“Which is… what? Really? What is your point?”
“Joelle forgives all of that. She described it. All the drinking, and the drugs, and even the night she got beaten up. She also told me how much you’ve changed, and you’re not the same man you were then. If she forgives you, and Spencer does, why can’t you forgive yourself? Maybe reading your story as an objective observer would help you see that. Maybe it won’t. Whatever. I’ll give you enough money to pay off any outstanding debts leftover from the mistakes in your past. It will give you a chance to start free and clear.”
Rob clenched his teeth. “A chance to start free and clear? God you really are just a pretty, little, country girl, aren’t you? Nick’s good, little sister, huh? What exactly do you know about mistakes? About actions and words that can’t be taken back, or undone? Jesus, you couldn’t begin to understand my life.”
“But I can! That’s what you’re missing. I think I can understand it better than you can, and what happened to you under the influence of the alcohol.”
“Did you go to college?”
Startled, she shook her head no to his question.
“Then what makes you the expert? You ever work in a rehab facility? Or with addicts? What do you know beyond a meaningless, little book you wrote? An unpublished, unknown, often rejected book? That means you’re not an expert. You don’t know anything. Anything at all.”
“I know I can write your story. And I know it will help you.”
“Really?” he asked, leaning into his door jam. “And where will you get the kind of money it would take to buy my participation? Not like you’re getting an advance from a publisher or anything, now is it? And after learning your plans and aspirations, Big Brother must have, no doubt, dropped out of the picture.”
“Actually, no. Nick didn’t. He promised me his help, and didn’t stipulate what or how to do things. And even now that he knows, he’ll stick by his word and his belief in me and that I know what I’m doing.”
Rob whistled. “So you’ll pay me with Nick’s money?”
“Yes. And no. As soon as I can, I’ll pay Nick back. And then it will have indirectly been my money.”
Money. Money was a definite motivator. One Rob hated himself for needing it. For being tempted by it. He could demand too much! An outrageous amount. Surely, Rebecca would see the nonsense of her choice in him. She’d move on and find someone who would jump at the chance to make a little cash for his or her story.
“What if I say yes just to take Nick’s money? Just to get back at my ex-wife? My ex-wife’s husband?”
“If you say yes, I don’t care what your reasons are. But I do hope you’ll accept that this has nothing to do with Nick or Joelle. It has to do with only you.”
“I can’t figure out why you’re so insistent it has to be me?”
“Honestly? It’s because I think you’ll get famous someday. And then my book, which should already be written about you, will sell.”
Rob’s jaw dropped. She never ceased to amaze him; he’d give her that. He laughed outright. “Where did that fantasy come from? You have delusions, honey, serious, disturbing delusions.”
“No. I do not. I’ve heard you sing.”
Rob lowered his head and shut his eyes, sighing. God, she was really becoming too much. “I don’t even sing anymore. I work construction and I live here. I don’t even know any musicians anymore except Spencer. There’s nothing there. Nothing to feed your fantasy.”
“Not yet, but I think there will be.”
“And you’re pinning some yet-to-be-written book, on my not-going-to-happen singing career? This is why you’re willing to pay me?”
“Yes.”
“God, you’re nuts! Like I don’t even believe you’re for real nuts. But hell, if you want to pay me for a book that goes nowhere, and no one will end up reading, betting on a pie-in-the-sky career that ain’t gonna happen, well I guess that’s on you, isn’t it?”
She nodded vigorously, her curls bobbing. “Yes. It really is on me. Will you do it?
He clenched his jaw. “I read it as you write it. I veto anything and everything I don’t like.”
“Fair enough.”
“You’ll agree to that? What if I tell you lies and insist that you not write a word of truth?”
“I’ll write it so well, you won’t be able to say no to it.”
Rob arched an eyebrow at her. “You’re cocky as hell about this, you know that?”
Rebecca stood up straighter. “Someone has to be. No one else can believe in my writing. Or in me. I have to. So yes, I am sure about this one thing, and I can make this work.”
Rob crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine; pay me ten grand, and I’ll do it.”
Rebecca nodded. “Half now, and the other half when it’s done.”
Rob’s jaw dropped. She didn’t even blink at the outrageous price. “Fine.”
“When do you want to start?”
“Sooner we get this done, the happier I’ll be,” he muttered.
“I can’t come by until… well, maybe next weekend.”
“Why?”
“Kids.”
“Right, kids. Soccer mom with three kids. Christ, what could you and I have to say to each other? Let’s just get it over with. What’s your address? I’ll come to you. Friday night. After work. Clear it with your husband first. He’s going to shit bricks when he sees who you brought home to write about.”
Rebecca shook her head. “I’ll be home,” she handed him a slip of paper, her address already on it. “Are you sure it’s not too far for you to come?”
“For ten grand? Oh, I’ll be there.”
“Good. Thank you, Mr. Williams.”
“Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart; you haven’t had the pleasure of my company.” He slammed the door in her face for a second time.
****
Rebecca collapsed in her front seat. She did it! She won. She convinced Rob Williams to let her write his story in her next book. She was shaking. Her hands were trembling with nerves at her own audacity. She couldn’t believe how hard she pushed Rob, and kept persisting. She went so far beyond what was smart. Doing something she usually wasn’t so good at: pushing, convincing, persuading and following through on what she thought was right or wrong.
She lied to Rob. She had no idea that Joelle got beaten up. She also had no clue that her brother endured all of it with Joelle. Nor could she ever picture her brother choking Rob Williams. The thought sent chills down her spine. What else did she miss about her brother? About Joelle? About her brother and Joelle? She never understood how much Nick loved Joelle, or that he heroically helped her out of a very bad, very dark situation.
And here she was now, trying to draw out the very thing that made Joelle’s life so dark and scary. Oh God! What possible perils was she flirting with here? What was she doing?
And more importantly, could Rob’s actions be forgiven? How could she expect that of Nick and Joelle? How could she demand it, when she knew so little of what they went through? She tilted her head against the steering wheel. Four years ago, when Nick first suddenly started acting differently, Rebecca was pregnant, with two older kids to care for. She’d been very busy with her own life, a life far removed from what Nick lived. Of course, she knew he had a condo downtown, ran a powerful company, and had a beautiful, successful girlfriend. He also owned buildings and happily worked too much and made far too much money. Meanwhile, she was at home, an hour north of downtown, focusing on her little life. Her “soccer mom” life, as Rob so nicely put it. She gave little thought to her brother then, or to the sudden mention of Joelle in his telephone conversations.
Then, her little sister, Trina, began her verbal assault on Joelle. Trina could be vicious and mean, which she demonstrated toward Joelle. Joelle and Trina were twelve years younger than Nick. In high school, they were best friends. That was all they knew about Joelle. Then suddenly, there was Joelle at a family dinner as Nick’s date. Rebecca remembered ho
w flabbergasted she was. First, that Joelle was dating her older brother; and second, but more importantly, Joelle, at the time, was still married to Rob Williams.
Trina was hostile and tried to corner Joelle. Rebecca and her sisters were right there with Trina. They, too, were never even remotely nice to her since that day. Even after Joelle married Nick and had a daughter with him, they still talked about Joelle derisively amongst themselves. How did Nick wind up with the complete opposite of the kind of woman they pictured for him?
Because Nick fell in love with Joelle, and that’s why he chose her. Rebecca wanted to smack her head now against the car window. How smug and petty she was, wrapped up in her own life, and how careless she’d been. How unforgiving. And when she asked for those things: care, support, love, thoughtfulness, comfort, who was first and foremost there for her? Her brother, of course. As always.
Nick took over as the family father figure after her real dad died. Nick was always, without any exceptions, there for her. Not just for Trina, but her older sister, Sophie, and the oldest sister, Carrie. Always there. He never judged, or tried to control them. He let them make their own choices, and live their lives. And what did they do to thank him when he fell in love, and wanted to begin his own life and family at the age of thirty-six? They impudently turned their noses up at him, and Joelle, and behind their backs, had running bets that they’d never make a permanent life together as a couple.
And now, the very first time Rebecca needed something from Joelle, who saw to her request in spades? Joelle. No questions asked. And no judgments.
Rebecca sighed as she started her van and backed out of Rob’s driveway. Even though she suddenly had a new appreciation for her brother and Joelle, she intended to do this book with Rob. And because of the memories it would stir up, she owed it to both of them to do it right. To make it work. To make it a success. She also owed it to herself. It was time for her to start over. To start a new life. And move on. To create a new identity and be somebody besides Mrs. Douglas Randall.
Chapter Six
Rob slowed his motorcycle at the turnoff for Rebecca’s address. His bike skimmed over the gravel that covered the long, one-lane road he was on. The scenery was nice: trees, scatterings of mobile homes, a house, and more trees. There were mountains visible above the tree line. Shit, he was really far from the city. And from his regular life. Rebecca’s road wasn’t even paved. She lived much further outside the city limits, and away from the freeway, than he ever dreamed.
After following the highway through the small town of Arlington, he was now halfway to the even smaller town of Darrington. Not far from that lay the North Cascades Pass to Eastern Washington. Rebecca was closer to the mountains than she was to civilization.
He found the gravel road turnoff on Rebecca’s map and was now heading along the North Fork of the Stillaguamish River. At least, that was according to the last sign he passed, back when he was still on pavement. Finally, he spotted the wooden sign, RANDALL and the address beneath. More gravel, more one-laned road to steer his bike over. He was well prepared for hillbilly hell.
The evergreen trees that choked the road opened up into a clearing. They were obviously removed to create an acre or possibly more for the house and grounds. Beyond that was more forest, and more trees that peppered into the distance for miles. Talk about no neighbors! The Randall’s house was beautiful. Really, it was. A two-story house surrounded by a huge porch that rounded the corners before it disappeared from vision. Gables rose from the second story, and a matching, detached garage stood on the right, with a mini-van parked in front.
The house was painted a dark green, with a black roof, and white trim. The yard was landscaped in rolling grass, and large, well groomed shrubbery followed the lines of the porch, extending into the lawn. A walkway traversed the lawn, leading to the front door under the porch. It wasn’t a huge house, maybe only a couple of thousand square feet, but its country charm complemented the landscape, the forest, the mountains, and the quiet that enveloped it. Sun from the fading sunset slanted in through the trees, creating a beam across the house,. The trees were silhouetted against the twilight sky. A flock of birds took off and reflected the last of the sun’s glow in a shadowy V-formation. It could have been a painting or a snapshot on a decorative plate or a sentimental greeting card.
When Rob stopped his bike, Rebecca’s neighborhood surprised him. The quiet managed to even displace the roar of his bike’s engine. Quiet. Real quiet. There was no background noise of traffic, much less, people. No far off yells or shouts, or the rattling of lawn mowers. That’s because there was no one around. There was only the sound of trees rustling and birds chirping as the soft, gentle breeze fluttered through the branches. Holy shit was it quiet. Rob was used to loud machinery, busy traffic, and crowded city neighborhoods. Even at night, he was accustomed to loud clubs, loud music, and a loud life.
Never this quiet. The forest. The land. The pristine, undeveloped, unoccupied land. Who knew such things existed?
It started to creep him out far more than the dark city streets at night, where he could easily get jumped. But that was familiar, and still in his territory. This was the total unknown. It was too quiet and way too isolated. Who the hell knew what might lurk in these woods?
Rob took his helmet off, and dismounted from the bike, snapping the kickstand down before he started towards the front door of the Randall’s house. He felt his nerves jumping. This wasn’t what he expected. He thought he was going to a suburban house in a suburban neighborhood. A house and area like he grew up in. He could handle it. Sure. Whatever. Freak out Rebecca’s husband maybe, then perhaps, she’d get discouraged enough to think the endeavor was as bad an idea as it truly was.
He never expected to drive to the woods and mountains. He never expected the house to be located in the middle of nowhere. And it made him nervous. He, Rob, leader of the drunk and sleazy, was nervous. It was almost funny enough to make him stop and laugh.
But he was here. In Normalville. The small-town, predictable family homestead. What could he say? Or do? How should he enter this house? What was the proper way to act? He should have made her come to him! He should have made her interview him at his house, in the city, totally out of her element and comfort zone. Out of her normal.
His leather jacket squeaked as he stood awkwardly on the porch, after ringing the doorbell. He heard some laughter, very girlish, because they were squeals of laughter. Then someone was the running with loud footsteps. Holy Christ, little girls! A whole pack of them sounded like they were running towards the door. Towards him.
Then the front door flew open, and before Rob were the three girls. They all stopped abruptly, as if the doorway were a picture frame. They gawked at him with their mouths open.
They were all little Rebeccas! He noticed three variations of the shade of red hair standing before him. The oldest, who was maybe ten, had auburn red; the middle child, who could’ve been seven, had a lighter blond-red; and the youngest had the brightest, deepest, Rebecca-shade of red. And freckles. Every one of them had freckles, and varying hues of blue eyes. Together, they were adorable, even to Rob. Kids and cute families were something he knew nothing about and had no interest in. But seeing all of them with the same coloring, in diverse ages, standing together, hell! They could have been a picture for a catalogue: they were that cute.
Staring at him, as he was them, he suddenly realized why all their smiles and giggles seemed to vanish. They were scared of him. He had a dark bandanna tied around his hair, dark sunglasses still on, and a scowl from the drive over there on his face. With his leather jacket, jeans, and big boots, he did not appear little-girl-friendly. He cleared his throat, and made an effort to stop shuffling his feet and steadied his nerves before he addressed them.
“Uh, is your mom here?”
“Yup, she hew. You Wob?” Rob looked down at the smallest redhead. She was the one who asked and was now staring up at him without any fear, but rather monumental fa
scination in her eyes.
Rob found a smile, even through his misery. The baby accented Wob was hard not to melt over. “Yeah. I’m Rob.” How did one talk to a three-year-old girl? Should he use baby talk to her? Did she understand regular adult words?
“Mom. Your guy’s here,” the oldest daughter screamed behind her without bothering to turn away from him. The shrillness nearly punctured Rob’s eardrum. So much for the quiet solitude of the country!
He heard movement from the second floor, then saw Rebecca bounding down the stairs. Her breasts bounced and jiggled as she quickly hurried down the staircase. Rob glared at her for doing that, and making him notice she had nice breasts. Not too big. Not too small. Just right. It annoyed him she insisted on drawing his attention to the fact that she was a woman. A pretty, attractive women, with a nice figure that he didn’t want to think about. She could have tried to not bounce so obviously. You’d think being a married, mother of three, she should have known better.
Then she was smiling at him, meeting his eyes over her kids’ heads. At least, she couldn’t detect his new appreciation of her through his sunglasses. Perhaps that was why he didn’t take them off. It made him look meaner than he actually was. He didn’t want Rebecca to consider him likable.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. I expected you later. It’s a long drive for you. Girls, move back. Quit gawking at him; it’ll make him feel unwelcome.” Rebecca moved the girls, swinging the youngest up into her arms. She did it all quite naturally, without breaking a step or seeming to notice what she did.
“My ride’s pretty fast.”
She glanced into her yard at his motorcycle, then back at him. “A lot faster and sexier than my van. Anyway, I’m glad you made it, come in.”
She held the front door open, inviting him to enter. Rebecca certainly had no qualms about asking him into her home, with her children there, no less. It made no sense to Rob. Why didn’t she hesitate? Why was she so open to having her kids there with him? Why would she ask him to come to her remote, hidden, isolated house?
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