Torque

by Shauna Allen

  It was near lunchtime when I glanced up at a soft knock on my office door. “Yes?”

  Fuzzy emotions swarmed through me when Jesse popped his head in. “Hey. Can I come in? You busy?”

  I stood. “Of course you can. I’m never too busy for you.”

  He stepped in and shut the door behind him, bringing with him the distinct scents of grease and man, as well as his signature earthy smell. I smiled and indicated for him to sit.

  He shook his head. “I can’t stay long. I’m supposed to bring the guys back pizza for lunch.”

  “Okay.” I leaned back on my desk. “What’s up?”

  His gaze darted to the wall lined with my legal degrees and awards before he focused back on me. “I’ve been thinking. About last night. I’m tired of feeling like this . . .”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the dirty little boy that Sanders made me believe I was.”

  I stood to reach for him, but he held me off.

  “No. Let me finish.” He shoved his hands into his front pockets. “On a rational level, I understand that I was a helpless victim. Probably not his only one. But on a heart level, I let that event define me, and I’ve hated myself ever since.”

  “Oh, Jesse . . .” Tears filled my eyes, but I let him continue.

  “I don’t want to hate myself anymore. It’s exhausting.”

  “I know.” I stepped in his direction. “Can I hold you now?”

  A tiny smile graced his mouth and I took that as a yes so I grabbed him and held on tight. I hesitated to tell him about the latest developments, but I knew I had to. I lifted my head and met his eyes. “You were right. You’re not the only one.”

  He didn’t flinch. “How many?”

  “Well, besides you and my client, four more men have come forward. I’m pretty sure there will be more.”

  I watched the horror slide across his features, followed by devastating pain. “God.”

  I pressed my lips to his. “I know. Some of them were before you. Some after. It’s nobody’s fault. He’s a monster.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  It was a start.

  “I need to tell my family, Rachel. I’m going over tonight.”

  “Oh. That’s great . . .”

  “I want you to come with me. Will you?”

  I smiled, offering him all my support and love. “Of course I will, baby.”

  Jesse was doing well at hiding it, but by the time we got to his parents’ house that night, he was a nervous wreck. I knew him well enough, knew his body, to feel his tension as if it were my own. I squeezed his hand as we made our way up the walk to the front door.

  His mom greeted us once we walked inside, the scent of something sweet and freshly baked floating in the air.

  “Oh, hello, sweetheart.” She collected Jesse into a hug. “What a nice surprise! I baked a peach pie if you want some.” She drew back and smiled widely at me. “Hi, Rachel. Nice to see you.”

  “Nice to see you, too.” I flicked a glance to Jesse and she followed my gaze.

  “Sweetie?” she asked. “Everything all right?”

  He shook his head. “I need to talk to you and Dad.”

  His serious tone gave her pause, but she got herself together quickly and led us to the living room. “Honey!” she called. “Jesse’s here and he wants to talk to us about something.”

  She smiled nervously at us and I felt sorry for her. She had no idea the revelation that was about to be toppled into her lap. I sat next to Jesse on the couch and he gripped my hand in a deathgrip. I stretched over and kissed his cheek in a show of solidarity. “Your family loves you, babe,” I whispered in his ear. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  He nodded once then focused on his dad when he entered the room. “Son.” Mr. Joyner tipped his chin in greeting and we said hello before he sat in his recliner. He shot a look to his wife as if to ask what this was all about, but she just shrugged.

  “Mom,” Jesse started. “Dad. I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain in the past years, and I’m sorry—”

  “You have nothing to apologize for,” his father interrupted.

  “Yes. I do. I lied to you.”

  “Lied?” his mother echoed.

  I snuggled in as close to his side as I could to provide whatever strength he’d take from me. He gave my hand another squeeze, acknowledging me.

  “Do you remember when I suddenly quit baseball? How I started acting out after that?”

  “Yes.” His mom’s hand unconsciously sought out her husband’s.

  “There was a reason for that. One I’ve hidden all these years.”

  He proceeded to tell them the sugarcoated version of his abuse, sparing them the ugly details he was apparently only going to share with me. But, still, it had to be the most painful thing for a parent to hear. By the time he was done, his mother was openly sobbing and his father had tears pooled in his eyes.

  “Why didn’t you think you could tell us this? We would’ve helped. We could’ve done something,” his father said, his voice rough with emotion.

  “I know, Dad. Please don’t blame yourself.” He glanced at me then back. “I’m sorry to hurt you with all this, but I’ve decided to work with Rachel to press charges against him. He did this to other kids and it’s time to stand up. Time to let everyone know what a monster he is.”

  Mrs. Joyner’s cries became louder as she launched herself into Jesse’s embrace. They murmured apologies and reassurances and love to each other as Mr. Joyner and I looked on. It was heart wrenching and beautiful and so very cathartic.

  Once all the tears were dried, we had peach pie and things seemed different between Jesse and his parents. More peaceful, maybe.

  As we made our way out, Mrs. Joyner pulled me into a tight hug. “Thank you, sweetie.”

  “For what?” I drew back and studied her eyes, so much like Jesse’s.

  “For loving our son.”

  I glanced over to where Jesse was talking quietly with his dad. If he heard her, he gave no indication. “I do, more than I ever thought possible, but you don’t have to thank me. It’s the most natural thing in the world for me.”

  She grinned and clasped both my hands in both of hers. “I’m so glad to hear that. I just knew that when he found someone special to share his life with that I’d love her, too.”

  We hugged again and I fought back the tears. There’d been enough tonight.

  Jesse

  There was just one more thing I had to do before I could bury all the bitterness and ugliness that had been my constant companion since I was a kid.

  Meeting with Rachel and her newest clients, who’d all gone through the same thing, helped tremendously. As did reaching out to a counselor. But I had to do this. For me.

  Bright and early on a Saturday morning a couple weeks later, I stood on the Sanders’ front porch and rang the bell. Strangely, I wasn’t nervous. It was time.

  A small, gray-haired woman answered the door, her wary eyes taking me in from head to toe. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. My name is Jesse Joyner. I was looking for Mr. Sanders. He was my Little League coach eighteen years ago.”

  “He’s not fit for company. I’m his wife. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Suddenly, I saw the pain she kept hidden in her eyes and I felt an instant kinship with her. She’d obviously suffered, too. “Please. I just need to speak to him for a moment.”

  She must’ve sensed something or seen my determination. She swung open the door and ushered me inside. “You can try talking to him, but he doesn’t recall much anymore.” She glanced at me. “You know about his Parkinson’s, don’t you?”

  I nodded and followed her through the cluttered house. It was musty with an overtone of old rose water, a lot like my grandma’s house used to smell. A line of family portraits decorated a long hall as we passed to a back room. So this was what the house of a child molester looked like.

  At the end of
the hallway, she pressed open a door and stepped inside.

  I came in behind her and froze. The man who’d haunted my dreams for years, the source of every one of my nightmares, was nothing more than a pale, emaciated, stooped old man. His stare was vacant as he moved his eyes in our direction, not seeming to see us.

  My stomach turned over on itself and I suddenly had no idea what to say or do. I’d come here to confront him, let him know I would do everything in my power to put a stop to his vile abuse. But it looked like the disease had beaten me to it.

  “He’s got Parkinson’s dementia,” Mrs. Sanders explained. “It’s progressing fast now . . .” She let her words fall off, leaving it unspoken that he was dying.

  I dropped my head as a thousand emotions swam through me. I honestly didn’t know which one to grasp onto first. And, now, all I could feel was relief. I’d purged my secrets and he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else. I was just sorry he’d gotten away with as much as he had.

  “I’m sorry to have bothered you,” I said. “I’ll just go.” I spun away and made my way back to the front door.

  Mrs. Sanders followed me and watched me as I moved down the porch steps. As I reached my bike, I heard her soft words carried on the breeze, “I’m sorry.”

  I took that and rode away, my pain now riding in the backseat instead of shotgun.

  My next stop was perhaps the most important one of the day. I pulled into Rachel’s driveway and found her stooped over her little flowerbed, white shorts hugging her ass, a tight T-shirt hugging her on top as she dug in the dirt. The Indian was parked proudly next to the garage, its brand new cherry red paintjob sparkling in the sun. I hadn’t let Rachel loose on it yet, but she would be ready soon. I couldn’t wait to give her the brand new helmet I’d ordered for her, painted with the words “Jesse’s Girl.”

  She glanced up at my arrival and her smile was instant. Love for this woman rolled through me like a healing balm. She was it for me. She always had been.

  I killed the engine and stood, my eyes locked on hers as she stood.

  “I was hoping you’d come over today,” she said. “You all right?”

  I sauntered her way and smiled at the dirt smudging her nose. “I’m more than all right.”

  “Yeah?” Her grin lit her up from inside out as I grabbed her around the waist.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Her giggle made my day and I kissed her temple. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything. For not giving up on me. Being patient with me.” I ducked my head and kissed her lips. “I love you so much.”

  She opened to me like she always did. Fully and with her whole heart. “That’s good,” she murmured between kisses. “Because I love you, too.”

  Drawing back, I faced her, giving her one hundred percent of my soul. “You saved me, Rachel. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “You saved yourself, Jesse. I just loved you through it.”

  My hands slid down to cup her bottom. “Yeah. You did. And you did a great job.”

  She laughed long and loud then led me inside to show me just how much she really loved me and, yeah, I totally let her.

  Jesse

  About six months later . . .

  Nerves threatened to melt me into a puddle, but I stood strong. After all, I had the woman I loved by my side. But this was no shit. The day I’d been dreaming of for two long years.

  Rachel smiled up at me. I love you, she mouthed.

  I smiled and looked away as Officer Lopez stood from his desk. “You ready?”

  I nodded, swallowing hard.

  “You’ve done good, Joyner,” he said as he knelt down, scissors in hand, with what I would’ve sworn was the tiniest hint of a smile on his gruff face. He easily cut through my ankle monitor band and removed it. “There you go.” He stood and offered me his hand. “Congratulations. You’ve served your sentence. You’re a free man.”

  I took his hand and rose. “Thank you.”

  “How does it feel?” he asked.

  “Uh, I’m not sure yet, honestly.”

  He laughed and I nearly fell out. I never knew he had the capacity for laughter. “You’ll get used to it real quick, trust me. Now get outta here before I slap it back on you. You were one of my best parolees. I’m gonna miss you.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. I gripped Rachel’s hand and tugged her out of that parole office as quick as my feet would carry me.

  I felt strangely naked without the monitor, but I suspected Lopez was right. It was a feeling I could definitely get used to.

  “So what do you want to do first?” Rachel asked with a girlish grin.

  “Hmm . . . well, stay out past ten o’ clock for starters.”

  She laughed as we made our way to my Charger. We slid inside and I glanced at her. “And I want to leave the state just because I can. Maybe the country. I wanna do it all.”

  Weekly sessions with my counselor were starting to pay off. I’d let go of my guilt over what happened to me as a child. Though the nightmares still cropped up from time to time, especially right after Coach Sanders died, I could shut them down, thanks to the woman by my side. I was a victim. Period.

  I’d paid my price. I’d done my time. It was time to move forward and I had big plans for that.

  “Ooh, traveling sounds fantastic,” she said, clicking on her seatbelt, oblivious to my thoughts.

  We rolled out, driving through town and passing her new firm. We’d both taken the day off and I’d promised her we’d celebrate. And we would.

  After gorging ourselves on lobster and oysters and every other seafood we could order from the menu, we sipped drinks on the patio of a little restaurant on the beach, the cool breeze blowing over us. Even with the overhead heaters, Rachel shivered.

  I paid the bill and stood, holding out my hand. “Walk with me?”

  She placed her small hand in mine and I marveled at how right it felt. We strolled down to the beach and watched the sun melt into the horizon in a beautiful orange mass. I tucked her into my warmth against the wind until it was too dark to see her face.

  I took her home, the silence between us sweet and full of promise.

  She unlocked her front door and we stepped inside. Before she could flip on the light, I spun her around so she was caged between me and the door.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, a bit breathless.

  “Kissing my woman.”

  Her murmur of approval met my lips as I delved in, sliding my tongue along hers and kissing her until we were both nearly undone. Her hands raked through my hair, yanking me closer as I dipped to give her neck a love bite.

  “Jesse . . .” My name was a prayer on her lips and my heart soared.

  Clothes fell off as we made our way to her bedroom and I laid her down on the bed to behold her bathed in moonlight. She was stunning. And mine.

  I couldn’t believe how light my heart could feel. It was as if I had a fresh start, a new beginning, and it was all because this woman loved me. She loved me even when I couldn’t love myself and the thought humbled me.

  “What’s wrong?” she said, reaching for me in the dark.

  “Nothing. Not a thing.”

  I crawled up the bed until we were flesh to flesh and then made love to her like I’d never done before. Finally free in every way, I gave her my heart, my body, my soul.

  Later, as she dozed in my arms, I glanced at the clock next to us. It was just after midnight. My new freedom had me grinning in the darkness.

  She lifted her head and propped her chin on my chest. Her ivory skin glowed so beautifully in the moon’s light. “What’s so funny?”

  “I wasn’t laughing.”

  “Well, you’re grinning like a loon. You might was well have laughed, I could feel it all over your body.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I’m just happy, baby. Really, truly, awesomely happy.”

  She kissed my colla
rbone. “I’m glad. You deserve it.”

  “You know what would make me even happier?”

  Her dark eyes met mine and my heart slammed into my throat, full of love for this woman. My body could scarcely contain it. “No. What?”

  I rolled away far enough to find my jeans on the floor and rifled through my pockets until I found what I was after. “This.”

  She glanced down at the small velvet box in my hand then she gasped as her eyes flew to mine. “Jesse . . .”

  I lifted her left hand and laced our fingers together. Just like they should always be. “I love you, Rachel. I don’t ever want to be without you again. Please marry me.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes as they studied our joined hands.

  “Well?” I prompted, suddenly anxious.

  She peered up at me. “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “You gonna let me see that ring first?”

  I laughed and flipped open the box. She didn’t make me wait long for my answer. . . .

  Dear Reader,

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