by Marie Wathen
“It’s really, really late. I know that Julia must be completely freaking out so I’m going home. If you have more questions call me later but I’m done!” I shriek.
“Breesan.” Marcus’ tone is soothing.
I shake my head, refusing to look at him. “No,” I whisper.
Panic shoots through me and I reach the doorknob, twist it open, and quickly exit his room. I can’t take his pity. I inhale sharply and sobs began to fill my chest. I hold them until I reached the parking lot. I cry because I’m the reason Marcus is in that hospital bed; I cry because if he hadn’t been there that guy could have done very bad things to me; I cry because they were all looking at me with concern and I don’t deserve their care or worry.
I race the half lit hospital parking deck and take the stairs rather than wait for the elevator since my car is parked on the second level. It’s practically vacant except for a few cars parked in the doctor’s spaces and the unoccupied security cart parked on the first level. My nerves are frazzled. I have my arms wrapped around my stomach and I’m wiping the tears as fast as they come.
I take the stairs two at a time until I reach the second level access door. I pull on the handle but it won’t budge. I hear a scrapping sound coming from below me on the first level, followed by quick footsteps echoing off the walls. Again I tug on the door, harder this time, but it’s completely jammed. I decide to go up to the next level and then take the elevator back down to two.
When I reach the door on level three and try the handle, I am again disappointed because it’s also locked. Panic begins to rush through me, causing my body to seize up. I’m completely immobile and the heavy footsteps, now running up, are getting closer. I shift into the dark corner, sliding my back against the wall. I need to calm my heartbeat and breathing; just as I close my eyes, something moves in front of me. It slams into my leg, causing me to scream. While thrashing both my arms and legs to get whatever it is away from me, I successfully knock it down the stairs. Abruptly the footsteps stop.
My chest feels like it is about to explode with fear. Adrenaline bursts through me so I quickly climb the rest of the flights of stairs in search of the rooftop access. As I reach the door, I pray it’s open. One hard push and the door swings out, but suddenly I’m jerked away from it then pushed against the railing, nearly falling backwards down the steps. The hand spins me around and I come face to face with an angry Tristan.
“What the hell are you trying to do to me girl? I nearly had a heart attack when I couldn’t find you in the lobby. Why would you run away from me like you did?” He is panting and breathing as hard as I am.
“And why the hell did you kick that poor cat down the stairs at me?”
Laughing at me, Tristan bends at the waist, releasing a deep howl but I don’t find the humor in having the shit scared out of me. His echoing laughter becomes contagious and finally I join in with him. Relief finally filling his features, he moves toward me, wraps me in his arms, and holds me tightly to his chest. I lose it, my tears are hard and I am clearly ugly crying. He only shushes me and holds me until I stop.
“Let’s get out of this creepy ass stairway. Why the hell would you even think about taking the stairs in an empty parking deck on a dark night like tonight?” He has his arm around me and we are walking toward the elevator together.
“Oh didn’t you know? I’m a dumb ass.” We both laugh and continue until he safely has me seated in my car and verifies I’ve locked my door.
I wave goodbye and pull out of the parking deck. I notice a black sedan parked on the street at the exit starts up and begins following me. I know that it’s only my left over adrenaline that has me on edge, but I suddenly feel like it’s following me. I turn at the next light, which is off my route to get home. The sedan copies my turn. I debate on letting it pass me or pulling over but then I think it might be the creepy guy who hurt Marcus. I decide that it would be best if I drive to the closest gas station or business that is open and see what the driver does.
I make it two blocks before spotting the SavUrCash gas station and signal my intention to turn in. The driver accelerates and passes me, too quickly for me to see him. I let out the breath I’d been holding for the past minute when suddenly my phone chirps with a new text message. I sit a minute, settling my nerves and then open it. Three words and my heart stops, and then stutters back to beating again.
UNKNOWN CALLER: FEAR & TERROR @Google!!!!
I think I drove on autopilot all the way home. I’m sitting in my driveway, my heart beating erratically in my chest, and my hands shaking uncontrollably. I think I’m having another one of my damn panic attacks. Shit, I left my medicine on the bathroom counter. I lift my eyes to the sky praying that I can stay in control tonight. After receiving such a vague message, I’m not sure that’s possible. Who sent me these weird freaking text messages? The number is restricted and no one I know would try to mess with me. More important than the text messages is the guy in the parking lot that claimed he knew me, but I clearly saw through his lies. It’s creepy but I didn’t want to admit to Tristan and Marcus that I think I’ve seen him before – not that I did any of the sick things he said we did – but he was familiar. I have been racking my mind trying to remember where I’ve seen him. Could the text messages and the guy mean anything or am I just being paranoid? Nothing strange like this has ever happened to me, so why is it that these two things happen on the same weekend?
Climbing out of my car, I slowly walk in the dark house. Julia has probably been asleep for a couple of hours already. I glance up the stairs that lead to my room. Instead of going up, I sneak down the hallway to my dad’s study. It has been locked since the day he left for deployment but I know there’s a spare key above the doorframe. Reaching up, I slide my hand over the top of the door, quickly finding it. I twist the lock open and shove against the door. It’s dark but I keep the lights off. With the rain over and the clouds gone, the moonlight gives more than enough light for me to see.
Of course Julia has forbidden me to come in here, but I’ve been in here many times when she is away. Standing in front of the desk at the window, I pick up the picture frame displaying a curly haired little girl in a pink dress dancing with an older man. She is mid-twirl holding his large finger; they both have the most enchanting smiles. Instantly, my mind transports back. Sadly, I remember it is literally the last happy day of my life, so I quickly stop the memory.
Dad left me here with no one in this world to love me or care if I was happy ever again. Living like this for so long, I’m sick of being so damn miserable. I have to get some answers, but the only person who knows anything refuses everything I ask of her. Why won’t Julia tell me about my dad’s family? She was always so open about details when I asked about my mother but gives me nothing about my dad. I only want to know more about him and his family. I don’t remember meeting my grandparents. Could they still be alive?
Jolted by the exciting thoughts of living relatives, I fumble, dropping the picture and it shatters on the floor. Panic ensues but I inch back, avoiding the glass near my feet. Sadly, I stare at the destruction and feel the pain of my busted world. Bending over, I shake the shards loose from the picture frame. I notice a slip of paper fall. I pick it up and hold it under the moonlight. Reading four numbers, I wonder what the significance of hiding it is since the numbers are my birthday, with the last two digits of the year separated by a dash. Silently, I sit in his chair staring at the paper for a long time. No answers come. Positive he could never forget my birthday, I am literally dumbfounded by what it could mean. I get angry at him for leaving something so stupid behind for me to find. Why did he hide that damn date?
“What’s the value in the number Dad?” I whisper in the dark.
Eerily illuminated fully by moonlight, my eyes glance to the bookshelf housing some of my most cherished memories. Standing, I carefully pass over the glass and reach for one of my favorite fairytales, it’s an early edition Sleeping Beauty. Slowly, I flip the pa
ges and a tightening in my chest signals how much I miss my dad. A silent tear slips down my cheek. No longer interested in being here, I stretch up and return the book to the shelf. Against the back wall,] I see there’s something hidden behind the remaining books. Curious, I move another book and then another, revealing a combination safe lock.
Clarity of what I hold in my hand hits me, and I move quickly. Determining my need for answers outweighs his secrets, I shove shit out of the way. I spin the combination rapidly. Reaching the last number, the seal pops on the safe. I freeze and swallow back my anxiousness. Digging into the safe, I see stacks of bound papers, a velvet box, and a couple of small handguns lying under a thick envelope. Pulling out the envelope, I see my dad’s name along with my own handwritten on it. I remove the clip holding it closed. Shuffling through the stapled papers inside, I see my name typed on a property deed for land here on the island. Keeping it securely attached, I flip it up and look through some more. After a few more pages I freeze, finding my birth certificate among them.
My breathing begins to speed up and I feel like I may hyperventilate. Oddly, my parent’s family information is omitted. The only information I’m not familiar with is my mother’s maiden name, Madison. Why is my mother listed as Casandria Madison instead of Casandria Maxwell on my birth certificate? Weren’t my parents married before I was born? I never even thought about it before this moment. I didn’t know my mother’s maiden is also my middle name. I wonder why Julia never shared that information with me.
The sound of a throat clearing startles me and I drop the folder I’m holding. The overhead light comes on, and standing in the doorway is one angry Julia.
“Why are you in here Breesan?” Her words are almost inhuman.
“I came in here to feel close to my dad Julia,” I snap in defense, quickly shutting the safe.
“All of this crap is what’s left of your father’s things. I haven’t been in here since he left us.”
Left us? She says it like his deployment was his choice. She has the same look on her face she always gets when she talks about my dad, but what I have always thought was sadness now appears to be disdain. Disgusted by her, I choose not to listen to anymore. Walking past her toward the door, she snags me by the arm causing me to falter. I yank away from her piercing grip; facing her, I’m ready for anything she thinks she can do to me.
I’m no longer a child and won’t tolerate her nastiness anymore. My fists clamping tight, I stand ready to strike. She glances down. Noticing the papers in my hands, she violently snatches them away.
“Dammit, what are you doing?” I snap, stumbling backward.
“It looks like you found what I’ve spent years looking for. Thanks.” she retorts, walking out the study door casually.
Chasing after her, I grab her arm, forcibly spinning her around. “Those papers have my name on them. Give them back to me now,” I demand. She laughs wickedly, raking her eyes over me. I see a familiar, evil glint in her eyes and know she will not relent.
“Whatever your dad left is mine. You want back what has your name on it? You can have it after your birthday. Until then I’ll just keep it safe with me.” Smirking, she jerks her arm away and strolls down the hallway, leaving me staring after her.
Shaking from this incident and everything that happened today, I take several deep cleansing breaths then slide down the wall to the floor. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I sit staring at the floor with one hand digging into my hair. I’m not a fucking idiot, birthday or not, she won’t give those papers back. She lives to piss me off daily and giving those back will ruin her perfect streak. That evil bitch is keeping shit from me and I vow that no matter what it takes, I’m going to find out just what the hell it is and when I do, she really will regret it.
Chapter 10
Morgan
Walking into the kitchen, I attempt to wipe away the sleep from my face with my hand. I make my way over to the lovely beauty that is cooking my breakfast, wrap my arms around her, and tug her tight against my chest. Looking over her shoulder, I notice the bacon filled skillet. I drop a kiss on her cheek, stepping back as she turns around. Her face breaks out into the most beautiful smile and my heart warms.
“Good morning Sweetheart. Did you come in late again?” she asks sweetly.
“Yes ma’am, I met up with friends and got in around four.” I wince and crinkle my nose at the thought of angering her with my honesty. She shakes her head and begins scooping the bacon out of the pan. She places several pieces on a plate already filled with fresh fruit and a cathead biscuit with a small bowl of gravy beside it. I laugh at the amount of food she expects me to eat and begin to dig in. She reaches around and slaps the top of my hand with her tiny frail one.
“Morgan Asher Walker, I know you weren’t going to eat that food before blessing it, were you?” My fork, filled with a heap of gravy biscuit, is poised at my open mouth and I promptly place it back on my plate to offer a thank you to God. She smirks and lifts one eyebrow at me, offering a feminine grunt of disapproval.
“Sorry Gran. This is terrific. Where’s Granddad this morning?” I ask.
“He’s back in the study on the phone with your father. According to Barret, they should be arriving in town next week. That is if there aren’t any delays at the Canadian office. It will be nice to have everyone home for a change. I missed not having you here last summer. Since you’re home and settled I have something I want to discuss with you.
“Is everything alright? Is it Granddad?” I rush my words.
“No son, everything is not alright, but it’s not your Granddad I want to discuss. It’s you and your brother.” She looks at me with determination. As much as I do not want to talk about Marcus, I know she will not stand for me to dismiss her concern.
“If I promise to speak with Marcus today will you hold off on your concerns about our relationship?” I hope I can delay her butting in with the situation between me and my twin.
“Oh hon. Marcus got hurt last night and is in the hospital. The doctor has released him and Tristan is bringing him here now. I’m sorry. I thought someone would have told you last night.” She is genuinely sorrowful on passing along this information to me this way.
“Don’t worry about it Gran. He’s ok then? I’m guessing since the doctor released him that it wasn’t anything major,” I calmly ask.
“He has some bad bruising on his face and a cut on his chest, but they said all he needed was a few stitches and some rest. That’s why he’s coming here. I insist that he stays where I can keep an eye on him and make sure he gets that rest. Now, you...” She’s pointing at me and has a very serious look on her face, “you are going to find some time very soon, perhaps today, and work out whatever has come between you two. Do I make myself clear?” I would never disrespect my Gran, and lying to her would certainly be disrespecting her so I have to do this with finesse.
“You know I’ll do anything for my special lady.” I wink. Before I can change the subject, I hear voices coming down the hallway toward us.
Tristan escorts Marcus into the kitchen, joining Gran and I. He glances at me but turns and acknowledges only Gran. He embraces her and she promptly insists he sit down. There is a three-way conversation that does not include me, yet I find that I don’t need to be a participant. Topics range from the corporation to the party that Gran has agreed to host for Tristan’s graduating class. Finally, I decide to excuse myself from the uncomfortable and unwanted looks I am attracting from Marcus.
“Before you leave can I have a word with you?” Tristan asks. I nod and he follows me into the family room. It’s a large room filled with years of Walker family memories. Memories of an amazing childhood that include my estranged brother, who is currently in the same house with me at the moment but feels millions of miles farther than that.
“Sorry I didn’t call last night. When I mentioned it, Mac said not to bother you. Are y’all ever going to get past this shit already? Fuck almighty. He could have been kil
led last night. If he had, the guilt would have eaten you alive Morg.” I refuse to look at him.
Instead of acknowledging Tristan, I study a candid photo of the three of us taken just before the move to England. In the picture we’re sitting in red bleachers, wearing matching baseball caps and jerseys, and eating hot dogs. We had flown into Birmingham and were at the Baron’s season opening game. Our parents kept season passes and we had a family box to watch the games in comfort, but we insisted on being down by the third baseline.
Everyone thinks that behind home plate is the best seats at a baseball game, but the prime real estate is the spot between third and home. When a runner is rushing home and slides headfirst to secure a score or the win, this seating offers the best view. Plus, most of the best players in the major leagues were the pitchers, third basemen or shortstops. Tristan, Marcus and I were best friends during this time, a simpler time long ago. The memory fades as I feel a strong hand grasp my shoulder. I look away from the photo to a stressed out Tristan.
“Cut the shit, go back in there and talk to him.” His jaw is twitching from the anger he is fighting to restrain. I shake my head, wordlessly responding with no. Disappointment fills his features. “Fine, but he stays here. Sam’s gone out of town and he really shouldn’t be alone right now.”
“It shouldn’t be a problem. I’m not going to be around much. I have meetings planned with dad and the board members over the next few weeks. Then a company trip out of town scheduled at the end of the month. Speaking of which, when are you moving into your office? You know Granddad is planning for all of us to be working together this summer. I’m sure Beck is overjoyed, he’s expecting you there too,” I say, effectively changing the subject to his father gets his mind off of my problems with Marcus. He moves toward the doorway with a distant look in his eyes. My subject change was indeed effective; he’s dropping this conversation and leaving now.
“Yeah, work out some time to talk to Mac. By the way, he was protecting Breesan when he got injured. I’ll see you later.” My heart hammers hard in my chest. Fuck. He didn’t say she was injured and I know Marcus well enough to know that he would never allow harm to come to her. An oppressive need to see her seizes my mind. I have to find her.