The nurse from Jane’s floor enters the chapel. I rise from my seat. Knowing Jane wouldn’t want me near her−for good reason−I asked the nurse to inform me of any news.
Her smile is broad. “She’ll be fine. All the tests are looking good. We’re just waiting for the renal test results, and we’re monitoring her for the risk of developing pneumonia, but if all looks well she can go home tomorrow.”
I grip the bench in front of me hard. Relief makes me sway on my feet.
“You can see her if you like.”
“Thank you.”
With a nod, she’s off.
I have no right to ruin Jane more than I already have. The best I can do for her is to stay away. I’m setting her free from her invisible prison, even if it’s killing me. The agony is hell. I deserve no less. I gambled and lost. The price was her love. No, I’m not going to visit Jane, but the urge to see her is too big. If I hang around her room, maybe I can catch a glimpse when the door opens. She doesn’t need to know I’m there. I just need to reassure myself that she’s fine. With that resolution in mind, I take the stairs and exit on the second floor. As I round the corner, I almost bump into Francois. Abby is at this side.
“Brian,” he says, inclining his head in greeting.
“Francois. Abby.”
They’re probably having a restraining order issued against me as we speak. I’m about to walk a circle around them when Francois grips my arm.
“Abby just spoke to her mother. She has something to say to you, too.”
Abby looks like she’s going to bolt, but Francois puts an arm around her, grounding her to the space next to him.
“I, um…” Abby licks her lips and starts to cry. “I’m sorry I lied.”
The confession catches me off guard. “Why did you?”
“I was embarrassed and angry.”
“Angry about what?”
“My parents’ divorce. You. Everything.”
A lot of her feelings make sense to me. I can understand a teenager’s turmoil with what’s being going on in her parents’ lives. I suppose she came clean because of worry over her mother. Fresh guilt eats at me for what I did to Jane. On the upside, if Jane ever had any doubts, at least she has no more reason to distrust me because of the accusation.
“All right, Abby. Apology accepted.”
“Really? Just like that?”
What right do I have to be angry about Abby’s lie when my actions nearly killed her mother? “Just don’t let it ever happen again.”
She sniffs and averts her eyes. “Um, thanks, Brian.”
“As her punishment,” Francois says, “Abby is not only grounded for a month, but she’s also doing voluntary work at the animal shelter. I owe you an apology, too. I hope you’ll be generous enough to accept it.” He pats me on the shoulder. “I suppose you’re eager to see Jane.”
He has no idea.
They’re hardly gone when Detective Cowan exits Jane’s room. He questioned me when he arrived at the hospital just after a doctor had stitched up my shin. My mom called to say the detective had been at the house to inspect the site of the accident shortly after I’d left. He questioned her, but she said she didn’t know anything, which is true, in a kind of a way. Cowan finally has the reason he needs to lock me up. All he needs is Jane’s statement. She only has to tell one, crucial piece of truth, that I tied her up against her will. I’m not unfamiliar with the law. I’ll be facing kidnapping and assault with the intent to cause grievous bodily harm charges. I steel myself for what’s to come, not that I don’t deserve it. I’ll happily take my punishment. What’s a whole lot more devastating is knowing I’ll never see Jane again. The knowledge that I turned her trust and love into loathing is a harder punishment than any jail sentence.
Cowan stops when he sees me. “You’re one lucky bastard, Michaels.” He shakes his head as if in disgust or disapproval. “I don’t get it. Why does she cover for you? What does she see in you?”
Jane covered for me? It’s like a knife in my chest, strengthening my guilt.
His smile turns too broad for my liking. “Never mind. I don’t need her confession. The forensics team found something much more interesting in the sludge. They found a pistol. I bet when the forensics come back, the bullets we found in those murder victims are going to match.”
Shit, no. I’ve been too distraught about Jane to think clearly. I should’ve thought about the gun I’d so carefully hidden behind a cut in the upholstery of the sofa. I should’ve destroyed the damn weapon, but I was too worried I’d need it again, one day, and unlicensed firearms don’t come easy or cheap. After everything, this is what’s going to put me away. My own, damn negligence. My obsession with Jane.
He’s got me. This is checkmate.
He watches me closely, like I’m a map he can read. “Last chance, Michaels. If you’ve got something to say, now’s the time.”
I know exactly what I have to say. “I want to cut a deal.”
10
Brian
Cutting a deal with Cowan means selling a part of my soul, but it’s the only way I see out. It’s the only way I can get rid of my baggage. If I don’t accept the terms, I’ll keep on sinking under, deeper, dragging everyone I love with me to the murky depths of my future. If I go to jail, there’ll be no one to take care of Sam and watch over my mom. Cowan won’t stop harassing Jane until she confesses the truth. This is why I’m sitting in Monkey’s lounge on Sunday afternoon, wearing a wire. This is why I don’t have a choice but to play along, making a commitment I don’t mean.
Lindy is sitting next to me on the sofa, her hands folded between her knees and her back stiff. She’s pissed off with me, but that’s the least of my concerns. Sweat trickles between my shoulder blades when I think of what’ll happen if Monkey discovers I’m ratting on him. He’ll make sure I suffer, chopping me to pieces, starting with my fingers and toes, but it’s not me I’m worried about. It’s Sam and my mom.
There’s an awkward silence in the room with Monkey glaring at me and Lindy giving me the silent treatment. It’s definitely not your usual engagement celebration. Ingrid, Lindy’s mom, flitters into the room with a tray of champagne glasses. I get up to take it from her.
“Thank you, Brian.” She beams. “You can put it on the table. Monkey, why don’t you pour?”
Monkey grunts but gets up to loosen the cork on the champagne chilling in the ice bucket. The cork comes free with a loud pop, going straight up and bouncing from the ceiling. The champagne boils over before he can aim the bottle at a glass.
“Well, then,” Ingrid rubs her hands together, “shall we make a toast?”
Poor woman. She’s trying hard to make this into what it’s supposed to be, but an ostrich can never be an eagle, no matter how hard he pretends he can fly.
She lifts her glass. “To the love birds.”
Monkey gulps down half of his glass and belches. “Did you get the ring?”
My voice lacks enthusiasm. “Lindy can pick whatever she likes.”
Lindy gives me a dirty look.
“A practical young man,” Ingrid says, obviously trying to cover up that there’s no love lost from my side. “We’ll go shopping this weekend. Won’t that be fun, Lindy?”
With a future father-in-law like Monkey, I don’t have to worry about giving the women a budget limit. Monkey will pay for whatever his daughter wants. I don’t give a shit that the ring she’ll wear on her finger won’t be bought with money I earned. No pride lost there, either.
“Lunch is almost ready,” Ingrid says. “I’m sorry your mother can’t be here, Brian.” Her face pales a little as she realizes what she’s said. Hastily, she adds, “What about Sam? Why didn’t she come?”
“She’s still not comfortable with her new look. The short hair is a bit of a sore point.”
“Simply awful what those girls did.”
I fume a little. Ingrid means well, but Sam’s not her business. Of course, the whole school knows about what ha
ppened, which means the whole neighborhood knows, too.
“We need to discuss the engagement party,” Ingrid says in an over-enthusiastic tone.
I wish she’d stop trying to make up for what everyone else is lacking. It’s only making the atmosphere worse. As she dives into the color scheme and catering, I tune out of the conversation. My mind drifts to Jane. Everyone in Harryville knows about the accident. News spreads fast. Monkey didn’t take it kindly. It doesn’t look good for his daughter that I had my lover handcuffed in a bunker. Every time I think about Jane, it’s as if my heart goes through a mincer. How she must hate me. My only defense is to push the thoughts away and repeat the mantra I have on replay in my head since the accident–she’s better off without me. It doesn’t change how I feel, though. I’m never going to stop loving her.
The meal is an ordeal. My companions’ eating noises put my disorder to the ultimate test. I have to dig my nails into my palms to endure it. Lindy’s eyes rest accusingly on my champagne, which I haven’t touched. After dessert has finally been served, Monkey and I retire to his study for cognac and cigars while Lindy and Ingrid clear the table.
It’s business time. It’s the moment I’ve been waiting for and dreaded. He goes into a long explanation of what he expects from me. In one year’s time, the minute Lindy and I are married, I’m to leave my job and get involved in the business. I ask enough questions about the illegal side of his business to feign interest without seeming over-eager for information. It’s like balancing on a tightrope. My shirt is drenched in sweat by the time we’re done, but thankfully it’s a hot day, and I can blame the weather. At least Cowan will have some of the information he needs to start the process of putting an end to Monkey’s dealings.
“We better get back to the women,” Monkey says. “Ingrid will have coffee ready.” At the door, he grips my shoulder. “I hope you’re going to make a better performance at the engagement party. I’m being lenient with you today, seeing what happened with Sam and that woman you had chained up in your basement for whatever sinister reasons. I won’t be lenient when my daughter faces a hall full of people. Understood?” He slaps my shoulder and without waiting for a reply says, “Good. I’m glad that’s settled. One more lukewarm show and I cut off your left nut. Once you’ve given us grandchildren, I’ll cut off the right one, too.”
Jane
Dorothy holds my hand as we enter the doctor’s office. We take the only two seats. Benjamin takes a stiff stance to the left. The atmosphere is fragile, like glass. The tension is unbearable. My ribcage tightens. It’s been a week since I’m out of the hospital, but I still get these sensations that I can’t breathe. I wake up in a cold sweat at night, dragging ragged breaths into my lungs. It’s as if the air burns me when it finally fills my body. The familiar fire starts spreading through my chest as my throat clogs up. I close my eyes and practice what I’ve been doing for the last seven days, simply pulling in the next breath, and the next, until the sensation of suffocating passes.
“We have the results,” the doctor says needlessly.
That’s why we’re here. Why I’m here is for Abby. She’s outside in the garden with Francois and Debbie, waiting. We agreed it was best if she’s not in the room when the doctor shares the result. He looks between us, locking eyes with each person before dipping his gaze down at the report in his hands.
“Ready?” the doctor asks.
I’ll never be ready for this. The repercussions of Benjamin being Abby’s father are huge. What if Abby wants to get to know her real father? Benjamin will never agree. He has too much to lose. I don’t want my baby girl to be hurt more than she already has.
Dorothy’s fingers squeeze around mine as the doctor opens his mouth.
“It’s not Mr. James.”
Not Benjamin. His shoulders go slack, as if the air has left his chest.
Dorothy sucks in a breath. Her voice trembles with tears. “Oh, my God.”
Abby is Evan’s. Evan and I made a baby. Thank you, dear God. I close my eyes, letting relief break and put me back together inside. On the outside, I keep it together. It’s Dorothy who cries softly, but they’re tears of joy. She has something left of her dead son, after all. Evan didn’t leave us completely alone.
The doctor shuffles the papers into a file and pushes it over the desk. “If you’ll excuse me.” He gets to his feet, our cue to leave.
I’m glad for his clinical attitude. It makes the situation easier to handle. Dorothy, Benjamin, and I pause in the empty reception area. The atmosphere is awkward. There are no social polite or small talk for circumstances like these I can fall back onto. I give up wracking my brain for something suitable to say and simply go for what needs to be done.
“I’d like to tell Abby alone.”
“Of course,” Dorothy says. “The two of you have a lot to talk about.” Dorothy looks at Benjamin. “Shall we go?”
“I’ll catch up.”
Dorothy gives an uncertain nod, but she exits the room, leaving me alone with Benjamin. I both appreciate and dread the opportunity. The questions bottle up inside me. Neither of us speaks, and then we talk simultaneously.
“Did you–?”
“Thank you–”
“Sorry.”
“No, please continue.”
“You go first,” I say.
He wets his lips. “Thank you for not going public with this.”
“That wasn’t the objective.”
“I know you did it for Abby, but you could’ve easily gotten back at me by telling the truth.”
“I would’ve if you were her father.”
“Then that’s another reason to be glad I’m not.”
“Since we’re being so brutally honest, if I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth?”
“I owe you at least that much for your discretion.”
“Did you offer Brian money to seduce me?”
“Yes,” he says solemnly.
I didn’t think it could hurt worse, but at the verbal admittance my world splinters a little more. A few more cracks, and I’ll never be able to glue it back together.
“I did offer him money,” he continues, “but he didn’t accept it.”
It takes a while for the meaning of his words to settle. Brian didn’t take the money. They’re a balm on my cut-open heart, but they can’t fill the fissures. They can’t patch up the mistrust that works both ways. It doesn’t change why Brian ended up in my pool on a hot summer’s night. Brian lied to me from the start. As for my wrongs, I believed he destroyed my trust, when in reality I didn’t trust him enough. When it mattered, I was ready to believe the worst of him. I didn’t want to listen to what Brian had to say in his cellar that day, because then I would’ve had to forgive him, and I’m not ready to forgive him. Forgiveness hurts too much. Forgiveness means making myself more vulnerable than I already am. Forgiveness will be the proof that my love for Brian is bigger than everything else, that he’ll always hold the power to hurt and destroy me, and that my feelings render me at his mercy.
“If Brian didn’t supply you with the photos, who did?”
“When Brian declined my offer, I paid someone to break into your house and install the camera in your bedroom.”
“How did he get in? Brian installed an alarm.”
“It was before Brian installed it. It wasn’t difficult. He picked the lock on the sliding door to the deck.”
“Why did you lie about it? Why did you tell your mother and me it was Brian?”
An air of despondency settles over him. “The truth? I don’t know, Jane.”
“You don’t know?” He ruined my life–twice–and he doesn’t know?
“I suppose I was angry. Brian was to ruin you, not fall in love with you.”
“Why? What have I ever done to you?”
“What have you done to me? You fell in love with my brother when I brought you home. I brought you home to meet my parents. I brought you home for me. You were supposed to be with me,
Jane. Me. Evan had no right to steal you away.”
“This is still about Evan? My God, Ben. He’s been dead for years. Does it ever occur to you the one who got done in was me? You drugged and raped me. How demented must you be to still want to hurt me?”
“What can I say? Old vengeances die hard.”
“We were never more than friends. I never gave you false hope.”
He utters a wry laugh. “You hurt me, and you don’t even know how much. You don’t even know how much I suffered. You’ll never know. I only wanted to give Evan a taste of what I was going through.”
“You’ve done your worst. I hope you can live with yourself.”
He stares at me for a moment. “You don’t want to know what I’m living with. Not really.”
“You’re right. I don’t.”
“Will I have to keep on looking over my shoulder, worrying about the tabloids?”
“No. You have my word.”
“How can I be sure you won’t change your mind?”
“I don’t want a scandal for Abby. She’s suffered enough. What’s done is done. It’s over. In the past.”
“At least that’s one thing we agree on. Neither of us needs a scandal.”
I hesitate. I still have so many questions, but dare I delve deeper than what I already have? Can I handle the truth? Finally, my need to know wins out. “How did you meet Brian?”
“By fluke. I was having lunch between rehearsals at the restaurant opposite the theater when he walked in. From the attention he got, I thought he was a good candidate, plus I could see from his clothes he needed the money.”
I want to own every piece of the pain. I don’t want to be spared anything. That’s why I need to ask. “Did he decline your offer immediately or did he…?” My voice drops an octave. I have to clear my throat to get the question out. “Did he consider it?”
Young Enough (The Age Between Us Book 2) Page 20