“You mustn’t leave, Michael. We need you here. You, more than anyone in the world, understand how disastrous it would be if your father’s company were taken over by anyone outside the family. Your sister and I aren’t prepared to handle what needs to be done. You need to step in and take control of your father’s business and his charities.”
“There is no chance in hell I’m associating myself with his business or his charities. They are a sham. He’s extorted and embezzled more money than he’s ever donated. Why in the world would I walk into that?” The snap in Michael’s voice was partially driven by the slight buzz he was feeling, but his answer would be the same sober. He’d left this place as a twenty-four-year-old with absolutely no intention of ever associating his name with the criminal activities taking place.
“You don’t have to agree with your father’s business practices, but I thought you’d at least care enough about your sister and me to try to protect us from the backlash that will come if any of those things are exposed. Our family would be ruined. The charities we have that do good in this world would be dissolved. The people we help would all go without. Not to mention all the people your father’s manufacturing company employees. This is bigger than just your moral high ground, Michael.” Her voice was a low whisper with a hiss in it that reminded Michael of who she really was.
“My moral high ground has never been enough to protect any of us. That’s why I left. That’s the only thing that works—distance. You were by no means ignorant of the business decisions, Mother. You played an active role in flat-out stealing people’s money. I’m not going to put myself between you and that bullet. You chose Dad; you chose to stay with him and be his partner in all this. I’m sorry he died and left you holding the bag, but that isn’t my problem. I’m going to this gala tonight, and I’m leaving after breakfast tomorrow. That’s final.” Michael’s voice boomed and echoed through the large entryway as he stormed out of the house and leaned against one of the pillars that stood like soldiers guarding their front door.
“Hey stranger,” his sister’s voice called through a smile. “I feel like we haven’t even had a chance to talk yet.” She was wearing a short, black, form-fitting dress with a necklace so full of diamonds it hurt his eyes when it caught the light of the sun.
He opened his arms to her and she dove in for a hug. She was still so small. She was born premature and Michael remembered how frightened he was that she might not survive. He was twelve years old, and he swore if she lived he’d donate his entire comic book collection to charity. The day she came home from the hospital he boxed them up and had the chauffer drive him to Goodwill. It was a deal he was still so glad he made.
“Sorry we haven’t really talked yet, Jo,” he said, kissing the top of her head. He released her and watched as she flattened out her dress and adjusted her necklace, exactly the way their mother would have. She resembled her more than he’d ever realized, and his only hope was that their similarities stopped at appearances. But it soon became clear that wasn’t the case.
“Please don’t call me Jo. My name is Josephine. It’s impossible to be taken seriously when people call you Jo. Mother says you’re finally staying in town to take over Dad’s company and his charities. I want to talk to you about that.”
Michael never wanted to be sharp with his sister. He felt bad for her, really. She still idolized their parents and was completely ignorant to all the things Michael had discovered about them. Dozens of times when they argued about Michael leaving town and not coming back, he considered telling her the truth. But in the end he always decided not to rob her of the illusion that she was in the presence of great people. There were days he wished he’d never been robbed of it himself.
“Mother was wrong. I’m not staying, Jo.” He knew she didn’t want to be called that but he didn’t want to feed into the idea that she was anything other than the kid he left behind here years ago.
“You’re running again? Seriously? Our father just died. He’s left behind an enormous amount of unfinished business and you don’t care. Mother just lost her husband. Don’t you think she could use you for support?” There was a determination in her eyes that instantly reminded Michael of his mother when she became dead set on getting her way. Suddenly all he could feel was sadness.
If Jo knew anything about their parents’ relationship she’d realize, as Michael did, that there was no love lost between them. The death of her husband was probably a welcomed relief to Tabitha—outside of the business troubles he was leaving behind, that is. “Why don’t you come with me Jo? I have a great life back East. You could be happy there, just like I am.”
“You’re a moron. You don’t know anything about me or what makes me happy. Stop calling me Jo. I’m not a child. I graduated summa cum laude. I could take any one of a hundred jobs I’ve been offered around the country but I have a life here. I’m engaged, which you’d know if you’d acted like my brother at all in the last decade. I’ll be married here, and I don’t plan to abandon our mother even if you’ve found a way to live with yourself for doing it.”
“You don’t understand. When I leave, things are going to come out about Dad. You’re going to hear things that you aren’t expecting.” Michael felt himself stepping farther onto thin ice.
She shot up her hand to quiet him. “Enough with all of this, Michael. I know you and Dad never got along. He expected a lot from you and when things got tough you left. I know he was hard on you, but guess what? He’s dead. You have nothing left to fight against here. So don’t project your relationship with him onto me. He was different with me. Older and kinder by the time I was growing up. I’m sorry you didn’t get to see that part of him, but maybe if you hadn’t left you would have given him a chance to change with you.
Her words didn’t even dent the armor he’d wrapped himself in. She was naive and ignorant to who he was. His relationship with his father wasn’t a complicated one. It was incredibly straightforward. Michael was groomed to be a part of his empire and when he got a peek behind the curtain at the smoke and mirrors, he’d left. “Congratulations on your engagement,” Michael conceded as he lifted his sister’s hand and looked down at the enormous ring on her finger. It was double the size of the diamond he’d given to Jules and surrounded by a dozen smaller diamonds.
“Thank you,” she replied, the snap in her voice waning. “Our engagement party is this weekend. It would mean a lot to me if you would stay long enough to celebrate with Wilson and me. He’s in the middle of law school himself. Dad was really pushing him along, hoping he’d be a part of the family business some day.”
Michael had to swallow back the venom he was tempted to shoot out across the yard. Of course his father was pushing the boy along. It’s what he’d done to him too. He’d encouraged him to go into law and opened every door possible for him. What Michael didn’t know was that he was grooming him to be his own personal lawyer. Someone who could cut corners and cover up all the things he needed in order to continue stealing and lying. If he hadn’t died he likely would have succeeded in pulling in Jo’s poor new fiancé.
“I can’t stay for the party Jo—Josephine. I wish I could but I’ve got to get back East. But we have tonight. Do you want to head over to the gala together like we used to?”
“No, Michael, I don’t, because I have a life and a fiancé who I’ll be going with. I’m not busy hiding away from the world like a hermit. You can go alone, and stay alone the rest of your life for all I care,” she shouted with a quiver in her voice that told Michael she still cared very much. She stormed out to a waiting car and slammed her door tightly.
As much as he wanted to save his sister from the media storm of truths that would come in the wake of their father’s death, he knew you couldn’t force people to protect themselves. Jo was right. She wasn’t a child anymore. If this were where she wanted to place her allegiance then she’d need to find a place to stand when everything came crashing down about their father. When she learned of the s
tealing and the affairs, she’d need to be that adult she was claiming to be. If they began seizing assets and freezing bank accounts Jo would need to be Josephine and live with her own choices. That was easy to say, but at the end of the day she was still his baby sister. Becoming a father had put so much of Michael’s life into perspective and a part of him wanted to rescue Jo. But not more than he needed to save his marriage and protect Jules and Frankie from this world. And that meant getting home to them as soon as possible.
Chapter Five
With tearful eyes, Jules put her favorite lipstick on. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t worn any since before she’d had Frankie. It had been seven months without any makeup, really. She could barely face herself in the mirror now as she began to transform from tired mom to elegant gala attendee.
Maybe the fact there was a transformation at all had contributed to Michael’s leaving. Being a mother had changed her so deeply perhaps he didn’t recognize or love the woman she was today. Maybe that’s what made it so easy for him to keep secrets and leave without her.
Honestly, she didn’t always like what she saw in the mirror most days either. Though she didn’t remember it happening, the majority of her days were spent in yoga pants and dirty oversized shirts. She’d become so used to the smell of spit-up from her colicky baby she’d stopped making sure it was at least out of her hair by the time Michael got home from work. Her makeup was all stashed away and hardly used. She hadn’t dried her hair straight or even attempted to try on any of her pre-pregnancy clothes. Even though she was only about five pounds over her original weight she could tell her body had changed dramatically. Her hips would never be able to wiggle their way back into her old jeans. Her boobs were too big for all her shirts, and not in a sexy way, just in an engorged with milk kind of way.
How could she expect a man like Michael, who came from such wealth and prestige, to tough it out through a time when she didn’t feel very tough at all? This was all supposed to be different. She was supposed to be joyful. Loving Frankie was effortless. It was a deep and protective love Jules felt the instant she held her child. But the day-to-day was not filled with that constant bond.
Managing her time was now impossible. How could a day go by so painfully slow but at the same time so fast that she’d accomplished next to nothing. She was always playing catch-up. She’d wash, dry, and iron just enough clothes for Michael to go to work the next day. The dishes she managed to wash would be enough to eat on that night. How was she always down to just one clean pacifier and burp cloth? When Michael came home and stumbled over Frankie’s tummy-time mat, Jules would feel crushed inside. How had she not picked that up? Wasn’t that what Michael would be thinking?
It didn’t make any sense, really. She’d run an office for years with seventeen employees. She had a vast amount of responsibility and bi-annual audits that were high stakes. Maybe that was the point, though. Twice a year someone would come in, scrutinize her work, and tell her what she needed to improve. But she’d also hear what she was excelling at. Now, as a mother, she lacked any kind of score. Where was the grade that told her what she was doing well and what she needed to work on? Couldn’t someone come in and shadow her for a day and give her some kind of number that told what her worth was? Because without it she was feeling worthless.
In the middle of the night, rocking away as she fed Frankie, she knew she was supposed to feel pride in her ability to give her child sustenance and life. But Frankie hardly ever slept, which meant Jules didn’t either. So all she felt in those moments was drained—physically and emotionally tapped out. Some days her only friend was the rhythmic chattering sound of the breast pump, which Jules swore sounded like “go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep.”
The need for the pump at all was something that brought her immense guilt. She should have been able to nurse her baby but the two of them could never quite get in sync. The pump had become the best solution for them but it frequently made Jules feel like a failure.
It wouldn’t be crazy to think she could talk to her mother about this. Surely she’d be empathetic. The same would go for Piper or even Michael. But the only thing more frightening than thinking you are failing as a mother, is knowing other people are thinking the same thing. So she cried her tears at night, alone in the bathroom.
She was exhausted knowing not only her wants but her needs now fell second. It was hard to understand how you could no longer be a priority in your own life. Need to go to the bathroom: too bad, the baby is hungry. Sleep deprived to the point of nausea: oh well, the baby is wide awake and wants your attention. The weight of that on her was heavy. Then the guilt over the weight felt even heavier.
Maybe Michael was feeling the same way. Perhaps the nagging thoughts of regret and the stark changes to their lifestyle had become too much for him. Had she become too much of a mom and stopped being enough wife for him? Or worse, maybe he didn’t feel tired or regretful at all, but maybe he could tell she did and that was enough to drive him away.
She stepped into the dark navy dress she’d borrowed from the seamstress back in Edenville when they found out about the gala. She looked in the mirror and realized how perfectly it fit her, how amazing she felt when she was this dressed up and put together. Then from the other side of the door she heard Frankie crying and she was instantly wracked with guilt for leaving her daughter tonight.
“Hey Jules, are you almost ready? Lindsey is already downstairs,” Piper called through the door as Jules dried her tears. Her life could be on the brink of a dramatic change tonight, and though she was struggling to pinpoint what caused it, she knew she had to face it either way.
Drawing in a deep breath she stepped out of the bathroom and reached for her daughter, but Piper leaned away, keeping Frankie in her arms. “She just took a bottle, she’ll spit up on your dress.”
Jules leaned in and kissed her daughter on her pudgy cheek and sucked in a long whiff of her powdery scent.
“You know her schedule, right?” Jules asked, opening up the diaper bag again and making sure everything was there.
“We’ll be fine. You just take care of what you need to tonight and know that no matter what happens I’ll be here for you and Frankie. So will Bobby.” Piper patted Frankie on the back, and Jules fought the urge to show her a better way to get the baby to burp. It was only one night away from her daughter, and it was for something important.
After stepping out of the elevator and into the lobby, Jules prayed Lindsey would be dressed in something mildly elegant so they wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb at the gala. She was convinced they’d be the only two with a southern drawl; they didn’t need to look the part of farm folk too.
“There you are,” Lindsey huffed as she touched Jules’s elbow, sending her jumping almost out of her high heels. Jules couldn’t believe her eyes as she took in the vision that was Lindsey. In a stunning long chiffon dress that hugged her usually hidden curves and a side slit that ran the length of nearly all her leg, Lindsey looked incredible. Her hair had been curled and looked as though volume had been magically injected right into it at the roots. With masterfully applied smoky eye makeup she looked like a runway model.
“Lindsey, you look amazing,” Jules stuttered, taking a step back to get another perspective.
“I went down to the shopping area and picked up this dress. I’m keeping the tags on it so I can take it back tomorrow,” she whispered as she leaned in. It reminded Jules of a saying of her mother’s: You can dress up a circus monkey but you can’t change her ways. Jules was feeling a lot like a circus monkey herself trying to walk in heels instead of sneakers like she had been doing for almost a year.
They hopped in a town car Jules had hired because the rental car wouldn’t cut it and a cab was too low class for this type of event. As they gave the address to the driver they saw a smile spread across his unshaven face. “I don’t need directions, ladies. I know where that event is tonight. Everyone does.”
Jules and Lindsey ex
changed a half-annoyed look as they sat back in the car. Jules readied herself for any possibility this evening. Would she find Michael with another woman? Maybe a whole other family? Or was he trying to keep her hidden from his mother and sister because he was embarrassed by her? Maybe becoming a parent so quickly was something he couldn’t deal with; maybe it had changed his life and he was looking for an out.
As the car weaved its way down the street, Jules took note of the changing landscape. The farther they were from their economy hotel, the larger and more opulent the houses became. The driveways seemed to stretch endlessly and the houses, though grand and stately, appeared far less approachable and welcoming. The line that separated the common person from the wealthy grew wider. Jules couldn’t even picture Michael on the other side of that line. Sure, he was polished and educated, but wasn’t this the same man who sat next to her on Sunday afternoons binge-watching terrible television shows in his sweatpants? Nothing about any of this felt right.
Chapter Six
As a child Michael hated galas and events because they stole his parents away from him. Not just for the evening, either. His mother, if charged with planning, would be off choosing fabric swatches and sampling entrées for months before an event. Her life objective became topping the last event she attended. That summed her up perfectly, really. An event like this was the culmination of hours of work to create an illusion of perfection. But behind the large midnight blue curtains that draped every wall of the gala venue, there were inevitable dents and gouges. Under the crisp white tablecloths, the tables were worn by the years.
Michael downed his second glass of champagne as he scanned the room again. The doors had just opened, and the people were swarming in like locusts. The chatter was all rolling together like a buzzing alarm through Michael’s aching head. He wanted to punch a wall. He wanted to be holding his daughter and begging his wife to understand why he’d left and not answered her calls. He wanted to be anywhere but here.
Battling Destiny (The Piper Anderson Series Book 6) Page 3