“Does she still need it?” I asked, while I tried to remember where I’ve heard a familiar story. But nothing came to mind. I concentrated in the now, how would I get rid of Donna and Greg Sanders. “Get the house in the market, after the sale, I’ll give them the profits so they can leave town.”
Tyler ran a hand through his hair, and twitched his mouth as if he was solving an impossible crossword. “Raj didn’t mention the transplant. About the house―they need it to live in. They’ll be missing the rent, but Raj, her doctor works here. In Boston.”
Like a brat, I wanted to stomp my feet and tell Tyler that Raj was my friend and he shouldn’t be helping them. Defeated, I joined the cause; I was a sucker for the less fortunate. I offered to help with the medical bills, but Dan had taken care of them already. Ty had set up a small trust that covered utilities, food, and other essentials. Greg’s former legal firm had given him a consulting gig.
“Is she going to die?” My only flesh and blood, the woman who’d disowned me, was sick. The seconds it took Ty to answer stretched into hours and days. The chills running through my body increased.
“We don’t know.” He grabbed my hand, which I then realized was shaking like the rest of my body. “I hope she doesn’t. It’ll kill dad. We lost Mom when I was fourteen, and he didn’t take it well.”
“What happened to her?” I dared to ask. The lack of communication between me and the Sanders family never let me get to know their story.
“She killed herself. She was bipolar… diagnosed, but she didn’t like to take her meds. Dad had taken me to a soccer tournament that weekend. It was a guys' weekend, a bonding thing we still did back in those days.” Ty gulped his beer, squeezing the neck of the bottle so tight his knuckles turned white. “Between the games and activities, Greg didn’t have time to check on them. When we got home on Sunday,” Ty finished his beer in two gulps, and slumped, his tall figure reduced to a defenseless teenager, and his gaze thousands of years away, “we found Lisa sitting in the bathroom next to the tub, she was nine back then. ‘Mom fell asleep in the bath,’ she said. She’d overdosed and drowned. The coroner later told us she’d been dead since Saturday.
“Dad attributed her death to me. I blamed him.” Ty shrugged, but his eyes were full of pain. “After that, Lisa became his world. She could do no wrong. I talked to my grandfather about it. Suggested therapy for my sister. But no one listened. The girl saw her mother die, and they didn’t help her.”
He sat up straight, and asked for the check. “Greg and Donna want to see you,” Ty said, after he recovered from the trip down memory lane. I ignored his last words because the last thing I wanted was to face one of my biggest nightmares. But his lost eyes took me back to Greg and the loss of his first wife.
I closed my eyes, knowing I’d regret my words. “I’ll talk to them.”
Chapter 10
Two counseling appointments, one cast removal, and the end of another week helped me gather the courage I needed. Finally, I contacted Greg. “Tyler told me last week you’d be calling.”
“Yes, I told him that.” I never meant ASAP, I wanted to say after hearing his condescending tone. “I took care of a few loose ends first. Ty’s story shook me, I’m sure you understand. How’s Donna doing?”
“Your mom?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Tyler must’ve told you, she’s sick.” The exasperated tone invited me to hang up, but I refrained.
I waited for him to continue explaining her condition, but nothing happened, I could only hear his breathing through the phone.
“My weekends are open.” I interrupted the thick silence.
“Sunday evening works for us. Will you be coming this weekend, or are there things you need to take care before the visit?”
“I’ll go this Sunday.” I mustered up my best business voice. “One thing, Greg. Cut the nastiness. Either you want to see me, or you don’t. Make up your mind, now. I won’t tolerate your air of superiority. And, for once, control your wife. I’ll leave if you don’t.”
I wouldn’t want to hear her saying I killed Lisa a thousand times before I would even say hello to her.
We agreed on four o’clock. Mom’s illness had made her weak, so they wanted me to drive to them. I got into an accident and broke my leg a couple of months ago, but did they care? I doubted it. This would be the first time I’d driven since December. The road would become the longest twenty-some miles of greenery and bad memories I had taken since I can remember.
Tyler called me not too long after I hung up. Greg had complained about my call. Apparently, I’d insulted him and treated him like garbage. “So tell me, what really happened?”
Was he really asking for my side of the story? The man was his father; I was only the reject stepsister. A part of me liked how the tables had turned. Someone was by my side. I recounted our conversation and the two cents I added.
“He hates to be the one following rules. You threw him off his game. He’ll abide by you, trust me.”
Ty passed the phone to Ash, and she caught me up with the lives of the little ones and the latest news. Rosie’s wedding was planned for September. “I wish she’d wait. I wanted Angie to be the flower girl.” She laughed. “How are things with Dan?”
“It’s…. I don’t know.”
I was still living in his apartment. No one had said otherwise, and I dreaded moving back to mine. Two months of living with my best friend, in a bigger, homier space sounded better than lonely across the hall. Aside from that pseudo-link between us, I’d finally heard from him after Ty’s confession. Conveniently, he’d made the call around three in the morning when I was in no fit state to hear the phone ring—or answer it. Of course I wasn’t aware of the message until morning. “I wanna apologize. I meant to protect you. Okay, I’m sorry for not trusting you. I should’ve trusted you to handle them. Don’t forget, I’ll be here if you need me.”
Before I could say anything more to Ash about our current situation, Angie’s squeals interrupted the conversation. Thankfully. Because not even I understood what was going on with Dan and I.
* * * * *
Dear Lisa,
I’m going to visit your folks. Wish I hated you… but I don’t. Can’t blame you anymore, only pity you.
Rebecca.
* * * * *
Bryan arrived before I could venture out to my car. He’d come in on his day off—Ty or Dan had to have made him clock in. I struggled between sending him home, or kissing his feet for driving me. Being honest with myself, I wasn’t ready to face my fears. While Bryan took over the wheel, I welcomed the silence during the fifty-minute drive. As the car got closer to the old neighborhood, my heart shrank. The White sign, in the form of a book that read Entering Sudbury incorporated in 1639, stood over a brand new blue pole.
Not much had changed―the same old trees stood on the side of the road. The Fire department on Hudson Road was still white, but the cars inside the parking lot were more modern. The old black mailboxes had been replaced with beige plastic ones; gave a twenty first century touch to the classic city. The Patricks had added a second floor to their one story home, along with a swing, and lick of new color. The old pines had been trimmed, and the flower beds replaced by grass. Not far, the old white ranch house sat. The place looked smaller, and different from the big, bold building that dominated my nightmares. The windows were new. They’d replaced the old green curtains Grandma had made, with white plantation shutters.
After Bryan parked the car, he rang the doorbell, and then opened the car door for me. He pulled me up and handed me my crutches. “I’ll be waiting in the car.” I nodded, measuring the size of the ogre in front of me. I hesitated, and lost my balance. “Are you okay?” I nodded again, unable to find my voice.
Greg opened the front door. His frozen stare sent me into panic mode.
Soften up a little. Let it go. Drop those shoulders and expand the stomach as you breathe. Now breathe in. One, two, three, four, five, and six. Now
release slowly. One, two….
I walked to the door, counting breaths and the steps that carried me to… reclaim a part of myself? His tired, frightening eyes watched my every move.
“Greg.” We came face-to-face, and I supported my weight on my crutches while I waited for him to acknowledge me. He finally nodded, though his wrinkles seemed molded into a permanent scowl. The deep creases on his forehead forged a frown. Those ice-blue eyes reflected pain, and something else―I didn’t allow myself to look deeper.
“Your mom… she’s sleeping.” The sight of the foyer disturbed me. The southwest had assimilated the place. Bright turquoise and soft salmon didn’t agree with the house. “Can you make it to the kitchen?”
I ignored the tone and walked to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat. He offered me a drink, but I declined his offer. He poured himself a cup of coffee, and I managed to stop myself from snatching Grandma’s old mug from him. Her collection of mugs was priceless to me. I should have them, not Mom and her husband.
Let the mug go, Becca.
“Did you tell her?” Guided by his confused glare, I rephrased. “About my visit… or is there an ulterior motive to having me here?”
His gun collection came to mind, followed by the word revenge.
“I prefer to… let’s say I’m interviewing you before you two talk.” He placed his mug on top of a folded napkin.
“Cut the bull.” I raised my voice. “It’s the house, right? You need me to sign the deed. Bring me the papers, and we’ll be done. Plus, you want a piece of me, right? Blood, bone marrow, money… it doesn’t matter. I’ll do it. I’ll give you whatever you want in exchange for peace.”
“I see.” He concentrated on the mug in front of him.
“No, I’m sure you don’t.” I raised my voice after his condescending tone left me cold. It seemed as if he didn’t get what I was asking for. Rage took over and I couldn’t hold my tongue. “Mom never cared about me… Sheesh, you lived with us. Did you know I became her surrogate mother after Grandma died, until you came?” He didn’t look at me, but followed my hand gestures with those blue eyes. “I was eight, and I took care of the bills, and made sure we ate at least once a day. From my perspective, she’s a taker. And, still, I love the woman. Even though she’s a shitty mother and a selfish human being. So I’m willing to give her what she needs. I know I won’t get her acceptance, or gratitude, or love, so all I’m asking for in return are answers. I’m told I need closure. And I definitely deserve some peace.”
Greg shook his head. “Can’t do it—sell the house. I’ve an agreement…” Ah, so the negotiations had started. “…with Tyler’s friend. The boy pays the medical bills and part of our expenses. He covers the salaries for the nurse and a maid. Brightmore even got me a consulting job at my old firm. If you sign over the deed, then he’ll stop everything.”
Daniel overwhelmed me. He upset me, and God I missed him. He understood me so well that he knew I’d take care of Mom regardless. “There’s more than the house. What else did Dan ask for, and what do you want from me?”
“Your mom could die.” His words sounded like nails on metal. “Bone marrow might save her, and you could be a match. If you aren’t… if she dies, then I want her to die in peace. You need to ask her for forgiveness. She loved Lisa so much, and you killed her.” His last words less audible than the rest.
Was he kidding, I had to apologize? I went back to my original question. “What else did Dan ask for?” My voice trembled, but I needed an answer before bolting.
“One, you can’t upset her,” Tyler’s loud voice came from the hallway. “Sorry I’m late. Two, you’ll give her whatever she asks for. And three, her mother will stop blaming Becca for Lisa’s death.” He cocked his head at the phone in his hand. “He’s on the phone. He wants confirmation that the deal is standing. Becca, you decide.”
Dan? I mouthed. Ty nodded. Great he can be on the phone, but not here, next to me.
I shrugged and nodded in agreement. As I stood up, I stared at Greg. Grow a backbone, Rebecca. You have the power. “The next time I visit, she’d better be awake.”
“Help me help you, old man.” Ty handed me my crutches, and then trailed behind me, still chatting to Dan. “Yeah, she’s fine. I made it, don’t be such an ass. No offense, but then you come home and take care of her…. You know I do….”
After Tyler opened the house door for me, I spotted Connor and his son walking towards the house. “Connor, Ryan.” I smiled down at Ryan, trying to gather my strength. “Fancy meeting you here, boys.”
“Mom’s worried.” Connor looked over the cars parked outside the house. More like nosy. I refrained from responding, and began to look for a quick getaway. “There’s never much activity, and with your mom ill…. Well, she thought the worst. Is she okay?”
“Yeah.” I put my crutches in front of me and rested my chin. “I came to visit, but she’s sleeping. How are your parents?”
“They’re fine. You should visit.” He grabbed Ryan and settled him on top of his shoulders. “Your cast is gone, so let’s do coffee tomorrow. We can plan dinner for next Sunday with my parents. They’ll be happy to see you.”
“I—”
“Tyler Sanders.” Ty interrupted me, acknowledging Connor while awkwardly holding his phone in-between us.
“Connor Patrick.” Connor stared at me, clearly at a loss.
“Becca, Dan wants you home. The cast is off, but you’re—” I clenched my teeth and rolled my eyes as he barked yet another order from Dan. “No, don’t give me the face. You should be used to him by now.”
“I’m heading back inside.” Connor began his way home. “I’ll text you tomorrow to set the time.”
“You heard.” Ty continued his phone conversation with Dan. Meanwhile, he opened the front door of the Rover for me, grabbed the crutches, and walked to the driver’s side. “That’s why you have Randy on payroll. I’m heading to your place. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
* * * * *
Confused with Dan’s behavior, I stared outside the window. He cared enough to send Tyler, but not enough to be with me. Upset at his intrusion, yet thankful for his help, my brain became discombobulated. “Who’s the guy?” Ty interrupted my thoughts. “The blond dude with the mini me on top of him. He wants in your pants. I don’t think I like it.”
“Connor.” My vague answer made him take his eyes off the road and give me the benefit of his don’t bull shit me look. “Ian’s big brother. Trust me when I tell you he doesn’t want anywhere near my clothes. He blamed me. Well, his mom did.”
“Stop, Becca.” He turned to glare at me again. “You can’t stop people from committing suicide. They were high. I read the toxicology report. Lisa had cocaine and alcohol in her blood, while Ian’s alcohol levels came out crazy high.”
Those green bloodshot eyes that appeared whenever I closed my eyes. His hot breath, reeking of rum. Burning my skin. The detached stare when Lisa ordered him to—
“The three of you were alone.” Ty pulled me out of the trance. “No adult supervision. And my father never locked up his guns. How’s that your fault? I went crazy when they called and your mother yelled that you killed her baby daughter.” I didn’t like where this was going, Tyler and I never talked about the subject. And I certainly wasn’t going to continue this absurd conversation. But he had other plans. “First, Lisa wasn’t her daughter, and second… well, they had no idea what went on inside their own house. And, worse, they blamed you, a seventeen year old girl. You were their casualty, Becca; you’re still stuck in the past.”
Tyler's comment about me being a casualty took me back to Mom’s famous last words. “‘I wish you were dead! I wish you’d never been born. You killed her. You killed my baby.’” Within seconds, a police officer had handcuffed me and read me the Miranda rights.
“Who’s Randy going to be investigating now?” I changed the topic with all the subtlety of a hammer. The road those memories were taking me would end in nightmar
es if I didn’t stop.
“Cooper Michaels. Cooper Patrick…. Shit. I can’t remember his name.”
“Unbelievable. Why’s he doing…? Never mind.” I growled, and pushing the heels of my hands into my eyes. “The guy lives in Boston. He has a toddler, he’s single, and… he’s harmless.”
“Where does he work? Who’s the mom? How much money is in his checking account? Can he afford the BMW parked in the driveway?” Tyler blurted a few of the questions Randy had been sent to answer. The Private investigator had more connections and assets than the FBI and the CIA combined. “You don’t hold the key to those answers, huh? Dan won’t let him breathe near you until he has every detail of his life.”
I shook my head. It was so Dan to be protective, even when we weren’t friends. The pit of my stomach hurt with the reminder of the friendship I ruined. He was my only family, and I lost him. We transitioned into safer conversations. We discussed the children, Ash, Rosie’s wedding, and Trish’s attempt to move from the Midwest. Boston and LA topped the list of places she might transfer to. Alarms sounded in my head. Without thinking, I pulled out my phone and texted Dan.
Me: Thank you for today, and Mom, and—even when you hate me—being here for me. Can you wave your magic wand for me? Trish is looking for a job in Boston or LA. I can’t have her near me, please. I won’t get mad at you for running a background check on my friend.
Dan: He’s not your friend, be careful. Is Seattle far enough from you, Princess? A friend of mine can hire Trish. I DON’T HATE YOU.
Me: Then why did you abandon me?
My filters failed and I pressed send. Darn, I needed him home.
Dan: I’m working, Becca. I miss you too.
I didn’t miss… how did he know I missed him? My chest began to compress, and tears began to form. I forbid them to show themselves; I was a big girl who no longer used a security blanket―aka Dan.
Where Life Takes You Page 9