by Nikki Ash
Oh my god! That motherfucker kept my daughter from me! He staged her death and lied to me about her funeral. That’s why he wouldn’t let me go! And he’s on his way here! What will he do when he gets here? What if he really does have me committed?
Needing to figure this entire situation out, I do the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I walk away from my daughter. Hilda is screaming my name but I don’t stop. I get into my car and head back to the hotel. Tears are pouring down my face, and I call the one person I should have let in. The one person who would have been by my side through all of this, had I let him in.
“Charlie?” he answers on the first ring.
“Tristan! I need you.” My voice breaks.
“Charlie, talk to me. Where are you? Wherever you are I will come to you.”
“She’s alive, Tristan! My daughter, she’s alive!”
“Okay, baby. Where are you? I’m on my way. We’ll get through this together.”
“Tristan…there’s something you need to know.”
“It’s okay. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.”
“I’m married.”
The line goes quiet and I think maybe he’s hung up. But a second later, he says, “Okay, I’m coming to you. Just tell me where I need to go.” I give him the details of the hotel I’m staying at and he makes me promise not to do anything until he gets there.
I valet-park my car and rush up to the hotel room. It will be at least three hours until Tristan gets here. While I’m waiting, I try to remember the day Georgia was pronounced dead. My brain is still so fuzzy. I blacked out—although I don’t remember it. I woke up in the hospital. Justin told me she died. I was given medication to calm down. The doctor… it was always the same doctor who gave me the medication. Nobody else saw me but him. And Justin didn’t call him ‘doctor.’ He called him by his first name. Why would Justin be on a first name basis with a doctor he just met?
Pulling up the internet on my phone, I search the hospital directory. His name was Mike. After several minutes, I find a Michael Shelby, director of cardiology. Why would a heart doctor have seen me? I click on his profile and see his picture. Oh my god! I was too out of it to recognize him at the time. This is the doctor who operated on Justin’s dad years ago. The Reynolds family donated a significant amount of money to this department after his dad passed away. They wanted to thank them for all they did over the years to help his father live longer than anyone thought he would with his bad heart.
I locate the number and call him. The secretary answers and says he’s in surgery but she can have him call me when he gets out. I leave my name and number, and hang up. Then I start to search the online newspapers for my daughter’s name. The Reynolds family would have placed a huge obituary in the paper if they wanted to make it look like she died. I find nothing. Apparently, the cruel joke is on me.
There’s a knock on my door, and when I look in the peep hole, I see it’s Justin. I back away slowly, not wanting him to hear me, and call Tristan.
“Charlie,” Tristan says when he answers the phone. “I’m on my way. The plane just landed, so I’m only about twenty minutes away.”
“How did you get here so quickly?” I ask confused.
“My dad chartered a plane.”
“Tristan, Justin is here! I don’t know what to do.”
“Do not answer that door, Charlie. I want you to hang up with me and call 911, okay?”
“Okay.” As I’m about to hang up, the door swings opens, the security latch ripping out of the wall, and Justin walks in, glaring at me, with a gun in his hand.
“No!” I scream. “Please don’t do this!”
I know Tristan’s speaking on the other end, but I can’t hear anything. “Justin,” I say out loud so Tristan knows he’s in here with me. “We need to talk, please.”
“There’s nothing to talk about! You tried to run off with my daughter, then you took off on me. I saw you with him. I saw you in California living your new life. I saw your slutty fucking mouth on his. Does he know you’re my wife?”
Justin’s hands grip my neck as he pushes me against the wall. With one hand holding me in place, blocking my airway, his other hand lets go and smacks me across the face. My face swings to the side at the impact and it all comes back to me.
That day.
Me packing up to leave.
Justin coming home early and finding us running.
Him attacking me.
Georgia running outside scared.
Me trying to tell Justin but him blocking my wind pipe.
Him punching me in the stomach repeatedly.
One hard hit to my temple.
My head hitting the table.
Everything going black.
I didn’t just black out! I was attacked by my husband. Georgia ran outside because he was attacking me. Only she didn’t die! She’s alive and he made me believe she was dead to punish me. Only I ran.
Looking Justin in the eyes, I remember the moves Tristan taught me. The moves he insisted we practice each week. It may not stop Justin but I have to do something. I have to fight for my life. Somehow he knows about me and Tristan. He will never let me walk out alive. It’s him or me, and there’s no way I’m going down without a fight. I spent too many years taking it without fighting back.
I see him lift his gun and I make my move. My hand comes up slicing the side of his neck. It’s not enough to knock him out but it’s enough that he loses his balance. He wasn’t expecting me to fight back. But I don’t stop there. I reach up, and grabbing his shoulders, I kick him in the balls.
“Fuck!” he screams out, the gun falling from his hand. It fumbles to the ground and we both eye it. I pounce on it at the same time he does, but I get to it first, and without hesitating, I switch the safety off and I pull the trigger. He falls back, his cries for help garbled as I drop the gun.
Stunned at what I just did, I start to hyperventilate. I’m not Justin. Who am I to play God with someone’s life like he did with mine and my daughter’s? I crawl over to my cell phone and dial 911. The operator answers, asking what my emergency is.
“I shot…a man. He’s bleeding,” I say. “I need an ambulance.” I rattle off the hotel information and the room number. The blood is everywhere. I need to save him. He might deserve it, but I’m not a murderer. She tells me help is on the way and to stay on the line, but I drop the phone.
Grabbing a towel, I locate the entry point. It’s on his chest, right on top of his heart. I press down on it to stop the bleeding. He’s shaking. His eyes are closed.
A few minutes later, the police enter. Then the paramedics. They ask me to release Justin and I do. They put him on a gurney and suddenly Tristan has me wrapped up in his arms. Safe. Secure.
“I- I didn’t mean to,” I cry out, but Tristan just shushes me while he rocks me gently.
“It’s okay, baby,” he coos into my ear. “It’s all over.”
Twenty-Nine
Charlie
The police officer tells Tristan he needs to step outside. I’m to remain inside because I’m part of the investigation. The investigator takes my fingerprints, dusts my hands for residue, and takes pictures of my neck. Once they’re done with me, I’m put into the back of a police car. The officer tries to explain to me it’s just proper protocol but Tristan isn’t having it. He tells me not to say a word until he arrives with my attorney. When we arrive at the police station, I’m brought to a room where I let the officer know I have to wait for my attorney. Once Tristan arrives with him, he requests to speak to me alone. I tell him everything. From the verbal and physical abuse to Georgia being made to appear dead.
Once the detective comes in, questions are asked and answered. It feels like it goes on for hours. Eventually a gentleman in a suit with a badge attached to his belt comes in and informs us Justin has been declared dead. The sense of relief that courses through my body almost has me feeling guilty, but then I stop myself because he did this to himself. He made his own choi
ces. He chose to abuse me for years. He chose to lie to me about our daughter. And he chose to come to my hotel room with a loaded gun with the intent to end my life.
I’m brought into an interrogation room and asked several questions by a few different detectives with my attorney by my side the entire time. Once they’re done interviewing me, I’m asked to wait while they look over my case, and after what feels like several more hours, I’m told I won’t be charged. All the evidence, including the hotel footage of Justin breaking in, proves I shot him in self-defense. Once I’m finally released, the only place I want to go is to my daughter but I’m covered in blood.
“Can you take me to my car?” I ask Tristan. “I need to go buy some new clothes. I can’t go back to the hotel room yet and my clothes have blood stains on them. I need to go to Justin’s mom’s house so I can get Georgia. I’m not even sure—”
“Hey, stop,” Tristan says calmly. “You just went through something life altering. Take a second to breathe.”
“I can’t stop. I can’t breathe!” I exclaim. “My daughter is alive and God knows what she thinks about me! She probably thinks I abandoned her.”
“Okay, your car is safe at the hotel. I’ll drive you to get clothes and then we’ll head over to Georgia. Okay? Just… please, breathe. You’ve been through a lot.”
I inhale deeply and let out a ragged breath, the reality of today’s events hitting me like a punch to my gut. I killed my husband. My daughter is alive. Grabbing Tristan’s shirt, I pull myself toward him, my head going to his chest as I let out one of the most therapeutic cries of my life. He holds me while I let it all out, running his hands up and down my back in a soothing motion until my tears finally dry up. When I lift my head up, I notice his shirt is covered in my tears. Tristan has always been my strength. Even right now, he’s able to take all my tears and remain strong for the both of us.
“You ready to go get your little girl?” he asks.
“Yes, I am.”
Tristan
I have never been so scared in my entire life than I was when I heard Charlie scream. When I walked in and saw her trying to save that motherfucker’s life, I knew without a doubt, Charlie is the best woman I have ever met. If I had had the pleasure of shooting that piece-of-shit, I would have stuck a couple extra bullets in him just to make sure he was dead. But not Charlie—she tried to keep that sorry excuse for a man alive. The man who put his hands on her over and over again, kept her daughter from her, and tried to kill her. It only makes me love her even more.
We pull up to a beautiful home that screams wealth, and the attorney pulls up behind us. I don’t know what will go down when Charlie tries to get her daughter and I’m not taking any chances. We knock and a butler looking guy answers the door. Charlie remains calm and asks to please let us come in and see Georgia, and that’s when a woman appears.
“Is it true?” she cries out. “Did you kill my boy?”
Charlie steps closer to me, clearly afraid of what this woman will do.
“Ma’am, we’re sorry for your loss,” I say, not meaning it in the slightest but trying to calm her down. “We’re here to see Georgia.”
“She’s crazy!” the woman screams out, pointing to Charlie.
“Devon, can you help me out here?” I call the attorney over. He nods and approaches the situation.
“Mrs. Reynolds, I have an emergency court order requesting you to hand Georgia Reynolds over to her mother. If you can’t hand her over civilly, I am going to have to ask the police to become involved.” That’s when I look back and see two police officers standing at the end of the driveway.
“I don’t understand!” she cries.
“Hilda,” Charlie says softly. “Justin—he had an abusive side to him. I tried to run with Georgia to get away, and to punish me, he made me believe she was dead. When I took off, he told you I was put into a mental institute. I was in California this entire time grieving over the death of my daughter.”
The woman—Hilda, as Charlie calls her—brings her hands to her mouth, and begins to cry. “I didn’t know, Charlotte. I swear I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay,” Charlie assures her. “I would just really like to see my daughter.” Hilda moves to the side and lets us in. Once inside, Hilda calls Georgia’s name, and several seconds later, a tiny little mini-Charlie comes running into the room.
“Mommy!” she shrieks and jumps into Charlie’s arms. “Where were you Mommy? I missed you so much. You left me.”
Charlie tries so hard to remain composed but at those last words, she breaks down. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. There was a big misunderstanding, but I’m here now and I promise you no one will ever keep me away again.”
“Can we go home now?” Georgia asks and my stomach clenches with the realization that Texas is her home. Will Charlie want to stay here? Now that Justin is dead she has no reason to run anymore.
“We sure can, baby girl.” Charlie picks her daughter up and carries her to the door. “Hilda, I just want you to know I don’t want anything of Justin’s. Because of his death, I don’t have to file for a divorce but you can have any papers drawn up you like and I will sign it all over to you including the house if he still owns it.”
“But where will you live?” Hilda asks. “Surely, you need a place for Georgia and you to live in. We can figure it all out.”
“My home isn’t here anymore.” Charlie gives me a small smile. “My home is in California. You’re welcome to visit Georgia any time you like, but that’s where we’ll be.”
Hilda nods in understanding then gives Georgia a kiss on her cheek. “She was homeschooled by the best tutor, so make sure you continue her education. While Justin was working, she stayed here with her nanny—”
“I appreciate that,” Charlie says cutting her off, “but Georgia will be going to school. Call if you would like to visit.” She gives Hilda her number and with that, Charlie walks out the door, her head held high, with her daughter’s arms wrapped tightly around her neck.
Because it’s so late, we have to wait until tomorrow to fly out. Georgia insists we stop at her house to pick up her toys and clothes. Charlie, not wanting to upset her daughter, agrees. While they’re inside grabbing the items important to Georgia, I contact the rental car company and let them know where to pick up the vehicle and give them my billing information. Then I book a hotel room for the night for the three of us.
Once we get to the hotel, Charlie gives Georgia a bath. I can see her eyes glassy with emotion in everything she does, and I can’t blame her. She thought her daughter was dead, and now to find out she’s alive…She never thought she would get to do something as simple as giving her daughter a bath again.
Once Georgia is dressed and fed, Charlie holds her daughter on the couch while they talk. Georgia is only four, so she doesn’t really understand it all. It’s a good thing because she’ll get over it all quickly. When she asks about her Dad, Charlie tells her he was hurt and went to heaven. Georgia barely even shows any emotion. I stand by the theory that kids are a good judge of character. They know who is good and who is bad.
Once Georgia falls asleep—still in Charlie’s arms—Charlie finally looks my way. “Thank you for coming. For hiring that attorney and for being so amazing through all of this. I’m sorry for lying to you.”
“You didn’t lie.”
“No, don’t do that. I should have told you I was still married. I should have trusted you enough to know you would stand by my side and help me through it.”
“All that is true. I’m just ready to move forward and make you my wife.” I give her a small smile but she frowns.
“I’m going to need some time, Tristan. I’m moving Georgia to a new state, to a new city, to a new home. I can’t just move her into your home.”
“It’s your home too.”
“And I love you so much for that,” she says, tears building up in her eyes. I want to shake her, beg her not to do this but I know she’s only doing this becaus
e that’s what a good mother does.
“I think it’s time I tell you about my life in Texas.” Reluctantly, Charlie puts Georgia into her bed, not wanting her daughter to overhear anything she’s saying. She joins me on the couch but won’t let me hold her while she tells me about her old life. She tells me about how she met Justin, her parents having died and her feeling alone. I listen as she tells me how it started with him putting down her degree, calling her love of art, silly, then it moved on to him putting her down as a parent. He would question every decision she made, making her feel like a bad mother. She tells me about the verbal and emotional abuse. Him not allowing her daughter to color. His cheating habits. How she felt trapped in her home and was trying to escape. She tells me about her plan. The money she was stashing away. Finally, she tells me about the day she thought her daughter died. How she couldn’t remember what happened until Justin hit her at the hotel. My fists clench at the thought of that guy laying his hands on my fiancée. Needing to touch her, I reach for her hand at the same time the phone rings.
“It’s Mila,” she says.
She answers the phone and tells Mila all about finding her daughter alive. She laughs and cries and then she says, “Actually, I’m going to find a place of my own. My landlord mentioned his granddaughter staying at the loft and I would feel bad asking him if I could stay after all.” She glances at me, her eyes pleading for me to understand. “Really? Are you sure?” She pauses while Mila says something. “That would be great. It’s only temporary…Okay, thank you. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
She hangs up the phone. “I’m thinking a June wedding.” She slides closer to me, her arms going around my neck.
“But you just said…”
“I said I need some time, and now you know why. I need to make sure Georgia is comfortable with this transition. I’ve been without my baby girl for a year, and she doesn’t know you. Mila is in search of a new roommate. She has a three-bedroom home she wanted to keep after the divorce, but she has been struggling to keep up with payments since her roommate moved out after getting engaged. While she continues to look for a new roommate, Georgia and I will stay with her while we all get to know each other.”