The Ground Beneath

by Stephanie Vercier

  She sighs heavily and takes my hand. “We did understand, honey, and we told Abe so many times that we loved him so much and that he could tell us anything, that nothing in his life would ever change that.”

  “But he never told you?”

  With a shake of her head, she says, “Your father and I didn’t want to label him, didn’t want to make the mistake of presuming something we might possibly have been wrong about. We believed that Abe would tell us in his own time, when he was ready, and that we’d support him when that time came.”

  “He just ran out of time,” I say, resigned to that fact and to how long it took us to finally have this conversation.

  “My therapist and I spent an entire session talking about it. I told him that I wished your father and I had done something more to push the truth out of Abe, that maybe then he never would have stood by and pretended to date Olivia while she was going behind your back with Wyatt.”

  “That’s not your fault.”

  “No… I know that now. My therapist says that if we’d hounded Abe more, it might have just backfired on us and pushed him further away. It might never have changed the end result. And yet, sometimes I still second-guess myself, wonder what might have happened if I’d done just one thing differently.”

  “You did your best,” I say, able to truly believe those words now.

  We sit together in silence for a while, and I’m sure she’s thinking something similar to me, that Abe should be here today with us, open and proud of his life, and that he’s missed more than words can express.

  Finally, my mother says, “You mentioned Sheila’s name as well. What was it you wanted to ask me about her?”

  I’m not sure I’d have had the heart to bring up the second part of my question if she weren’t the one to remind me.

  “You said you would have accepted Abe,” I begin, “but is the fact that Sheila’s gay the reason you and dad stopped being friends with her, the reason she left town?”

  Mom looks confused. “Is that what she told you?”

  I shake my head. “The only thing Sheila ever tells me about you and dad is that she doesn’t want to disappoint you or have you upset with her. She put me off dating Hunter because she figured it would make her look like she’d done a horrible job of protecting me. So, there has to be a reason for that, right?”

  Mom offers a thoughtful expression. “I’m glad that Sheila’s been looking out for you, and had I known you were questioning what happened between us all those years ago, I’d have told you the truth.”

  “What is the truth?”

  Mom doesn’t delay in answering. “The truth is that Sheila was one of my first friends when your father and I came to take over the church here. She didn’t have much of a family, just an aunt that had raised her, and so she became a part of our church family. We loved having her, and she loved you and Abe so much in return. Over the years, I guess I finally realized that she’d been single all that time, and so your father and I thought we were doing her a favor in fixing her up on a few dates.” Her eyebrows gather in, and she shakes her head. “But in hindsight, it wasn’t a favor at all. None of the men worked out, and I sort of jokingly asked her if she even liked men. Well, she wasn’t ready for that. I can still see those tears starting in her eyes, and then her storming out of the house.”

  “And then what?”

  She sighs again. “And then I guess I knew the truth, and I felt terrible for making light of it. I tried to call her to talk things out, but the next time your father and I saw her, it was her telling us she was moving to Seattle.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Well, she’d talked about moving before, but I hadn’t realized she had any solid plans. All I could do was give her a hug and tell her that I loved her, but I didn’t dare broach the subject that had sent her running in the first place. I’m sorry to say that she probably thought I wouldn’t have accepted it. And, once she was gone, we lost touch. It’s an easy thing to do, Allison, when you have two small children and a house to run and a church to help with. Over the years, I’d think I should have tried harder, and then when you went to go and work for her, I was already upset that you were leaving and missing Abe like nobody’s business and trying to push you to be with Micah and…” she takes a breath, seeming to need to catch it. “And, I was afraid she’d tell you I was a horrible, awful person.”

  “Mom, you aren’t a horrible, awful person. And do you think that maybe the way Sheila left after you’d figured out her truth is what you thought would happen if you forced the truth from Abe, that you’d have ended up pushing him further like your therapist said?”

  She slowly nods, her eyes sad. “I think it was always in the back of my mind. And I should have told you this when you went to Seattle, to at least explain why Sheila and I haven’t been in contact. Because she was close to our family those years ago, close enough that I know you’d have remembered her when you were little and wondered.”

  “I should have asked a lot sooner,” I say, hugging my mom, “because I really don’t want to have any more secrets between any of us.”

  “You’re right, Allison. God sees us, inside and out, and He still loves us, even with all of our faults. And I think my therapist would agree that it’s best not to keep secrets… or at least to be more open. There’s always room for improvement.” She holds firm to my hand and says, “Feel better?”

  “I do, Mom. I really do.”

  “Then lets get you to church. It’s time for you to marry the man you love.”

  I wear a short, cream-colored dress, cinched at the waist, and walk down the aisle, my legs bare, a pair of ankle high boots the same color as my dress to match the season. I don’t wear a veil or a train, and there are a little over a dozen people in the church as I move closer to Hunter. He’s so handsome, standing next to my father in his tux, his hands clasped in front of him until he has to bring one up to wipe a tear away, his beautiful blue eyes glistening and focused only on me. I want to cry too, my joyful emotion difficult to contain. But I promised myself I’d at least try not to ruin my makeup, but that’s not going to be easy.

  Every word of the vows I repeat to Hunter come from my very core. I will love him, honor and cherish him, will be with him in sickness and in health until death parts us. But in my heart, I know that not even death could break the bond we build stronger with every passing day.

  “You may kiss your bride,” Dad says.

  With his tears wiped away, Hunter puts his big, warm hands on my cheeks and kisses me, a long claiming kiss, our first as husband and wife. When our lips part, he says, “You’re my wife now, Alli.”

  “And you’re my husband,” I say, finally allowing my tears of joy to fall and not giving even one little damn about my makeup.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  HUNTER

  Alli is my wife!

  It’s the thought that’s been going through my head the entire day. I’d had to tamp down the excitement earlier when I met with the group of men and women Clyde Mitchell had also abused. As we sat talking about our current lives in a private room at the Coalton Library, I did at least tell them I’d gotten married the day prior, and they were all congratulatory, opening up about their own personal lives.

  Some of them had moved away from Coalton and Mountainside, but not as far away as I’d imagined they might have wanted to. Two of the men were married and had only recently told their wives about what they’d endured as kids, while the third man, the first one to contact Daniella, had struggled in relationships. His story most closely resembled my own, going through life with what amounted to meaningless sex with people he didn’t really care about in a quest to prove his manhood. Like me meeting Alli, he’d only recently met a woman who reminded him of who he truly wanted to be, a woman who has stood by him through all of this.

  The two women, both in their early thirties, had each been through a marriage to “the wrong kind of man.” One was in the process of divorcing her sec
ond husband, the other beginning a new relationship with someone she had a great deal of hope for, but added, “I guess I’m always hopeful until it all falls apart.”

  I was sad for her. I was sad for what all of us had gone through.

  Some of those in the group said they’d had trouble with drugs or alcohol as ways to mask pain, that there were relapses and days that were filled with bad memories. One of the women said she’d sometimes tell herself that what Clyde Mitchell did to her didn’t actually happen, and that the moments she could convince herself of this were the only she felt true, though fleeting, relief.

  None of us, including me, really wanted to get into the gory details of what exactly the sheriff did to us—we weren’t really equipped to work through the information without a professional in the room. We were still bonded, though. Things hadn’t been easy over the years, but we’d all survived.

  We made promises to meet throughout the year, and I offered to pay for therapy for whoever needed it. I’d have to find a therapist one day too, not just for me and my family, but for myself. Everyone in the room accepted the offer, and I was already making plans to get in touch with psychologists, if not in and around Coalton, then in Wenatchee or Ellensburg or as far as my new friends were willing to travel.

  My thoughts about Alli compete with my new responsibilities, but I allow myself the time to think of only her now, to revel in the victory of making her my wife.

  She’s spending some time with her parents today. Then she’s planning to meet up with Daniella to give her some of the pictures from our wedding. Our news would come out to the world soon enough, so we decided Daniella could have the exclusive photos and direct some extra traffic to the Gazette website.

  “What about Sheila?” I asked. “She’ll want to know before all this gets out.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” Alli replied. “Let me be the one to do it, okay?”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure, Hunter.”

  Maybe it was cowardly of me not to insist I man up and talk to Sheila, but it made me no less grateful for Alli doing it.

  Josh, Mallory, Logan and Grace have already headed back to Seattle. And while things are much better with my brothers and my dad, good enough that I don’t think they’d mind me swinging by to continue the rebuild of our family, I decide to take some time for myself and just drive the snowy county roads near town, ready to pave over bad memories with new, better ones. I turn my music up, tapping my steering wheel and revel in my thoughts of Alli and of all the things that are ahead of us. Too soon, though, my phone rings through the sounds system.

  It’s a number I don’t recognize, but it’s local, so I hit the intercom and answer.

  “Hunter?” It’s a man’s voice, unfamiliar.

  “Yeah. Who’s this?”

  “Micah Mitchell,” he says. “Sheriff Mitchell. I was hoping you and I could talk.”

  I wasn’t sure when, but I knew he’d eventually try to make contact, either to defend his father to me or to list the many reasons why he thought he’d be a better man for Alli than I’d ever be capable of. “About what?” I ask.

  “About my father,” he says. “About the things he did to you.”

  “I don’t need that,” I say, going right into fight response. “I don’t need you trying to excuse him to me. You might not want to believe it, but your dad was sick.”

  There’s a brief silence on the other end as I’m gearing up for a verbal fight, and then he says, “I know that. I know some other things too, like what really caused your mother’s accident.”

  My heart catches in my throat, and I nearly skid off the road. “What did you say?”

  “I’d like to talk in person,” he says, his voice sounding almost alien to me. “Any chance you can get over to my house now?”

  My heart pounds in my ears, so I pull over to keep from careening off the road. “The real cause… of my mom’s accident? Is that what you said?”

  He hesitates before saying, “Yes.”

  “Then tell me now… right now!” I’m so desperate for the truth that I can feel myself wriggling out of my own skin.

  “No. Not over the phone. I’ll give you my address, and it’s your choice if you want to come or not.”

  “You seriously can’t just tell me?”

  “Not like this. No.”

  I want to reach through the phone, grab him by the neck and shake the truth out of him, but there’s something in his voice that says he won’t be convinced. It could be a trap, some kind of ambush for calling his father out and marrying the girl he’s apparently still in love with. But I’m not sure how capable I am of thinking clearly or reasonably at the moment as to whether or not some ulterior motive actually exists. All I keep thinking is that I’m going to get the truth, that a mystery will be solved, a chance to finally let my mother and aunt rest in peace.

  Maybe I’m an idiot. Maybe I’m the stupidest man alive, but I say, “Fine. Give me your address, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  ALLISON

  Daniella appreciated the pictures, and while I was afraid she’d be hurt I didn’t invite her to the wedding itself, she didn’t seem to take any offense. Sheila was somewhat of a different story. While she’d been Hunter’s agent for years, I asked him to let me be the one to call her and tell her about our nuptials. She wasn’t so much surprised when I told her, more so sounding as though she felt left out, that she’d become a big enough part of both of our lives to have been invited.

  “I wasn’t sure how my mom would react to seeing you,” I told her as honestly as I could, then after the talk I’d had with my mother, realizing it wouldn’t have been a big deal at all.

  “I can understand that,” Sheila said. “I’m not sure either of your parents would have been very happy to see me.”

  “That’s what I thought, but then I talked to mom just before the wedding, and I’d really like it if you talked to her too. Don’t you think it’s time?”

  Sheila sighed before saying, “I don’t think your mother actually wants to talk to me, not now or—”

  “Yes, she does,” I insisted. “In fact, she’s just in the other room.”

  “Allison, I don’t know.”

  “She knows that I’m calling you, and she wants to say hi before I hang up.”

  Sheila and I went around in a few more circles before she finally believed that what I was telling her was true. Eventually, I handed the house phone over to my mother, and while I could tell the conversation was somewhat frigid at first, I watched my mother relax more and more, and pretty soon they were talking like two old friends who were willing to get beyond a misunderstanding that led to years of silence between them.

  With my dad at the church working on his sermon for tomorrow, I let Mom know I was going to walk to the grocery store to grab a few things for dinner. She smiled and waved me off and went right back to talking with Sheila.

  I’m bundled up, but it isn’t snowing at least, and a lot of people have already shoveled their sidewalks, so it doesn’t take much more effort to get to the store than it would on a sunny, summer day. Still, the thought crosses my mind that I should learn to drive and maybe even get a car. It seems like forever ago now that I’d asked Hunter to teach me, his eyes lighting up at the request. But then things got so busy, and I’d decided I didn’t want my limited time with Hunter to be spent in frustration as I tried to learn how to drive a car.

  But one day, when things quiet down, I’ll ask again, and I imagine Hunter being an excellent teacher.

  Taking my gloves off, and then gripping the small cart at the grocery store, I keep looking down to my ring finger and the wedding band that now accompanies my engagement ring.

  I’m really Hunter’s wife.

  I’m so surrounded by the thought as I head down the produce aisle that I barely notice when someone calls my name. When I finally look up, Mrs. Mitchell, Wyatt and Micah’s mother, is standing in
front of me with a full cart and a stretched smile on her face.

  “Well, fancy meeting you here,” she says, an almost manufactured elation to her voice.

  “Mrs. Mitchell,” I say. “How are you doing?” I’m sure my expression looks sympathetic, even as I try to push it into a nonchalant smile. I haven’t talked to Wyatt’s mother since before I left Coalton for Seattle, and I’m sure that the revelations about what her husband did to Hunter and others haven’t been easy for her to deal with.

  “Well, I’m doing fine, honey,” she says. “Just getting the grocery shopping done and trying to keep myself busy.”

  “That’s good.”

  With wide eyes and a tilt of her head, she looks at me as though she’s expecting more. But I don’t know where to go with our conversation. Almost anything I say could lead to something hurtful.

  “You should come over for a visit!” she says, filling the silence between us.

  “A visit? Okay… sure,” I reply, imagining it being months from now on one of my visits home or—somewhat inconsiderately—maybe never.

  “I’ll just check out, and let you finish your shopping, and then you can ride with me,” she says, her voice full of animation.

  “Oh.” I’m about to tell her I didn’t mean today, but then I think about how lucky I am to have just married Hunter, to have two parents that love me and a growing number of people I care about and who care about me, who don’t start every sentence with some reminder about Wyatt and Abe. I don’t know if Mrs. Mitchell has anything close to that in her life right now because I haven’t really asked. And even though Wyatt was not the perfect man, I did love him at one point, and I think I owe it to him to spare an afternoon for his mother, a mother who might be just as much a victim of her husband’s crimes as anyone else.

  “I’ll make tea, and we’ll have cookies, and it will be like old times. I miss those days you used to come over with Wyatt.”