by Emily Duvall
INCLUSIONS
by
EMILY DUVALL
WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
www.whiskeycreekpress.com
Published by
WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
www.whiskeycreekpress.com
Copyright © 2015 by Emily Duvall
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
ISBN: 978-1-63355-784-0
Credits
Cover Artist: Susan Krupp
Editor: Dave Field
Printed in the United States of America
Other Works by Emily Duvall available at www.whiskeycreekpress.com
Back to You
When We Were Perfect
Dedication
To Sonal Patel, for raising the bar
Acknowledgements
A huge thank you goes to my family: Ann Marie and David Bezayiff; Nathan Bezayiff, for motivating me, and also for supplying the coffee. To my in-laws, Dottie and Glenn Duvall for their effortless support. With each book I am most grateful for the encouragement and friendship from Jamie Kenny, Kim Menyhart, and Erin Niemi—I’m so lucky to have you ladies in my corner. A special mention goes to Lorraine Bukilica, Speech Pathologist and dear family friend for her input; Vincent Lash, certified Gemologist who took the time to talk with me; and Dave Field for the time and attention to detail of editing this book. For my husband Brian, my sounding board and my biggest fan, and to Nolan and Abby, for pushing me to keep writing.
Chapter 1
The cell phone rang from under a pile of laundry. Melanie Cahill thrust her hand under the clean clothes, grabbed the phone, and glanced at the screen. The telephone number sent prickles up her arms. One quick swipe of the screen and she answered with the same mixed emotion she always did when taking Mark’s phone call. “Hello?” she said to her brother. The sudden sound of a neighbor’s lawnmower propelled Melanie off her bed and over to a corner further away from the window. “Are you there?”
“I can hear you,” Mark said, from somewhere inside the Corcoran prison. The clock ticked and their fifteen minutes began. “You sound quiet.”
She slanted the phone and spoke with her lips touching the phone. “What about now?”
“Much better; I’ll make this quick.”
“Take your time.” Melanie slid down the wall. She’d grown accustomed to the rush in his voice during their calls. She pictured Mark sitting in a cold room with paint the color of nothing, metal tables, uncomfortable chairs, and some prison guard watching his every move from a few feet away. Basic human rights like privacy didn’t exist in her brother’s world. Seven years Melanie and her family had been at the mercy of these random, short-lived phone calls. Their catch-up time was reduced to a few minutes. She didn’t blame him for speaking fast enough to shove the last several weeks into a few minutes. If the tables were turned, she would talk fast too, or not call at all.
“There’s a rumor,” he spoke low and fast. “I’ve got good reason to think I’ll be up early for parole. I’m talking soon, within the next six months. Six years earlier than my original sentence isn’t bad.”
Melanie hit the wall with an excited hand. “This is great news.”
“I’m trying not to think too far ahead. I’m relying on my sources.”
The alleged sources of such good information weren’t worth Melanie asking about. The intricate workings of prison spun like a delicate spider web: invisible, full of layers, potentially a trap. Mark had been on the inside long enough to know how to get what he wanted from the outside. The bartering, the pecking orders and rivalries, loyalties, they all worked for or against an inmate and thankfully, her brother had made allies. She didn’t ask what he did in return and Mark wouldn’t elaborate. They both knew his life wasn’t easy. “Do you want the rest of the family to know?”
“Keep this to yourself for now. Don’t tell Mom or Jessie. I’m counting on your discretion. Those parole board members are nothing more than derelicts on a power trip. My source is confident I’ll be receiving notice from my lawyer in early September. Three more months and I might have my freedom.” Mark breathed heavily. “This place is the underside of a dump. I can’t spend another day for a crime I didn’t commit. Each day I wake up here’s a day I lose a piece of my life. I’ll rot in this place if this doesn’t come through. Luke’s responsible for this hell. I won’t ever see him other than as a leach. However, as much I dislike the bastard, I find myself in a dilemma.”
Luke Harrison. The name alone made Melanie’s mouth go dry. “Go on,” she said cautiously.
“Harrison will work against any personal progress I’ve made doing my time. His influence is far-reaching and he’s known to be friends with members of the parole board. So I need him on my side, which means, I also need your help.”
The warmth in her cheeks turned chilly. “I can’t.”
“You have to talk to him.”
“I won’t.”
“Go see him. Tell him about the possibility of parole, be honest with him. I don’t want him blindsided when he receives a letter from the California Prison System that I’m up for early release. I need this time to convince him how sorry I am. The two of you have a history.”
“We haven’t kept in touch.” Melanie shifted uncomfortably on the floor. “I’ve been on your side since the detective took you away in handcuffs. I have no regrets about choosing to believe you over Luke.” The calm in her voice didn’t match the unsettled vibe tapping her bones. Like anything to do with Luke, she’d learned to be neutral, to not show the emotion backing up her spine like a bad traffic jam. “You’ve changed. Your voice sounds happier each time you call. Let the members of the parole board see you and judge for themselves all the progress you’ve made. Be humble. Be smart. Talk to them like you talk to me. We don’t need Luke to help you. We don’t need anything from him.”
“Getting through this life is all about taking advantage of the connections. The one man with connections happens to be the person responsible for putting me behind bars. Not ideal, I know. I’m not above reaching out and playing my part. One trip to see him is all you need to make. I’ll never ask for anything again. You’ve been my biggest supporter and I need you one more time.”
“We’re not talking about making a phone call. You want me to see him.” Melanie flattened her hand over her forehead. “I have no idea where he lives. I haven’t kept track of him. You’re taking a huge gamble he’ll even listen to me in the first place. We didn’t part on good terms. He sent his lawyer to break-up with me! I don’t think walking into his office and outright asking for a letter of support is going to help your case. The second he sees me, he’ll throw me out, and shut the door in my face. You’re asking too much of me.”
“I’m asking you to try. Any life I can look forward to living is better than this one. He ruined my life and he should be the one stuck behind bars. All of those false accusations, his big-time lawyers, you can’t let him win again. I have one chance to do this. You have one shot at helping me. Luke won’t take my calls. I’ve tried writing to him, call
ing him, nothing gets through to him.” An impatient sigh escaped Mark’s mouth. “I know what I’m asking of you. When I hang up the phone I won’t ask you again. I won’t wait for you to reconsider. It’s now or never.”
Caught in the middle between loyalty for her brother and her self-respect, Melanie hesitated. The thought of going to Luke and asking him for anything, let alone this huge favor, forced her to swallow more than pride. She’d have to endure watching his memorable judgmental gaze pound down on her. The details of their relationship, especially towards the end, resembled more a game of tug-of-war, than an actual romance. All of the pain of the breakup she’d put behind her. She’d finished school, inserted herself into her career, and moved on with her life. The past had healed over like new grass on a dirt bed. Eventually, she’d found happiness. The answer she gave him reflected her uncertainty. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.”
“Luke lives outside of San Francisco in a city called Belvedere,” Mark couldn’t speak fast enough. “He’s going to be leaving for his annual summer vacation in Maui in a few days.”
“Two minutes,” said a deep voice.
“Time’s almost up.” Mark coughed. “What’s your answer?”
The sound of their sister, Jessie, the youngest of the Cahill’s swept through the house. The sound of her coming through the doorway and dropping her purse on the entryway table filled the house. “Jessie’s home,” Melanie announced.
“I need your answer.”
Strangled desperation rang in Mark’s voice. They’d survived their mother divorcing their father, the first time Melanie crashed the family car, and the trial for Mark’s attempted murder on the life of Luke Harrison. They could persist through another big hurdle together. Years of blame and sadness could be put to rest. Melanie could almost, almost see Mark’s homecoming through their front door: a big party with a large banner hanging over the fireplace mantle and their friends and family coming back with open arms. That shining image of their family being put back together gave Melanie pause. The rest she could figure out later. “I’ll leave tomorrow.”
“I owe you.”
“Good-bye, Mark.” Fraught with unease, Melanie ended the call and remained sitting on the floor. She stared out at her bedroom wall, painted a lovely shade of light blue. Mark might as well have taken a shovel to her head. She’d actually just agreed to go see Luke. The neighbor’s lawn mower rumbled up again, coming closer to Melanie’s window. Closer still, until Melanie thought he’d bust through the wall and mow down her bed. Big houses built on little property: the signature of their community. The conversation with Mark hung in her room, thick as the grass churning up outside and causing an allergen catastrophe.
“What are you doing in there?” Jessie said, knocking softly on the door. “I’m going for a swim. Are you coming?”
“I’ll be out in a second,” Melanie said to the closed door. Jessie’s footsteps moved away from the door and down the hall. Both girls still lived at their mother’s house, Melanie at the age of thirty-five, and Jessie, three years younger. Along with Mark, they’d all grown up in this house. They stood at the end of the street and waited for the bus from the first day of kindergarten until they’d received their driver’s licenses. The two-story, cookie cutter stucco with a tile roof and two-car garage looked identical to every other block in a hundred-mile radius in Fresno. The age of the house showed up in the semi-stained carpet, the cracked tile in the first floor bathroom, and a yard full of after burns thanks to the brutal summer sun.
Melanie tossed her phone on the bed and resumed folding her laundry despite her hollow heart and full mind. Officially, she’d be on vacation tomorrow from her job as a speech pathologist at the Growing Tree, a prestigious privately-run center for speech disorders in children ages birth through five. The entire year she’d taken no personal days and the next two weeks promised a long overdue vacation. She’d finally look for a condo. She’d made out a list of books to read and set dates with friends. Clients at her place of work had all been reassigned to substitute therapists. Vacations took planning and Melanie’s diligence paid off in the form of the upcoming worry-free days and the hope of sleeping in past five a.m. That was before Mark had called. She realized she’d been refolding the same shirt over and over again and tossed it aside. Leave it to Luke to ruin her plans, again.
Jessica Cahill pulled out a carton of ice cream, a bottle of root beer and some ice, slammed the refrigerator closed and grabbed a glass. “Talking to anyone interesting on the phone?” she said to Melanie.
“Our brother called,” Melanie answered; grabbing a glass for water. The selection of ingredients on the counter meant a root beer float would soon follow. “You must be finished with finals.”
“The problem with med school is I’m never really done. I’ve got two seminars to attend tomorrow, a sign-up for internships for next year, plus a boatload of summer classes I need to attend, then there are summer internships I haven’t secured and I haven’t even started my final presentation on ethics.” She sighed. “Ice cream seems like a logical solution for the moment.” A thick scoop of vanilla slid into the tall glass. “We’re out after this. Talk to me about something else besides school. How’s Mark?”
“He’s pretty much the same. Then again, I don’t ever feel I know what the real story is with him.” Melanie couldn’t keep the conversation they had shared from Jessie. Plus, going to see Luke meant she needed to talk to Jessie. They told each other everything. “There’s a chance the parole board will consider his case in the next few months.”
Jessie’s eyes flared. “You’re talking for real this time? What do you know about his sources, are they credible?”
“I don’t ask about his sources.”
“No, no, you really can’t.” She pointed to her glass. “Float?”
“I’m good.” Melanie folded her arms over her chest. In looking at Jessie, she saw a reflection of herself: long cheekbones and eyes a darker shade of honey. They both wore their hair past their breasts. The length of Melanie’s eyelashes beat out Jessie’s in length, but Melanie lost on height, standing one inch shorter than Jessie at five-foot-six. A perpetual frown formed on Jessie’s lips, as she did now, lost in some equation related to medicine and the human body. Melanie pressed on, despite her sister’s obvious distracted mood. “What do you know about the city of Belvedere?”
“Belvedere’s affluent.” Jessie poured the root beer from the bottle to her glass, waiting for the exact moment to pull the bottle away. The bubbles frothed and fizzed to the rim without going over. “The city overlooks San Francisco.” A scrutinizing gaze fell over Melanie. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m thinking of taking a road trip. I finally have some time off and I want to do something different.”
“You never do anything different.” Jessie added a red straw to her float while keeping an eye on Melanie. “Why would you go up North?”
Melanie watched Jessie, but thought of Luke. “I have my reasons.”
“Is this about a guy?”
“This isn’t what you think.” Melanie decided to cut to the chase. “I’m going to see Luke.” No last name required.
“You’re funny.” The determined expression on Melanie’s face caused Jessie’s eyebrow to arch in concern. “Why would you go see him?”
“Mark asked me. He needs my help and I’ll be fine.” Jessie wasn’t convinced. Melanie continued anyway, feeling her dignity shrink. “Our brother feels I have a certain pull when it comes to Luke. I’ll convince Luke that Mark’s a changed man, and in return, I’ll get Luke to write a letter of support to the parole board.”
Jessie erupted in laughter. “Luke will never agree to help you or Mark. He’ll only help himself.” Jessie pushed the root beer float away like some great dignitary refusing to eat. “Do you really think Mark has forgiven him? Have any of us?”
“Mark wants to come home. I don’t think anything else matters.” Melanie rested her palms on the cou
nter. “I have an opportunity to help bring home our brother. I know what I’m doing.”
“I’m not sure you do.” Jessie pursed her lips into a thin line—the effect made her look like their mother. “I know what Luke has meant to you. You wanted to marry him and up until he ended the relationship, you thought he’d bought you a ring. Heartache like that takes a long time to get over.”
Melanie prepared herself for what came next, her sister’s inevitable, broken theory about how Luke still had her heart on a string.
“Don’t rush up to do this one thing for Mark. You’ll see Luke and come back with your heart on ice. A trip to see Luke, even for a few minutes, is a bad idea.”
“I’m all out of good ideas. It’s been seven years. I’m a big girl now. And I miss my brother.” Melanie grew impatient. For the past five years Jessie, and her boyfriend, Carl grew more and more in love. Her sister’s credentials in heartbreak didn’t exactly count. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“If you insist on going, then I’m coming with you.” Jessie stood up, determined and straight-shouldered with bony elbows and a rigid collarbone. “Better yet, I’ll see if Carl can rearrange his schedule. He’s starting an internship next week at an ear, nose, and throat doctor’s office. Did I tell you he won the position out of a pool of five-hundred applicants?”
The last thing Melanie wanted was for Carl to come with them, cramped in her mid-sized car, insisting they listen to alternative rock for five hours. She had nothing against Carl. She just had nothing in common with him. Their conversations tended to revolve around ear canals and sinus infections. Melanie sniffed as she always did when Carl’s name came up and she swore her ear began to itch. No, she didn’t want him to come along. Standing on the side of the road and getting picked up by a stranger seemed more enjoyable. “I need to go on my own, Jess,” Melanie finally said, secure in her decision. “I haven’t seen Luke in a long time. Somewhere inside of me there’s a woman he never knew, a woman he didn’t get a chance to get to know, and I want to show him I’m not affected by him anymore. I’m different now. I don’t need him to love me. I don’t even need him to like me.”