Color of Forgiveness

by Madeleine Beckett

  If he didn’t hallucinate Chad then he probably didn’t hallucinate Sabrina either. He scrambles to try to remember. He remembers taking Myra to Mel’s grave and Sabrina showing up, and their argument. He remembers leaving, and Myra yelling at him almost immediately to pull over.

  His heart starts pounding. They were barely out of the cemetery when he pulled the truck over. “Sabrina? Was Sabrina there? Oh shit, does she know?” His voice comes out in a rush. Sherri turns around again. His eyes dart back and forth from Myra to his mom as he waits on one of them to give him a goddamn answer.

  “She was there,” Sherri says, “but she doesn’t know about the baby, and we didn’t tell her anything about you and Myra. That isn’t any of her business. We had just gotten you into the truck when she drove past. She stopped when she saw us and… well, she was really worried about you. I merely told her that you’d gotten sick and that we were going to drive you and Myra back to Nyssa.”

  His jaw tightens when he remembers Sabrina’s pained face. Taking in a deep breath, he lays his head against the cold window and closes his eyes, wishing that he could just make everything go away.

  * * *

  Myra steals another glance at Dylan. She wishes so much that she could read his mind. He’s been curled up in the corner of his truck with his head against the window for the last forty-five minutes. To her, it initially seemed like he was trying to get as far away from her as possible. So with a painful twisting feeling in her stomach, she had scooted over from the middle seat to behind Sherri, giving him his space. It hurt her heart to do it.

  Nothing could have prepared her for Dylan’s reaction. It had scared her to her core to see him like that. She’s now faced with the reality that this might truly be something that he can’t handle. It might be too much for him, and he may very well leave her. She’ll have to start preparing herself mentally for that. She knows she’s just barely pregnant, and there are so many things that could happen in the first trimester, but it doesn’t matter. She already loves this baby, and if she has to be a single parent to it, she will. She’ll find the strength somehow.

  Dennis speaks up, interrupting her thoughts. “Myra?” he asks. “What’s your address?”

  Leaning forward, she quickly gives him directions. As she scoots back in her seat, her eyes dart to Dylan again. With his head still leaning up against the window, he angles it slightly so that he makes eye contact with her. He stares at her for a few seconds before he blinks and turns his stare back out the window again.

  Her brows knit together as she considers how just one blank stare from him can hurt so much. Turning, she looks out the window again and after another fifteen minutes or so, they pull into her driveway.

  Reaching down, she grabs her bag off of the floorboard. She tries not to look at Dylan, but her eyes go there anyway. With an angry huff, he opens the door and slams it hard, never looking at her once. She gulps as she quickly opens her door and gets out. What’s going to happen now? Is he going to leave? Will she ever see him again?

  Sherri grabs Myra’s hand and tugs her to the side. “I know we didn’t get to talk earlier because of everything that happened,” she says, looking around and lowering her voice, “but after we get Dylan home and settled in, could Dennis and I stop back by here to talk?”

  Myra nods, her shoulders sagging. That just confirmed it. He’s definitely leaving.

  Sherri smiles and squeezes her hand. “Thank you. And don’t worry, all right?”

  Myra doesn’t respond because she doesn’t want to lie to Sherri because how can she not worry? She digs in her bag, searching for her keys. When she finally finds them, she looks up and frowns in confusion. Dylan’s dialing someone on his phone, and Dennis and Chad are both in a squatting position, staring at something on the ground.

  She steps closer. “What’s going on?” she asks no one in particular.

  Dennis looks up at her but says nothing. She looks back down and gasps as she sees one of her basement windows busted and broken glass lying all over the ground.

  * * *

  Dylan’s hands shake as he dials Porter’s number and his heart thunders in his chest.

  “Hey, Dylan,” Porter answers in a cheery voice.

  “Hey. I need you to send someone out to Myra’s. Someone broke in over the weekend.”

  “What? Myra told me that you two were going to be out of town so I’ve had someone drive by the place every so often to keep an eye on things.”

  “Well, we just got home, and one of her basement windows is broken.”

  “Okay. Don’t touch anything and don’t go inside. Just sit tight,” Porter says. “We’ll be there soon.”

  “Thanks,” Dylan mumbles.

  He turns, looking for Myra and sees his mom helping her into the back of his truck. Sherri climbs in next to Myra and shuts the door. He turns back to his dad and brother and tells them what Porter said.

  “Dad, I need to talk to my ‘lil bro for a minute,” Chad says as he grabs Dylan roughly by the elbow and drags him halfway down the driveway. Once they’re far enough away to not be overheard, Chad lets go of his arm.

  “Bro, you scared the fucking shit outta me earlier, dude. When I saw you like that…? Jesus Christ, my heart literally stopped in my goddamn chest. I can’t imagine what it did to ma and dad. I know all this shit with Myra is fucking with your head because, hell, I’m scared and I’m not even involved. But, bro, this is your second chance. You can do this shit. I wanna see you happy again, and you have been happy lately. If you don’t get your act together, you’re gonna fuck it up. You need to figure your shit out, and get your head outta your ass.

  “Myra is fucking awesome, dude. I know this shit wasn’t planned and it’s a fucking clusterfuck, but it happened, and you’re gonna have to deal with it. You gotta pull it together, man. Because if you fuck this up with her, I’m gonna come back here and fuck your ass up. And don’t you ever scare me like that again, all right? I love you, man. And it really… shit, it really bothered me seeing you like that.” Chad’s face scrunches up as he gets emotional. He grabs Dylan in a big hug and thumps him hard on the back.

  Dylan hugs Chad, but doesn’t say anything because what’s there to say? Everything Chad said was right. He loves his brother, and he hates that he scared his family like that. And exactly like Chad said, he’s probably going to fuck everything up with Myra because he can’t even think straight right now.

  Chad pulls back and swipes angrily at his eyes. He shakes his head like a wet dog, his jaw making a funny flapping sound. He growls and smacks himself hard on the right cheek then the left. “All right, bro.” He holds up his fists, a determined look on his face. “I’m ready to kick whoever’s motherfucking ass has been messing with your baby girl. Let’s go look for some fucking clues.”

  Chad turns and takes off in a huff. Dylan watches him for a moment before he follows silently behind him, thinking over his crazy brother’s words.

  * * *

  “Don’t worry,” Sherri says to Myra while sitting in the back of Dylan’s truck. “The police will figure out who did this.”

  “I just don’t understand why. Why would someone do this to me?”

  “I don’t know,” Sherri says as she pulls out a tissue from her purse and hands it to Myra.

  “Thanks,” Myra says, wiping her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m crying again. This has been the worst day ever.”

  “No,” Sherri says with a soft smile. “It’s been the best day ever. You found out you’re pregnant with my grandbaby,” she says, “and that’s something beautiful and precious. You’ve just hit a few speed bumps today, that’s all...” Sherri wraps her arms around Myra and hugs her tight.

  Sherri’s sweet words and warm embrace makes Myra get even more emotional. Sherri already feels like a mother to her, and it just makes her miss her own mother that much more.

  “Do you think we could have that talk now?” Sherri asks.

  Myra nods.

  Sherr
i grabs her hand in hers and squeezes it. “I know Dylan is a mess right now and things are very complicated, but I want you to know that Dennis and I are here for you. You can call me anytime for anything, even if you just need someone to talk to. And don’t give up on Dylan. He just needs some time. This is a lot for him to take in. So just hang in there, okay? He’ll come around eventually. I know my son.”

  Myra nods. “I’ll wait as long as he needs.”

  “Do you love him?” Sherri asks in a tender voice.

  Myra nods, a tear streaking down her face. “Yes,” she chokes out. “I love him so much.”

  “I thought so,” Sherri says happily, tears reflecting in her eyes as she grabs Myra in another hug and strokes her hair. “Everything is going to be just fine, sweetheart,” she coos to her in a soothing voice, “just fine.”

  * * *

  Dylan feels like he might empty the contents of his stomach as he stares down at Myra’s car. He swallows hard, his hands curling into tight fists at his side. Someone jimmied the lock on her door. The windshield is busted, along with her headlights and taillights. Both mirrors are missing, and there are dents on just about every square inch of it.

  “I don’t want Myra seeing this,” he says through gritted teeth. “Don’t let her see this shit.” He glares at Porter. “It’ll fucking scare her; this car means a lot to her.”

  Chad and Dennis, who are standing next to him inside Myra’s garage, murmur their agreement. “Of course,” Porter says. “I remember when her dad and Grampie gave her this car so I understand. I wish we had more to go on, but right now we just have nothing to—”

  “I don’t want to hear that shit!” Dylan shouts. “This is your goddamn job! Someone tries breaking into her house, manages to get into her garage and bust up her car, and all you can say is you’ve got nothing? That’s fucking bullshit!”

  “Dylan, calm down,” Dennis says.

  Dylan’s nostrils flare as his hands ball up into fists.

  Porter sighs. “I’m really sorry, Dylan. My deputy drove by here twice this morning. I talked to all three suspects when her tires were slashed. Unless we get some prints back from this…”

  Dylan growls.

  Porter gives Dylan a pleading expression. “Look, I’m doing everything I possibly can. This is a small town, and our resources are very limited. I’ll beef up the patrol on Myra’s house as much as I can. I care about Myra, too. We’ll figure this thing out.”

  Dylan flinches when Dennis touches his arm. “You ready to go home, son?” he asks him.

  Dylan nods.

  “I’m going to go check on the guys,” Porter mumbles as he leaves the garage.

  “I’ll start boarding up her windows,” Chad says. “I saw some wood over there in the corner.” He points to a pile of lumber. “Is it all right if I use those?”

  “Yeah,” Dylan mumbles.

  “Do you want me to tell Myra about her car when we go inside?” Dennis asks Dylan.

  Dylan nods. He can’t tell her about it. A stabbing feeling pokes him hard in the chest. He knows how much that damn car means to her.

  * * *

  Myra’s phone rings. It’s Susie. She lets it go to voicemail then sends her a text.

  I can’t talk right now. I’ll call you in the morning. Love you. –M

  A return text pops up almost immediately.

  Huh? Me in agony. Need 2 know how it went w/ in-laws. Now. Sordid deets, plz. –S

  Myra smiles at the text and puts her phone back in her pocket. She looks up at Sherri sitting across from her at the kitchen table. “Would you like some more coffee?” she asks her.

  “Yes. I’d love some.”

  Myra nods and grabs the coffee pot.

  “I’m so glad that whoever broke in wasn’t able to get into the house. Do you have anything valuable?” Sherri asks as Myra refills her cup.

  “Not that I know of... I inherited all of Grampie’s things, but so far I haven’t found anything worth stealing.” She has the guns, of course, but she keeps them locked up in a gun safe, just keeping her personal handgun out for protection.

  She sits back down across from Sherri. “I’m glad Dylan changed my locks and put those new deadbolts in. I think that’s the only thing that kept them from getting inside.”

  “I think you’re right.” Sherri looks around the kitchen. “He’s done an amazing job so far on your kitchen. I love your cabinets.”

  “Thanks,” Myra says as her eyes follow Sherri’s. Then her heart plummets as she looks at all the work that still needs to be done. Is Dylan going to keep working on her house after everything that’s happened or will she have to find a new contractor? Will she have to hire Ray? The mere thought of Dylan not being here kills her on the inside.

  “Well, when the men get back in here, we’ll at least find out if there was any damage done in the garage. Hopefully it’ll be nothing,” Sherri says in a positive voice.

  Myra looks up just as Dennis and Dylan step into the kitchen. Their faces are both drawn and worried. Her heart begins racing as her eyes meet Dylan’s for just a split second before he looks away.

  “Myra, your car, well, it was damaged—” Dennis says.

  “What?” she gasps. “What happened to it?”

  “It was vandalized. We think it would be a good idea if you didn’t look at it. Someone popped the lock on the door and got in. Just call your insurance agent in the morning and let them take care of it, okay?”

  Myra nods. She can’t believe someone messed with her car again. Who could be doing this?

  “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m not comfortable with Myra staying here tonight,” Dennis says.

  “Absolutely not,” Sherri says.

  Myra looks at Dylan. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at the floor.

  “Now I know things are a bit…” Dennis says, his eyes darting back and forth between Myra and Dylan, “...uncomfortable between the two of you right now, but I just can’t in good conscious let you stay here by yourself, Myra. Dylan is in no shape to stay with you either.”

  Dylan says something unintelligible under his breath.

  Dennis ignores him and continues talking. “So we need to figure something out. Would you be opposed to coming back to Boise with us for a few days? That way it would give Porter some more time to work on the case.”

  Dennis looks at Dylan, who’s still staring at the floor. “And of course, Dylan, we want you to come with us as well. If you don’t want to stay with us, you can always stay with Chad.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Dylan barks out in a hostile voice.

  Myra looks at Dennis. “Thank you for the offer, but I’d really rather not impose on you like that—”

  “It’s no imposition at all,” Sherri says in a fervent voice. “We’re just thinking of your safety… and the safety of the baby. That’s all. We’d love to have you stay with us.”

  “I don’t know…” Myra says, indecision written on her face.

  “Do you have any friends you could stay with?” Sherri asks.

  Dylan looks up and stares at her now. She swallows hard. “Maybe…” She doesn’t want to go stay with Susie right now. The thought of being that far away from Dylan is just… crushing.

  “Well, I’m going to take Dylan and his truck home,” Dennis says. “You can think about it while I’m gone. I’ll have Chad pick me up from Dylan’s later, and we’ll figure something out when I get back. Chad’s going to board up the windows for you while we’re gone.”

  Myra’s eyes dart to Dylan’s face. He’s scowling and staring down at the floor again. She desperately wants him to look at her. Give her something. Give her some kind of hope to hang onto.

  “I’ll call you in a little while,” Dennis says to Sherri.

  “Okay, dear,” Sherri responds before standing up. She gives Dylan a hug, whispering something in his ear. She kisses him quickly on the cheek.

  Never looking up or acknowledging Myra in any way, D
ylan abruptly turns and walks out of the kitchen, his head down and shoulders slouched. Myra’s eyes stay on him all the way down the hallway until he disappears out the front door. With misty eyes, she wonders how long it’ll be before she sees him again.

  * * *

  Dylan unlocks his front door and drops his bag on the floor. He frowns.

  “Why’s it so cold in here?” his dad asks.

  “I don’t know,” Dylan mumbles. “Probably the furnace or something…” He walks towards the kitchen to down some pain killers for his headache when his eyes widen. His glass patio door is wide open.

  Some fucker has been in his house.

  “Dad?” he calls out, as he takes in a shaky breath. “Somebody’s been in here.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Dylan pulls out his phone and calls Porter, asking him to send someone over. He makes sure to tell Porter to not mention anything to Myra about it. She’s got enough shit to worry about.

  After tucking his phone back in his pocket, he walks out onto the patio where his dad stands, visually inspecting the exterior. “Looks like it was pretty easy to get in,” Dennis says. “Probably only took a screwdriver to do it.”

  “Yeah,” Dylan agrees with a sigh as he looks at it. He runs his hand over his jaw. “I’ve never cared about anybody breaking in or shit like that because I sure as hell have nothing to steal.”

  “Well, let’s look around and see if they’ve taken anything.”

  They find the flat screen TV still on the wall, which is about the only thing of value Dylan owns.

  “Well, nothing’s missing that I can tell,” Dylan tells his dad after a quick inspection of the house. “I’m gonna go change.”

  “All right,” Dennis says as he sits down on the couch. “I need to make a couple of phone calls.”

  Dylan grunts in response and walks into his bedroom. In seconds, his shirt hits the floor, and he rips off that fucking nicotine patch, throwing it on the floor. He’d love to stomp on that damn thing. He digs around in his room, trying to remember if he has any smokes stashed anywhere. “Fuck,” he snarls when he can’t find any. He’s so goddamn desperate for a smoke right now that he’s almost salivating for it. As soon as Porter gets here, his ass is going to the store to fix that little problem.