by Lynda Rees
CHAPTER 18
In a daze, hypnotized state thoughts swirled through her exhausted brain. Beliefs destroyed and options vague, she balanced a tight rope. Her fragile, broken nerves splintered in chards.
Miraculously Tisha arrived at her attorney’s office lost in thought, not remembering the short drive. Waking from revelry too exhausted mentally to deal with discussion, she chose the coward’s way out.
Responsible for the burden hers alone, she must formulate a plan to get out of the nasty situation. Unable to confide in Sam, who would run like a rabbit if he knew about this sordid affair and never understand, she refused to put him in the middle. She must protect him personally and professionally. She wouldn’t have it on her conscience. She’d break it off now with him.
She’d been correct. Destined to repeat history like Mom and Gran, Tisha would live a solitary life.
Tisha desperately wanted to see Sam one last time. She hoped to catch him before his dinner engagement if only to kiss him goodbye. She would wait to break their budding relationship off over the phone. Like Scarlett O’Hara, she’d think about it tomorrow. Tomorrow was another day.
In luck, Sam’s car was parked in the lot. If he wasn’t too busy, they might sneak a kiss or two. She longed for his arms around her seeking comfort only Sam provided. One last nip of his lips to hers would sustain her while her heart broke.
Leaving the elevator she spotted a tall, lanky blonde in Sam’s office. Her back faced the glass office wall. Her face wasn’t visible. Four-inch heels accented the slim female figure draped in a leather coat hitting behind her knees. Thick, golden tresses draped to the waist, silky and straight blanketing her back.
Lack of air forced Tisha to silence. Quietly observing fraught to understand, cemented in place, she hardly breathed. Across the hall from where Tisha froze statute-still, a stunning female embraced a man. His face obscured hidden where she stood. Tisha’s angle of vision allowed her to cautiously watch the couple, oblivious to her presence.
Was she a voyeur? She felt guilty, not making her presence known. The couple acted unconcerned about witnesses to their embrace.
A miniature version of the gal lingered beside her. The tiny girl was maybe four or five-years old. Silky, blonde hair hung loosely, like her mother’s, framing an adorable, delicate face.
In awe of the petite being, her chest ached realizing the unlikeliness she’d have such luck. How wonderful would it be having the lovely child as a daughter? She’d dreamed of producing a miniature version of herself; and longed for a big, happy family, like the one Sam grew up in. Perhaps it was his brother and his wife.
She’d begun to hoping for a chance she and Sam might build a future together. Building a family with him would be a blessing. What she’d discovered shot the possibility to hell.
Transfixed, she stared rudely, but couldn’t help herself.
The beautiful family wasn’t like hers—full of secrets and lies. They were the real thing—unattainable.
The green-eyed monster soured her stomach. The vision sickened her, even more-so, since falling for Sam. Her guts wrenched from her inch-by-inch, but she couldn’t pull away, mesmerized by the sight. Quietly from the hallway, she didn’t reveal her snooping. Enchanted, by interactions of the precious rarity of a happy family, she was hardly able to breath.
The woman extracted herself from the hug, revealing the father of her sweet child, as she moved aside scolding and teasing. “Don’t arrive late. Dinner is promptly at seven. You detest dry steak. Shut the office now and follow us. You’ve been busy. We missed you the last couple evenings. Don’t stand us up again tonight.”
The little girl pouted. “Yes, and you owe me a game on my new WI and a story before bed. You promised to tuck me in.” She reached for him.
Sam bent scooping the pale-haired imp into his arms, causing fits of giggles as he tickled her. Tisha in shock, he faced her. “I intend to beat your butt at the game, little one.” Sam stated hugging her tight. He kissed her nose then sat his loveable daughter down. “Go with Mommy. I’ll follow close behind you.”
“No dawdling, mister.” The child’s stern voice and pointed her finger meant business. “You hear?” She regarded at him with as demanding a face as a lovely girl could muster, obviously accustomed to playfully bossing him around. He didn’t act like he minded. The little gal had Sam wrapped securely around her finger. They acted as though they enjoyed it.
Sam laughed and mussed her blonde head. “I promise I’m out of here in five minutes . I won’t even answer the phone.”
Shocked, Tisha backed into the stairwell, not wanting to be caught spying. She sped down the steps with no idea what drove her, maybe an instinct for survival. Breathing ragged spurts she struggled to swallow thick bile lodging in her throat. Running out the front doors toward her car, Tisha didn’t realize she was crying. Her face contacted cold outside air. Rain pelted her bare head as she escaped to her vehicle.
Diving into the salvation of her auto, struggling with the key awkwardly, she fumbled. Finally she inserted it into the ignition, and the engine fired. Fleeing the parking lot, she didn’t want to see Sam’s wife again.
Sam’s family—he lied to her. She’d never asked if he was married, but assumed, from the way he approached her. He lied by omitting the truth and led her on, knowing she repeated her last mistake with Simon. How could he be so brutal?
Her fault, she’d been a fool unwittingly setting herself up for pain and failure. Couldn’t she learn from mistakes? Others did? Why so stupid about men? How did she manage to make the same dammed mistake again, the same way?
Everything in her screamed, and she ached to slam her fists against something solid. It would solve nothing, making it worse. She couldn’t stop the tears, and could hardly see to drove. Not knowing her destination, she drove … wanting to lose herself.
Pulling into the graveyard, she slowed to the twenty—five—miles—per—hour limit to Roberta’s grave. Without leaving the car, she bawled. Once tears were spent and she could cry no more Tisha spoke aloud as though Roberta were listening.
A quiet yet eerie calm she didn’t recognize came from her mouth. “So Mom, we’re more alike than I imagined—both horribly unlucky with men. You loved Daddy and lost him then spent your life alone. I love Sam—really love him. I never knew true love. Then I met him. I never learn. I assumed Sam different. I trusted him thinking him real and honest. I believed he loved me back.” She wiped the mess mascara and tears created. “I needed to let him go, anyway. I couldn’t drag him into our chaos. He wouldn’t want me if he knew. To think I worried about hurting him.”
She laughed vindictively. “It never occurred to me I’d be the only one hurt, breaking off with Sam. He played me for a fool. He’s a liar and cheater, like the rest. He has a perfect family. You know it, I guess.” Tisha laughed.
“I’m a game to him, a plaything, a business trip diversion, a fling and nothing more. I don’t have to worry about hurting him. His wife and daughter must’ve surprised Sam joining him while he’s here.” She straightened, trying to get a grip on herself.
“At least you provided me the gallery. It’ll be enough. I won’t allow any man to hurt me again—never.”
She drove back to the house lost in thought. Walking around perusing the movers’ work pleased her. Their efficiency leaving things tidy and neat, they cleaned up after themselves. Some people performed true to their word—people you paid.
Tisha desolately roamed the empty house. Alone in more ways than she cared to count, she’d better get used to it. Loneliness proved her lot in life, like Mom and Gran.
Gran slept in her room, and she didn’t want to bother her. Ms. Flanagan had provided dinner in the refrigerator. Tisha prepared a roast beef and cheese on rye with a pickle.
The effort made her even more alone. She loved to cook, but wouldn’t often make the effort. Like so many New Yorkers she survived on take out and cooking the few times she entertained. She didn’t bother
for herself. No husband and children to cook for, what was the point?
In her bedroom propping her feet on an ottoman in her big stuffed chair on autopilot, she ate the solitary sandwich without tasting the strong flavor.
Concentrate on the book. Where?
Too early for bed, she’d never fall sleep. A hot bath lying in steamy water should relax her, but tears flowed again. The delightful aroma of fragrant suds, luxury and sensuality of warm water engulfing her was wasted. Numbness filled her heart. She slid beneath the foamy waterline.
What would happen if she allowed warm water to take her? Her mind went blank. She began enjoying the thought, or the lack of it.
It came to her.
She shot out of the water and rested against the back of the tub gasping for air.
What in hell was she doing? What was she thinking?
She couldn’t give up. She sprang from hearty stock. Gran went through hell and survived. Mom struggled to care for her and Gran alone after Daddy died.
Hell, Dad went by Snake for God’s sake. Snakes act tough, strong, and fearless.
Gran needed her. She couldn’t desert Gran. Even Kelle depended on her.
I’m a McClain. McClain’s don’t give up when things get rough. We don’t walk out on people depending on us. Life sucks. Regardless, we step up.
Resolving to cease being sorry for herself, having devoted enough time to it, she ended it. Why waste time mourning losing Sam? She’d never actually had him. Over, done wallowing in misery, she wasn’t the first woman to lose a man, not even the first in her family.
Time to grow the hell up.
The women she loved were pioneers. Mom and Gran made lives for themselves taking care of their families regardless what shit came their way. They not only survived, but thrived, built successful trades in a man’s world, and flourished in a tough, wicked society.
Gran supported herself and her daughter and raised her family alone. Mom raised Tisha alone and gave her every advantage, doing the best she could. Her wonderful mom deserved Tisha’s respect and love. Seeing it clearly, Tisha couldn’t hold anything against Mom and loved her unconditionally.
It was true love. Love didn’t place conditions or withhold forgiveness. It was given freely. She knew it now.
Up to Tisha to manage her own life, she found answers and must deal with the calamity dropped in her hands. She’d take care of Gran and those loyal to her. She didn’t need a man—not a cheater for sure.
She was strong like them. Time came to get on with her life. She must stop wishing it were otherwise—a dreamy, perfect existence. Life proved messy, sometimes shitty. She’d deal with it.
As she dried off from her bath, the doorbell rang. She glanced at her phone, having disabled the ringer. She deleted the two messages from Sam and turned the ringer off.
A solitary night light in her bathroom lit the house. She didn’t need the lights on. She slipped into a robe on and slinked down the steps in the dark. Gran slept like a log and wouldn’t hear the doorbell unless it rang many times. She peeked unseen out the living room window. A man faced the front door. No need to see his face. It was Sam.
Hidden, with no intention of opening the door, she waited as he rang a couple more times pacing.
No answer.
She didn’t. She wouldn’t.
Finally Sam gave up and climbed into his car. He called her silent phone once more, leaving another message to delete later. He started the engine and drove away.
Go home to your family where you belong.
Making her way to bed, the old house creaked eerily, mocking Tisha. Like the other McClain women before her—unloved.
CHAPTER 19
Tisha rose determined to face a busy day with a new sense of strength and resolve. Having packed the previous day, movers scheduled to transport Gran’s things to the retirement home and load things Tisha into a second truck for transported to her New York loft. Certain things would move to storage.
While Gran napped before the trucks arrived, Tisha searched for the book and phone. Where did she hide them? Not under her mattress, in the safe or dressing table, they weren’t in the closet or fur locker. Flustered, she plopped onto Roberta’s round bed.
“Where did you hide the dammed thing?” Sitting quietly for a few minutes it dawned on her. Staring at the antique Queen Anne desk with its leather mat; antique, stained-glass lamp and laptop it occurred to her sometimes old desks held hidden compartments.
A painting disguised a wall safe with a hidden hinge. She swung it aside and dialed the combination she knew by heart. She retrieved the small key she’d forgotten having seen in the safe.
Opening the center top lap-drawer, she moved assorted pens and tools round finding nothing unusual. She opened each drawer and searched every file and compartment thoroughly. She lifted contents out ensuring nothing hid beneath. She found no secret opening.
Tisha leaned back in the seat. Maybe she’d been wrong. Her hands lightly rested on the opened center lap tray.
A small wooden section attached but rested in the front area to hold paper clips and small items. Running fingers along the front, a tab on either side lifted. It rose easily revealing a lever. She placed the section on top of the desk and moved the latch sideways. Something snapped underneath on the right.
Bending to look, she saw a piece ajar under the right side. Scanning hands beneath she felt a compartment dropped from below the lowest drawer. It easily slid forward exposing a hidden drawer containing the mysterious red book, a cell phone, and small Smith and Wesson revolver. She removed and studied them.
Scanning pages, shocked at famous names with profiles written on each client. A full page dedicated to each included dates and personal information divulged willingly to their girls. The scoop originated from the horse’s mouth. The ladies obviously shared with Roberta, useful data and secrets gleaned while entertaining Johns.
Pages filled to the brim with incriminating and extremely personal data. Statistics like home addresses, vacation homes, a variety of phone numbers, names and addresses of wives and girlfriends along with birth dates of children. Roberta accumulated information concerning businesses, clubs they belonged to, investments they owned, and essentially any data which proved useful. Special sexual preferences listed along with which girls they preferred, payments for pleasure and frequency. Roberta assessed each party noting how to improve service and entice more often visits.
Tisha laughed aloud. “It’s what I call customer service. A client in the hand is worth two in the bush. Of course, these clients had already been in the bush. Oddly finding humor in the strangest of ways, but at this point, she needed any humor mustered.
The impressive journal investigated each man, in order to market to his needs and cater to his pleasure. Additionally it served as Roberta’s and her girls’ protection from any disgruntled patrons.
No fly-by-night operation, Roberta McClain professionally pandered a product with exceptional flair. Roberta awed Tisha, despite her aversion. She didn’t abide the profession and had trouble respecting Mom at this point, but she’d been a brilliant business woman.
A thick blanket of anxiety smothered and sickened Tisha. The mother she loved and admired proved to be a criminal, a madam selling sex. Mom’s prowess went wasted her prowess on an illicit trade. She wanted nothing to do with it. How to get out—hurting the least number folks?
With angst she snapped the volume shut and placed it in her briefcase along with the phone and pistol. She secured the hidden compartment and tagged the desk to move to her apartment. She locked the safe and went down to help Gran. She would deal with this later.
On schedule movers arrived at the proposed time. She spent the next few hours directing loading of treasures. Once the truck departed for the retirement community, Tisha and Gran ate lunch.
“Did you find it? Have you decided what to do?” Gran asked hesitantly. Tisha knew what the open-ended questions referred to.
“Yes, I fou
nd it. No, I’m not sure what to do.” Allowing defeat to show on her face, she held the old woman’s frail hand and with difficulty tried smiling.
“Roberta loved you and meant to shield you, not wanting you involved. She did her best for us, using what she knew and wanted better for you.”
“I understand, Gran. I’m having trouble merging the woman I loved with the one I’ve discovered.” She patted the frail hand and released it. “Let’s get on with it. I’ll figure it out as I go.”
The doorbell rang announcing the arrival of a second truck, requiring attention. The spell broken, the time came to move forward.
Tisha spent the next couple hours instructing men loading her most prized possessions for transport to New York. Grateful for the distraction, her racing mind jumbled despite efforts to shut thoughts and ideas for options out. The more she mulled over the situation, the deeper she sunk into a fathomless well of desperation.
The second truck departed. Tisha helped Gran on with her coat. Arriving at her new home, her possessions had been unpacked and arranged as indicated on tags. The apartment in good shape, Gran acted delighted with her cozy, charming abode now it had been conformed flawlessly to her expectations.
Joining residents in the activity room for her welcome party, Gran pretended surprise. Tisha had arranged for special wines and cocktails Gran enjoyed. The corner bar complete with a bar tender served wine and cocktails while a tub of assorted iced beers waited conveniently beside it. A table held shrimp cocktail, vegetable tray, cheese tray and other hors’dovres. An iPod and speaker system provided soft music from the big band era. Gran’s baby-grand piano graced a corner of the large room having found its home in the festive space.
Gran introduced Tisha to friends. Some she knew. Others she hadn’t met. Mavis, Loretta and Betty from the card club lived there. Joan and Greta she’d seen at the water aerobics class. The area filled with smiling faces of resident’s happy Gran decided to join them.