Sometime in the night I wake up to Angel removing the covers off her. I rub my hands over my face. Angel is kicking and screaming.
“It’s ok — wake up, Angel.”
She cries even louder and kicks harder. “Get off me,” she screams.
I shake her until she wakes up. “It’s ok, Angel,” I say as softly as I can.
Her eyes are opened wide and her breathing is labored. She is still crying while holding the blanket up to her chest.
“It’s all right, Beauty. I’m here.” I don’t touch her; I just wait for her to calm down.
“Mason?”
“I’m here.” I scoot closer to her and hold her. She hugs me and her breathing calms.
“I had a nightmare and it seemed so real.”
“It’s ok; no one can get to you.”
“I dreamed Jim was here.”
“He can’t get to you. I’m here, Angel.”
I walk into the kitchen and grab a bottle of water. I open it and hand it to her.
“Thank you,” she says, taking a big drink.
“Do you need to use the restroom?”
“I’m sorry. If I had my crutches, I could do it by myself.”
“Your crutches are by the bed and don’t be sorry. I want to help you.” I scoop her up, cradle her in my arms, and walk her to the restroom.
Once we are back in bed, Angel removes her sweats and lies in the crook of my arm and wraps her other arm around my stomach.
“I’m sorry I fell asleep on you last night.”
“Beauty, you have no reason to be sorry; we had a very long day. There will be plenty of time for us later.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I do.”
“I hope so.”
“We will, just wait and see.”
I stroke her hair until I fall into a dreamless sleep.
I wake up to the smell of bacon. Angel is already up and out of bed. I throw on a tee shirt and walk out into the kitchen where Angel has music softly playing and has her back to me. She still startles easily, so I make some noise before walking up to her. She has everything she needs lying on the counter within her reach. Usually when Angel cooks, I help. It’s a lot less work if I get what she needs. The crutches are still a huge barrier for her. I know it’s better than the wheelchair, but it is still a barrier nonetheless.
“I’m glad you didn’t fall and break your neck,” I say, reaching for the coffee pot.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” she says, handing me her cup for a refill.
“I don’t mind. I like it when you wake me up. I like to help you.”
“I’m sure you do. Mason, I have to pee. Mason, I’m hot. Mason, I’m cold. Mason, I’m thirsty,” she says, laughing.
Now I’m laughing, too. “Well, you don’t really sound like that, and I like it when you are over dressed and hot.”
I see the blush start to creep up to her face. For someone with her personality she sure gets embarrassed easily.
“Mason?”
“Angel?”
“Be nice; you do have other bedrooms you could sleep in,” she giggles.
“I could sleep in? Are you threatening to kick me out of my own bed?”
“Are you going to keep teasing me?” she says with her hand on her hip.
“More coffee, dear?” I ask ignoring her question and handing her back her coffee mug. After all, I am a pretty smart man and I do realize a woman holds a lot of power in the bedroom. Who am I kidding? They have complete power in the whole house.
I hand Angel two plates, and she puts the eggs, bacon, and biscuits on each plate. We sit at the bar chatting about getting her cast off in a couple weeks, getting her a new car once her cast comes off, her trip to Ohio, Brea and Vincent’s wedding, and the arrival of the new baby. She tells me she needs to get some more things from the cottage and get her mail or she needs to start staying there.
I shower in the spare bath and when I walk into the living room Angel is on the couch crying. Walking over to her I see she is holding a letter. I sit on the coffee table and take the letter from her. I am shocked to see it’s from Jim’s parents. Tears are steadily falling from her face. There are a few scattered photos on Jim and Angel, a legal document and the envelope lying on her lap.
I read the letter:
Angel,
I know we have never met and I am sorry for that. Jim was our son, and we feel entirely responsible for what has happened to you. I am not here to blame you; however, I am here to take full responsibility for what he did to you. Jim was not well, and if I had known he was in a relationship, maybe I could have saved you, and him.
Jim’s father, Tom, and I adopted Jim when he was seven years old. He had lived in an orphanage for two years prior to be adopted. Because of his psychological problems from his very abusive childhood, Jim was not a top candidate for adoption.
I worked at the orphanage Jim lived at, and shortly after viewing Jim’s file, my husband and I decided to adopt him. We put Jim in therapy every day; He saw only the best doctors and therapists. We were so proud of his efforts and saw great improvements in him over time. He was on medication and was doing extremely well. After years of therapy and treatment, Jim was finally placed in regular classes at school.
Upon graduating from high school, Jim announced that he wanted to go away to college. His doctors and therapist thought that as long as he was on his medication there wouldn’t be a problem. We stayed in constant contact with him. He said he graduated college and was working at the Los Angeles Police Department. You could never imagine how proud we were of our little boy who overcame so much.
Jim assured us he was still under a doctor’s care and taking his medication as prescribed. We had no reason not to believe him.
Then letters, e-mails, and phone calls home became fewer and fewer; He wouldn’t answer his calls, and finally he changed his address. We had no idea he was capable of harming anyone. Our fear was he would harm himself.
We called the police department and they informed us Jim was fired for insubordination, and they didn’t have a forwarding address for him.
We didn’t know where he was until Sarasota, Florida, police called us to come and identify his body. That’s when we learned about you and the horror he caused you. The detectives went into great detail about your injuries and the way Jim stalked and tormented you. Please know how sorry we are for you and if we had known, we would have done everything in our power to help you.
Jim had a tortured past, and there is no one to blame but his birth parents. He was in a situation no child, or adult for that matter, should ever have been in. I won’t go into details about the hell my son lived in the first five years of his life, but it’s a miracle he survived it.
While cleaning out Jim’s house, we came across these pictures and this life insurance policy with you listed as the beneficiary. The date on the insurance policy is from over a year ago, probably when he was well and during happier times. I can see you had some good times with Jim from the photos. I am glad they all weren’t terrible.
Once again, we are sorry for what you had endured at the hands of our son and we pray you are able to overcome your injuries and live a fulfilled and happy life.
Tom and Paula Davis
I pick up the pictures and place them on the coffee table with the letter. I look at the insurance policy and I am surprised that Jim listed Angel as his beneficiary and left her a large sum of money. I scoop up Angel and set her on my lap and rock her side to side. She seems so small and frail at times when she is in my arms. She cuddles up into me and I kiss her sweetly on her head. She doesn’t say anything else; she just lets me rock her.
When her crying stops, she stands up and gathers the pictures, letter, and insurance policy and heads into the bedroom, saying, “I’ll hurry with my shower.”
“Do you still want to go?”
“Of course, I just need a few minutes.”
I wait for Angel and wonder
what she is thinking. I know she is worried about Jim’s parents and wondering what he had gone through as a small boy. Angel is never worried about herself. She is always worried about others.
Angel exits the bedroom with her hair still wet but pulled up in a high ponytail.
“After we have lunch at my parents today for my birthday, I thought we could spend the day on the water sailing.”
“Oh, that would be great.”
“Afterwards, I could use Dad’s truck to get some things from your cottage.”
“We still need to get groceries sometime today,” Angel reminds me.
“We’ll have time for that as well.”
“I thought once the cast came off, I would return back to the cottage. I will need only a few things from the cottage today.”
“Are you in a hurry to get back?”
“Um, no. I guess not. I like it here with you, but I have all my clothes and everything I need is at the cottage. It would just be easier for me to stay there.”
“Mmm, I see.”
“Mmm, you see what?”
“What if we just moved you in here? There is plenty of room and you won’t need to go back and forth to the cottage to get what you need every week. We can make one of the bedrooms your office, and there is plenty of closet space for your delicates,” I say, smiling. I thought I might need to add something light into this conversation. It seems kind of heavy, all of the sudden.
“Mason, no. I can’t move in here.”
“Why not?”
“Because, because, it’s too soon. There are things we don’t know about each other. We haven’t known each other very long.”
“No better way to learn about someone than to live with them.” I look at her with a raised brow. “Besides, you are already staying here.”
“Yes, but it’s different from living here.”
“How?”
“Because I … because you … because we … it just is.”
“Mmm, yes, you do make a good point, Beauty. Come on, we have a big day today. Pack your swimsuit and a beach bag because we are going sailing.”
Later that night, Angel and I talked about the letter from Jim’s parents. She feels bad for Jim’s parents for not being able to save Jim from his tormented past. She also feels sorry for Jim and for the life that he was exposed to as a baby, a toddler, and a small child. He didn’t have a chance from the beginning and that saddens her.
Angel attends counseling a few times a week and seems to be doing very well. We got X-rays of Angel’s leg yesterday and today we sit in the waiting room of Angel’s doctor. Today she may get her cast off her leg. She is anxious and excited.
Over the next two weeks, we move some more of her personal items into the beach house and got her mail changed. She reluctantly agreed that would be a good idea and it would save some time from going to the cottage every few days. She received her degree in the mail for Interior Designing, and we all went out to celebrate: Mom, Madison, Dad, Sara, Donovan, Brea, and Vincent. She wanted Mexican so we went to Don Pablo’s. Izzy is working and buys us a round of drinks.
Angel hasn’t put her notice in at the insurance company yet. She wants to wait to do that. We still haven’t made love, although she wants to — hell, I want to, too. I have to make sure she is ready, and I have to make sure I’m not going to hurt her. The cast being removed will help with some of my concerns. We all went to the marathon that Sara and Donovan ran, and we were at the finish line rooting for them.
“Miss Perez,” the nurse calls.
We stand and walk back to one of the patient rooms. The doctor comes in and looks at her most recent X-rays. He smiles and tells her everything looks good and he can remove the cast. He explains in great detail that the bone is still weak and she will need to be careful with it for the next few months.
Angel smiles and squeezes my hand. This is the last of Jim’s physical abuse. The inner scars will always be with her, but on the outside, she will be good as new. I am thrilled for her, but my selfishness doesn’t want her to pack up and move back to her cottage. I love her, and I want to spend every minute I can with her.
Once the cast is off, Angel stands cautiously without crutches. I hold onto her and let her get her balance. She takes small steps in the office to the door and turns to walk back to me. We are both grinning at her newfound independence.
She asks the doctor about types of exercise she can do. The doctor says walking, a slow jog, and even swimming is a great way to strengthen her leg, but she will need to take it slow. Don’t rush into it. She nods her understanding, I think, because she is too excited to talk.
We walk out of the doctor’s office hand in hand. We haven’t held hands while we walked in months. It feels good and she smiles. She swings our arms like we are school kids. I laugh and she swings them higher. My playful girl is back, and I love it.
“What do you want to do?” I ask. We both took the day off work in anticipation for the day.
“I need to go by the cottage and get some different clothes and shoes to wear today. I can wear jeans and shoes. I can wear heels. I can wear my own sweats,” she squeals.
“Yes, it is the little things in life that make my girl excited,” I say, opening the car door for her.
“A car, I need a car,” she squeals again. “Yay, I can drive again! Mason, I can drive.”
I cover my ears and laugh. “I know, congrats. We’ll get your clothes, and then we’ll look for a car. Now, buckle up,” I say, shutting the car door.
Angel slides the seat up. The seat has been pushed back to make room for her cast.
I get in and look over at her. She is still smiling. I lean in closer to her, and her smile changes into something more serious. She kisses me.
“Mmm, what’s that for?” I say, licking my lips.
“For being so wonderful,” she says, kissing me again.
“What did I do?”
“What didn’t you do?” she says, holding my hand and tracing circles on my palm with her thumb.
“Beauty, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you and I love you.”
“I love you, too, and thank you.”
“You are welcome. Let’s get you some different clothes and a car.”
After packing several more bags of clothes, Angel changes into a pair of skinny jeans, a white blouse, and a pair of black heels. After we load up the car, we head to a Chevrolet dealership. Angel looks at cars first. She quickly sees a Camaro she likes. It’s a yellow convertible that she keeps looking at. I want her to make the right choice of vehicles and a Camaro is not the right choice.
“I like this one,” she says, gliding her fingers gently over the hood of the yellow, convertible, Camaro.
“It is a nice car, but it’s not right for you, Beauty.”
“But I like this car.”
“I know you do, but I need you to be in a car that will keep you safe.”
“Do you have any jeeps or trucks she can look at?” I ask the salesman.
“Mason, I want this car.”
“SUV or truck, Beauty?”
“Mason?”
“SUV or truck?”
“Mason?” she says, stomping her feet on the ground.
I smile and walk over to her, looking in her beautiful big, brown eyes. “Angel, this isn’t negotiable. I can’t have you riding around in that tiny car. It’s too small. I want you in something bigger, something that other cars can see while driving. I want you surrounded by metal so you will be safe. You pick or I pick. Truck or SUV?”
“Fine, SUV,” she pouts.
“Good decision,” I wink at her.
“You say that like I had a choice,” as she puckers her bottom lip out.
I bend down and suck on her sexy, pouty lip. “You are very sexy when you pout, and you did have a choice — you chose an SUV.”
I then say to the salesman, “You heard the lady; she would like to see some SUVs.”
“Mason?”
I ign
ore her.
The salesman takes her to look at the new SUVs.
“The Tahoes have excellent reviews.”
“So do the Camaros,” she pouts.
I ignore her comment again. “I think this Tahoe is a great vehicle. They handle nice and ride smoothly. Do you have any concerns or questions?” I ask, looking at Angel who is still pouting
“Yea, how fast do they go?”
“Angel?”
“Fine, maybe this won’t be so bad after all. May I drive your small car sometime?”
“We might be able to work that out. This will be a great vehicle to transport junior in.”
“Who’s junior?”
“Vincent and Brea’s baby.”
“Yeah, your right.” She walks around the vehicle and climbs into the back seat. Angel fastens the seatbelts to make sure they are in working order. She gets out and sits in the driver seat again. After adjusting the rearview mirror, she says, “All joking aside. Do you think it’s a good car for children?”
“I think it will be a great vehicle for a baby and you.”
She test drives it and looks it over one last time. She agrees on the silver Tahoe with tinted windows that is fully loaded. Great choice, I think to myself. She writes a check out for her new SUV and she follows me home in it.
Chapter Eight: “There is Something I Have to Tell You” (Saving Angel)
Angel
I write the check for the Tahoe from the money I got from Aunt Rosie’s 1968 Camaro. I had no idea the car Jim caused me to wreck was worth that much money. Fortunately, I had good insurance.
Starting Over Trilogy Boxset Page 33