my mom’s death, I was feeding into the anger I felt for CJ’s deceit. In those early days after our reunion, we fought, and we cried. Okay, maybe I cried. Because it was work, as it should be. Because fighting for what you want should never be easy. But we worked hard, communicated, and finally forgave each other. More importantly, we forgave ourselves, earning the greatest reward. Each other.
I watch as a customer comes through the door and takes a seat at our counter. Grabbing a pot of coffee, I head his way. And yes, I’m serving coffee at our counter. Once CJ and I worked through our issues and found our rhythm, we had to decide what was next. He knew I couldn’t leave Mystic Sands. The people here gave me refuge and friendship at a time when I was at my lowest, even if they didn’t know it, and I can never repay them. This small, podunk town in the middle of Nowheresville, USA, has won over my heart and become my home.
That’s why we decided to buy Maria’s off of Hank. He’s worked hard and put in his time. He deserves a chance to enjoy his twilight years. So, we made him a generous offer he couldn’t refuse. Or so we thought. He didn’t hesitate to turn us down. So we raised the offer. Again, he turned us down. Same with the third time. Each time with no good reason. Just, “Nope.” Then it hit me, there was no way he’d retire without Iggy. We got them together and offered them an even one million dollars for the two businesses. Cash. Take it or leave it. Needless to say, they took it.
So, they’re traveling the country in a used Winnebago they bought off of Craigslist, but they check in often. Especially Hank. This diner was his life, and he likes to know that everything is still running the same as when it was his. Iggy’s much more laid back about Maria’s. Maybe that’s because he knows it’s in good hands. Or because he has free drinks waiting for him whenever they make their way back home.
I walk the length of the counter with a coffee pot in hand. “Hey there, Howard, what can I get you this morning? We’ve got bacon wrapped meat loaf with homemade mashed potatoes on special.”
He smiles sweetly and answers, “Thanks, Sara. Think I’ll stick to my usual.”
“You got it.” I pass the ticket on to Moises then move around the counter to refill coffee mugs, when I feel a hand slide around my hip and over my bulging belly.
“Hey, beauty,” my husband whispers in my ear and kisses me on the cheek.
“Hey, babe. I made your favorite today’s special.”
“Sweet, I need it. I’ve been busting my ass today.” His shoulders visibly relax as he takes a seat at the counter. I love that it’s our counter. Just like the distillery he runs in town, a subsidiary of Monument Spirits, is our distillery.
When I finally met CJ’s parents, Jim and Liz, I was fearful that they would think I, and the trouble that had once followed me, was not worthy of their son. But I didn’t even make it through his parents’ foyer when his mom wrapped me up in the tightest hug, causing my frazzled nerves to fade away.
We spent that first weekend together, finally getting our chance to know one another. They weren’t shy in admitting that they had reservations about my involvement with their son. How, at one point, they tried to talk him out of looking for me, tel
ling him that maybe I simply didn’t want to be found. But when they saw the determination in CJ despite their words, they knew that if I was that important to him, then I would need to become important to them, as well.
Liz flies in often, especially since I gave her free rein over designing the nursery. CJ was surprised when I did that, but I know whatever she puts together will be perfect. And secretly, I get something out of it, as well. Because every time Liz’s face lights up with talks of fabrics and furniture, I picture my mom doing the same. I miss her every day. That will never fade.
CJ’s sister, Emily, is the sister I wished for all those years ago. She finds any excuse to visit, every time showing up with a suitcase full of gifts for the baby, then talks me into a mani/pedi after my shift at the diner. When we first met, it took me a while to lower my guard around her, but she was patient and understanding, and finally won me over. I now know what it truly means to call someone your best friend.
Turns out, the little distillery we built in even littler known Mystic Sands, is producing the number one selling gin in all of the United States. We’re just producing it a little slower than everyone would like. But that’s okay, because every penny from the proceeds of Mystic Gin goes straight to a little children’s hospital in New York. Jim loves to brag about its success, giving CJ and me all the credit. Who knew creating a product solely for charity would be the best PR out there?
We built ourselves a new home on a large plot of land just on the outskirts of town. Nothing enormous or ostentatious that you can get lost in, just comfortable and homey. That’s not to say it’s not without its perks. One being a guesthouse where Fatima now lives. She helps me around the house but is mostly looking forward to giving me a hand with the baby.
She often says as she rests her hand on my belly, “Hemos llegado al punto de partida , mi dulce niña.” Yes, we definitely have come full circle.
Beautiful Lies Page 18