Epic Love

by Trudy Stiles

  “Can I see you?” I ask, preferring to explain things in person. Face to face.

  “What?”

  Does he not believe that I’m alive?

  “I can be in Pennsylvania by tomorrow night.” If I time the ferries just right, I should be able to be on the mainland before noon and I can make the drive in just about six hours.

  “You’re coming here?”

  I’m not afraid to be in public anymore, and I need to explain everything to him.

  “Yes,” I pause and take a deep breath. “I need your help.”

  When all is forgotten you find new ways to rescue me.

  Heath

  Present

  I’VE BEEN PACING throughout my first floor for the past few hours, watching the clock like a hawk. None of this seems real, and I have no idea what the fuck is going to happen when Noelle gets here. I didn’t sleep at all last night, afraid that yesterday was a dream, a crazy continuation of the nightmare that I woke up from yesterday morning.

  Hearing her voice was insane. No explanation given as to why she’s even alive or where she’s been for twelve years. She sounded older, her voice so much more mature than I remembered. If I didn’t have that dream the other night, I don’t know if I’d still remember what she looks like. I’m so confused as to what’s real and what’s a dream.

  One thing I do know is how real my anger is. Intense, nearly blinding, anger.

  How could she do this to everyone? Why didn’t she tell me she was alive?

  I’m fuming, clenching my fists and pacing. What am I even going to say to her after all of these years? This isn’t going to be some star-crossed lovers’ reunion. No fucking way. She ran away and pretended to be dead. I demand–I deserve– an explanation. An apology.

  And then, I can finally move on with my life.

  I made the decision the other day at the inlet that I would try to get past what happened. That I would attempt to move on from my memories of Noelle. I’ve been stifled in my life for far too long, settling for the status-quo. I haven’t been able to give my heart to anyone. Once she explains herself, I need to move on. For good.

  I look at my phone for the hundredth time in the past fifteen minutes. It’s seven-thirty. She should have been here by now. Maybe this all really is a dream. Or maybe I’m just going crazy.

  The doorbell rings, and I freeze in place. After all of the pacing I’ve done over the past few hours, I suddenly can’t move.

  Beyond that door is my past. A past filled with so much love, heartache, and loss.

  The doorbell rings again, prompting me to walk toward it. I grasp the doorknob with my hand, briefly closing my eyes. My heart pounds in my chest and fear rises. Fear of the unknown and what’s going to be staring at me beyond this door.

  I pull it open and all reality fades away. I’ve been brought back in time, staring at the most captivating woman I’ve ever seen. Noelle is even more beautiful than when we were younger. Her eyes are bright, sharper than I ever remember them to be. When she was a teenager, they were always drawn, worried. Dark circles and sometimes bruises shadowed her face. That has disappeared and her eyes now look alive, bright.

  “Oh my God,” I say, unable to gain control of my emotions.

  She drops her car keys to the ground and takes a hesitant step forward. Then she rushes into my arms, diving her head into my chest, grabbing me and holding me tight. She doesn’t say a word, but her body shakes uncontrollably in my grasp. Soft sobs begin to escape her lips and I pull her snug up against me. “I can’t believe you’re here,” I say, kissing the top of her head, squeezing her. “Is it really you?”

  “It’s me. It’s me,” she repeats over and over again.

  We hold onto each other, afraid to let go.

  After a few minutes, I loosen my grip on her. “Come inside.” I release her, bending down to pick up her keys.

  “Okay,” she says weakly.

  She follows me through the foyer and into the den. Before she got here, I rehearsed this moment in my head, imagining where we would sit and who would talk first. My nerves are heightened once again, and I gesture for her to sit on the couch. When she does, I settle into the chair across from her.

  I try to calm myself down and say, “You need to explain to me what’s going on. Why you’re here. How you’re not dead.”

  Her eyes fall to the floor, and she nods her head. “I’ll tell you everything.”

  I brace myself and wait for her to begin.

  She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, wringing her hands together in her lap. I have no idea what she’s about to tell me, but I can tell it’s paining her to keep it in.

  “Before I begin, you have to know how sorry I am for leaving the way I did.”

  As incredible as it is to see her here, alive, I’m not sure forgiveness is on the agenda at the moment. “I need you to tell me what happened.”

  She inhales deeply and begins. “You were right. You always knew something was going on with me. I made you swear that you’d never tell anyone. But you were right all along. Tonya mercilessly abused me for years. It began shortly after we moved to Pennsylvania, but her verbal abuse started many years before.”

  I clench my fists, anger coursing through my veins. So many years of abuse could have been stopped if she only let me help her. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth? Why did you hide it from me?”

  “I had to. I didn’t have a choice. Even my father didn’t know until it was too late.”

  “I don’t understand,” I state, trying to calm down.

  “Tonya was blackmailing my father and had been for years. Although I didn’t know the exact nature of what she had over him, she continued to prey on my father’s weaknesses–me and the memory of my mother. I eventually found out that she had evidence about my mother that my father wanted to keep secret, to protect her. If I did anything to disrupt the facade of their relationship, of our family, she would have tried to destroy my father. She held a secret over all of our heads, and we bowed down to her, let her run our lives.”

  I’m in disbelief that one woman could hold so much control over a family. “How is that even possible? How could your father let your abuse go on for years?” While I was held powerless to do anything about it, surely her father could have tried to stop it.

  “He didn’t know. I hid it from him along with everyone else.”

  I don’t understand this mentality at all. “If I saw it, your father should have!” I raise my voice, unintentionally.

  “Heath, it’s so hard to explain. But you have to believe me, that as a young girl, as a teenager, I wasn’t in the right mind to speak up for myself. I was terrified of the repercussions. Terrified that nobody would believe me. Terrified of losing the only family I had left. I’ve learned a lot about abuse over the past few years, and I’ve been through more therapy than anyone could even imagine. I was a victim, and apparently, I played right into her hands, allowing her to take advantage of my mental state. To take advantage of my fear. She controlled me, and I’m embarrassed to even admit that.”

  She bows her head and wipes tears from her eyes. My heart sinks for her, and I realize I’ve been too hard. Too angry.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, trying to comfort her.

  “There’s so much more about Tonya you don’t know, and that’s why I had to disappear.”

  She doesn’t realize that I do know, and I speak up.

  “I know all about Tonya and her family,” I blurt out.

  “What?” She looks surprised.

  “After you disappeared, I went insane. I begged my father for help. I told him what I knew, what I suspected was happening with you. I wanted him to open an investigation into your death.”

  “Oh my God,” she utters, holding her hand against her mouth. “I had no idea.”

  “My father told me what he knew about Tonya’s family. The Constantinos are apparently known from here to Portland, Oregon, and a few cities in between. She has some very dangerous cousin
s and uncles, apparently. Many of them are in jail for crimes like prostitution and murder,” I say as she nods her head.

  “My father found out about what she did to me–what she tried to disguise as a home invasion. That’s when he made the decision to save my life and aid in my disappearance.”

  “What? You mean to tell me that your father helped you disappear?”

  She nods again.

  “Yes. He helped me escape. He thought it was the only way to keep me safe and get me as far away from her as possible. He wanted to handle things on his own and keep me out of danger. So he and my uncle planned everything, and I had less than five hours to come to grips with what was going to happen. And I had to say goodbye to everyone forever.” I can tell she’s filled with sadness and grief. Tears threaten to spill down her cheeks, and I feel compelled to comfort her. To hold her.

  But I need to know more.

  “Tonya went to prison years ago when she was convicted of conspiring to murder her first husband. So why couldn’t you come back then? Why are you now suddenly able to rise from the dead?” I realize my words are harsh, but her sudden appearance still makes no sense to me.

  “Because I’m not afraid anymore. She can’t touch me again. She can’t hurt me or my father.” She drops her head into her hands, and through her sobs she cries, “He’s dead. My father’s dead.”

  I jump up and rush to her side sitting on the couch next to her, cradling her against me. “I had no idea.”

  “It’s okay. I only just found out on Sunday.” That was several days ago, and I wonder why I haven’t heard from my parents about this. They usually know everything that’s happening.

  “How?” I’m suddenly worried for her safety again, wondering if he was murdered by Tonya’s family. But I think I would have heard about this though, so I try to put my suspicions to rest.

  “A blood clot traveled to his lungs. He died from a pulmonary embolism.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I console, pulling her against me tighter.

  She shakes her head. “I’ve wasted so many years afraid, worried that if I resurfaced, I would cause trouble for my father. And now he’s gone.”

  I have to agree with her that her disappearance seems pointless. She should have been here. With her father. With me.

  “I said goodbye to him twelve years ago. But I always had hope that one day he’d send for me. He’d tell me it was safe to come home. I had no idea he had so little time left.”

  I’m at a loss as to why she would even stay away, especially if she knew Tonya’s family couldn’t hurt her any longer. “This is all too hard for me to understand.”

  “I knew what was going on with Tonya. I knew she’d been put in jail. But my father’s and my uncle’s words never left me. They warned me about the Constantinos and how vengeful they could be. They made me promise that, no matter what, I would stay away. That I would never come home.”

  “Then why did you?” I ask in disbelief.

  “Uncle Ronny called me to tell me he was dead. I lost it. The fact that I wasn’t here completely destroyed me. I was angry that they kept me away for so long. I demanded to be able to come home to properly say goodbye to my father.”

  I can’t believe her father wouldn’t even try to contact her after Tonya’s trial and conviction. Was he worried that something else might happen?

  “Are you safe now?” I ask, worried.

  “I don’t care if I am or not.” Her words grab me hard. Why wouldn’t she care?

  “Don’t be foolish,” I demand. “Strutting around, out in the open, is just asking for trouble. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “I can’t worry about these things anymore. There’s nothing else that Tonya and her family can take away from me. My father is dead.” She pauses for a moment and then clarifies, “I do have a small security detail that I hired a few years ago. They monitor my surroundings and blend in so I’m not even aware that they’re near.” Thank God.

  We sit silently, Noelle leaning into my side, my arm tucked protectively around her shoulder. Everything about this feels so comfortable. So right. But it also feels unreal, like I’m going to wake up from another dream.

  “When you called me yesterday, you said you needed my help.” I remind her of the reason why she’s surfaced, curious for her motivation for coming to find me.

  “Yeah. That,” she admits, hesitantly.

  “What is it? I’ll do anything,” I state, yearning for penance for allowing her abuse to continue for as long as it did.

  “My father’s wishes were to be put to rest with my mother. I don’t want to do it alone.”

  “Of course,” I state immediately. “I’ll be there for whatever you need.”

  “That’s where it gets tricky,” she says.

  “Tricky?” I raise my eyebrow.

  “Her ashes were spread at the Grand Canyon, the place where my parents ended an incredible road trip across the country just after they were married.”

  “I’ll book us a flight right away,” I mention, reaching for my phone.

  “No!” she says, nervously.

  “What? Let me take care of it. It’s the least I could do.”

  “Sorry. I should’ve been more specific. I don’t fly.”

  I sit back so I can look at her and can tell she’s being serious.

  “You don’t fly?”

  “No. I never have. And I’m petrified. So, no I don’t fly.”

  “Well, how are we going to get to the Grand Canyon then?” I ask, perplexed.

  “I’d like to take a road trip. And I’d like you to come with me.”

  So much has happened in the past twenty-four hours. Old memories and feelings have resurfaced. I can’t believe Noelle is here, alive and well, asking me to drive with her across the country. I can’t quite grasp everything that’s going on, but I answer, “I’ll take you to the Grand Canyon.”

  For the first time since she walked into my house and back into my life, she smiles. A vibrant light illuminates her eyes, just like the light catcher hanging in my kitchen window.

  And I realize that taking her on this trip so she can put her father to rest will give me the opportunity to earn her forgiveness for not protecting her back then. For letting her abuse go unnoticed, unpunished.

  I have thousands of miles of open road to talk about the past and what got us here, and I don’t plan to waste a second of it.

  When the moon is asleep I will find a way to rescue you.

  Noelle

  Present

  I PULL MY CAR into a spot in the parking garage attached to my father’s office building. The last time I was here was twelve years ago, the day I said goodbye to him forever, even though I was hoping I’d be able to see him again. Unfortunately, my hopes and dreams did not come true.

  “Miss Durand, good to see you,” one of the security guards says as I enter the building. He’s unfamiliar to me, and I’m curious how he knows who I am. “Your uncle is in your father’s office. Do you need me to show you where it is?”

  I shake my head, even though I’ve only been here once, the layout is forever burned into my brain. I walk past the conference room where I found out all of the sordid details about my mother and the accident that killed Tonya’s brother and wife.

  Uncle Ronny is sitting at the large mahogany table in my father’s office. When I walk into the room, he immediately gets to his feet and sweeps me into his arms. “My God, it’s so good to see you, Noelle.” He squeezes me tight, like he never wants to let me go again.

  “You, too,” I admit.

  “Let me look at you,” he says, letting me go and taking me all in. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman. The spitting image of your mother.” I’ve seen many pictures of her growing up and have several more that my father made sure I had when I left twelve years ago.

  “Thank you.”

  “Sit down. We have so much to go over and so many things to make right.”

&
nbsp; I have no idea what he means by this, but I slide into one of the large leather chairs across from him.

  “What do I need to do?”

  “First, we need to get your name legally changed back to Noelle Durand.”

  I’d been living under my mother’s middle and maiden name since I left town. My mother’s full name was Melanie Sawyer Duncan, so I became Sawyer. It was strange living with that name for so many years, not using the name my parents gave me. My neighbors on Chappy know me only under that name, my real name never being uttered anywhere.

  “Is that going to be hard?” I ask. “I mean, I’m dead, right?”

  He shakes his head. “No, technically, you’re not dead. Your father never filed a legal death certificate, and we were able to grease a few palms to make sure that never happened. Don’t ask me who or how. Just know that you’re not dead.” He winks and smiles nervously.

  “Thank God for that,” I say sarcastically.

  “But if you wish to live as Noelle Durand again, we’ll need to get your name legally changed back. You want to do that, don’t you?”

  I nod vigorously. “Yes, I mean, unless someone is looking for me?”

  “You don’t need to worry about the Constantinos. With Tonya rotting away in prison, her family has bigger fish to fry. Your father turned over the evidence he had years ago, which led to her conviction. If they were going to retaliate, they would have done so back then. Your father wouldn’t have lived through her trial if that was going to happen.”

  “Then why didn’t you contact me? Bring me home?”

  “He didn’t care what they would try to do to him. He was adamant about letting you live your life safely and in peace. He was worried that if he allowed you to come home, they would have done something very bad. They would have made him pay for what he did to Tonya by taking it out on you. I think we’re well past that danger now, and your father made me promise I would contact you after he died.”

  “But I thought his death was sudden? He had a pulmonary embolism, right?”