Starting Over Trilogy Boxset

by Kennedy, Brenda

  I go back to bed and pull the covers up to my chin. Trying to control my sobbing, I lean back against the headboard and listen to the sounds of the clock. Tick-tock, tick-tock. It is 3:43 a.m. I lie there with the bed-side lamp still on. Too afraid to go back to sleep, and too afraid to get up. I can’t move. The dream was all too real. I am truly not rid of him. He can still find me. I was stupid to think putting a few states between us would stop him. His rage is building more every day, of this I am certain.

  I need a plan. Was the dream a warning? Could he have moved on without me? Is he planning his revenge on me? I can’t shake the fear that looms around me. I need to call Uncle Raúl. He may be able to fill in some of the blanks for me.

  I lay there until I realize sleep is useless I get up and shower, put on a white sundress, and pull my hair into a high ponytail. I make a list of things I need to do today.

  I clean up the house, do laundry, run the sweeper, and have breakfast.

  When I reach Uncle Raúl at home and not at the precinct, I am thankful.

  “Tío Raúl, como estas?” [“Uncle Raúl, how are you?”]

  “Mi querida Angel, estamos bien. y tu cómo has estado?” [“My dear Angel, we are well. How have you been?”]

  “Angel, María y yo te hemos extrañado. Nos gustaría ir a visitarte” [“Angel, Maria and I have missed you. We would like to come down for a visit.”]

  “Ok, me encantaría que me vinieran a visitar. Los he echado de menos. Las cosas en el trabajo van bien aunque es mucho y paso bien ocupada. Me encantan las chicas con las que trabajo. Ellas me presentaron a un chico que es doctor y trabaja en la sala de emergencias del hospital local. He salido en varias ocasiones con él y realmente me gusta mucho. ” [“Ok, I would love for you guys to visit. I have missed you. Work is busy, but things are going very well, I love the girls I work with. They fixed me up with a doctor who works in the emergency room at the local hospital. We went on a few dates, and I really like him.”]

  “Que bien Angel me alegro mucho de oírte tan contenta, te lo mereces.” [“That’s great, Angel, I’m glad to hear you are happy. You deserve to be.”]

  I tell him about my dream and ask if he has seen Jim around. He tells me he hasn’t seen him, but he will call a friend to see what’s going on. He tells me Jim’s job transferred him to another district. He tells me he wished I had told him about Jim; instead, he had to hear it from his sister Rosita. He also tells me he’s grateful I never married Jim, and I readily agree. He says he feels responsible and guilty for not seeing the signs of the abuse. I remind him that I am fine. That it’s not his fault and I didn’t want to burden him with my problems. We say our goodbyes, and he says he will call this week when he hears something about Jim.

  I feel better. He and Aunt Maria are my only family in the states and I miss them. I need to call them more often.

  Next I text Mason.

  A: Hey.

  It’s Sunday, I probably shouldn’t bother him. He’ll probably think I’m some needy/clingy girl. Ugh!

  M: Hey, yourself.

  A: What are you up to today?

  M: Picking up my Dad to look at some real estate for my practice. What’s up?

  God, I feel like an idiot. I should have known he wouldn’t be sitting at home on a Sunday.

  A: I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. Text me when you’re not busy.

  M: Angel, no, it’s ok. I’m alone. What’s wrong?

  A: I was wondering if you would mind taking me to the gun range sometime this week?

  M: I would love to. Is there a particular day you are thinking of going?

  A: I work 8 a.m.-4 p.m. so anytime in the evening is good.

  The sooner the better, I think to myself.

  M: I work tonight, so how about tomorrow evening? I’ll pick you up at 5 p.m. They close at 7 p.m., I think.

  A: That would be great, thank you. Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.

  M: Stop being ridiculous. I would love to. You have to promise me something, though.

  A: Mmmm, that depends?

  M: No heels! You have to wear boots or tennis shoes.

  A: Is that all? Ok, I promise.

  M: Good, see you tomorrow @ 5 p.m....

  Great, moving right along with my list, I grab my laptop and search for gun stores. I find they are all closed on Sundays. The Young Guns and Safety gun shop is nearby and opened tomorrow, I’ll try to leave work early tomorrow before I go to the gun range. If I’m going to learn to shoot, I might as well own my own gun.

  I decide to bake a cake and take it over to Josephine and Carl. We sit outside and have cake and coffee on this lazy Sunday evening. They send me home with some oranges and grapefruits fresh from their trees.

  I think about going for a run, but I can’t shake the dream. It felt so real. I stay in and prepare for my work week.

  When the day is over, I go to bed and just lie there. My phone chimes; Mason is calling.

  M: Sweet dreams, Beauty.

  A: Have a safe night at work, Handsome.

  He always puts a smile on my face. I fall asleep with thoughts of Mason.

  I arrive at work first. I don’t go in; instead, I wait in my car for Sara and Brea to arrive. I wanted to get coffee and muffins for us before work, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. They come pulling in right after the other, just a few minutes after I arrive. I smile when I see them. It has only been a weekend, but I have missed them.

  Once we are settled inside, Brea shows off her gorgeous two-carat, princess-cut diamond-set-in-platinum-and-gold engagement ring. The ring is stunning, and Brea is glowing. She talks about the romantic dinner they had and when they went back to the hotel room how he got on one knee and poured out his soul to her. It makes my heart melt just hearing about it. Sara and I hug her tightly. She asks Sara to be her Maid of Honor and me to be her Bridesmaid. Of course, we both accept. She wants a beach wedding sometime in the fall or early winter, once it cools off. I am happy for her — she deserves her happiness.

  Sara talks about her and Donovan’s half-marathon and how much money they were able to raise for breast cancer. She talks about how sore she and Donovan are, although they had been training for it. They didn’t finish first, but that didn’t matter — it wasn’t a competitive race. She says that Donovan wouldn’t leave her side, although she was holding him back. They finished the half-marathon and they raised money for a good cause; that’s all that counts. She is excited to announce they signed up for another half-marathon to support research about Autism. It is scheduled for next month. I am happy for her — she and Donovan are doing something good in the world and staying healthy. A win-win for everyone.

  I share about my date with Mason and the fabulous restaurant we went to. I tell them about Julia being there and how irritated she looked when she left. I tell them about Mason taking me to his beach house and we sat outside watching the stars. I tell them what a gentlemen he was — always holding the doors open and pulling my chair out for me. I share that we are doing something next weekend, but I am not sure what yet.

  We work non-stop, only stopping briefly for lunch. I ask if I can leave a little early today, but I don’t tell them why. I change my clothes in the back room into a t-shirt, jeans, and combat boots. I say my goodbyes with hugs and head to the gun store.

  I park my car and walk into the Young Guns and Safety store in Sarasota. I am surprised to see Mason standing at the counter. The bell over the door rings, alerting the employees that someone is entering. Mason and the store clerk both look up in unison. I smile a genuine smile and walk over to them.

  "Hi,” I say, smiling because I’m happy to see him.

  “Hi, yourself. I’m surprised to see you here.”

  He wraps his arm around my waist and bends down to kiss me.

  I kiss him back. Not sure what to say, I decide on partly the truth.

  “I thought if I was going to learn to shoot I would need my own gun,” I say, smiling. I don’t tell him I hav
e a crazy ex out there, and I am afraid he will come after me and kill me if he has the chance.

  I wrap my arm around his waist.

  “And I’m surprised to see you here, too.”

  “I’m here to restock my ammunition. We may need it to shoot today,” he says and winks at me.

  “You can help me pick out my new gun. I thought I would like the same gun you brought to the shooting range for me to shoot the other day.”

  “Do you want to see what other guns they have before you decide on the 38 special?”

  “No, I think I like that gun.”

  He motions for the sales clerk and asks him to show us what they have.

  The sales clerk lays out on the glass counter several Smith and Wesson 38 Specials in different colors and sizes. He explains the process of a 72-hour hold on releasing the gun until clearance is received to release the gun. It’s good to know not just anyone can buy a gun. I decide on a black Smith and Wesson 38 Special, just like the one Mason let me use, but his was silver. I thought about the pink one, but it looked like a toy. What I need it for is not child’s play. Protecting my life is as serious as it gets, and I need a serious-looking gun. I pay for my purchase and show my I.D. to the sales clerk. I also buy a lock box to store my gun in and some ammunition. I have to wait the mandatory 72 hours before I can take my purchase home. I try to buy the ammunition that Mason has lined up on the counter, but he refuses to let me.

  We walk outside, and Mason opens his passenger door for me.

  I say, “I have my car. I’ll meet you there.”

  “We’ll drive together and then I’ll bring you back here to get your car.”

  He motions for me to get in and asks, “Have you eaten yet?”

  I do what he asks and get into his car. Not sure why I always do what he wants, maybe because I like him and trust him, but I am not sure.

  “I had lunch at 11.”

  “Lunch, that’s what I thought. Buckle up,” he says, closing my door. Once again, I do what he says.

  He gets in and fastens his own seatbelt before looking over at me to see if mine is on.

  “We’ll grab some food near the gun range, first.”

  It’s not a question but a statement. He is always the nurturer.

  We talk easily during the drive to the diner. He parks his car and gets out. I stay seated, not because he tells me but because I know that’s what he wants. He comes around to my door, opens it, and reaches his hand in for me to take, and I do. His mother would be proud to see the gentlemen that she has raised. He always puts me first when we are together. We walk hand in hand into Popi’s Diner and are led to a small table near the window that overlooks the parking lot. He holds my chair out for me. I thank him, and he sits across from me.

  Popi’s Diner is plain and simple. It has black and white tiled floors, metal tables and chairs, and a pink silk carnation in a small bud vase that sits in the center of each table, beside the salt and pepper and the paper napkin dispenser. The small menus are stacked in between the salt and pepper shakers.

  He looks at me, smiles, and says, “It’s nothing fancy, but they have great food and the service is always good.”

  We scan the menu and the waitress comes over and takes our drink order. We both decide on water. She says she’ll return in a few minutes for our dinner order. I lay my menu down and he smiles at me.

  “I’m going to have the B.L.T. and potato soup.”

  “Same here,” he says, laying his menu down on top of mine.

  The waitress returns and he orders for both of us. He carries such authority everywhere he goes. I wonder if he knows how sexy that is.

  He reaches over the table with one hand and takes mine in his. He is looking at me with concern in his eyes. I smile to try to put him at ease.

  “I was glad to get your text yesterday.”

  “I’m sorry. I feel bad that you were in the middle of something. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

  “I’m never too busy for you; if you need me, I’m there for you. Do you understand, Angel? Don’t ever think twice about contacting me," he says with complete sincerity.

  “Thank you, Mason,” I say while looking at the paper napkin on my lap. Then I look up at him.

  He rubs his hand on his scruffy chin and says to me, “I am a little concerned about the sudden interest in the shooting range and now the newly purchased gun. I can’t help but think maybe something has happened.”

  Playing with my napkin, I don’t look at him. I have no idea what to say. I can’t tell him the truth. He’ll think I’m overreacting from a stupid dream. He won’t understand, and he doesn’t need to know what my life was like before. I shift in my seat. The power that Jim holds scares me to death. He’s a detective for God’s sake. He has the ability to hunt me down, kill me, and hide my body so I can never be found. He has threatened to do that on many occasions, and I believe that he is capable of doing that. The dream was just a wakeup call, I’m certain. Tears fill my eyes and I will them away. I blink and they fall down my cheek.

  “Angel?”

  I look up at him.

  “I’m sorry, this was a mistake. I never should have called you,” I say, removing the paper napkin from my lap. “I never should have involved you,” I add, standing up from the chair.

  He is already standing before I can turn away from the table. He reaches out and grabs my arm and turns me to face him. He places both of his hands on my face and brushes my tears away with his thumbs. I look into his eyes and he is trying to read my soul. I don’t know why he does that. I feel so vulnerable when I am with him. He holds me to his chest. It feels so good to be hugged and cared for. I wrap my arms around him and let him hold me. He strokes my hair over and over. The server comes over and wants to know if everything is ok. I can feel Mason raise his hand, but I am not sure what he does. We stay there for I have no idea how long. I finally back away from him with a weak smile.

  “We should eat,” I say, wiping away the stray tears.

  He holds my chair out for me and scoots it in slightly before he takes his own seat. We eat in silence.

  We enter the Bullseye Pistol Range, and he registers us. We show our I.D.s and get an assigned area. He puts his hand gently on the small of my back and leads me to the same spot we had Saturday. He opens his backpack and lays one weapon out, some ammunition, ear plugs, and safety goggles. I look at him.

  “Where’s your weapon?”

  “Today it’s about you, Beauty,” he deadpans. “Do you remember what I showed you about tearing the gun down and putting it back together?”

  “I do.”

  I take the gun and remove the parts and name them for him. I put the parts back together and name them again. I check the safety. I place the bullets into the chamber and look at him with a smile. I put the safety on.

  “Good girl.”

  He takes the target and lowers it for me. He watches me intently.

  I place the earplugs in my ears and put the safety goggles on. I take my stance and aim at my target, just like he showed me. I reload while he watches. I shoot and reload. He leaves the same target in place. He watches me and corrects me when I need it. After I run out of shells, he raises the target for me and he smiles.

  “Very good, Beauty. I think you’re a natural,” he says, beaming at me.

  I look at the target and I didn’t do that bad. I missed some, but I did pretty well. I try to swallow the knot in my throat, but can’t. I open my mouth to try to speak but close it again — the words won’t form. I am so overwhelmed that I can’t speak. I want to thank him and tell him how much I appreciate him but the knot in my throat is still there. I walk over to him with tears in my eyes and he opens his arms for me. I hug him and his arms enclose around me. He smells so good, like spice and sandalwood. He feels so good, I could stay here forever. I feel safe with him and for once I feel I may be able to protect myself.

  An announcement comes over the loudspeaker alerting us they are getting ready
to close.

  I kiss him on his lips.

  “Thank you so much. I hope you know what this means to me.”

  I am truly grateful to him.

  “You are more than welcome, Beauty.”

  We load up his weapon and supplies into his backpack. We walk hand in hand to his car. He places his backpack in the trunk of his car and then holds the door open for me. I look up at him and tell him how much I appreciate it. I get in and I grab the seatbelt and hold it out for him.

  “Don’t say it,” I say, strapping the seatbelt over me, laughing at him.

  He smiles that dimple smile that I love, and winks at me.

  “Safety first, Beauty.”

  He drives me to my car talking about the great improvements I have made and tells me how proud he is of me. I smile excitedly. It feels good to hear someone tell you how proud they are of you, and I feel like maybe I can do this.

  He pulls in next to my car and looks around the empty lot of Young Guns and Safety. He is always so cautious. I feel so safe when I am with him. He unbuckles his seatbelt the same time I unbuckle mine. He turns slightly in his seat and looks at me. I turn towards him, too. I owe him an explanation or an apology, something for earlier. I’m not sure what to say.

  He clears his throat and takes my hand and covers it completely with both of his.

  “Angel, I want you to know you have nothing to fear when you are with me. I will never hurt you or do anything to hurt you. Do you believe me?”

  I nod, without losing eye contact. He clears his throat again and says, “Good, I also want you to know you can tell me anything. If you have something you need to talk about, you can tell me. I will never judge you. Do you believe me?”

  I can only nod again.

  “I may not have the answers, but I have excellent resources and we can find the answers together.”