Rose Farm Trilogy Boxset

by Kennedy, Brenda

  “What about you and Blake, Maria? Any plans for children in your future?” Momma asks.

  It’s a very personal question, and I’m a little embarrassed she would ask. Maria looks down at her lap and Blake hesitantly answers. “We haven’t discussed children. Maybe later down the road. Being we just got married, I don’t feel a need to rush into it.”

  That’s fair enough.

  “What about you and Savannah Mae, Abel? I know I have two sweet grandsons already, but is there any chance I’ll be havin’ a little granddaughter to spoil?”

  I look at Harley and Sawyer Jackson. Before I can say anything, Pops says, “Now, Nelly, let ’em get married and get the honeymoon over with before they start plannin’ on increasin’ their family size.”

  “I suppose you’re right. But a little granddaughter would be mighty nice to have.”

  “Nelly, we’ll see what we can do once the old school opens up, the weddin’ is over, and our house gets built. One day we may have a baby, but I can’t guarantee it’ll be dressed in pink,” Savannah Mae says.

  “Well, then I guess blue will be fine, too.”

  After dinner, we all have milk and cookies for dessert. Momma and Sawyer Jackson made homemade chocolate chip cookies earlier today. Savannah Mae and I help with the cleanup while Sawyer Jackson tells us their plans for tomorrow. I think it eases Savannah Mae’s anxiety about leaving him. I was hoping this would all be behind us by now, and he would be home with us where he belongs.

  Later that night I can’t sleep, so I take my guitar and quietly sneak out the kitchen door. The house is small and I know any noise will wake Maria and Blake. Sitting in a chair in the backyard, I softly strum a few chords, careful not to wake the neighbors. The night is cool and quiet. The only noise is the rustling sound of the leaves blowing in the trees. I search into the darkness for any signs of him, of our stalker, of the small-town murderer, of Josh. Nothing. How much longer can I ask Maria and her newly wedded husband to stay? This isn’t fair to them. How much longer can I keep Sawyer Jackson away from his home? His bed? His mother?

  I hear the screen door open, and I see movement in the doorway. Maria is walking outside, closing the door quietly behind her. Resting my guitar on my lap, I watch as she makes her way down the steps and walks towards me. I look behind her into the house through the windows and the house is dark. I must have woken her when I left.

  “Can’t sleep?” she asks.

  “No. You either?”

  “No. May I sit down?”

  “Sure.” I watch as she takes a seat next to me. She looks around, taking in the starry skies and the silence of the country.

  “It sure is nice here.” I look around. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s home. It’s simple living at its best. “I find it funny that while we dated, I knew so little about you and your family.”

  It’s because when I left home, I had no intentions of ever returning. “It’s because when we were in school, we were focused on other things.”

  “You have a really wonderful family, Abel.” She brings her legs up to her chest and hugs them with her arms. I’m not sure whether she’s cold or nervous.

  “Thank you.”

  “Your mom and dad… and that little Harley. He sure is a sweetheart.” I smile. He is a sweetie. “I always wanted a child. One for sure, maybe more.”

  She’s talking, but she isn’t looking at me. It’s like she’s talking to herself. “I’m sure when the time comes, you and Blake will have the family you’ve always wanted.” I look into the night before looking at the house.

  “Do you remember the night of the…”

  My heart stops and I interrupt her. “How can I forget it?” I force myself to look at her. I hate remembering that night. I hate thinking about what I did to her. I hate thinking I lost control because I was drugged and hurt her. I don’t remember the actual event, but the aftermath is still vivid in my mind.

  She exhales slowly. “Do you remember I told you that I had something important to tell you?”

  “I have something important to tell you tomorrow.”

  “Can you tell me now?”

  “No, you have to wait until tomorrow.”

  My heart tries to beat out of my chest. I think I know what she had to tell me. “I forgot all about it until now, but I remember. We were in the bedroom just before we left for the party.”

  “That’s right. I was going to tell you something the following day, but…”

  “Tomorrow never came.” She wipes away a tear. I look away. I can’t look at her. I can’t face her. My heart is beating out of control. Please don’t tell me what I think she’s going to say. God, it was so long ago, yet it feels like yesterday. I wanted to marry this girl. I wanted a life with her. “You were pregnant, weren’t you?” I whisper.

  I hear sniffles and I force myself to look at her. I did this to her. I brought this sadness into her life. I’m the reason she cries, and I’m the reason she has nightmares. She doesn’t answer and I know the truth. I hurt her and I killed our baby. I ball my hands into a fist. The fire builds inside my core spreading vile rage through my veins. I swear I could breathe fire and smoke. If it weren’t for me, we would have an eight-year-old child. A son, maybe a daughter. I can’t watch as the tears flow freely down her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry, Abel. I wanted to tell you.”

  Standing, I rest my guitar on the chair. I offer her my hand and pull her into my chest. She cries. She wraps her small arms around my torso, and I feel her warm tears soaking into my tee-shirt. I hold her close and smooth her soft black hair down her back. I loved her. I wanted to marry her. She was pregnant with my baby. A baby I didn’t know I wanted until this very second. I killed our child. My son or daughter will never know happiness. It’ll never know me or its momma. I killed it. I killed it. My eyes fill with tears that don’t spill over. My heart fills with sadness that aches. My body mourns a baby, my baby, that I’ll never know.

  She’s sorry. I did this. I did this to our baby. I remember the conversation at dinner tonight. “What about you and Blake, Maria? Any plans for children in your future?” Momma asks.

  It’s a personal question and I’m a little embarrassed she would ask. Maria looks down at her lap and Blake hesitantly answers. “We haven’t discussed children. Maybe later down the road. Being we just got married, we don’t feel a need to rush into it.”

  I freeze. I want to run. I want to beat the shit out of a punching bag until my hands bleed. I pull away from her and look into her wet, sad eyes. “You can’t have children, can you?” Please say I’m wrong. Please tell me you can and that you and Blake are waiting.

  She shakes her head, but she doesn’t answer with words. I have my answer. She can’t answer. Her lips are quivering and the tears are constantly falling. “Oh, God. I’m sorry, I’m so very sorry. I didn’t know. I never would have hurt you or our baby. You have to know that. You have to believe me.” I hold her head to my chest as she cries. I cry. I try to man up, but I can’t hold the pain in. My baby is dead because of me. Maria will never know the joy of motherhood because of me. I’ve stolen her happiness.

  Blake knows. He knows what I’ve done. I’ve not only stolen her chance at motherhood, I’ve also stolen his chance at fatherhood with her. Why didn’t she tell me sooner? Why now? Why tell me outside of my fiancée’s house with her husband asleep just a few feet away? It doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t have mattered if I knew then. I did this. This is solely my fault. My fault and the fault of the pricks who drugged me. This is their fault. I want to find them and make them pay. I want to hurt them and see pain in their faces. All of them. The hardness I had as a fighter is coming back to me full force. I want to cause harm to the people who hurt me, who hurt Maria, and who hurt my baby, our baby. This is why I was such a great fighter. During my fights, I thought of the pricks who drugged me and who caused me to hurt Maria. My head fills with rage and it feels like it’s about to explode. This is exactly how I felt when I was abou
t to enter the ring. This is how I felt when I was about to beat the shit out of someone. The rage takes over my entire body, controlling everything.

  “I’m sorry,” a sweet and whisper-soft voice says. I don’t kiss her head or tell her I love her, like I would comfort Savannah Mae. I don’t have those feelings for her anymore. I don’t love her, but I do have love for her. I always have and I always will.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for.” I break away and look at her. I wipe away her tears with my thumbs. She reaches up and dries my own tears.

  “You had a right to know sooner, but I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know what to say.” She sniffles. “When your momma asked me about having children tonight, Blake told me it was time to tell you. He told me you should know. I wasn’t sure how, but he said the words would come.” She laughs an uncomfortable laugh. “I guess he was right.”

  “Well, look who it is.” A voice breaks through the darkness. I hear twigs and leaves crunching beneath heavy boots before I see a dark figure come into view. Not just a dark figure, but three dark figures. I stare into the darkness, praying that the moon’s glow is enough for me to see. I take my hand and gently push Maria behind me. “Patience, that’s all it took. Patience.”

  Three men come into view. They all have black-hooded sweatshirts on, but the hoods are down, exposing their faces. They want us to see them. They aren’t trying to hide behind their clothing. I strain to get a clearer look. The moon is bright, but their distance makes it hard to see. I try to recognize their voices, but it’s useless. Maria fists my shirt and I know she’s scared. I keep one arm behind me to hold her close. It’s in the middle of the night, and the only weapons I have are my fists and a guitar. Great.

  “You’re looking for us?” I ask in a clear, confident, and calm voice. I need to stall them. I hope Blake wakes up looking for Maria. He’ll look out the window and see what’s going on. I can take them, all three of them, if they are unarmed but not if they have a gun. I have to find a way to protect Maria. I still can’t see who it is. It doesn’t sound like Josh.

  “The two lovebirds just like in college. They still can’t keep their hands off of each other.” Lovebirds? College? Can it be possible? They stalk closer, crunching the twigs beneath their heavy steps.

  “No, not looking for you. Just waiting for the reunion.” A different voice said that.

  I know that voice. My mind rewinds in fast motion how I know him. Where I know this voice from. “Why would you wait for a reunion? Why would you care if Maria and I ever reunited?” Say something, I have to be certain you’re who I think you are.

  “The tease and the jock,” a third voice slurs. Still walking closer but in slower motion. “The tease who would never put out, and the jock who was too good for everyone.”

  It can’t be. I can feel Maria trying to peek around me to see who it is. She knows who it is; she wants to confirm it. Walking into just enough moonlight for me to see them are three guys from my past. The guys who drugged me in college, the three guys responsible for Maria’s injuries, and for causing my baby’s death. Rage slams into me like a dump truck. I see red and I want revenge. I take a large step forward. Maria holds tightly onto my shirt, reminding me it’s not just me out here.

  They each reveal a silver shiny revolver.

  “Not so fast, Abel,” says one of the men.

  I stop. Maria’s dead on my heels, crashing into my back. “What do you want?”

  “Revenge!”

  Revenge? “Revenge for what?” Is this a joke?

  “You have to ask?” another voice asks.

  I do. Revenge. I lost everything that night. I lost my girlfriend and my baby. Maria almost lost her life. She fought for months to get back to normal. She still suffers mentally from the memories of that savage beating. And they want revenge? I laugh coldly. “I do have to ask.”

  Another voice speaks, “Your little tease girlfriend flaunting her ass all over campus, suggesting that she puts out, but she never did.” His voice sounds bitter. “You walking around school like you owned it, like you owned your teammates, and like you owned the awards we — all of us, not just you — won.” He raises his voice and his gun. “We walked around in your shadow, being second best, never being good enough.”

  Another voice says, “We got kicked out of school, lost our scholarships, lost our financial aid, and lost any chance of becoming successful. We should be multi-millionaires, we should be famous, we should be married to models who appeared in Playboy centerfolds. We should be celebrities with fantastic lives. People should look at us and know that we are better than they are.”

  I’m pissed! They’re losers and they blame me. “You’re nobodies and that’s my fault?” I laugh in their faces. I speak the truth, never thinking of Maria standing behind me. I try to take another step forward, but the movement of the gun stops me. “No one is to blame for your shortcomings, but you.” If I haven’t become a professional boxer, I still would have worked to be a success. I would have worked hard to become a damn good truck driver, construction worker, teacher, nurse, soldier, whatever. Fame and fortune ought not to be one’s only standards of success. Lots of successful people are neither famous nor rich.

  I reach behind me and tuck Maria closer to my back. I have to protect her, but how? I’m not a match for their weapon of choice. My only hope is Blake. Please wake up and protect Maria, like I was never able to. Please don’t let these bastards hurt her again.

  “Who’s the loser? You’re the one standing there shaking in his boots. This has been well planned. It took nine years, but today, today we’ll get our revenge on the jock and his tease.” Nine years? I’m guessing it would have taken a few months if they didn’t spend so much time getting high. They take a step closer, and I can finally get a better look at their faces. Their bloodshot eyes, slurred speech, unsteady gait, unkempt attire, and unshaven faces are all signs of substance abuse. This will work to my advantage or to my disadvantage. I’ve read that people under the influence of PCP can make a person strong, uncharacteristically strong, and they don’t think rationally.

  “Tell us, Abel, who did you think the culprit was terrorizing this,” he waves his gun around searching for the correct word, “town?”

  Josh. I thought it was Josh. They set Maria’s brother up to look like it was him. Terrorizing the town? Megan Rose and Heather Sue? They didn’t say stalking, they said terrorizing. It’s them. They’re responsible for the murders of those innocent girls. This is a definite game changer. They’re capable of murder, not just threatening it. Please, Blake, wake the hell up.

  “That’s right, Josh.” Someone else is speaking. “We’re here in the middle of the night with no one around. We’ll kill you both, and the police will be looking for Josh. The brother who is so consumed with hate that he took your life.”

  “My life, yes, but he wouldn’t kill his sister.” You genius.

  “No, you’re right. He would never hurt his sister intentionally unless she was stupid enough to jump into the line of fire to save you.”

  Maybe they did think of everything. I chance a look towards the house, hoping to see a figure in the window or in the doorway. Nothing. One of them waves the pistol in a quick jerking motion.

  “Come on, Maria. We want to get a better look at you.” I hear a faint cry escaping her lips. “Now! We don’t have all night!”

  She cautiously steps to the side of me, locking her fingers in mine. It’s not done in a romantic manner — it’s done out of fear. I pull her to stand as close to me as she can.

  “Don’t hide now, strut your stuff. Stand in front of him so we can get a better look. I didn’t think it was possible, but you look better now than you did in college.”

  I hear them chuckle, and it pisses me off. I have no idea how I’ll get out of this, but I know that they won’t get a chance to hurt her. Not again.

  “Now, goddammit, quit stalling!”

  “It’s okay, Maria.” It has to be.
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br />   Just as she takes a step forward, I hear gunfire. Several shots are fired. I grab Maria and push her to the ground. I lie on top of her, trying to protect her, trying to shield her from the bullets. Am I hurt. Is she hurt? I don’t feel pain. I want to ask her if she’s hurt, but I can’t. I want to see what’s going on, but I can’t risk a look. When I hear moaning coming from grown men, I become confused. They had the guns, so why are they crying out in pain? I sneak a peek at the house and the kitchen light comes on. I move my head and see the three guys from college, lying on the ground in pain. There’s blood, but not coming from their heads or their chest. I raise my head up further to get a better look and to take my weight off of Maria. The three men are all holding their knees. Their knees? Why are they holding their knees?

  When I hear the crunching of leaves and twigs beneath several heavy boots, I quickly jump up, bringing Maria with me in one swift move. Tucking her safely behind me, I take my stance to pounce on the intruder or intruders. I move swiftly and grab the pistols lying nearby on the ground where the guys lie. I’m grateful that they are focusing on their painful injuries and not on their weapons. I stand and aim the gun in the direction of the sound of walking. My heart is beating so fast it feels like it’ll beat out of my chest. I notice several of the neighbors’ lights coming on inside their homes. I watch into the night and wait for the predator or predators to reveal themselves.

  “Don’t shoot, Abel.” I know the voice and lower my weapon. It can’t be. I squint my eyes as I try to make out the dark images walking towards me. There’s no way this is who I think it is. I raise my pistol and take aim.

  “Goddammit, Abel. Is this anyway to thank us?” Tony and Mack remove their night-vision goggles.

  “Tony? Mack? Is that really you?” I hear the screen door open and I yell, “Call an ambulance.” I have no idea if it’s Blake or Savannah Mae. I look behind me and say in a soft tone, “Maria, go into the house.”

  She doesn’t say anything before she takes off into a sprint towards the house. “Who else would be out in the middle of the night watching their right-hand man?”