Darling's Desire

by T. D. Hassett

  She staggered toward the stairs only to stop dead in her tracks at the sound of knocking. Who could that be? Part of her wanted to ignore the knocking and just go to bed, but another part was afraid to not find out who was outside her door. She slipped her cell phone out of her pocket ready to call 911 if it was anyone suspicious. She pressed her body against the wall away from the windows and sidestepped her way toward the door, sliding the curtains aside to take a peek out. She let out a sigh of relief at the sight of her father knocking on the door, frowning. Great. Just what she needed—another run-in with her father. If he would just stop knocking and go away, she could crawl up to bed and hide from the world. He knocked again more forcefully. Crap. She undid the deadbolt and pulled the door open. She held her hand up as if to stop him from speaking, but he refused to take the hint.

  He tried to step past her. “No, Darling, I need to talk to you.”

  “Dad, I can’t. I just can’t do this right now,” she begged.

  “Oh, honey. I just need to talk to you for a few minutes, please.”

  Darling was too worn down to argue. “How did you even know I was back?” She stepped aside so he could enter and shut the door behind him. He went right to the breakfast bar and perched himself on a stool.

  “I didn’t, but I’ve been stopping by every day, driving from Westchester, hoping I could talk to you and work things out.”

  Now he had her full attention. He’d been driving an hour and a half each way just to see if she was around? She knew he’d been calling her cell phone every day, but she’d been ignoring it, expecting that his messages would just be more of what he’d said last week. She sat down at the breakfast bar next to him.

  “Darling,” he started again, not continuing until after clearing his throat. “I came to tell you I’m sorry. I’ve let you down, and I want to make it up to you. I haven’t been there the way I should have, and I guess I haven’t noticed that you’ve grown up while I’ve been off hiding from you. I just need you to understand why.”

  She cut him off. “No, Daddy, it’s okay, I do understand. You don’t have to.”

  Now was his turn to stop her. He held up his hand. “No, please let me say this. It won’t make a lot of sense. I guess as long as I kept thinking of you as that little girl, I could pretend that time hadn’t been going on and that your mother, well, maybe she would come back. But as you kept getting older and the years rolled on, it was a double-edged sword. I realized your mother was truly gone from us, and I might never know what happened to her. You probably don’t know how much you look like her. You have her big blue eyes and blonde hair, only hers was a bit wavier. And sometimes when we talked on the phone, you sounded so much like her I just wanted to get off the line and cry. I’m ashamed I wasn’t more of a father to you when you needed me and that I’ve tried to keep you in a box.”

  He reached out to pull Darling into his arms. She just couldn’t stop the tears anymore. She let out a deep breath, one that had been held in so long her stomach and lungs ached. She wailed against her father’s shoulder, soaking his suit jacket.

  “Hush, Darling, everything’s going to be okay.” His patting of her back just made her cry harder.

  She snuffled, pulled her head out of his shoulder, and wiped her tear-stained face on the back of her hand. “Daddy, you were right. I’m in over my head, and I don’t know what to do with this house. And Ross, well, I guess he wasn’t as good a friend as I thought he was, because in the end he only wanted one thing. I’ve been so stupid. So busy trying to play grown-up, I forgot to be a grown-up and listen to good advice from people who really care about me.” She stepped away to reach for a napkin from the counter and blotted at her face again, blowing her nose rather unladylike.

  “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. I wish I could take every little bit of pain away from you, but I can’t any more than you could’ve made everything okay after your mom was taken. I can only tell you that when your heart gets broken, only time really helps.”

  “Yes, I know, and I think my pride took a real jolt with this one. But I’m going to be okay. I just keep thinking back to the last time I talked to him and trying to figure out what happened? What did I say? What went wrong?” She sat back down and rested her chin in her palm.

  “Don’t make yourself crazy thinking about what-ifs. I can tell you from experience that me thinking what if I hadn’t gone golfing that day, or what if uncle Ryan hadn’t offered to loan me his clubs when my set was short, or what if it had rained and I didn’t have those plans. Would I have been able to change what happened? It’ll only make you crazy, and it won’t help.”

  She sniffled again. “I know you’re right, Dad, and I think about that day all the time too. What if I hadn’t gotten in trouble so I didn’t get sent to my room? Maybe mom would still be with us.”

  “Oh, Darling, don’t blame yourself, because I’m thankful for the opposite. What if you hadn’t been sent to your room, and you’d been there? Maybe you would have been taken from me too.” Her father’s eyes teared up a bit, and that was when Darling knew he really did love her.

  “Dad, I don’t want to sell this house. I want to try and start my own bakery and write a book, a cookbook, actually.” She kept her gaze locked on her dad. He looked at her, his eyes widening just a little bit. He glanced around the big kitchen and a smile slowly crept across his usually stern face.

  “You know, your mother loved to bake and cook. She even had a deal with a couple local grocers around here who would sell her baked goods, jams, and pies. That’s what she wanted to do, you know, expand her operation. I’ll help you however I can. In fact, I’m an awfully good food taster if that helps at all.” His smile deepened.

  “Oh, Daddy, that’s what Ross used to say.” And the tears started flowing again.

  Chapter 42

  He staggered back into the hotel room at around seven a.m., surprised not to see Darling curled up sleeping in their bed. Where the hell had she gone? He’d been a jerk and treated her wrong, but it had just pissed him off so much that she’d lied to him, that she’d messed with the tour and his drumming. Didn’t she understand that he’d been into her for her and thinking that she only cared about him because of Becket was downright hurtful? So he’d said some mean things. Maybe she was off talking to Madison and licking her wounds a bit. He’d give her a few hours and track her down. Right now he needed a hot shower and maybe some sleep and about half a bottle of Tylenol for his headache. He’d slammed back so many shots he’d been barely able to walk. The hotel bartender must have left him sleeping it off in the corner, the giant bottle of Crown Royal nearly empty in his lap. He hadn’t drunk like that in a long time, and he was more than mad at the lapse. He did turn down drugs, and he was proud of himself for that small accomplishment—though it had been a near thing. Yep, Darling had done a number on him.

  He flicked on the light in the giant bathroom and avoided looking at himself in the mirror. He whipped open the shower door and immediately realized that all of her chick stuff was gone. No fruity shampoo, girlie-smelling soap—even the pink razor thing was gone. He slammed the door shut and went back into the bedroom, frantically pulling open drawers only to find them all empty. On the dresser was a short note neatly scrawled on hotel paper. He read it twice before he swung his fist into the mirror over the dresser, sending glass shards across the bureau and cutting up his knuckles. That bitch. Darling was gone. A rage like he’d never felt before erupted from his newly thawed heart. Nothing in the hotel room was safe. When he’d finished ripping apart the furniture, he punched holes in the sheet rock. He’d never busted up a hotel room in the past, but at the moment it felt good to just let the poison out of his system. He ignored the banging of the hotel security and threw a lamp at the brave officer who unlocked the door and tried to talk to him. A short time later they returned with Link.

  * * * *

  His friend was at least smart enough to just sit out in the hall and try to talk to him through the shut door
. Ross was exhausted. He sat against the wall surrounded by splintered wood and floating downy feathers ripped from the duvet. He closed his eyes and slapped his head against the wall a few times.

  “Hey, Ross. Please, dude, just talk to me. I’m worried about you, man. I’ve never seen you act like this, not even right after, you know, Lisa died,” Link said.

  Ross ignored him, not trusting his voice to do anything other than growl.

  “I know Darling left. She texted something quick to Madison, but I don’t know what happened.” Link exhaled loud enough to be heard through the wall. “We’ve been friends for years, so what the fuck is going on?”

  Ross opened his eyes, glanced around his totaled room, and giggled. “Holy fuck, I trashed this room.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. Good thing I assured the management that you were good for the repair costs, or one of those London bobbies would be in here arresting your sorry ass.” He chuckled.

  “She left me. Actually, she used me, got what she wanted, and then left me.” Ross kicked a pile of torn linens until his foot couldn’t reach them anymore.

  “What the fuck are you talking about? That girl was in love with you. Are you using drugs again or something?”

  “No. Never that shit again.” He contemplated what to tell his friend and decided on just baring the truth. He was determined to tough it out and play the part of Charlie Brown—pathetic. “She was only interested in me because of the band. She must have talked Madison into telling me there was an issue with my visa so she would have enough time to, you know…” He let his words hang in the air, at least until Link’s laughter broke the silence. “It’s not fucking funny. I got conned.”

  “No, it’s not funny. It’s fucking hysterical.” Link broke into a fresh round of laughter. “You actually think Darling plotted an elaborate ruse to keep you in Uniontown so she could seduce you? And that”—he broke into another round of guffaws—“and that she coerced Madison into helping her run this diabolical scam on you?”

  Ross plunged his elbow into the drywall, making yet another hole he’d have to pay to repair. “It’s not fucking funny. Tommy told me yesterday there was never any visa issue. She set me up.”

  “Dude, I set you up.” Link’s voice had taken on a sober quality.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Ross demanded.

  “Just what I said. I’m the one who told Madison there was a problem with your visa and that you would be delayed. I let her work her magic and get you to stay where I thought you should be for a while.”

  “Why would you do that to me? How could you mess with the band stuff, was it some kind of joke to you?” Ross bit his words out, slapping his skull against the wall again.

  “I did it because I want to see you happy. I’m sorry if I fucked stuff up.”

  “Well, great going, dude. I’ve never been so happy in my fucking life. Thanks.” Ross looked around his smashed-up room and let out another hysterical giggle.

  “Come on, let me in there. I want to see how bad it is,” Link asked, the sound of him getting off the ground and tugging on the doorknob interrupting Ross’ moment of mirth.

  He slid his body up the wall and unlocked the door, letting Link in. Why not, they’d been friends for years, and he’d seen Link in some pretty dicey situations before.

  “Holy shit, this place is toast. I’m almost impressed. You might really be full-fledged bad-ass rock star material.” They both started laughing at the ruined room.

  “So, maybe in future, you won’t try to help me.”

  “I had to. I knew that morning when you actually got all pissed at me for calling Darling boring that you had a thing for her. She was the first person you even cared enough about to try and piss off. Besides, I impressed the fuck out of my wife coming up with the sort of devious plan that only she would normally come up with.”

  “You guys certainly had me fooled. Shit, this means that Darling didn’t know anything about this.”

  “I can’t say I know Darling as well as you—for obvious reasons—but from my dealings with her and the way Madison talks about her, that girl doesn’t have a mean bone in her body and would never do anything to hurt someone or get involved with them just for fame. I kind of get the impression she didn’t really have much real experience with men in general.”

  “Let’s not go there. Fuck, the things I said to her last night. No wonder she took off. I practically accused her of winning the groupie of the night award.” Ross slapped his hand over his face, not wanting to have to see Link’s expression of shock.

  “Your nefarious plan to set me up didn’t include doing scary shit to Darling’s house would it?” he asked, hopeful.

  “Ah, no. I might be new to scheming, but I’m not enough of a shit head to shoot up my own dog and someone’s house, vandalize my wife’s car, or burn down a shed. I have no idea who is doing all that shit, but I don’t buy the pissed-off locals story. It’s too much.” Link slapped his friend on the shoulder. “I do think that we might need to get a replacement drummer for a couple of shows, though. You best get your ass back there and start kissing up, groveling, the whole nine.”

  “If Darling doesn’t kill me, Tommy probably will. I am such an ass. If dumb was dirt, I’d cover an acre,” Ross lamented, his drawl unusually heavy in his chagrin.

  “Nah, your stupidity would cover a whole county. But since you’re like a brother to me, I’ll go talk to Tommy—at least, as soon as I calm my wife down. She really might kill you if you don’t work things out with Darling. I’m pretty sure she’d been planning a bridal shower and all. Knowing her, she’s already figured out how many children you should have, so if you mess this up anymore, I can’t protect you.”

  Ross reached into the garbage and grabbed a balled-up piece of hotel stationary.

  “Dude, don’t even bother trying to clean this up. Just get out your checkbook,” Link advised, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “I know that. But this here paper tells me I have some heart and soul fixing to do.” He stuffed the crumpled note in his pocket.

  Chapter 43

  Darling did what she could with the groceries she had in the house, but she really needed to get into town and shop. She also really needed to get Carrie to come by and give her a ride to pick up Madison’s car at the body shop. The Mercedes was all repaired, but so far her friend hadn’t gotten back to her about driving her over. She had all of her basic baking staples but would love to get her hands on some fresh fruit for the tarts she wanted to make. Instead she was trying to make chocolate éclairs with mixed results. The first batch wasn’t quite right, so she’d tweaked a few things and set the new version in the oven. The waiting was boring. She glanced out the window over her sink and saw someone walking around the house. She squinted her eyes to make out a few more details and thought the man might be Logan. At first she wasn’t sure what he was doing—maybe treating the foundation with pesticide or something? When had he ever been known to do anything helpful for anyone, though?

  She pulled the curtains aside and peeked out with more interest. Yep, it was Logan, and he was pouring liquid from a red drum. She caught a few letters printed on the container and gasped.

  Oh my God.

  She dropped the curtain back in place, her heart hammering in her chest. She pulled the phone off its cradle, not wanting to waste time searching for her cell phone. She squatted down on the kitchen floor afraid that he might somehow see her through the windows. Her fingers flew over the numbers as she dialed the police.

  Please answer, please answer.

  After too many rings, the dispatcher picked up, and Darling whispered into the receiver, “I think my cousin is trying to burn down my house. I’m at Forty Lakeview. Please hurry—he is pouring kerosene around the foundation.” The police dispatcher asked some questions about the possibility of her safely getting out of the house, and she agreed to see if she could slip out the back.

  Darling crept down her cellar stairs, ho
ping to escape through the walkout basement. She froze mid step. Logan walked right by the narrow glass panels set in the door. She backed up to the wall and leaned aside to glance out the window again. She could just make out her cousin dropping the empty barrel into some shrubbery. She sucked in a shaky breath, watching him flick his lighter.

  Oh God, oh God.

  Did she dare try to make a run for it and sneak by him? The sound of sirens got her moving. She bolted out the back door, anxious to be surrounded by police. Logan panicked, dropping his lighter, and ran. Multiple squad cars squealed to a stop, kicking gravel up in their wake. Two officers jumped from one car and chased Logan, tackling him at the end of her driveway. Several officers gathered around him as he was cuffed and put in a cruiser.

  Darling approached the officers, her hands still shaking. One of the police guided her away from the vehicle they’d locked Logan in.

  “Ma’am, was that the man that you saw pouring gas around your house?”

  She nodded, still needing a moment before words would come out. The officer took out a leatherbound notebook, and she did her best to answer his questions. The whole thing was surreal. Within a few more minutes, the fire department and a giant hazmat van had pulled up and parked on her property. She continued answering questions but really wasn’t sure why Logan would be doing what he’d been doing. She hadn’t seen him at the house before when other things had happened, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t responsible. Utterly confused, she went to go sit in one of the beach chairs.

  Sheriff Brickman arrived in an unmarked car. He checked in with the on-scene officer in charge and then came to talk to her. “Ms. Roberts, seems like trouble just finds you.”

  “Seems so. Do you know why he would do something like this?” She couldn’t think of any reason why Logan would want to hurt her house or her. He was always a bit of a jerk, but this was unimaginable.

  Sheriff Brickman hemmed a bit before flipping to the notes the other officer had given him. He glanced over the papers and shook his head. “It seems that Logan Chidsey is insisting that he didn’t realize you were at home and wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. He’s claiming that he wanted to force your hand into selling and was just desperate. I can’t really tell you anything more until I complete my investigation.” He flipped the papers back into a folder. “Do you have someplace you can stay tonight? Is there someone you would like us to call for you?”