My Little Gypsy

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My Little Gypsy Page 10

by Brooke St. James


  Darcy

  Owen and Ivy had gone to England with Daniel and his girlfriend to see their brother. Wes had been there for three years. He had come home to visit during that time, but none of the Bishop siblings had ever been there to see him, so Courtney took it upon herself to buy their tickets and make it a family affair.

  She and Daniel were staying longer than Owen and Ivy, so they were still gone, but Owen had been home for two days. It was Friday, and his mom made dinner for the whole family so that Owen and Ivy could catch everyone up on their trip. I had been to a few of their family dinners during recent weeks, so I was already comfortable with them. They considered me Owen's girlfriend and did everything they could to make me feel at home.

  I went to Owen's house when he got off work, and we rode to his parents' place together. Henry had been alone all day, so we decided to take him with us. I sat next to Owen in the front seat of his truck, and Henry sat in the passenger's seat with his head out the window.

  It might as well have been heaven for that dog, riding in the truck with his head hanging out. Owen and I laughed about how ridiculous he was, guessing all the things he theoretically smelled on the way such as cats, squirrels, girl dogs, fried chicken, rotten eggs, opossums, pizza, and bones. We would ride a little ways without mentioning it, and then one of us would call out something else Henry was possibly smelling, making the other one laugh.

  Jesse, Rose, and Ivy were at home when we got there and so were Owen's grandparents. Their grandmother was named Ivy as well, but they all called her Shug, and I just went along with that because she insisted that I should.

  Owen's grandfather, Michael, went by Doozy. He was the one who had started the motorcycle company all those years ago and built it into the empire it was today. Shug had been a blues singer. One of my friends who knew I had a crush on Owen had turned me on to her music when I was in middle school, but my mom caught me listening to it and forbid me to ever do it again. She said that if Dad ever caught me doing it, I would be punished for life. She wouldn't tell me exactly why, but I could tell she was kind of scared of me listening to it, and I remember thinking maybe she thought it was a sin.

  I downloaded some of her music when I was in college, however, and there was nothing sinful about it. I actually really enjoyed her style and was still, to this day, confused as to why my parents were so freaked out about it. I thought maybe they just assumed the Bishops were a little bit edgy on account of the whole motorcycle thing. My parents were older, obviously, and they had both grown-up in very traditional, wealthy southern households. They didn't seem to care for motorcycles much, especially Bishop motorcycles. They knew I was seeing Owen, but I definitely didn't bring it up more than necessary. He would often come visit me at my house, but we never went over to my parents'.

  This wasn't an ideal situation for me because I wanted my parents to like my boyfriend, but I would much sooner have a little tension with them than break up with Owen, so there we were.

  Shug and Doozy were already at Jesse and Rose's place when we got there. Ivy still lived there, so it wasn't a surprise to see her. I didn't expect to see Owen's cousins come through the door, though. We had been in the house for a few minutes and were all sitting around the kitchen when Shelby and Liam came in.

  "Hey y'all!" Rose called, seeing them round the corner.

  "What's up!" Shelby said, smiling as she started walking around passing out hugs.

  Owen and I were sitting at the bar with Jesse, and Liam came straight over to us, smiling and shaking Owen's hand. "How was England?" he asked.

  "Fun," Owen said, stretching up to give his cousin a sideways hug.

  Liam greeted Jesse and me before hugging his grandparents.

  "It smells soooo good in here!" Shelby said, peering into the pots that were on the stove.

  "What is it?" Liam asked.

  "Steak and gravy," Rose said. "With potatoes and carrots."

  "Mmmm," Shelby said, making herself at home by stirring whatever was in the pot.

  Liam sat at the bar with us and began asking questions about England.

  How long was the flight?

  How was Wes?

  Did they see the queen?

  Did they drink tea?

  Did they ride the London Underground?

  Did Wes have a girlfriend?

  Did anyone recognize Courtney?

  Everyone gathered around, asking questions of their own and laughing at Owen and Ivy's colorful answers.

  Shelby came up behind Owen during our conversation, standing right behind him. Ivy was talking at the time, so everyone was focused on her, but I couldn't help but notice Shelby's proximity since she was close to me as well. She stared at his head, putting her hands in his hair and ruffling it around.

  "You need a haircut," she said.

  She was the hairstylist in the family, so it made sense that she would put her hands on him in this familiar way. A tiny piece of me started to get jealous that any girl would be so comfortable with Owen, and then I reminded myself that she was his cousin and also his hairdresser, and I should just calm down. Owen winced a little and shrunk out of her grasp, and for a second I wondered if he wasn't comfortable with her doing that, but then I remembered he was still healing the spot where he bumped his head. He turned and glanced at Shelby as if he wanted her to stop, and she made a silly face at him, saying he didn't have a say in the matter.

  "I've got stitches," he said in a low tone.

  He only meant for Shelby to hear, but I was sitting close enough that I heard him. Plus, by then it had dawned on me what was going on, so I was expecting him to remark on it.

  "Stitches?" she asked as if she might not have heard him correctly.

  "Yes," he said, trying to be quiet and shrug it off.

  "From what?" Shelby asked, not letting it go. She was still standing behind him, and she inspected the top of his head, carefully touching it and separating his hair. He pulled to the side as if to tell her to stop, but she had already found the spot. She gasped as she stared at it. "What in the world did you do, Owen? Did this happen in London?"

  "Did what happen in London?" Rose asked, overhearing Shelby.

  "He's got a huge gash on his head," Shelby said. "With a bunch of stitches."

  "From what?" Rose asked.

  By now, all eyes were on Owen. He smiled and shook his head, telling them it was really no big deal. "I hit my head and cut it open," he said. "My neighbor's a nurse, so she came over and stitched it up for me."

  "Tessa?" Rose asked.

  Owen nodded.

  "He must have really wacked it on something," Shelby said. "It's all bruised-up and there's like twenty stitches."

  "Twelve," Owen said. "And Tessa was nervous about doing it at the house. I probably only needed like five or six. I just didn't feel like going to the doctor."

  "Pretty handy having a nurse across the street, if you ask me," Jesse said.

  Maybe it was all the talk about Tessa helping him out, but for whatever reason, Owen smiled at me and pulled me closer, reaching out to touch me in a protective gesture. His family smiled at us when they saw him do it, and they seemed to lose interest in his head injury. I was thankful for the affection, and leaned into him, offering him a grateful smile.

  "I'm hungry," Owen said. "When's dinner gonna be ready?"

  "It's ready now," Rose said. "I was kinda waiting on Jane and Gray, but we can get started, and they can just eat when they get here."

  Jesse blessed the food, thanking God for safe travels for his children, nurses who lived next door, and for the delicious food we were about to consume. I had heard several of the Bishops pray before, and it always amazed me how real and honest they were with God. My parents had prayed out loud some when I was growing up, and it always seemed really formal and repetitive. They probably wouldn't enjoy prayer at the Bishop's house, but I always did. It made me feel happy and comfortable.

  We were in the middle of making our plates when Owen's aunt
and uncle arrived. Aunt Jane asked some of the same questions that Liam and Shelby had asked earlier, so we talked about Wes and his life in London while we were serving ourselves.

  Rose had plenty of food prepared, and we all stood in line, serving ourselves out of the pots that were still on the stove before sitting down at the table, or the bar—whatever was most comfortable. Owen and I went back to our seats at the bar and sat with Liam and Jesse while the others sat around the table. It was a casual atmosphere, and we were all right there where we could see and hear each other.

  We ate dinner and then Rose said we could help ourselves to ice cream or cookies. She made a disclaimer, saying the cookies were store bought, but none of us seemed to care, and we all went to the kitchen and proceeded to devour them.

  After dinner, we stayed at his parents' house for a while, some of us sitting around talking while others watched TV or worked on cleaning up the kitchen. I sat at the bar most of the time, but after a while, I went to the restroom, and that's when I looked at my phone. It had been a while since I had checked it, and by the time I did, I had five missed calls and two new messages. They were from phone numbers I did not recognize.

  I was all alone in the small half-bath when I listened to the first message.

  "I am trying to reach Darcy Meyers," the message said. "This is Sgt. Anderson with the Memphis Police Department. We have tried multiple times to reach you at home. Please give us a call as soon as possible."

  He left a phone number and hung up.

  All the blood drained from my face as a wave of dread washed over me. I had no idea why someone from the Memphis Police Department would be trying to contact me. I was shaking as I went to call him back, but then I remembered there was another message, so I listened to it first.

  I pressed the appropriate buttons to listen to the message and held the phone to my ear. I sat on the toilet with the seat closed like it was a chair, bracing myself for whatever the person said.

  "Darcy, this is Charles Scott, your father's land manager. The authorities are trying to reach you, honey. They've been out to the house looking for you. I'm afraid there's been an accident involving your parents. We've tried to get in touch with you. Your father's got a tracking device on your phone, so I gave that information to the police department so they could find you. I just wanted to give you a call and warn you that someone will be on their way to talk to you. I'm sorry, Darcy."

  I had no idea what emotion to feel first. For some reason, it was really odd and violating to learn that there was a tracking device on my phone, and those feelings were the first to hit me, but then I realized that was probably the least of my worries.

  I felt incapable of knowing what to do next.

  I began shaking as I stared at the phone, wondering what in the world I should do. Part of me knew I should call the police officer back while I was still in the bathroom, but I just didn't feel like I could do anything or make the next move without Owen by my side.

  I left the restroom, heading into the living room and feeling like a zombie. Owen had been sitting on the couch, but he was no longer there when I got back.

  "Someone's at the door for you, baby," Rose said, coming up to me with a sincere, concerned expression. She wrapped her arm around me and ushered me toward the front door. I glanced around and realized that everyone in the room was quiet. They had even turned the television down. Rose took me by the arm and walked with me down the hall that led to the foyer. Owen and Jesse were standing with their backs toward me, and they turned when they saw the officer glance at me from over their shoulders.

  Owen extended his hand, and I walked toward him. He pulled me securely into his grasp, and before the officer even began to speak, he leaned down to my ear and whispered, "Everything's gonna be okay."

  Chapter 16

  I was in an official dream-state during the hours that followed. The officer that tracked me down at Rose and Jesse's house told me that my parents had been traveling on the highway when my dad experienced a massive coronary while driving, causing a car accident.

  He didn't give me any more details, but he apologized profusely and said I was needed at the hospital. I didn't even realize Owen and I had forgotten Henry at his parents' house until we were walking into the hospital. I mentioned it to him, and he told me they had it under control and that I shouldn't worry about little things like Henry's whereabouts.

  Owen never once left my side.

  We talked to many different people including police officers and doctors. I felt confused, like my brain wasn't working properly. I wanted someone to just speak English and tell me what was going on.

  Finally, they did.

  We were sitting in a private waiting room when two older men came in. One identified himself as the County Sheriff and the other as the Chief of Staff at the hospital. They regretfully informed me that the first responders had done all they could, but there was nothing they could do to revive my father once they arrived on the scene. They said he had a heart attack and it was likely he had lost consciousness before the vehicle ever made impact.

  My mother was the only other person in the vehicle with him. She was currently in surgery and they were doing all they could, but she was in critical condition.

  The days that followed were incredibly surreal.

  I spent all of my time at the hospital and cried more tears than I thought imaginable. Owen was there with me most of the time, and when he wasn't, his mom or sister came to be with me. I was never alone. The Bishops helped me so much during that time. I don't know what I would have done without them.

  We had a memorial service for my father.

  His lawyer arranged it. He and a team of other people ran everything past me, but I was so out-of-it that I just agreed with whatever they thought was best. The lawyer had paperwork for me to go through and sign, dealing with my father's estate, but I had no idea what I was doing or what he was saying, and again, Owen's presence by my side was the one thing that pulled me through.

  There were a lot of people at the memorial service, but none of them seemed especially broken up about my father's death—it was almost like they were just there to see the spectacle of the notorious Stephen Meyers's life coming to an end.

  The Bishops came to be with me, and I had some friends of my own from high school who came as well, but it almost felt like nobody was there because they loved or respected my father. That hurt. The ones who were there for me (including the Bishops) were the most sincere ones in the bunch. Besides the paid minister, no one even volunteered to say a few words—not even Charles or any of the others who I thought were closest to my dad.

  Owen ended up volunteering.

  I could hardly see through the tears as I watched him get up in front of a church full of people. He was such a man for doing it—especially considering that my father hadn't necessarily been overly supportive about our relationship.

  Owen said he didn't have the pleasure of getting to know my dad much over the years, but he knew his daughter, and that only a great man could raise someone like me. He only spoke for a couple of minutes, but he was sweet and sincere, and he did a beautiful job of honoring the memory of my dad.

  I was in love with Owen before he did that, but I saw him differently afterward. He was the most selfless person I had ever known, and he truly wanted to do everything he could to make this moment more tolerable for me. He didn't mean for this act of selflessness to make me love him more, but it did. I watched him stand in front of all those people and do his best to shine a favorable light on my dad's memory, and all it did was make me fall madly in love with him.

  My dad's funeral was an emotional rollercoaster, but that wasn't where the whirlwind stopped. We left the cemetery and went to the hospital only to learn that my mom had passed away.

  I spoke to the nurse who had been by her side. We had gotten to know her during the past few days, and she knew I was Tessa's friend. She told me that when they first brought my mom in, my mom had brie
fly regained consciousness and had said to tell me that 'Daddy was sorry'. The nurse said that wasn't the type of thing they would normally even tell a surviving relative, but she felt like it was something my mother really wanted to get across to me before she died.

  Three days later, we went through the same process with having a memorial service for my mother.

  Owen's presence by my side was a gift from God. I honestly don't know how I would have ever gotten through that period of time without him.

  He would have been willing to speak at my mother's service as well, but my mom had a couple of friends who volunteered and did a great job—one of them read a poem that was really touching, and another sang a song.

  My father owned a lot of land and had a lot of money, so his estate was complicated. He and my mother had their wills in place, and I was their only beneficiary, but even still, there was a ton of red tape involved with settling everything. He had people on his payroll whose jobs weren't necessarily black and white.

  The lawyer tried to imply that my dad might have had some shady dealings, but Owen and Jesse stepped in, insisting that we keep the business dealings separate from any speculation. The Bishops were accustomed business transactions of this grandeur, and their advice and help through the process was priceless.

  We came to fair terms with my father's employees, offering them severance packages and relieving them from their duties so that I could just start over at square one and make moves of my own.

  ***

  It took weeks for everything to fall into place and settle down. By the time I had gone through all of that, I felt like the Bishops were truly my family. They didn't want a thing from me other than to help me, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God had placed them in my life at just the right moment. Twice now, I had lost both of my parents, and there was simply no way I could have dealt with such a blow if it weren't for such caring people.

  I sold my parents' house and the one they had built for me. I obviously didn't have to do that, but I just felt like I wanted to start over and choose something of my own.

 

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