Irresistibly Undeniable

by Zoey Derrick

  I have to get away, find my head and most importantly, find out who I am. What happened last week was too much for me to handle, coupled with the betrayal of my own mother’s trust, I just need some space.

  I know you’re capable of it, but please, don’t track me down, don’t follow me. When I’m ready, I will come back to you.

  Please remember, I love you, always have, always will.

  Yours,

  Ireland

  Byron cancelled our flight plans. I stayed in Phoenix, waiting, hoping.

  Chapter 62

  IRELAND

  “Shut Up & Drive” - Rihanna

  “Oh my god, Dusty, look at her,” I coo as I pick my niece up out of the bassinet in my sister-in-law’s hospital suite. “She’s absolutely perfect.”

  The smile on my face is the first real one I’ve worn in quite a while, and it’s all thanks to Dusty, Anna and the newest addition to our family.

  “What are you going to name her?” I ask them both.

  They look at each other and Dusty nods before sharing, “Emma Lauren.”

  I smile at the mention of my mother’s name and look back at little Emma. “She is totally an Emma.”

  I still haven’t opened the other package. I can’t bring myself to do it. I’m hoping after this trip to finally find the courage to do it. When Dusty emailed me, I had to come.

  Anna is being discharged tomorrow and I don’t want to intrude on them getting home and getting settled so I stopped by on my way to my hotel. I have some things to do tomorrow while I’m in town and tomorrow will be a good day to do it while they get settled, then I’ll stop by before I finally take off.

  I spend an hour with Emma, Anna and Dusty before I leave the hospital. I get nearly to the elevator when Dusty catches up to me. “What’s going on with you?” he asks, his tone accusatory and I don’t like it.

  “Nothing, why?”

  “You look like shit.”

  “Thanks, brother, I appreciate that.”

  “No, Vy, I mean it. You don’t look so good. What’s going on?”

  “Honestly, Dusty, I’m fine. I just need some time to deal with things,” I tell him by way of an explanation.

  “Is this about mom? About the will?”

  I glare at him. “No, Dusty, it’s not. You and Anna need the money. I don’t,” I state simply.

  “If you’re here and you weren’t in Phoenix when I got in touch with you, where were you?”

  “I was in Vancouver.”

  “What were you doing up there? Didn’t you start a new job a couple weeks ago?”

  I pull in a deep breath. “It didn’t work out.”

  “So what are you doing running to Canada?” The big brother is here, being a dick.

  “I needed to get away,” I tell him.

  “This doesn’t sound like you.” His tone softens.

  “I know, but I needed some space. I’m gonna hang around here for a couple days, let you and Anna get settled at home and then I’m going to go home for a while.”

  “Back to Phoenix?”

  I shake my head. “No, Joplin. I want to finish cleaning out the house.”

  “That’s something we were going to do together,” he says.

  “When, Dusty? You’ve got Anna and the baby to take care of. Let me handle it. I’ll get it cleaned out and then when it’s done we’ll both have a nice vacation spot to go to.”

  He smiles. “I like that idea, but you don’t want to sell it? Get some of the money from it?”

  I shake my head. “Not at all. It’s mom’s house, it’s where we grew up. It needs to stay in the family.”

  He nods, the smile still on his face. “Go back to Anna. Keep me posted on what’s going on tomorrow and let me know when you guys are home. I’ll come over on Sunday and see you guys, give you guys a break and hang out with Emma, okay?”

  “I’d like that.” He wraps me in an awkward Dusty hug and he returns to his wife and baby girl. I get on the elevator and leave the hospital in a cab for my hotel room.

  Chapter 63

  Ireland

  Three Weeks Later

  “Monster” - Eminem ft. Rihanna

  “Broken” - Seether ft. Amy Lee

  Being back in Joplin has been weird.

  Everyone seems to remember the fiery redhead who used to roam the streets of Joplin and I get recognized everywhere I go, but I try and ignore them all as best I can. Today I was in the grocery store and ran into two old friends from high school. Both of them pregnant, at least eight months. One with her first, the other – not surprisingly – with her third. It was good to see them, but I like my happy little seclusion in my house on the outskirts of town. Especially considering most conversations start with, “Sorry to hear about your mom.” I’ve heard enough sympathy to last me a lifetime. But it’s to be expected in a town this small.

  I’m back at the house, unpacking my groceries and about to step into mom’s old room.

  So far I’ve managed to clean up every room in the house, but hers. I even replaced some of the furniture, giving it a much more updated look than what we had before. After I’ve finished each room, I’ve been painting before putting things back where they belong. It’s busy work, but it’s good. Though each day I grow tired more quickly and I can’t understand why.

  I’ve been saving her room for last. I guess it is my way of putting off the inevitable. I know if I’m going to find anything out about my father, this is where it’s going to be and I’m out of rooms to work on, so here goes.

  I’ve been sleeping in my old room on my old full-size mattress and it brings back so many memories of life with my mom. I wake with a dull ache in my chest every day. The first day was the worst. It reminded me of when I stayed here during summer break between my sophomore and junior years in college. It was weird to be home for so long, but it was nice to reconnect with mom. We hadn’t had that in a couple years because I’d chosen to stay in Phoenix during summer break, but I’d taken that one off and spent it here. Each day has gotten a little easier, but it still hurts.

  Stepping into my mother’s room is like déjà vu all over again. It hasn’t changed much since I was a kid. I remember running in here on Saturday mornings and jumping up on the bed, snuggling with my mom. The memory brings a tear and a smile to my face. It’s like watching it all on television. I can see her and I, snuggled on the bed until the inevitable tickle fest ensued. Remembering things like that reminds me I was really loved as a kid and no matter who my father is or was it shouldn’t matter.

  I became a payout to him and nothing more. That hurts, no matter how I try and slice it.

  I start with the bed, stripping off the linens, then move to the curtains and pulling those down before I take them down to be washed. The house hasn’t been empty for too long, but it’s been long enough that some dust has piled up. It took two days and four cans of air freshener to get the musty smell out of the house. Despite being winter, it still smelled gross at first.

  Once the soft stuff is in the laundry, I move on to her closet, grabbing a trash bag from the box, and bringing it with me. So far, I’ve donated all the clothes I’ve come across. My room was pretty barren because I took most everything to college with me. Dusty’s was a mess that should never be touched again. I cleaned it up, took out his clothes, but I promised him I’d leave everything else for him to go through when he comes down.

  In the closet, my mother had a wide variety of clothes that shouldn’t have been worn in twenty-sixteen, but my mother was never a fashion trend setter. In the back of the closet, I come across a couple of garment bags hanging in the closet. I pull them out and lay them across the mattress before dusting them off and unzipping the first one.

  Tears slide down my face when I see my mother’s wedding dress. I’ve seen the pictures my whole life. Those pictures were never hidden and now that I know the truth, or at least some semblance of it, the pictures are clearer. There are pictures of my mom pregnant with her husban
d, but the dates are impossible to tell. There are no pictures of Dusty with his father.

  “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty,” I mutter and zip the bag back up and carry it into my room. This is going to come back with me to Phoenix. I may never wear it, but I want to keep it.

  The other bag has a slinky black dress in it and I scold, “Mom. You little tease you.”

  The dress is hot and I hold it up to my body. It would totally fit if it weren’t for the boobs. Then again, yup, keeping this one too.

  Once both the bags are safely stowed in my room, I return to the closet and the items on the top shelf. Most of which are shoe boxes that contain shoes. I don’t even bother drooling because mom and I were not the same size what so ever. In the middle of the pile, I pull out a non-descript, shoe box that is significantly heavier than the rest of them and when I shake it, it doesn’t sound like shoes.

  I set all the boxes down on the table I set up and lift the lid on the heavy box. On top is a plain white envelope with one word written on it in her elegant script.

  Ireland

  This is it. This is what I’ve been searching for since coming back to the house. But can I bring myself to open it?

  No, I can’t. I walk the box downstairs to the coffee table and add it to the other stuff I have from her- the cards, the letter the attorney gave me after she died and a few things from my childhood that likely don’t hold many clues, but it might hold something I’ve forgotten along the way. And old journals of mine.

  I stare at the box for longer than I should before returning to her room to finish what I started.

  Dinner time rolls around and my stomach rolls. I take one last look around mom’s room. It’s as clean as it’s ever going to get. The curtains are rehung, the bed remade. I didn’t repaint in here. I couldn’t bring myself to do it and frankly, it doesn’t need it. She’d just redone it a couple years ago. Satisfied with my work, I turn off the lights and close the door and head into the bathroom. I need to shower and clean myself up.

  In all honesty, I’m avoiding what’s sitting downstairs waiting for me.

  After showering and eating an awful dinner of a sandwich, chips and a coke, I can’t put it off any longer. I need to open this shit up. I need to stop running from my past and face the truth that has been laid out before me. Right? I can do this.

  With a new bottle of wine, a glass and a little courage, I sit down and reach for the letter from the attorney.

  I bypass the outside inscription and slide my finger under the flap.

  I pull out a single sheet of paper, disappointed. I was hoping for more. I unfold it.

  My Vyolet,

  I know you’re angry with me for making changes to the will and leaving you out. You have every right to be, but as the note on the outside says, you’ll be taken care of, in time.

  As you read this, people are scrambling to figure out how best to tell you all the words I never could. So please, when the time comes, listen to what they have to say. For the truth is all in there.

  But first, go into my room, into my closet and find the brown box, in the middle of all the shoes. There you will find all the answers that you seek.

  You’re forever my beautiful Vyolet. I am sorry I hurt you and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, one day. I love you, baby. Always have and I always will.

  Mom

  I have to read it twice because I keep getting blinded by the tears as they form in my eyes and drip down on to the letter as I read it.

  I move the letter aside and go for the brown box sitting in the middle of the coffee table and I pull it into my lap, lifting the lid and pulling the letter on top from the box. Underneath it, there’s a picture, it’s faded and worn, but it’s a sonogram picture.

  In the upper right hand corner it says:

  Baby Enders – Lauren McKidd.

  I pull in a deep breath and open the letter that was on top. This one is many pages long, hand written by my mother.

  Ireland,

  If you’re reading this, either you’ve turned twenty-five and I’ve given you the box, or I’m no longer with you. If the latter is true, baby, I am so sorry we never got to have this discussion. I promised some people that until you reached the age of twenty-five, I would keep this from you and it’s a secret that has hurt me everyday since you were old enough to understand. But I knew, in time, you’d learn the truth and that I would be here to help you through it.

  If I’m not, I hope this box will be enough to help you understand better.

  When I was eighteen, I married Dusty’s father. I was young, in love and wanted so bad to have the American dream of a white picket fence, two beautiful children and the life of a mom. When I was seven months pregnant with Dusty, his father was killed in a random robbery in New York City, which is where we’re from.

  When he died, I was left with a small child to raise on my own and I had to go back to work. I found a job at Bold International, Inc. as an assistant to the company’s CEO and owner, Robert Enders. Bobby treated me like a queen. Gave me everything I needed and wanted without even having to ask for it. When Dusty was sick, I got the time off I needed. I was young, naïve and I thought I was falling in love with my boss.

  After several months of working there, I approached Bobby and thus began an affair that would last for several months. I knew he was married, and I knew it was wrong, but I told myself I really truly loved this man and I needed to be with him. At the time, I didn’t know Robert had a family back in California. I just knew he was married.

  Our affair began and then a few months into it, you happened. I was pregnant with you and Bobby didn’t handle it so well. Though our affair continued for some time after finding out I was pregnant, it didn’t take Bobby long to return to California. It was at that time I learned of his other family, though I didn’t have details, I just knew I would never have the great love of my life back. I was angry, I felt betrayed and I felt like the man owed me something for getting me pregnant, but when I felt you kick for the first time, I no longer cared about any of that. I could have blown the lid on him, but I didn’t. I kept quiet and went about my life until you were born.

  When you were born, Bobby stepped up, though not as a father figure but as a source of financial stability for you, me and for Dusty. I hated that that was what he’d become, but I had what I always wanted. Two beautiful children and my life, with or without him, was complete. I just needed a little help getting there and he was all too willing to provide it to me without a second thought. I learned a little later on in life that he truly did care about you and about me, but at that time, I wasn’t ready or willing to let him back into our lives. I don’t think that’s a path I could have or would have ever gone down. So in a way, it is my fault that you don’t know your father like a woman should, but I did what I believed to be best for all of us.

  When you were two, I moved you and your brother out of New York and to Joplin, Missouri to start over.

  Here I started fresh with the two of you. I used money from Bobby to buy the house, and then proceeded to do what I should have done. I started working and taking care of our family. The money came in monthly like clockwork and every month, I banked that money, putting it away for when you would graduate high school. That money is how I was able to pay for you to go to college debt free. I know it’s no consolation for not knowing the truth, but I want you to understand that I honestly believe the fiery spirit you have is because he wasn’t a part of your life. I don’t hate him, I should, but I don’t and you shouldn’t either. He gave me the best part of my life, you.

  I know it won’t be easy for you to accept this reality, but if it comes because I’m no longer with you, then please know I would support whatever decision you decide on. Whether your choice is to accept him or reject him.

  If I am still here, please, forgive me. I only ever wanted what was best for you, and what I did was what I thought best. Talking about your father has never been a discussion point
for us, so I hope I’ve given you a life worth living with or without him in your life.

  Remember, Ireland, I love you, with all my heart, and all my soul. I will always be with you, no matter how far away I may seem at times.

  Inside this box you will find letters Bobby and I exchanged over the years when he would reach out to check on you. I always saved his letters and copied mine so that one day you would be able to have them to read for yourself. Trust me, this will be a lot to take in, so take baby steps, sweetheart.

  Love you always & forever,

  Mom

  Every ounce of anger I felt for my mother washes away in the blink of my eyes, along with the tears streaming down my face.

  Chapter 64

  Dyson

  “It’s Not Over” - Daughtry

  Life officially sucks ass.

  Wake up, get dressed, work, come home, undress, shower, sleep. Rinse and repeat.

  Ireland has been gone for six weeks without a trace. Without a word. My phone calls go unanswered, my emails go unanswered and I’ve put off calling Dusty as long as I can. I can’t take it anymore.

  I’d programmed his number in my phone and I find his name. After a moment of hesitation, I find it in me to press the phone button.

  It rings, rings again, and by the third ring I’m about to hang up when I hear, “Hello?”

  Finally. “If I were to call you Dirty-D, would you know who this is?”

  There’s a roar of laughter through the phone. “Fucking vacuum cleaner, how the hell are you?”

  For the first time in six weeks, I smile. “I’m good man, could be better, but I’m surviving.”