by Wendy Owens
Slipping my key into the security door, I took the stairs two by two, eager to return to my beloved’s side. When I reached the hall my breath caught in my throat, and I instantly froze. Standing just outside my door, staring at me with the same eyes as his son was Ashton’s father.
“Clementine,” he said softly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. For an older gentleman, Robert was quite handsome. Ashton had his mom’s hair color, but the rest of him was all his father.
“Mr. Stirling, what are you doing here?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“When I told your downstairs neighbor I was your father-in-law she was nice enough to let me in. Curious thing, though, she asked when you and Colin got married.”
I didn’t know why I suddenly felt like a teenager, explaining myself, as if I had done something wrong. “I’m sorry Mr. Stirling. I know I should have stayed in better contact.”
“I understand, child. I’d like to talk to you, if you don’t mind. Could I come in?” he asked.
I hesitated; the idea of being alone with him after what Stryker must have told him scared me. “My friends are waiting for me.”
“I won’t be long, and I’ve come a long way. Could you give a few minutes to someone who used to be family?” Suddenly I remembered there was so much more Ashton and his father had in common—they were both excellent at manipulating people.
“Of course,” I relented, unlocking the door, allowing him to enter first. I followed him to the living room, waiting for him to sit, but he did not. Instead he stood near the window, staring out into the night street.
“Nice place you have here, Clementine,” he added, glancing in my direction. I stood behind the couch, wanting with every fiber of my being to duck down and hide behind it.
“Thank you, I live here with my room mate, P—”
“Yes, Paige. Well, you know I already know all of these things,” Mr. Stirling continued. “It seems silly to pretend otherwise.”
“Yes, about that. I’m not really sure why you would think you had to go to such drastic measures. If you had any questions I would have been happy to answer them for you.” What I actually wanted to do was scream at the man, tell him that he had set a psychopath loose on me. But I couldn’t. I knew he was just hurting, confused by what Ashton had done, and like the rest of us, he was trying to find a way to move on.
“I’m not so sure about that, Clementine. You and your mom leave town with barely a word. I find out you reverted back to your maiden name. Your mom doesn’t answer our correspondence. What’s a man to think?” His questions were pointed, his stare cold.
“I know I could have handled things better—so many times I thought about picking up the phone and calling Maggie… I mean, Mrs. Stirling. I wasn’t sure what to say,” I explained, wishing he knew how sincerely I had not wished to perpetuate their pain. We were all grieving in our own way.
“It broke her heart, Clementine. She lost her only son, and then when you disappeared it was like losing a daughter, too.”
“I know, and I said I’m sorry.”
“Seems like you’re sorry about a lot of things. At least that’s what you say.” Robert took a step closer and my heart began to race.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” I shifted uncomfortably in my galoshes.
“Stryker told me what you said happened that night with Ashton. That you told him he should go ahead and kill himself. Are you sorry about that, Clementine?”
I had never hated my name more than when I heard him speak it, the loathing sent chills down my spine. “You have no idea how much I regret the way that happened. I’ve thought about it every day. I didn’t think he was serious,” I stammered through the excuses.
“Yeah, it seems you’re really broken up. So you think about him when you’re shacked up with this Colin character?”
“It’s not like that,” I insisted. With each step he moved toward me, I matched with my own step backward until at last my back was pressed against the wall.
“Please, sir. You have to believe me. I loved Ashton. If I had known—”
“Don’t you dare desecrate his memory by saying you loved him,” he growled, now only inches away from me. I couldn’t speak; the same fear I had once felt at the hands of his son I was experiencing in that moment. Grabbing hold of my arms he shook me, a fire in his eyes as he shouted, “You’ll see. I’m going to have you brought up on murder charges. We’ll see how happy you and your little boy wonder are then.”
“Please, I didn’t—” I begged, tears running down my cheeks. I closed my eyes, wishing it were over.
“You were never good enough for him. Some stupid town slut—I told him—but would he listen, no.”
I opened my eyes and watched in horror as he drew his hand back, preparing to strike me, the rage in his eyes causing me to squeeze them shut once again. I preferred the darkness rather than the way I was reflected in those despair filled pools.
The strike against my cheek caused a ringing in my ears, which for a moment deafened all other sounds. In a way it was a relief, as I couldn’t hear his venomous shouts any longer. I fell to the floor, curling into a tight ball, attempting to close so tightly into myself, he might decide I wasn’t worth the effort.
As the ringing stopped I heard flesh colliding with flesh and the scuffling of shoes across the wooden floor. It was Colin; he was deflecting a punch from Mr. Stirling. I didn’t move, but rather watched in silent horror as the man I currently loved twisted the arm of the father of the man I once loved, shoving him into the kitchen area and out the front door.
Seconds later Colin was scooping me into his arms, frantically pulling the hair from my face. “Em? Are you okay? Answer me, Em. Come on, baby. I need you to give me a sign you’re all right.”
I nodded, pressing my head into him, releasing all of the pain into his chest. I reached up and grabbed his shoulder, tightening my grasp on him. I wanted to dig my fingers into him, make myself part of him. If I could join with him, maybe I could be strong enough for this.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The sun peeked through the curtains as the smell of coffee filled the apartment. Slowly, I reached up, rubbing the sleep that had crystalized at the corner of my eyes during the night. My eyes were tender and my throat raw from all of the tears.
Colin spent most of the night trying to reassure me. He told me how it was impossible for me to be held responsible for Ashton’s death, and that Mr. Stirling was merely trying to lash out in any way he could. I was an easy target. It didn’t matter if Colin was right or wrong. I was tired of feeling guilty; maybe it was time I was held accountable.
“Morning, beautiful,” Colin said, walking into my room carrying a tray. Sitting up I feigned a smile.
“I’m sure I look ravishing.”
“You do to me.” He placed the tray across the end of the bed. Coffee, toast, eggs, slightly burnt turkey bacon, and a mix of fruit overflowed from a plate. “Apparently you girls don’t believe in real bacon?”
“I do, but Paige won’t allow it. She already isn’t happy I bring actual bread into the house,” I explained, rolling my eyes to express my disapproval of the restrictions.
“This from the same girl I have seen put away a cheeseburger and an entire plate of french fries?” Colin laughed.
I shrugged. “I didn’t say she made sense.”
“Well, I hope you enjoy this. I did the best I could,” he said, leaning over and kissing my forehead. I watched as he walked around, taking a seat next to me.
“Thanks, it looks great,” I said, pulling the tray closer and picking at the contents.
“Are you feeling better today?” I could feel his eyes staring at me as I attempted to eat a few scraps.
“Not really.”
“I’m sorry last night was so hard on you, baby. That wasn’t fair of him to put all of that on you.” I felt Colin’s broad hand settle on my back, sweeping from side to side.
“I don’t see how you can say it�
��s not fair.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, confused.
“You wouldn’t understand,” I dismissed, only able to muster a whisper as I spoke.
“I’m here because I want to understand, so help me, please. How is anything that happened last night fair to you? It was total bullshit in my opinion.” Colin stopped rubbing my back and stared at me, waiting for me to give him a hint of what was going through my mind.
“He’s right,” I answered, hoping he would take that as enough of an answer and leave me in peace to continue wallowing in my self-pity. Which was something I had become quite an expert at over the years.
“Who?” Colin questioned, and when he saw I had no intention of answering him he continued, “You can’t be serious? Let me see if I’ve got this straight—you’re telling me that you think your dead husband’s father coming here, years later, and threatening you is somehow justified? Em, he’s an asshole, and he had no right to put you through all of that again.”
I wanted him to leave. More than anything, I knew he was trying to make things better, but I didn’t want them to be better. I wanted to hate myself; I wished he could see how much I deserved everyone’s loathing. Sitting up, I looked into his eyes. “His son is dead because of me. I think he has every right.”
“His son is dead because he shot himself. You need to stop blaming yourself,” Colin argued I could see he wanted to reach out and touch me, but was hesitant.
“I told him to do it!” I cried, struggling to not come completely unraveled.
When he could no longer keep his distance, Colin reached out and took my hand into his, squeezing it tight. I stared into his eyes. “I don’t care what you said to him, this was not your fault. For someone to take their own life, they were in a place that can’t be the fault of any one person. You told me about how he mistreated you. I think if a man believes there is something acceptable about that behavior, there is inherently something wrong with him. Based on the way his father treated you, I am guessing the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.”
“His son is dead, you shouldn’t say—”
Colin didn’t wait for me to finish, “I shouldn’t speak the truth? He hit you! He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”
“I guess we’ll see. He said he was going to report this to the police. If I’m guilty, I’m sure it won’t take them long to come knocking,” I noted.
Colin laughed at the notion. “There is absolutely no way anyone is going to even listen to him. When you made that statement to Ashton, you didn’t believe he had any intention of actually hurting himself. He had a history of abuse with you, there was no weapon in his hand when you left, and he was not in a state of mind that made you feel safe. Mr. Stirling is hurting, so he’s trying to blame someone because it’s easier than thinking his son was in some way defective. Any cop will see that.”
I didn’t speak at first—I knew Colin was right. I knew legally I hadn’t done anything wrong. I couldn’t shake the feeling, though, that it wasn’t fair for me to be happy. Ashton would never be able to be happy again. Anything other than a life of misery felt like I was being selfish. I wanted to be with Colin, but I didn’t know how to set things right. If I can’t give him all of me, it isn’t fair to let him throw his heart away.
And then I made a decision. “I’m going to Ohio.”
“What?” Colin nearly choked on the word.
“I need to go and talk to his mother. She deserves to know everything that happened that night… from me,” I explained, staring at a blank space on the wall in order to avoid his eyes, even though I could feel them burning through my cheek.
“That’s not a good idea,” he quickly added.
“I need to do it,” I stated flatly.
“Em! That won’t change anything. You’re not going,” he insisted.
This was not something Colin was going to be able to talk me out of. I had made up my mind. Turning my head to meet his eyes so there would be no mistaking me, I replied, “I’m going to Ohio. You don’t need to understand; in fact, it doesn’t even fully make sense to me, but I know I need to go, as much for us as for them.
I could see the fear in his eyes. The loss of control of something he found precious, slipping out of his fingertips. Then he surprised me, “Fine, I’m going with you.”
“No, you’re not, I need to do this on my own,” I argued.
“Mr. Stirling hit you last night. There is no way in hell I am letting you go back there without me.” Colin’s tone was stern.
“I’ll be fine,” I said, attempting to reassure him.
“I’m going, or you’re not,” he instructed, standing and leaving the room, removing all option for argument. I guess he was going.
Chapter Twenty-Five
At every turn there was a memory. Pulling up to the vast driveway, I remembered the strolls we would take outside of his parents’ property. I also remembered an argument Ashton and I had in the car, just before a Sunday family dinner, during which I thought I might have to flee from his fury.
Climbing the stone steps, I recalled an image of the teenage Clementine, perched over Ashton’s shoulder, watching him as he worked on his English paper. Just being in the same space as Ashton used to be enough to fill me up.
As I paused at the top of the stairs, I recalled a moment when Ashton’s cousins were skipping across the oversized porch, leaping onto our laps on the hanging wooden swing. Ashton was always great with kids; I suppose it was a small blessing we never had any.
“You don’t have to do this,” Colin reminded me. Now that he had flown all this way with me, I was actually quite glad to have him by my side. The anxiety had begun to overwhelm me on the flight here. I didn’t call ahead to let the Stirlings know I was coming, for fear I might lose my nerve. I hadn’t even told my mother of my plans, who I knew, like Colin, would not approve.
“I know I don’t have to,” I said with a smile, and then glanced in the direction of the rental car. “Can you wait for me at the car?”
He hesitated before answering, “Em, what if something happens? I would feel better if I could keep my eyes on you. I need to know you’re safe.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I replied.
“I’ll wait at the bottom of the steps, but you have to promise me if you feel at all uncomfortable, you’ll call out to me,” Colin instructed. “I’ll be in there in a heartbeat.”
“Fine, although I’m certain there won’t be any need for that.” I watched as Colin sulked down the stairs. Once at the bottom, he turned, looking up at me with wide eyes.
I took a deep breath and pressed the familiar button at the right of the doorframe, listening to the muffled chimes. When the hollow clicking noises of shoes against hardwood floors neared, my heart rate shot up, and I began to hear a popping noise in my ears. I didn’t know what to expect when the door opened. Would Maggie shut it in my face? I had been her daughter-in-law for years, but since the death of her son, I had abandoned her, no word of where I had disappeared.
As the door pulled open, I was relieved it was not Mr. Stirling who answered. I saw Ashton’s mother staring back at me. It was shocking to see how much she had changed over only a couple years. Her golden hair was consumed by grays, and the faint lines around her eyes and mouth had deepened. Her eyes appeared as if they were shining when she drank me in.
“Clementine, my dear.” Her voice was pleasant and welcoming—I was now confused. She looked over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of Colin who I can only assume was staring back. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call, Maggie, I mean, Mrs. Stirling,” I quickly corrected. I was sure she must loathe me, and my use of her first name must have made her sick.
“Nonsense, you don’t ever need to call, and I’m always Maggie to you. Do you want to come in?” she asked, stepping to one side.
“Yes, thank you.” I walked past her. The last time I had entered this home it was as their daughter-in-law, but
I was surprised it felt the same.
“Your friend, would he like to come in?” Maggie asked looking down at him, a smile across her face. I was certain she was curious as to his identity.
“No,” I quickly replied, in case Colin might have heard her suggestion and accepted the offer. “He’s fine out there.”
Maggie was well put together; she had always been that way. A skirt with a dark navy floral print tickled her ankles and a cream blouse that came together with a loose bow at the neck covered her torso. A circular brooch that was covered in rhinestones complimented her navy cardigan to top off her ensemble. Ashton bought jewelry for his mother for every holiday; it had always been a thing between them, and I knew she treasured each piece.
“Mag, who was at the door?” My back stiffened as soon as I heard Mr. Stirling’s voice.
“Clementine has come for a visit dear,” Maggie answered, ushering me into the formal living room. I peered around the room; it looked as though not a single thing had been disturbed since last I saw the place. On the mantle was Ashton’s senior picture, and across from it, one from our wedding. Part of me was surprised Mr. Stirling hadn’t insisted on removing it.
I could hear him coming closer, bounding through the house with his heavy footsteps. Bursting into the room he glared at me, the bruises from the altercation between him and Colin evident now. “What are you doing here, girl?”
“Robert!” Maggie scolded.
“I won’t have this whore in my house, Maggie!” he replied sternly.
“You will be silent,” Maggie commanded. I had never heard her speak to Mr. Stirling in such a tone. I honestly didn’t think she had it in her. It was obvious there had been some changes since Ashton passed. “Clementine has come here to talk to us, and we will listen… do you understand?”