Tired of the scrutiny and feeling her mother’s anger as palpable as her grief, Evangeline moved farther away from the crowd and tried to breathe through the overwhelming pain.
Charlie’s wife tried to console their crying baby, who’d had enough of being held in the bright sun. He squished his little face and rubbed at his eyes. He needed a nap.
Evangeline could relate. She’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, thinking about her father, the past, and what came next.
Her older nephew rolled the ball he and his mother had been playing with on the grass, but his mom had turned away to get the baby something from a diaper bag. The ball rolled past her, down the slope toward the street, the little boy running after it on his chubby little legs.
Evangeline didn’t think, just reacted and ran, stepping right out of her flats and sprinting to get to the boy before he stepped into the street and in front of the car heading right for him. Faces and headstones went by in a blur as she pumped her arms and ran as fast as she could, the whole time praying she would get to him in time.
When his little feet hit the pavement, the ball bounced in front of the car a split second before her nephew stepped in front of it. She used every last ounce of strength and speed to leap those last few feet, scoop him up under his little arms, and jump, just as the car hit her in the thigh and she landed on her side on the hood. Tires screeched, but they sounded dull through the rush of blood pounding in her ears.
She sat up, heart thumping wildly in her chest, her nephew safe in her lap. She tickled his ribs and kissed the side of his head. He laughed, completely at ease and oblivious to the danger he’d been in. Her heart nearly thumped right out of her chest.
Charlie appeared in front of her, his face white and eyes wide.
“Dada.” The toddler held his hands out to Charlie.
Evangeline handed him over.
Charlie hugged him fiercely and stared at Evangeline. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” She rubbed her hand over the toddler’s back. “He’s precious. I’m glad I got a chance to see him up close.”
Charlie pressed his lips together, then shifted his son so the little guy could see her. “Will, say hello to Aunt Evangeline.”
The toddler gave her a shy smile and leaned his head against Charlie’s cheek. “Hi.”
Charlie’s wife slammed into his side and hugged her son and husband, the baby cuddled against both of them. “Oh, my God. Are you okay, baby?”
“Squishing me.” Will pushed against his mom.
She turned to Evangeline. “Thank you.” She wrapped Evangeline in a tight hug, and the baby in her arms ended up tucked under Evangeline’s chin. He smelled like baby powder and applesauce. “Thank you so much.”
Charlie patted his wife on the back. “This is my wife, Lindsey, and our little guy, Henry.”
Lindsey stepped back, tears in her eyes. “I turned around for like a second and he was gone.”
Evangeline slid off the car, thankful for its slow speed through the crowded cemetery. She stepped back, not used to being crowded. “He’s fast. I wasn’t sure I’d get him in time. He takes after his dad. Charlie was always the fastest guy on the football field.”
“Are you okay?” the driver of the car asked.
“Fine.”
The driver ran a hand over his head and stared at little Will. “I can’t believe I almost hit him.” Relief and residual fear infused those words.
“I got him. Everything is okay.” The reassurance helped ease the thrashing of her own heart, too.
Relief, bigger than anything she’d ever felt, swept through her, dissipating the nightmare in her mind of what could have happened. The same mix of relief and averted disaster showed on everyone’s faces, and for the first time gratitude filled her family’s eyes.
Unable to take the scrutiny, she was the first to step out of the circle of people who wavered in their opinions of her now that she’d saved Will.
Everyone stepped back up onto the grass and out of the street, so the driver, a guest she vaguely remembered as one of Dad’s many rancher friends, could leave.
Lindsey raked her fingers through her hair, touched Will’s back again to be sure he was safe and sound, then met Evangeline’s eyes. “My heart is still pounding. That was so close. Are you okay?”
“Fine,” she said automatically.
Chris appeared beside her. “Let me take a look at that.” Without permission, he pulled up her torn dress and inspected the blooming bruise and cut that bled down her leg.
She didn’t feel the pain until he pointed out the wound. But that was not what held everyone’s attention. It wasn’t what Chris’s fingers skimmed over.
She brushed his hand away and pushed her dress down her leg and used the ruined material to wipe the blood. “It’s fine. It’s nothing.”
A crowd of onlookers stood around her. She crossed her arms and stepped back, only to come up short when Chris put his hand on her back to keep her from tripping over a flat grave marker.
“What happened to you?” Charlie eyed her, along with his wife, Evangeline’s mother, Joey, and the few remaining mourners who hadn’t made it to their cars.
“Nothing. Let’s head back to the house.”
Her mother stepped forward. “That wasn’t nothing. That’s why you limp?”
Evangeline felt trapped, surrounded by so many people. She looked left and right to find an escape, but all she found were more people, their eyes locked on her.
Chris hooked his hand around her forearm and applied gentle pressure to let her know he was there. Strangely, it grounded her. “That’s a stab wound from the first time she was attacked in prison. It tore through a muscle and nicked the artery. She nearly bled out.”
A gasp went up from the crowd.
“The first time you were attacked?” Charlie hefted Will up, but kept his gaze on her, waiting for an answer.
She didn’t give them one. She pulled free of Chris’s light hold and pushed past Joey and walked away from everyone. She didn’t really have a destination in mind, she just wanted to be away from all the prying eyes and questions she didn’t want to answer. She couldn’t outrun her nightmares, but she could get away from these people.
Chris caught up to her. “Hold up. Come with me.”
She turned on him. “Just because you got me out doesn’t mean I have to do every damn thing you say. I’m not an inmate anymore.” She took two more steps, then turned on him. “Why the hell did you tell them that?”
Chris stopped short. “Because it’s the truth and they should know what happened to you in there.”
“Why? What purpose does that serve? You think they care? They don’t. My own mother can’t stand the sight of me. She thinks I killed my father. Charlie wouldn’t even look at me today. He didn’t say a word to me until I saved his kid from getting run over.”
“I know. I’m sorry. You scared the shit out of me. That was one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen.”
She dismissed him and the awe she heard in his voice. “For a second he remembered I’m his sister. Then you had to ruin it and remind him I’m nothing but an ex-con he doesn’t want anywhere near his family.”
“Nothing changes the fact that you’re his sister. They don’t understand how someone they loved, who for the most part never did anything wrong in her life, ended up in prison.”
“You put me there!”
Chris shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”
Irritating man.
“Right. It was me. I took responsibility and paid my debt. But my entire family looks at me like they don’t know me because of that one fucking thing.”
“It didn’t make sense to them. If they didn’t know you were involved in the theft, what else didn’t they know?”
She opened her mouth, then clamped it shut on the words she hadn’t spoken four years ago when he had arrested her, the truth she couldn’t bring herself to say now.
“Right. Exactly
. You refuse to explain or talk about it, so they’re left to wonder what really happened. How deep were you involved? Who was in on it with you? Why did the girl who had a great family, school, a boyfriend, friends, and every opportunity available to her break the law and end up behind bars without so much as speaking one word in her defense? You just said, ‘I did it,’ and took the punishment. Why?” His gaze bore into her. “I’ve been asking that question every day since that night.”
Evangeline stared at Chris, his gaze sharp and direct, daring her to hear what he didn’t say and to finally speak up for herself.
She wiped her skirt over her leg and the fresh trickle of blood running down her thigh.
Chris sighed out his frustration, took her arm again, and steered her over to the back of his SUV. He pulled up the back door, nudged her to sit, and took out the large white medical kit. “Stubborn as always.”
“You know, I didn’t ask for your help.”
He put his hand on her shoulder to keep her from getting up and walking away. His determined gaze met hers. “Maybe if you had, I could have helped you.”
“As I remember it, you weren’t in the mood to listen to a word I had to say. You made a hell of a lot of accusations. You made it clear just what you thought of me and what I did.”
He squatted in front of her, pushed her skirt up just above the cut, and cleaned it with the swab he took out of the wrapper.
She hissed in a breath when the sting burned along the two-inch cut and minor scrapes.
“If you’re still this hostile toward me, I didn’t make anything clear.” He blew on the cut, easing the stinging pain.
“What the hell does that even mean?”
Chris glanced up at her, saw something he didn’t like, and put his hand over her shaking one. “Hey. Calm down. You’re okay. This cut isn’t that bad. It probably could use a couple stitches.”
Her heart raced along with the breaths that didn’t seem to fill her lungs. She shook her head, unable to look at the blood without reliving the nightmares of what she’d suffered. “No stitches. Just let me go. I’m fine.”
He held her still with his stomach pressed to her knees and his hand over hers in her lap. “Breathe.”
The quiet command stilled her. She took a breath, then another, and calmed down.
“There you go.” He gave her another minute to calm and clear her mind. He pulled some tape out of the med kit. “I’m sorry I pushed. It’s been a rough couple days for you. Today is your father’s funeral. This can wait.”
“What is ‘this’?” She really didn’t understand what he wanted from her. How could she help him with his ongoing case?
“Hey, you okay, sis?” Joey walked up with Charlie.
“She’s fine,” Chris answered for her.
“How did you know about what happened to her?” Charlie asked, like she wasn’t even sitting there.
“I made it my business to know.” He placed three thin strips of tape across the cut, pulling it closed. “In all, six serious altercations in prison. Two resulting in surgery.”
“Why didn’t anyone call us?” Charlie actually sounded upset.
“Because she only authorized a next-of-kin call in the event of her death.”
She leaned down and made Chris look at her. “Stop talking.”
His green gaze bore into her. “Maybe if they knew the truth they’d treat you the way they should.”
“Leave it alone,” she warned.
He didn’t listen. “Your sister was beaten multiple times. Stabbed in the leg. Cut on the face, neck, and shoulder another time when an inmate tried to earn her stripes in one of the gangs by killing the white girl.”
“Shut up already.” She couldn’t get up with him wrapping gauze around her thigh, his body blocking her. Her two brothers stood over his shoulders, their gazes shocked and locked on her.
“She earned a computer science degree, with honors, and started her own web design business, though that was against the rules.” His cocked eyebrow conveyed his disapproval.
“Are you going to revoke my parole?” Fear, sharp and piercing as the cut, ran through her.
“Pay attention, Evangeline. I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Always so stubborn.” He taped the gauze, then stood up and repacked the medical kit. “Take her home. Give her some space. She’s used to living on a schedule. Help her establish one at home. It’ll make the transition easier for her.”
Evangeline stood and walked away. She didn’t need Chris’s help. She didn’t need him interfering in her life. She didn’t want or need her brothers’ pity.
That was what he was trying to do, make her brothers feel sorry for her.
All he did was make her feel sorry for herself, and that only led down a path she’d tried hard to escape.
Despair and desperation can ruin you.
Hope was a fickle friend that could be there for you when you needed it most or turn its back on you and leave you in a deep dark pit that wanted to swallow you whole.
Been there, done that, had the scars to prove it.
Chapter Six
The tables were laden with platters of food, bottles of wine and booze, paper plates, and plastic cups. People filled every chair and sofa and milled around the house reminiscing about her father, gossiping about Evangeline’s return, retelling the story of how she’d saved Will, and offering condolences to her mother, grandmother, and brothers.
Hardly anyone spoke to her.
Those who did offered a few words about how sorry they were for her loss, only as a lead-in to what they really wanted to talk about: her arrest and time in prison. She shut them all down with vague responses or excuses that she was needed by someone else in the house, far, far away from their prying and judging.
She didn’t owe anyone an explanation or an excuse.
Tired of being the elephant in the room, she headed outside, trying to escape the claustrophobic feeling in the house.
Her life felt like it was suffocating her.
All she had to do was get through this day. Tomorrow she’d start on her new life.
Charlie had moved forward. He had a wife who looked at him like he hung the moon, and two adorable kids.
Judging by the way Joey stuck his tongue down the throat of the brunette who hung on him since the moment she arrived at the house, he was happy and still playing things fast and loose with women. No surprise there. He was always the wild child.
She’d gone down that path, but found it too rocky and filled with potholes. Joey managed it better than her.
The porch offered fresh air, quiet, and a view to die for, one she’d conjured nearly every day she’d spent in her windowless cell. She’d ditched her torn dress for a pair of black jeans and a dark purple blouse. Her mother had found the flats she kicked off on her mad dash to get to Will. She traded those for her old pair of boots.
Feeling like a piece of her old self, she headed for the stables. The familiar scent of hay, horses, and dirt hit her the minute she walked in. Of the ten horses they used to have, only four were in the stalls. She hadn’t seen any others in the fields, but two somewhat new quads were parked out front. Cheaper to pay for gas for the four-wheelers than to feed the horses.
Though she preferred the horses for rounding up cattle, her opinion didn’t really matter. She wasn’t part of the ranch anymore.
From the snippets of conversations she overheard in the house, her father had slowly fallen into bad health and relinquished his role as head of the ranch to the boys. That was how it was supposed to go, but not this soon.
A wave of grief hit her as she stepped up to Goldie, the mare her father let her name when she was born right here on this ranch ten years ago. “Where has the time gone?”
The horse didn’t answer, but Evangeline knew so much of it had been wasted holding a grudge, wallowing in self-pity, and paying a debt she didn’t owe.
She had regrets. Some sh
e could live with, others ate away at her.
“I did the right thing. I had no choice.”
Goldie nickered.
“Does that mean you agree or disagree?”
Goldie nuzzled her neck with her soft nose. Evangeline petted the horse and tried to shake the overwhelming grief and memories of her father right here in the stables working, joking with her brothers, keeping things running on the ranch and with the family.
She could see his wide smile when he watched her ride. Hear his booming voice cheering on Charlie during a football or baseball game. See him smack Joey on the shoulder when he did something outrageous and her father didn’t know if he should scold him or laugh with him.
Her heart ached with the myriad of memories running through her mind. She wanted to be in the house with her family, telling stories and sharing in their grief and heartache and helping to ease it. But she didn’t feel like part of the family the way she used to.
They used to love her. Now it felt like they were waiting for her to screw up again. Or just leave. Because she’d been away, she didn’t wholly understand their anger and sadness about how her father had spent the last four years declining right before their eyes.
They blamed her, and she hated it.
She left Goldie and headed out the back of the stables and across the wide pasture to the trees. She needed the quiet, time to think, a way to clear her head, though she didn’t think that was actually possible with the chatter going on up there that she couldn’t seem to shut up.
The main trunk of the old oak still stood, but the thick branch she used to climb and sit on had splintered and broken off. The dead limb lay on the ground, branches bare, parts of it rotting into the dirt. She stared at it, lost in thoughts of how many times she’d come out here and sat in this tree, on that limb, contemplating her life or simply hiding from her brothers and whatever problem she thought too great to face at the time. Nothing so terrible it couldn’t be fixed with some quiet thought and contemplation. Every book she had to read in middle and high school, she’d read up in this tree. Every boy who broke her heart, she cried over in this tree. It knew her secrets, her hopes and dreams.
The Me I Used to Be Page 5