“And then what happened?” Zoe again, keeping her voice calm.
“I picked her up.” Leaning over and giving him a clear view of her, Cristine took a long drink from a tall plastic glass on the side table next to her. “There’s not enough vodka in the world to erase what happened after that.”
This time, Zoe didn’t prod. She simply waited, like Brock, to hear the rest of the story of the end of Shayna’s too short life.
Chapter 16
“We argued. Shayna started screaming at me to stop the car and let her out. I refused.” Cristine began crying again, loudly. “Shayna opened her door and jumped. I had to be going at least fifty-five. I slammed on my breaks and put the car in Reverse. I was only going back to look for her, I swear. But instead I...”
“You ran over her,” Zoe finished, sounding grim. “Oh, Cristine.”
At that, Cristine stood, wiping at her eyes with one hand and brandishing her pistol with the other. “See? That’s why I’ve got to end it,” she said. “This town is my home. I can’t bear knowing everyone is going to hate me.”
Unbelievably, Zoe stood, too, facing off with Cristine. Brock clenched his jaw, mentally ordering her to sit back down.
“You need to get help,” Zoe said. “I can’t imagine carrying this burden around with you for so long.”
“Yes. Exactly. It has been a burden.” Clearly, Cristine hadn’t expected sympathy. Though she still held the pistol carefully, she kept the muzzle down, aimed at the floor rather than Zoe or herself.
“A terrible thing to bear alone.” Zoe reached out and enveloped the other woman in a hug.
For a second Cristine resisted, standing stiffly. Then, she relaxed into Zoe’s embrace and let herself be comforted.
Now or never. Pushing to his feet, Brock grabbed Cristine’s arm and twisted it. “Drop the gun.”
Cristine shrieked in pain. “What the—” Reflexively, she squeezed the trigger. The gun went off, the bullet going into the wood floor.
Outside, hearing the shot, Roger and his men took action.
They smashed the front door in, weapons drawn.
“Don’t move.”
Brock gingerly took Cristine’s pistol from her. “Thank you,” he said, stepping back so Roger and his men could take charge of her.
“Arrest her,” he told the sheriff. “She just confessed to killing Shayna Bell.”
* * *
With the arrest of Cristine Haywood, the entire town of Anniversary was talking. Mama Bell even came out of hiding. Not to celebrate, but to request a meeting with the woman who’d been the last person to see her daughter alive.
Roger Giles had to ask Cristine, who was being detained in a holding cell until the bail hearing, if she was willing. He’d made it clear he hadn’t wanted to but, as an officer of the law, he had no choice.
To Zoe’s surprise, Cristine agreed.
Mama Bell dressed with great care. She put on one of her best church dresses, a pale cream chiffon with swirly blue flowers. Zoe had asked to accompany her, mainly to drive. She understood Mama’s need to have a private talk with Cristine.
When they reached the sheriff’s office, Roger came out to greet them before Zoe had time to help Mama out of the car.
Expression somber, Roger held out his arm. Mama Bell took it and, head held high, allowed him to escort her inside. Zoe followed, blinking back tears.
She waited in Roger’s office while he and Mama went back to the holding cell. She had no idea what Mama wanted to ask Cristine or what the two of them would have to say to each other.
She only knew that here finally was closure. While it hadn’t been the ending she’d expected, or even wanted, they’d all gotten what they’d needed. Shayna’s killer had been caught. Remorseful, Cristine had made a full confession. It would only be a matter of time before she had her trial and received her sentence. Zoe had even heard that she’d requested the death penalty. Whether or not that was true, she didn’t know.
Finally, Mama and Roger emerged. Mama Bell wept, hiding her face with a lace-edged handkerchief. Roger handed her over to Zoe, looking ashen as he hurried back to his office.
Without speaking, Zoe got her out to the car and in. After she’d buckled the seat belt and started the car, Mama’s sobs quieted.
They’d nearly reached the house when Mama turned to her. “She was sorry, you know. Cristine. She didn’t mean to kill Shayna. Though she’s a thoroughly mixed-up girl, she has a lot of remorse. She loved Shayna, too. Somehow, that makes it a bit easier to bear.”
Zoe nodded, not sure how to respond. In the time since Shayna’s body had been found, the older woman seemed to have shrunk. Not only had she lost a lot of weight, but she’d turned inward, almost as if she’d mentally checked out.
After they’d made it home and parked, Zoe went around and helped Mama out of the car.
Once they were back inside the house, tears streaming unheeded down her weathered face, Mama turned to Zoe and held out her arms. As they embraced, Zoe felt her own eyes fill.
“I forgave her.” Mama spoke in a low, shaky voice. “It wasn’t easy—in fact, it was probably one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done.”
Zoe didn’t know how to respond, so she simply nodded.
“She was sorry, you know,” Mama continued. “And not just because she’s going to prison.”
Zoe nodded again.
Finally, Mama released her. “Zoe, I have a favor to ask you,” she said. “Please, sit.” She patted the couch.
Zoe sat. “If you’re wanting to talk to me about forgiving Cristine, I’ve already done so.”
Mama smiled. “I’m glad, but that’s not what I wanted to discuss with you.” She took a seat on the couch next to Zoe and reached over to clasp Zoe’s hand.
“I know it’s none of my business,” Mama started.
Zoe braced herself. Nothing that began like that could ever be good.
“But life’s too short. It seems to me the only way you can find happiness is if you reach out and grab it with both hands.”
Now confused, Zoe nodded. “I’m not really sure what you mean.”
“Brock.” Mama flashed a smile full of pain and love. “Both of you deserve a chance. I know that man still loves you and I’m guessing you still haven’t told him why you keep pushing him away.”
“I’ll think about it,” Zoe lied. While the older woman made sense, she didn’t want Brock sacrificing his future happiness. Sure, right now he might say or think or believe he could live without children of his own, but over time he’d come to resent her for his lack. She knew. There’d been a time when she’d managed to convince herself that she was fine without kids. Yet look at her now. She could hardly stand to be around other people’s children, aware her envy and grief and pain would eventually manifest itself.
She would not do that to Brock. She loved him far too much for that.
* * *
Now that Cristine had confessed to Shayna’s killing, Brock knew Zoe would soon be making plans to leave Anniversary. He imagined she couldn’t wait to get out of town and back in her precious city.
Despite that, he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t give it one more shot. Give them one more shot. Because in his foolish heart, he couldn’t accept that she’d willingly give it up. Not this time, now that they’d been given a second chance.
He called her and asked her to meet him in the park. If they got hungry, Sue’s was a short distance away. To his surprise, she readily agreed. It was only after he’d hung up the phone that it dawned on him she’d probably agreed to see him so she could tell him goodbye.
Well, he’d just have to see about that. Damned if he’d spend the rest of his life yearning for a woman who didn’t want him.
He waited for her on the
painted metal bench near the end of the walking trail. Watching as she got out of Mrs. Bell’s old car, he tried to quiet the thrumming feeling of love as she approached.
“So what are your plans now?” he asked, keeping his voice deliberately casual.
Zoe looked pensive. With the sunlight making copper hightlights in her long dark hair and highlighting her exotic cheekbones and creamy skin, she looked so beautiful he could hardly stand to look at her.
“I’m not sure,” she answered carefully. “Eventually I’ll probably head back to New York.”
Just like that, she stomped on his hopes and crushed them underfoot. Doggedly, he continued, still refusing to abandon the battle before it even got started.
“Why? You don’t have to run now,” he said, afraid to breathe, afraid to hope. “This is where you belong, here in Anniversary. Here with me.”
She wouldn’t look at him. Never a good sign.
“All my things are there, in my apartment. Plus, I love New York,” she said.
“As much as you love it here?” As much as you love me?
Slowly, she shook her head, but not to answer him. “This isn’t going to work out, you know. It can’t.”
That hurt so much he had to close his eyes and swallow hard to keep his composure. He wouldn’t beg, he had that much pride at least. But he would make sure she understood he’d welcome her back, arms wide open, if she was willing to give their relationship another go.
“Oh, Brock.” When she lifted her face to his, her anguished expression tore at his heart. “There’s nothing I’d love more than to stay here in Anniversary and make a life with you.”
But.
No. He refused to let there be a but.
“If that’s true, then why won’t you stay?”
She only shook her head. “I can’t, Brock. I just can’t. Let’s leave it at that.”
Again with the secrets. About to demand she stop hiding from him, he paused when she held up her hand to silence him.
“Please. Don’t make this any more difficult than it already is.” And then, just as she’d done many times before, she turned her back on him and walked out of his life.
And, as he’d done so many times before, he let her go, hating himself and wishing like hell he could hate her.
This time, he swore to himself, he was finished. A man could only take so much. Clearly, she’d made her choice.
And once again, she hadn’t chosen him.
Somehow he made it through the rest of the day. He went back to work, kept busy. When he wasn’t helping customers, he took an impromptu and completely unnecessary inventory, restocking shelves, sweeping up and doing any kind of busywork he could find. Anything to keep him from thinking. Or feeling.
Finally, closing time arrived. Turning the lock, Brock heaved a sigh. He faced an extremely long night alone at home. Never had the idea of heading to JT’s and having a drink sounded better. Maybe he’d do that, minus the alcohol.
“Brock, what is this?” Eve called him from his office. Something sounded off in her voice.
He hurried back, worried. She sat at his desk, peering intently at the computer. When she looked up, he was startled to realize she had tears running down her cheeks.
“Eve, what is it? What’s wrong?”
She sniffed, making a vague gesture toward the screen. “This website. I found the paper where you’d written down the address, so I checked it out. This blog is fabulous. I even went back in the archives and started reading. Whoever this woman is, she pours her soul out on her blog.”
At first, he had no idea what she meant. Then he saw the napkin with the words City Girl scrawled in Marshall Bell’s handwriting.
Zoe’s website. His baby sister had been reading Zoe’s blog. His chest constricted.
“It’s Zoe’s. But it can’t be too great,” he pointed out. “Especially if it’s making you cry.”
“Ah, now I understand.” Grinning through her tears, she grabbed a tissue and blew her nose, then another to mop at her eyes. “You’ve got to read it. I guarantee you’ll learn things about Zoe that will break your heart. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll understand why she keeps running away from you.”
With those cryptic words, she pushed up from the desk and headed back out to the store.
“I’ve already locked up,” he said absently, staring at the computer as if he expected it to jump up and bite him.
She nodded. “See you in the morning.” She lifted her hand in a wave and let herself out.
Grabbing a diet cola from the fridge, Brock sat down to take a look at Zoe’s blog.
* * *
Though she knew she needed to go online and purchase her airline tickets for the return trip to New York, Zoe couldn’t make herself. Not yet. She wasn’t ready. She finally told Mama Bell that she wanted to stay for a little while longer and, when the older woman expressed happiness at the idea, Zoe took to her blog, writing about her indecision. And, because she held nothing back on her blog, she finally opened up about her love for a man she couldn’t have, and why.
The response was instantaneous. Within twenty minutes, she had over nine hundred comments. She got up to make a mug of hot tea and, while she was busy doing that, the number climbed to over fifteen hundred. Stunned, Zoe couldn’t believe it. Her blog had always been popular and she had hundreds of subscribers and thousands of followers, but she couldn’t remember a single post generating this kind of interest.
Even though they were still coming in faster than she could believe, she sat down at her laptop and began to read, tea in hand.
There were so many, the vast majority of them encouraging. As she read, a bit of the darkness lifted. When the occasional internet troll popped up, spewing vitriol, she did as she always had and hit the delete key.
Luckily most of the comments weren’t more than a sentence or two. Some of them were a single word. There were a lot of hugs and <3, which made a heart. There was advice and prayers, cheering and offering advice.
She made it through the first thousand or so before her head started to ache. She started to close the laptop and go do something else, but she decided to try to make it through as many as she could—not an easy feat since the number of comments was still climbing.
Still, she continued to read, wiping away the odd tear, shaking her head and smiling at the outpouring of love. Generally, the consensus seemed to be that she should fight for the chance at happiness. Stop running, stop hiding—those two phrases appeared over and over.
All her loyal readers thought she was giving up too easily. While she appreciated their opinions, she knew she wasn’t. Because this had never been about her own happiness, but Brock’s.
Let him have the chance to make his choice—this comment, from someone called Eve5466, had been followed by a row of hearts. Again, this made Zoe smile.
But the next comment nearly stopped her heart.
Do you really think a life without you is better than a life without children? What happened to being in it together, forever and ever, like you promised when you agreed to be my wife, five long years ago? Baby, you’re not alone. You were never alone. We’ve been given this second chance and we’re awfully close to blowing it. I don’t care if we can’t have children—there’s adoption for that. I do care about not losing you. I love you. You, not some idea of the perfect family. That said, come find me if you’re willing to take a leap of faith. I’m taking my own, by hoping we can have this one last chance. I’ll be waiting with open arms, on the same park bench.
It was signed simply, B.
She couldn’t breathe. Brock. Somehow he’d found her blog. And read it, or at least this most recent entry, which happened to be about him and the reason she’d turned him down yet again.
The rest of the comments blurred as her eyes filled.
Shakily, she wiped the tears away, squinting and trying to focus on the screen.
Last chance. Open arms. Not alone. Love.
He was right. He’d tried and tried to tell her so. If she left this time, she’d be condemning them both to a barren, lonely future. Together, they at least stood a chance at happiness.
Crying, hiccupping, grinning foolishly, she ran to the car.
Brock was waiting, exactly as he’d promised, sitting on the metal park bench with the breeze ruffling his blond hair. At this time of the day the park was crowded. People had gotten off work and gone for the evening run. Young couples, children in tow, stood around the playground, letting their kids play. Out of habit, she avoided glancing over there, the high-pitched laughter and joyous voices piercing at her heart.
Then Brock’s gaze caught and held hers, and she forgot about anything else. Hope, unfamiliar and dizzying, crowded out everything except the rapid beat of her heart.
He stood, big and powerful, and so damn handsome her throat began to ache. She wavered, then lifted her chin and continued moving. This time, rather than meeting her halfway, he let her go to him. Symbolic, yes, because he’d already let her know what he wanted. Now it was up to her to make the choice.
As she approached him, she held out her hands. He took them in his, holding on tight.
Despite what he’d written and said, she had to be certain. She couldn’t do this if there was the slightest chance he’d have regrets.
“Are you sure?” Tilting her head, she searched his beloved face. “Because you always said you wanted a family. You wanted six children, we compromised on three, a house with some land, the whole deal. I can’t...” Swallowing, she cleared her throat and forced herself to go on. “I can’t give you that. Since you read my blog, you know I can never have children.”
“Do you think any of that matters to me now?” He shook his head. To her shock, his eyes appeared shiny with tears. “You’re the greatest thing that ever happened to me. You’re my heart and my soul and my life. Living without you is like living someone else’s life, like trying to function with a giant hole inside me.”
Texas Secrets, Lovers' Lies Page 23