by Tasha Ivey
The bell hanging over the coffee shop door jingles, and I inwardly cringe, looking up from my mug. Chesley looks pretty today in her floral print dress and sandals. Her short hair is curled neatly and swept back from her face with a lavender headband. As soon as her eyes meet mine, I can see that I’m not the only nervous one.
She smiles sweetly and approaches my table at the back corner of the shop. “Nice to see you again, Callie. Thank you for meeting with me.”
“You, too. I won’t lie, though . . . it wasn’t an easy decision to make. And I’m still worried that it might come back to bite me. Hard.”
“The fact that you’re here tells me that you care about Wesley.” She drops into the seat across from me, declining the waitress’ offer to take her order. “I’m glad to know that there’s someone in his life that cares enough to want to protect him. I know this can’t be easy for you, Callie, and I hate to drag you into my mess. I just don’t know who else to turn to.”
“I know.” I look down at her wringing hands, her skin a deep shade of pink from constantly twisting and squeezing. “Before I agree to help you any more after today, I have to know for sure that talking to you will be beneficial to him, that it won’t hurt him worse than he’s already hurt. I’m sure you can understand that.”
“Sure, I absolutely do. But what do you mean by hurt?”
“Forgive me for being blunt, but I don’t know any other way to say it. Do you honestly think that knowing his mother didn’t want him makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside? That’s a wound so deep and infected that it’s altered his entire course through life. Twice in his life, two of the most important people to him walked away, so now he doesn’t believe that anyone could ever love him enough to stay with him. He believes that he isn’t worthy and that he’s unlovable. And because of that, he comes across that way to people. He pushes people away before he can ever get attached.”
Her eyes are brimmed with unshed tears, and a frown mars her thin lips. “I—I made him that way? Oh, God. There wasn’t ever a time that I didn’t want him. Not even one second. Eve is a much better person than I could ever be, so I’ve told myself all along that he’s been better off. I never thought for a minute that I even crossed his mind. I have to make it right. Even if he won’t ever talk to me, Callie, you have to tell him that he’s wrong.”
“It’s much more complicated than that. I don’t understand how you wanted him but didn’t stay with him. I’m sure he’s going to question that, too.”
A long exhale escapes her lips, her body slumping slightly as the air leaves her slight frame. “I know I told you that I’d answer any questions you have, but no one knows the answer to that question except for me and my parents. Not even Robert and Eve have known all these years why I’ve never been a part of Wesley’s life. There are a couple of reasons why, but it all started with my parents. They were very strictly religious and prominent members of their church, and they were opposed to Robert at the first mention of him. When we met, I was only sixteen, and even though they promised I could date at that age, they had major issues with me dating a seventeen year old. In fact, they were so opposed that we had to sneak around to see each other for an entire year. I was seventeen when I found out I was pregnant with Wesley.”
This sounds somewhat similar to what Wesley went through with his wife. “Were you still in high school?”
“Yes, I was about to begin my senior year. Morning sickness made its not-so-graceful appearance on the first day of school, so I spent most of the day racing to the bathroom. When I saw Robert that night, I couldn’t keep it a secret from him any longer. He knew. And once I finally admitted it to him, he was ecstatic, but I had a feeling he would be. It was too soon, but it was the family we’d always wanted . . . dreamed about. We kept quiet about it until I was four months along. That’s when I told my parents . . . a day I’ll never forget. They listened quietly, and I was shocked that they didn’t have much to say about it. I just almost thought they’d be understanding for once. But when my dad stood and took his belt off, I knew there wouldn’t ever be hope for me and the baby inside of me. He beat me with that leather strap until his arm was too weak to lift it again. My legs were so raw and swollen that I could hardly walk for a few days. That next Sunday in church, my parents dragged me up to the front and told the entire congregation that I was a whore, and they made me confess that I was carrying a bastard child.”
“That’s horrible,” I choke out through my unexpected emotion. “I can’t imagine my parents ever treating me that way. Well, I can’t imagine any parent being that way.”
Chesley wipes away a solitary tear trailing down her cheek. “It was really bad for a few months. They promised that if they ever found out I even spoke to Robert again that they’d press charges for statutory rape, and they continued to threaten that until the day I went into labor. It was a month too early, but I started having contractions at school, so the school nurse called my mom and told her that I needed to go to the hospital. She refused to take me, telling the nurse that if I was woman enough to spread my legs for a man, I could use them to walk myself to the hospital. I called Robert, and he was there within a few minutes. He didn’t leave my side until the moment my parents showed up the next morning. He took the baby back to the nursery, telling me that he’d come back after my parents and I had a chance to talk. That’s the last time I saw Wesley.”
“He left with him? He’s the one that wouldn’t let Wesley see you?”
“Oh, no. Robert was a wonderful man, even at that age. He wanted us to be a family, and he was willing to do whatever he had to in order to make it work. The reason I never saw him again was because of my parents. My dad told me that the doctors found out that I was an unwed mother, and that they wanted me out of their hospital immediately. My mom walked out of the room, saying that she was going to go get Wesley from the nursery, and my dad helped me to the car. I was young and scared and incredibly naïve. I didn’t know what to do. After a few minutes, my mom jumped into the car without the baby, and they drove me away without explanation. We drove for two days until we reached my grandparents’ house in California. They told me that Robert’s family would care for Wesley, and that if I ever tried to contact them or go back, they’d press charges against him and see that Wesley ended up in an orphanage.”
Just like the first day I met her, I notice the years of heartache and worry on her face. Every wrinkle tells the same story; every line shows the deep regret she’s lived with every day since Wes was born. I truly believe that she never would’ve walked away if it wasn’t for her awful parents. I don’t even know them, and they disgust me. It wasn’t necessarily Chesley that caused Wesley’s years of hurt . . . it was his grandparents. “I can’t imagine what you went through. I don’t understand how your parents could be so narrow-minded and shallow. He’s their grandchild.”
She shakes her head. “No, they would never admit that. I cried for weeks. I couldn’t eat or sleep. I tried to run away, but my dad caught me and started locking me in the basement at night, so I couldn’t sneak out. After several months of listening to their threats, I’m ashamed to admit that I gave up trying. I was defeated and exhausted. Finally, after nearly two years, my parents started letting me out of the house for church. That’s where I met my husband. I told him what had happened with Wesley, and he helped me to get away from my parents by marrying me. We planned to divorce after a while, but we ended up falling in love and I stayed with him until he passed away five years ago. I haven’t seen my parents since the day I was married.”
I take a sip of my coffee, which has now turned cold. “So why didn’t you try to contact Robert after you got away from your parents? I’m sure your husband would’ve understood that.”
“I did,” she admits. “I guess Wesley was about four years old by the time I got up the nerve to track him down, but I couldn’t be a coward and call Robert. I wanted to tell him face-to-face why I disappeared, and I knew I probably had to do some
damage control because I didn’t know what my parents had told him. I found out that he and Eve had just gotten married and moved into a home near his parents. When I drove up that day, Robert and Eve were outside pushing Wesley in a swing. They were all laughing and happy. They looked like the perfect family, and I knew that I would steal that away from them if I got out of my car. So I left and didn’t try to make contact again until a few months ago when I called Eve and explained everything to her.”
Wait a minute. So Eve has known for a few weeks why Chesley left? I understand why she doesn’t want Wes to know she is pushing them together, but this news changes things a little. Chesley never wanted to leave him at all. Surely, he’d be able to understand that Eve only wants to help Chesley clear the air, not push him away. Well, this is Wes I’m talking about, after all.
“So what gave you the courage to call Eve and tell her the story?”
A grim line forms on her lips and she looks up from her lap, her eyes focused intently on mine. “I’m dying. I feel like it’s something I need to do before I leave this world, to let him know how much I love him. How much I’ll always love him. The cancer is just too widespread, and the doctors can’t do anything more for me. I just need one chance to talk to him, even if he can never forgive me. Just knowing that I was able to look him in the face one time and tell him I love him . . . it’s all I need. If he never gives me that chance, then I guess I deserve it. But I have to try.”
No, she doesn’t deserve it, which is exactly why I have to make sure she succeeds.
AFTER CHATTING WITH Chesley for a few hours, I find myself walking through those heavy glass doors of Wes’ office building. I have no idea how I’m going to explain why he needs to listen to me, why he needs to meet the woman that he absolutely refuses to speak to me about. Hell, right now, he’s refusing to even speak to me, so I’m not quite sure what reaction to expect from him. I just know that, either way, it’s not going to be pretty. Or civil.
He’s going to be pissed enough for me showing up at his office, but he’s the one that deleted his number from my phone, and it’s going to be a lot easier to catch him here than it will be to catch him at home. Besides, he should be getting off in about half an hour, so if I can just get him to see me, maybe we can go somewhere to talk. That is, if I can get past the snooty bitch at the reception desk. She’s wearing the same scowl and too-tight bun again, so I don’t see this going well.
“May I help you?” she snaps impatiently.
“Yes, I’m here to see Wesley Baxter.”
“Do you have an appointment with him?”
“Umm . . . yes?” Shit.
Judging by the hint of a smirk on her lips, she knows she’s caught me. “Name?”
“Callie.”
She rolls her eyes. “One moment.” Picking up her phone, she taps her long red nails on the phone’s keypad. “Sandra, I have a ‘Callie’ here claiming to have an appointment with Mr. Baxter. Can you confirm her . . . what? Oh. I’ll send her up.” She hangs up the phone and glares at me. “He’s expecting you. Go on up.”
I nod, confidently stepping into an elevator before absolutely hyperventilating after the doors close. Expecting me? Shit, did he find out that I met with his mother? Oh, God. He’s going to kill me before I ever even get the chance to explain. By the time the doors reopen, I feel like I’m going to pass out.
“Good afternoon, Callie.” Sandra greets me as the doors open. “Mr. Baxter is in a meeting upstairs right now. Was he expecting you?”
“He isn’t. But you lied for me?”
She leans closer, speaking softly. “Well, I thought that if you were brave enough to try to get through Victoria, you had a pretty good reason to come. Would you like to wait for him in his office? He shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“Oh, no thanks. He probably wouldn’t like that. Uh, I mean, he’s just so busy. I shouldn’t have come here. I can try to catch him at home.”
“You should wait. Trust me on this.” Sandra calls out to another woman behind the reception desk. “Janet, I’ll be back in a moment. If Mr. Baxter comes in before I return, please let him know I’ve shown a visitor to his office.”
I follow her down the long corridor toward his office, but I’m confused why she’s showing me how to get there. She knows that I’ve been here before. She pauses to allow me to step through the door and follows me inside, shutting the door softly behind her. Should I be nervous?
“Callie, I need to tell you that Mr. Baxter and I work very closely together, and he confides in me often. Not just about work, but also with other areas of his life. He’s become like a son to me, so I want what’s best for him.”
Great. She’s going to lecture me for coming here. “Look, I know I shouldn’t be here. He’s made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t want anything to do with me, but this is important. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. I can just go. It was inappropriate of me to show up where he works to speak with him about a very personal matter. I apologize.” I turn to leave, but her hand gently grasps my elbow.
“Goodness, girl. I wasn’t about to say anything of the sort. I just want you to know that I don’t know everything that’s happened between you two, but I just want to ask you to be patient with him. He’s not as hard as he seems. He’s one of the most kind, compassionate people I’ve ever known. And regardless of how he acts, I know he cares for you. I’m completely overstepping my boundaries here, but I want you to know that.”
I surprise myself by laughing aloud. “Well, he’s made it clear that, regardless of what feelings he has, we don’t have a future. I hope that I can help him see things a little more clearly, but I’m under no impression that we’ll ever have an actual relationship. It’s going to take the right person to really get his attention and get him to take a chance on life . . . and love.”
Sandra takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. Her eyes flash to Wes’ desk and scan over the surface. After spotting what she’s looking for, she circles around and rests her hand on a thin spiral bound book. “This book may tell you something that you don’t realize. You see, every morning, Mr. Baxter begins his day by making a list on this calendar. He says it helps him to clear his mind, so he can better focus on his work. He writes down anything that’s weighing on him, anything he needs to take care of later, sometimes even what he needs from the grocery store. Everything that he writes down is something that he feels he needs to resolve or doesn’t want to forget. I’m not telling you to look at his calendar, though.” She smirks at me and walks toward the door. “But what you do when I walk out this door is up to you. Have a nice evening, Callie. I do hope to see you again.”
As soon as the door clicks shut, I skirt around the desk and stare at the book. If I read his personal thoughts, it would be like reading his diary or something. It’s a serious intrusion into his privacy. Nevertheless, my hand doesn’t seem to have any reservations about opening the cover. He’d believe that I had no control over my hand, right?
I open to one of the first days of the year, and in the notes section of the page, there’s a short list.
Quarterly reports.
Taxes.
Dry cleaning.
Diapers and formula.
Mom’s birthday.
Okay, so there are the baby items again. I wonder how long he’s going to keep up this “no kids’ charade with me. Pretty sure he doesn’t routinely pick up those things for friends, so he clearly has at least one child that he’s caring for. If I had to guess, he makes really good money here, and he lives quite modestly, so I have a feeling a good portion of what he makes goes to child support. That’s a little disturbing, but at least he takes responsibility for them. I hope.
I flip through day after day of the calendar, skimming over the list for anything remotely interesting. I’m turning the pages so quickly that, when one of the items on the list catches my eye, I have to go back a page. My heart skips a beat or two when I see it.
Callie.
&
nbsp; Judging by the date, it was the first day he worked right after his birthday party. The day after he took care of me when I had that massive hangover. Okay, well, that makes sense because he did say that he called Shane a few days later to check on me. I flip to the next page, and I find my name at the top of the list again. And again. And again. Day after day, my name is there, right on top.
Out of curiosity, I turn to today’s date. He said that he wanted nothing to do with me, so I’m sure I’ve been replaced with other thoughts by today. Or not . . .
Callie.
Callie.
Callie.
My name is listed three times, and I’m all that’s on the list for today. Why the hell does that make me smile? It really should piss me off, but knowing that I’m in his head, knowing that I’m affecting him . . . damn, I like that. Honestly, he’s just as deeply rooted in my head. Not that I’ll ever admit that to him.
Trying to force the grin from my face isn’t too hard of a feat when I hear footsteps coming down the hall. I slap the calendar closed and walk over by the window, waiting to hear the door open. I don’t know how I’ll ever hear anything with my heart pounding in my ears like this. My nerves have decided to make themselves known, sending a flood of adrenaline into my bloodstream.
The door closes with a little more force than necessary, and I flinch, afraid to turn around to face him.
“What are you doing here?”
I spin slowly on my heel. “Well, it’s nice to see you, too.”
Wes approaches his desk, tossing a pile of files onto it and folding his arms tightly over his broad chest. His face gives nothing away. No emotion whatsoever. After seeing his calendar, I know better.