Burned Bridges: Oliana Mercer Series Prequel (Crossing Series)

by Marguerite Ashton

  “I think it’s one of her songs. I heard her singing it a while back. Do you think she would hurt Oliana?”

  “I’m not sure what to think anymore. I certainly can’t hazard a guess as to what that girl is capable of.”

  I tried Olivia’s phone, but there was no answer.

  Fighting rising panic, I called Dana.

  “Olivia is at Bruce’s house.” Dana’s clipped voice grated my already raw nerves. “He just left to go home.”

  She gave us Bruce’s number.

  Norman called it and asked about Olivia.

  “She was calm and cool when I saw her,” Bruce said. “I wasn’t gone that long.”

  Norman read the poem aloud.

  Stunned silence greeted the poem’s ending. “I’ll be there in about five minutes.” Bruce assured us. “I’ll let you know as soon as I see her.”

  Norman disconnected, pulled me to him and I started to sob.

  “We should go to her.”

  “Hush now, Darlin’. We can’t get there any faster than Bruce can.”

  We were in a holding pattern, impatient, impotent, sitting on our hands waiting for Bruce to call.

  Chapter 32

  We didn’t hear from Bruce again for hours. When the phone rang around midnight, I could hardly understand him. Crying, Bruce said, “You need to get to the hospital quick. It’s Olivia.”

  I hung up and looked at Norman.

  “What hospital?”

  “Rose Memorial,” I said, choking back tears.

  When I told Theresa about the emergency, she came immediately.

  On the way to the hospital, Norman drove so fast I was afraid we were going to be pulled over. My mind reeled with worst-case scenarios. I held on for dear life, sobbing, while Norman drove like a man possessed. As he drove, Norman called Jessie and Kevin and told them where we were headed.

  At the hospital, Norman led the way into the emergency room. We went to the empty check-in station, waiting until a nurse emerged through the double doors.

  “May I help you?”

  “We’re looking for a patient. Olivia Durning.”

  “Yes. I’ll take you back there.”

  We trailed behind her.

  “Wait right here, and I’ll go get the doctor.”

  More minutes had passed before an official-looking woman approached us. “Are you related to Olivia Durning?”

  We nodded.

  “I’m Dr. Reese,” she said, shaking our hands.

  “I’m Dr. Mercer, and this is Traci.”

  “Olivia has suffered a severe case of alcohol poisoning. She choked on her vomit during her blackout which blocked her airway passage, causing a lack of oxygen to her brain. Her left wrist was slit with a very sharp object. I’m guessing a razor blade.”

  My throat thickened with sobs. “What are you saying? Was she in some freak accident?”

  “All evidence points to an attempted suicide.”

  “This can’t be,” I said.

  “Let me assure you that we have ruled out all other possible situations.”

  “How grave is her diagnosis?” Norman asked.

  From what little I could hear, the conversation continued in medical terms.

  Jessie and Kevin negotiated the corner of the E.R. unit. The three of us gathered in a circle and hugged. Bruce came out of Olivia’s room and motioned for me to come to him.

  “Bruce?”

  “She came over to visit Oliana, and I left to run errands. I came back and found her unconscious. She was fine when I left,” Bruce said. “Just fine when I left.”

  After finishing his talk with Dr. Reese, Norman joined the rest of us. “Olivia may not come out of her coma.”

  Jessie buried her face in her hands, her shoulders racked with sobs.

  A few hours had passed before we saw Bruce again. Norman went to talk to him while Kevin searched for hot coffee.

  “I didn’t know she was drinking again,” Jessie said. “I feel as if in some way, I’ve failed her.”

  “Jessie, don’t say that. Olivia’s mother’s the guilty one.”

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

  “The doctor wants to see us,” Norman said.

  We all followed Norman to the ICU. From the look on Dr. Reeves face, I could see this was bad news.

  “Tests show Olivia has no brain activity. The only thing keeping her alive is the respiratory machine that’s breathing for her. There is nothing more we can do. A decision will need to be made by a relative or a spouse.”

  “I’m her husband.” Bruce’s voice was nearly unrecognizable.

  “I’ll give you some time to make a decision,” Dr. Reese said. “You can go in and see her, but I need you to remain calm. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  I covered my mouth to muffle my reaction. Nothing could’ve prepared me for what I saw.

  Dried blood covered Olivia’s forearm and her left wrist was heavily bandaged. The tube going into Olivia’s mouth was connected to the ventilator. Even with the sounds of the machines, everything felt surreal.

  She was so still, so lifeless. I went to her bedside, kissed her forehead, and whispered, “I’ll never forget you.”

  I hugged Bruce and left, weeping silent tears. Norman followed me out.

  “I need to go home and hold my little boy.” I couldn’t escape the hospital fast enough.

  “Traci?” Bruce called.

  I turned.

  “Do you think you could stay with me, while I make this decision? Olivia thought a lot of you.”

  Norman squeezed my hand in silent support. I nodded.

  I went back inside Olivia’s room with Bruce while the others remained out in the waiting room. We sat, silent and sad, for another hour before the doctor came in.

  “Would you like more time to think about it?”

  “Are you sure nothing more can be done?” Bruce asked.

  “There’s nothing,” Dr. Reese said.

  He looked at me.

  “I’ll be here for whatever decision you make,” I said.

  Bruce steepled his fingers together, pressing them against his chin. “Olivia wouldn’t want to be left like this.” He walked up to her bed. “How could you do this to Oliana? To me? To you? You weren’t supposed to leave.”

  Bruce spun on his heels, kicking the chair in his path. “Take her off.” He marched out the room.

  I could understand Bruce needing to leave, but I wasn’t going to. I stayed and watched as they turned off the monitors and removed them from the room. A nurse came back in and removed tubes, lines and resuscitation carts out into the hallway. When she was done, she stepped up to Olivia and took her pulse and blood pressure.

  Finally, she left, and the room went silent. As I folded my hands in my lap, Olivia took her last breath.

  She was gone.

  The weak sunrise shined on Norman and I as we trudged up to my porch and into the house.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” said Theresa. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Can you stay here for a week?” I asked.

  “Certainly.”

  “I’ll pay extra and you can bunk with Daniel in the back room.”

  “Please don’t worry, ma’am. You have enough on your plate.”

  Theresa’s kindness overwhelmed me.

  I sobbed fresh tears.

  Linda refused to pay for Olivia’s memorial service, complaining that she had already buried one child. I took over the funeral arrangements.

  Bruce informed me that Olivia never wanted to be viewed in a casket. The love everyone showed by pitching in, allowed us to honor her wishes.

  We opted for cremation, choosing an urn inspired by nature to hold her ashes. It was adorned with dream catchers and feathers to symbolize that she was now both safe and free.

  On a Thursday, a week after Olivia was pronounced dead, we attended her funeral. The memorial services lasted about an hour with a dinner following. It was our last Thursday dinner as
a tribute to her.

  Her friends from high school and the “bad crowd,” as she would playfully label them, attended. Everyone from group, including some I had never seen, was there as well.

  Afterward, Norman, Kevin, Jessie and I drove to Olivia’s special bridge that she showed me not so long ago and spread her ashes. We figured that would be a good place to let her go.

  Some time passed before I finally had the gumption to get rid of Olivia’s things. Sam kept me company, curled up on what had been Olivia’s blanket.

  While cleaning up, I came across a journal of hers that had my name scribbled on it and the words, “please read,” underneath. Her passing was still too raw for me, and I put it to the side.

  I packed her clothes along with my old ones that she had worn and sent them to a charity house. I gave the dolphin figurine that had been her birthday present to Bruce. It seemed fitting.

  When I finally pulled out of my funk, the room was mine again. It no longer looked as if I expected Olivia to return at any moment.

  After lunch, while Daniel took his nap, I forced myself to find the courage to read Olivia’s journal. I settled into what used to be her spot on the couch, opened the book and began reading.

  It took a minute for the words to come into focus. Everything was a blur. Wiping tears away, I began reading.

  Dear Traci,

  If you’re reading this letter, then I have taken that final step I have failed at for years, and the one thing that brought us together will tear us apart.

  Please don’t blame yourself. You were right, but there was no way I could be held up in a hospital again.

  As for Oliana, please make sure that she’s safe. Bruce has done all he can. If she winds up in the hands of the state, she’ll be tossed back and forth in foster care.

  If you make the decision that I’m hoping you will, Philip has all of the information you will need.

  I’m wishing you the best and pray that you find the love that you deserve with Norman. He loves you and wants you to be in his life.

  Please know that you’ve all been wonderful friends and I’m sorry that it had to end this way.

  If you could do me one last favor, make sure that Oliana never knows who her father was. I want her to have a fresh start and not feel like she was some horrible person. I’d rather have her blame me instead of questioning herself. I’m begging you to keep this one last secret.

  I’m begging you: please let me be the final bridge between the horror of what my brother did to me and the hope the future holds for my daughter. Now that I’m gone let that bridge be burned, setting her free, as I am free.

  All my love,

  Olivia

  I closed the journal and placed it in my attic, in one of my special hiding places. As I came back down the ladder I heard knocking. After I checked the peephole, I almost didn’t open the door.

  I wasn’t going to let her in and stood in the doorway to indicate she was not welcomed. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here because I want my son-in-law’s address. My grandchild needs to be with me.”

  Chapter 33

  “Linda, I don’t know where he lives.”

  “You know something.”

  “Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. I saw how you treated your daughter. Oliana deserves better than growing up with someone like you.”

  “I’m her grandparent, and I have rights.”

  “Then exercise them, because there’s no way I’m letting you get your hands on Oliana.”

  After Linda left, I immediately put in a call to Philip.

  “Olivia thought her mother might try something like this. That’s why she came to me,” Philip said.

  “Where do we go from here?”

  “I’ll file a petition with the court asking for you to be granted temporary custody until you decide what you want to do.”

  “And Linda?”

  “She has rights. She can fight us on this.”

  “What about visitation? Can Linda still visit?”

  “Yes. Until things are legally finalized, you should probably cooperate with her and let her see her granddaughter.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “Look, if she pushes us in court, I’ll push back, asking for supervised visitation with a guardian ad litem. Or with a counselor and refer to her history of child endangerment.”

  My mind reeled, trying to process all pertinent information. “What about Bruce? Have you heard from him?”

  “When I spoke to him earlier this week, he stated that he wants to honor Olivia’s wishes. Right now, he is the one with the final say. He was still married to Olivia at the time of her death, and he’s Oliana’s step-father in the court’s eyes.”

  I hung up, my thoughts and emotions in an uproar. I sat on the edge of my bay window for a while, watching the sun as it peeked from behind the clouds like a child playing peek-a-boo with his parent. Eventually, the sun emerged strong, cloud-free, its bright rays warming the windowpane.

  The next evening Philip called me at work with some news.

  “Our court date is set for this Friday at 9:00 a.m. at the family courts. See you there.”

  I thanked Philip and called Norman on the way home. He had just finished his shift and said he was looking forward to seeing me when I got to the house.

  When I arrived, Theresa’s car was gone. I could smell smothered pork chops cooking in the oven. “Where’s Daniel?”

  Norman came out of the kitchen. “With Theresa. They should be back in a bit. In the meantime, supper is cooking. It will be ready in about an hour.”

  I felt as if I was living a mini-daydream. In it, I had found someone I looked forward to seeing. The two of us having a nice meal together, discussing our day. It was beyond perfect. Just coming home to someone who loved me for me—made me happy.

  Norman checked the pork chops and closed the oven. “We’ve got another forty minutes before super. What would you like to do?”

  His sweet, gentle southern drawl washed over me like hands caressing my bare skin, awakening the suppressed passion that tingled in my loins.

  Norman’s clear blue eyes drew me toward him; He pulled me into an embrace and held me. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “I want you to stay.”

  He led me into my room and lit the lavender scented candles. Rose petals covered the floor, dresser, and bed as soft country music played in the background. He pulled me to him, slowly dancing to the music. I anticipated his touch and drank in his presence, immersing myself in the wonderful moment.

  After our dance, he kissed me softly, lay back on my bed and pulled me down on top of him. He began unbuttoning my blouse.

  I grasped his hand. “Does it bother you that I have scars?”

  “Darlin’, everyone has scars.” Norman smiled, sober and strong. “I don’t care about your scars. I care about what’s in here,” he said, pointing to my heart.

  He finished undressing me, and without hesitation, I gave myself to the man I loved.

  He was gentle, moving inside of me with an invigorating tenderness I’d never experienced before. Soon, I was caught up in the rapture of orgasm. He joined me not long after.

  We laid next to each, looked up at the ceiling and exhaled.

  Suddenly, a shrill, electronic shriek pierced the stillness.

  “Shoot, my pork chops,” Norman said, jumping out of bed and putting on his boxers.

  Norman charged out of the room. I put on my robe to see if I could help, but it was too late. Smoke filled the kitchen, setting off the other smoke alarms in the house. Sam barked but remained in the other room.

  I went around, opening the kitchen windows while Norman tried to save the charred meat in the casserole dish

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the charred meat as he put down the casserole dish.

  “Looks like we’ll have to order out,” he said.

  On Friday, Norman and I attended the hearing. It felt as if we were repeati
ng the past, only this time it was to fight for Oliana.

  Linda cast sharp glances at me, determined to have the judge rule that her granddaughter would be going home with her.

  “Because of the circumstances, I will grant the petitioner’s request with the stipulation that her maternal grandparents are allowed visitation on every other Saturday.”

  I wasn’t happy with the judge’s ruling to allow the visitation but accepted his decision so I could get things together for my family and find peace.

  “Don’t worry,” Philip said, “This is more than I was expecting. Go home and Bruce will drop Oliana off at your house.”

  Back at the house, Norman helped me fix up the guest room. Olivia’s guitar was propped against the dresser, next to the memory box that held Oliana’s picture.

  A lady from social services stopped by and conducted an in-home interview. Afterward, I filled out some paperwork while she went around and evaluated Oliana’s new surroundings.

  The social worker said, “From what I’ve learned, Oliana was shielded from her mother’s behavioral issues.” She left us with a phone number to call if we had any questions.

  Late in the afternoon, Bruce arrived with Oliana. The striking resemblance to her mother stopped me in my tracks. She had the same brown hair, only it rested on top of her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face and brown eyes.

  Bruce set the girl’s backpack down next to the coat rack and helped her to shed her jacket. She wrapped her arms around Bruce’s waist, clinging to him.

  “It’s okay Oli. This is Mommy’s good friend. She wanted Traci to be your new Mommy. Remember, we talked about this?”

  Oliana nodded and slowly let go.

  “You can call me whatever name you like,” I said, reaching out my hand.

  “Can I start with Ms. Traci?”

  “You sure can. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  She gazed at me for a long moment before I saw a look of approval in her eyes. Oliana placed her smaller hand in mine and squeezed.

  Bruce lowered himself in front of her. “Promise me that you’ll be good for Ms. Traci and get all A’s in school.”