Anabel Unraveled

by Amanda Romine Lynch

  “Marrying you wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed. “You have no intention of marrying me.”

  “I’m serious!” And he almost looked it.

  So I decided, for his sake and mine, to set the record straight. “I’m not going to press charges, Jared,” I assured him.

  “What?” he asked, confused.

  “I know you’re just saying that to cover your bases.” I rubbed my still-aching head.

  “Wait, honey, you’re mistaken.”

  “Do not call me honey,” I snapped.

  He ignored that. “Look, I deserve it if you want to prosecute me. However,” he continued, “I owe it to you to do the right thing by you. And if that is to marry you and raise our daughter together, then that is what I want to do. If that’s what you want.”

  “I don’t—I hadn’t considered that,” I stumbled over the words. I was starting to get annoyed with him. What business did he have being all moral? I had just assumed we would work out some sort of custody arrangement after the baby was born and I could go on with my very messed-up feelings for Jared tucked securely away in the back of my mind. “Do you love me?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer, but stared at me.

  “Do you love me, Jared?” I asked again. “Because now’s the time to tell me.”

  “I think I do, Anabel,” he said.

  I stared down at him, pursing my lips. Then I threw my hands up in the air. “Well that’s just it. I don’t know what I feel for you. Some days I see you as Prince Charming, who came down and taught me how to feel things I had never felt before. Other days I see you, and it’s not just the morning sickness making me retch. I see you as the man who took away from me something that I should have been able to give freely.” I turned away. “Then there are the days where I remember that, like it or not, you were the one who saved me. I hate feeling like I owe you something,” I finished.

  “I take it your feelings for me aren’t so straightforward,” he concluded.

  “Yes, thank you, Captain Obvious,” I turned and sent him what I hoped was a scathing glare. “I didn’t plan to be pregnant, but here I am. I’m tired all of the time. My ankles have started to swell. Supposedly I shouldn’t be having as much morning sickness, but every morning I wake up and head straight to the bathroom. My hormones are all over the place, and every day I have to see you, and I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry at our predicament. Soon I’m going to have all sorts of responsibilities to a tiny helpless baby, and I have no idea how to take care of one of those. I can barely take care of myself at this point! My brother and his wife have given up their lives, their lives, Jared, to take care of me, and I feel horrible. I can’t even offer them any sort of compensation until the mess with my father’s will is straightened out. So here I am, mooching off of them for God only knows how long. I can’t even get a job at this point, and—ooh,” I stopped, and felt my knees give way as the room started getting white.

  And he was at my side, supporting me, holding me. “Anabel, are you okay?” He sounded worried. “What’s wrong?”

  “Dizzy,” I managed. He helped me back onto the sofa. I leaned against him and he put his arm around me. We sat there for a few minutes, and my head cleared and the ringing in my ears went away. “Jared?”

  “Yes?” He pushed some curls out of my face.

  “When I was little and Marilyn first came to live with us, I used to get very angry with her because she wasn’t my mom.” I shifted my weight a little bit. “I would throw things at her. I was only two, maybe three, but I would tell her I hated her. I’m sure it must have been an awful situation for her, on an island with a crazy toddler and no one to talk to but my dad . . . well, when I had these tantrums, she would always tell me she forgave me. So I learned that when people wrong you, you forgive them.” I paused. “I’m having a lot of trouble forgiving you, though.”

  “I don’t blame you. What I did to you is without excuse.”

  “Yes, you’ve said that,” I commented, “but you know, we should talk about it.”

  “I didn’t want to rush you into discussing that.”

  In spite of myself, I started to giggle. “It’s been five months; I don’t know how much longer I have to wait.”

  “Anabel, I just—”

  I cut him off. “What really bothers me about the whole thing is I just don’t understand—why did you do it? It didn’t have to be like that, and—”

  “Dinner,” announced Sam, appearing at the door. Jared stood up and extended me a hand, and I took it. We walked down the hall to the dining room and sat down to eat.

  Oh, that was an uncomfortable affair. We ate in silence, with Alexis staring at Sam and Sam staring at me and—well, I was going to town on those tacos. I was rarely hungry, but the tacos were amazing. Plus, if I didn’t have enough food in my stomach the chances were extremely high of me throwing up my prenatal vitamin. Pregnancy was becoming my personal eating disorder and feeling hungry for once was really bolstering me. Jared cleared his throat a few times, but I was determined not to look at him and instead focused on eating. I loaded each and every taco high with chicken, sour cream, and tomatoes galore. I had consumed about two and a half of my concoctions when my brother finally came out with, “After tonight I think you should stay away from us as much as possible.”

  “Excuse me?” said Jared, and I opened my mouth to object when my brother continued. “You heard me, Sorensen. I don’t want you trying to talk to Anabel at the hearings. I don’t want you to implicate her in anyone thinking she had a hand in her father’s death. I especially don’t want you sending messengers here with notes for her at all hours, and—”

  “Wait,” I interjected, “he’s been sending me notes?”

  Sam looked a little guilty. “Annie, it was for your own good—”

  “This is exactly the sort of thing Jonathan would do to me, Sam, and I can’t believe you would do it too!” I turned to Jared. “I owe you an apology, I just thought you were ignoring the messages I sent you in the beginning.”

  “You were sending him messages?” I could hear the judgment in Sam’s voice.

  “Yes, Sam, I was. I wanted to see if he was going to behave responsibly.” I really should eat that other taco. I shoved it in my mouth and chewed deliberately, staring all of them down. “That’s why I was so angry with him. I thought he didn’t care about me, and I wanted to see when I should tell him about the baby.” I took a long swig of juice. “Now I’m angrier at you than I am at him.” I turned to Sam. “I love you, I do, but I’m not a kid anymore. Jared?” I looked across the table. “You and I are going for a walk.”

  “Someone will see you,” protested Sam. “The last thing we need is pictures of you two gallivanting around town, looking like you’re in on this together.”

  “In on what together? I haven’t made any effort to be nice to Jared. I do believe that last week I told that man who called from the Washington Post who called that he deserved to be disbarred!”

  Jared looked uncomfortable. “We don’t have to go, Anabel.”

  “Yes we do.” I was determined.

  “Where are you going?” asked Sam.

  “I want ice cream. He’s going to buy me some.”

  Chapter 13—Anabel

  Blair House is located on Pennsylvania Avenue, right by the Ellipse and Lafayette Park. I had wanted a walk, but Jared convinced me that since I had nearly fainted before, it would probably be a good idea to take a car. And because we were taking a car, I felt it necessary to head up to Larry’s Homemade Ice Cream.

  My first week in the District of Columbia, before they had put me under house arrest, Sam had (rather covertly) taken me there. Their ice cream was amazing—they had all the normal flavors, like chocolate and vanilla, but they also had some amazing creations: Key West, Ecstasy, Fred and Ginger . . . but my favorite was the Oatmeal Cookie Dough ice cream. The base is a cinnamon ice cream, and it contains
huge chunks of oatmeal cookie dough and chocolate chips. Of course, now that I knew about the baby, I settled for a chocolate milkshake. Jared, however, got the Oatmeal Cookie Dough, and I saw a look of pure enjoyment pass over his face as we sat down at the table together.

  “I know, it’s amazing.” I slurped a little milkshake. “In spite of the fact that I have a lot of trouble keeping food down, I’ve gained a lot of weight not being on the island. When I feel like it, I eat everything in sight.”

  “Aside from the belly, you look the same,” he smiled.

  “Don’t,” I said. “I’ve had a rough couple of months, Jared. I haven’t talked to you—really talked to you—in a long time. I barely remember the last time I saw you! My brother, I am pretty sure, is waiting for the opportune moment to draw and quarter you. And just so you know, for your safety, I didn’t tell him about what happened with us until I got a positive pregnancy test.”

  “I imagine that didn’t go over well.”

  “No,” I returned. “No, it didn’t. When we were summoned for the hearings he ranted and raved and swore up and down that justice would be served and your uppance would come. It also didn’t help that Alexis, for whatever reason, thinks that you are in cahoots with the Prince of Darkness and reminds Sam as such on a daily basis.” I briefly thought about what Alexis had said earlier, but decided to ignore that. “He sent his kids away, and I feel terrible about that. He resigned from office to take care of me.”

  “It was a very honorable thing to do,” acknowledged Jared. He ran his hand through is blonde hair and then took mine.

  We sat there for a moment, him holding my hand. I attempted to smile at him. “You know, this is almost nice.”

  “Yeah?’

  “Yeah.” I looked down. “But Jared, about Sam, I just don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “Do? What do you mean?”

  “I feel guilty,” I blurted out. “I’m causing a strain in his marriage, I’ve ruined his political career . . . and I can’t do for him the one thing he wants me to do, which is press charges against you. Plus, I’m pregnant. He’s been paying for my doctor, and my wardrobe, and he feeds me, and, well, he’s like my parent. And I don’t want to be an ungrateful child and disappoint him.”

  “So this is about Sam,” commented Jared.

  “Yes.” I shivered a little, and drew my sweater around my shoulders. “He’s spent years protecting me, Jared. I have to look at this from his perspective. Even if I were to forgive you, it would hurt him very deeply. I don’t want to be . . . well . . . selfish, and—”

  “Anabel,” he interjected, “you are not a child. Furthermore, you’re not his child. I think you’re just using Sam as an excuse.”

  “An excuse for what?”

  “You want to be with me, and you know it.” It was just like Jared to go from one minute being almost likeable to downright disgusting in the next. He was so self-satisfied that, had my milkshake not been so heavenly, I would have thrown it in his face.

  “Oh yes, Jared, that’s it,” I said, heavy on the sarcasm. “Have you forgotten what you did to me?”

  “Look,” he said, his voice heated, “I told you I was sorry. You don’t understand what happened that night. Your father got me drunk, and—”

  “Oh no,” I said, standing up and backing away from him, “you are not—you are not blaming this on my father. He is dead, and he would never have wanted you to touch me. This is why I don’t think you and I are a good idea,” I snapped. “We really bring out the worst in each other.”

  “Yes, we do,” he agreed. “So you could make the argument we’re perfect for each other.”

  I stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or cry. “I hate when you do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “You disarm me like that. It’s not fair. I’m trying to be mad at you here.”

  He stood up and moved close to me. “But you’re having a hard time, aren’t you?”

  “I told you,” I protested, “this doesn’t work on me anymore.”

  “And I told you, I think you’re very wrong about that.” His face was inches away from mine, and I thought what it would be like to give in to him again . . . but I couldn’t. Taking a deep breath, I stepped back. “I’m not in a place to do this with you, Jared.”

  I saw something flash in his eyes, but he nodded and stepped back. “I respect that.”

  “Okay, now I’m convinced that you are not the Jared I used to know,” I teased.

  But he looked serious as he sat back down. “No, you were right. We have other things we have to deal with. Monday, well, it’s pretty inevitable we’re going to have to talk about what happened with us.”

  “I still don’t see what that has to do with Jonathan’s death. It’s not like either you or I killed him. Although,” I reflected, “I guess I had as much of a motive as anybody.”

  “Sit down, Anabel. We have to talk about that.”

  “Talk about what?” I asked, sitting down and scooting my chair as far away from him as possible.

  “They’re going to ask me questions, and I don’t want to lie, but if I tell the truth . . . it portrays your father in an extremely negative light,” he said, looking away.

  “I don’t believe that any of us have held back our criticisms of him thus far,” I pointed out.

  He looked frustrated. “You know, you talk like a book sometimes.”

  I grinned. “Well, you have to remember that books still are my only friends. I haven’t exactly been socializing while I’ve been here, and the people who I do meet don’t know what to say to me.”

  “Look, the point is,” he stopped himself. “What he said to me that night, and what happened . . .” he leaned in closer to me, “it was a game to him, and he said some horrible things about you. I just want you to be prepared, because I am going to tell the truth, and it may not be easy for you to hear.”

  I studied his face. He looked a lot older than he had when we first met. There were deep purple bags under his eyes that must have been a result of many sleepless nights. It was apparent to me that, in whatever twisted way it was, he cared about me. The media hadn’t exactly been giving him an easy time, they were portraying him as possible murderer—and I was guessing after my outburst, they would start presenting him as a statutory rapist. A wave of compassion ran through me, but I steeled myself. It didn’t really matter what I did or did not feel for him, I had to protect myself—and my baby.

  Finally, in a matter-of-fact tone, I said, “Well, you have to tell the truth. And the truth hurts sometimes. We just have to accept that.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked, his voice strained. “I don’t deserve it.”

  “No,” I agreed, “but I am a pragmatist, Jared. I always have been. I have always been trying to figure out a way to survive, whether it was on the island or here. I have to view the world that way, otherwise I will lose it. I have to take the facts as facts, the past as past, and I can’t change it, so I just deal with it. Do you have any idea how horrible I feel?” I looked into his gray eyes. “The last time I saw my father, I screamed at him about how much I hated him. He was what he was, Jared, but that does not mean that I didn’t love him. Now I will never have the opportunity to tell him that, and it eats me alive.” I took a deep breath. “Then I look at you, the only person who I felt understood me—who I am—and accepted me. You made me feel like a normal person, even though I’m not. Now,” I continued, wringing my hands in my lap, “I have to deal with the knowledge that you did something to me so heinous, so unforgivable, that I ought to cut you out of my life entirely. So the very first person who is actually my friend, a friend that I made on my own . . . the point is, this afternoon, Marilyn came upon me in the bathroom and saw my belly, and something inside of me snapped when she discovered me. I had to take charge of the situation. I had to tell you on my own terms. I didn’t want you, much less the press, finding out any other way. Granted, I probably should have thought a l
ittle bit before I put on my show, but I wanted to be in charge. Do you understand?”

  He looked at me with pity and regret, and I glared at him. “Stop feeling sorry for me,” I snapped. “I can’t take it. I just need you to understand what is going on with me.”

  There was silence, and then he asked, “So where does that leave us?”

  “That’s up to you,” I replied. “You won’t encounter any legal troubles from me. You are welcome to see Emma at any time.”

  “But what about you and me?”

  I shook my head at him. “I can’t answer that right now. I don’t know how I feel about this—about everything—and I need time to figure it out. At this moment, though, what I can tell you is that there is not a you and me, and you have to respect that, or I will go completely and utterly insane.”

  He gave me a sad smile, and I continued. “What I don’t want is for you to put your life on hold for me, because it would not be fair for me to ask that of you. I hate to admit this, I really do, but I do care about you a great deal, and I want you to be happy. If that means you find someone who makes you happy, you should be with that person.”

  “I don’t think I can be happy without you,” he remarked.

  “You know, you didn’t know me this time last year.”

  “I wasn’t happy then, either.”

  We walked outside and down Connecticut Avenue until the car picked us up. On the ride back to Blair House we were both quiet, until he turned to me and said, “I’m not giving up, Anabel.”

  “No, Jared,” I returned. “I wouldn’t expect you to.” I sighed. “Look, the doctor is going to do another checkup on Saturday, so you may as well come. He’s coming around eight. I know it’s early for a Saturday, but I would like you to be there.”

  “Your doctor, huh?”

  “Yes,” I said cautiously. “Why?”

  “I need to ask you something.”

  I looked at him. He seemed to be concentrating very hard on the seat in front of him. “Are the rumors true?”