Imagine That

by Kristin Wallace

  She didn’t appreciate his amusement because her fists clenched like she wanted to take a swing at him. “I wish I understood the crazy tug-of-war we’re having. Did all those so-called valid reasons we shouldn’t be together evaporate?”

  “Why are you so mad?”

  “Maybe I don’t like having my heart ripped out one day, and then you expecting me to fall in your arms and act like it never happened the next.”

  Nate couldn’t blame her there. He shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to think of a way to explain.

  “My mother doesn’t have much time left,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “No. I mean she’s decided to stop chemo.”

  “Oh, Nate,” she said, taking a step toward him.

  Now he put out a hand to hold her back. “Emily, please don’t cry or I’ll never get this out.”

  She bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

  “I haven’t wanted to face her dying, but the thing is we’re all living on a time clock. The rest of us just don’t know it. Look at you. You’ve fallen out of a tree, gotten bit by a spider, and now almost killed by a dog. I could get hit by lightning tomorrow. Fall off a roof. My mother warned me about wasting my life by dwelling on a failed relationship. I didn’t understand until you came around the corner.”

  “Understand what?”

  “How the sight of you makes me forget everything. You make me smile when there isn’t much in my life to feel good about. And that has to mean more than whether or not I finished college.”

  She stepped closer. “So, what are we supposed to do?”

  “We could try acting like a normal couple and get to know each other,” he said, lacing his fingers through hers. “Go to dinner and a movie.”

  “Dinner sounds pretty mundane at this point,” Emily said, eyes lit with humor. “Your rescuing me has become an effective courtship ritual.”

  “I think you’ve rescued me just as many times. I’m not sure you understand what it’s like to be able to laugh when you’re watching someone you love die by degrees.”

  At last her eyes slid up to meet his. “So, it’s a date then?”

  “A date.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The first time Emily noticed the strange car it was parked in front of Nate’s house. She wouldn’t have noticed the vehicle at all, except it was the kind someone drove when they didn’t want to be noticed. A black, four-door sedan with no identifying marks. It practically screamed don’t-look-at-me.

  Which meant Emily had looked. Especially when she’d spotted a man sitting in the front seat. She’d tried to get a good look at the driver, with no luck, and when she’d come out, the car was gone.

  The mystery vehicle made another appearance when she and Nate went on their first official date. She wondered if Nate would be offended to know she’d been distracted by a black car, but then her writer’s brain went on high alert over things other people overlooked.

  Defcon One sounded in her head when she spotted the man. He wasn’t in the driver’s seat now, but looking in a shop window. Or pretending to. He glanced over his shoulder, and the fine hairs on Emily’s arm stood at attention. Something about the shape of the stranger’s head and the way he stood seemed familiar.

  Their eyes met, and Emily’s entire body froze.

  She recognized his face.

  “Em, what’s wrong?”

  She jerked at the sound of Nate’s voice. “Huh?”

  His mouth kicked up. “What happened just now?”

  “Nothing.” She glanced across the street again. Mystery man had scuttled back to his car. The engine started, and within seconds he drove off.

  Nate nudged her. “Hey, Emily. Am I boring you?”

  “Don’t be silly. I saw a black car and—” She broke off and attempted a carefree laugh. “Never mind. It’s a hazard of my profession. I’m always trying to come up with a story to go with odd occurrences.”

  “A black car is odd?” he asked with a bemused frown.

  Emily snuggled closer. “Only a writer would understand.”

  “I see.” He kissed the top of her head. “Did you come up with anything interesting?”

  Her stomach twisted. “Unfortunately.”

  ****

  The next morning, Emily went on the hunt. A hunch said The Watcher was still around. She jumped in her car and proceeded to sweep the parking lot of every cheap motel within fifteen miles of Covington Falls. After about an hour, she hit pay dirt.

  Emily pulled in next to the surveillance vehicle and turned off the engine. She spent the next ten minutes staring at the motel door, trying to work up the courage to knock. There was a chance her guess was wrong. Her dead imagination could have come back to life and jumped into overdrive.

  The cheekbones and fall of brown hair on Peeping Tom said otherwise.

  Taking a deep breath, Emily stepped out of the car. Another gulp of air, and she rapped on the door of Room 302. She almost fell over when Heathcliff the Elder answered. The crevices around his eyes and the deep grooves bracketing his mouth couldn’t disguise the similarities to his sons.

  “You have no idea how much I wanted to be wrong,” Emily said.

  He scrunched in his eyebrows the same way Nate did. “Do I know—” His eyes widened. “You’re the girl I saw with Nate—”

  “Good of you to recognize your son after all these years.” She didn’t bother to soften the bite in her voice.

  Heathcliff Sr. sighed and stepped back. “Maybe you should come in.”

  Emily didn’t budge. “Do I have to worry about winding up in a dumpster with my head bashed in? I have to warn you, I’m pretty famous, and there would be lots of news coverage.”

  A gleam of amusement flared in the man’s brown eyes, the one thing Senior hadn’t passed on to his doppelganger sons. “I would never hurt a woman.”

  Emily refused to be charmed. “Your definition of hurting must be different than mine.”

  “Physical assault then,” he said, acknowledging the hit with a dip of his chin. “We can go to the little coffee shop across the parking lot, if you want.”

  She jerked her head up and down. “Okay, but just in case, I have a great pair of lungs.”

  “I’ll remember.”

  He grabbed his keys off the dresser and stepped outside. They walked in silence.

  The minute they sat down, Emily leaned forward. “Okay, sir—”

  A waitress stopped by the table. “Coffee?” she asked.

  Emily tried to wave the woman off, but Senior nodded. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming in frustration as the waitress poured the steaming brew. Finally, they were left alone.

  She fixed her expression and prepared to interrogate. “So… Mr. Cooper, I presume?”

  He didn’t deny the assertion, though how could he when Nate and Zach might have been stamped out from their father’s body?

  Mr. Cooper poured cream in his coffee, along with two packets of sweetener, and stirred while he stared at her. “Who are you to Nate? I saw you at Rachel’s, and you were with him at the restaurant. Are you two married?”

  “No, we met a few weeks ago,” she said, heart twisting at the bitter irony of a father not knowing if his son had a wife. “I’m Emily Sinclair.”

  He lifted the mug and blew across the surface. “You said you’re famous.”

  “If you’re into children’s books. I write under the name E.J. Sinclair.”

  “I’ve heard of you,” he said, after a stunned moment. “What are you doing here?”

  Emily tried her best to look threatening. “I think a better question is… what are you doing here? Why have you chosen to show your face after all these years?”

  “I got a letter from Rachel.”

  Right. The I-forgive-you letter Rachel had written to her ex-husband. “Did you want to make sure she was actually dying?” Emily asked. “Maybe you were thinking you’d get something after she dies.”

  H
e winced and set his cup down. “You have a pretty low opinion of me.”

  “I think you’ve earned it. What kind of man abandons his wife and children? Were they too big a burden for you? Did you need more excitement in your life? Or maybe you took up with some floozy stripper who offered to fulfill all your suppressed fantasies?”

  Nate had inherited his what-are-you-talking-about expression from Senior, too. “No wonder you write children’s books. You’ve cooked up some serious fantasies about me, haven’t you?”

  “How am I wrong?”

  “The truth is not so salacious. Believe it or not, I left for their own good.”

  “Of course you did,” Emily said, not bothering to contain her contempt. She snapped her fingers. “I know. The mob was after you, right? Did you turn state’s evidence and go into witness protection? I bet you’ve been living under an alias all these years.”

  “Again, not so glamorous.”

  “Okay, then Mr. Hero, what great favor did you do for your family by vanishing into thin air?”

  Rather than act the least bit intimidated, he smiled. “My son is lucky to have such a fierce champion to back him up.”

  Seeing him smile, Emily began to understand how Dale Cooper could have fooled Rachel. The snake had an abundance of charm.

  Emily was in no mood to be taken for a ride, however. She shook a finger at him. “Stop trying to play games with me. Come on. Let’s hear about your great sacrifice.”

  The mask of detached amusement faded, and for the first time Emily glimpsed a deep sorrow in the depths of Dale Cooper’s eyes.

  “I think you have to understand how I grew up first,” Dale said, in a halting manner as if struggling to find the right words.

  She spread her hands. “Enlighten me.”

  “Most kids have a fear of monsters under the bed. I lived with one, only he was real.”

  “What kind of monster?”

  “The kind who liked to smack my mother around.”

  Do not show sympathy, Emily. “Your father was abusive?”

  “Yes.” Dale dropped the spoon and massaged the back of his neck. Just like Nate did when he was frustrated. “My house was a minefield, and we never knew when the explosion would come. One wrong step could bring down my father’s wrath, and the aftermath was terrible.”

  “Did he hit you, too?”

  “Not at first. I always hid. I heard all the fights, though. The smack of a hand against flesh. Her cries as she begged him to stop.”

  Emily’s stomach heaved at the thought of a scared little boy hiding under the bed while the sounds of violence echoed around him. “Your mother wouldn’t leave?”

  “Too scared. Too attached,” Dale said. “No matter what he did she forgave him. Even when I became his target.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Eight. I’d burned a piece of toast.”

  A touch of sympathy crowded in around her anger, despite her intention to remain cold and unforgiving.

  “When I was thirteen, he broke my arm because he thought I’d lost the TV remote,” he said. “That night, my mother woke me up. She gave me some money and directions on how to get to the bus station so I could buy a ticket to Birmingham where her sister lived.”

  Dale Cooper’s story was way more frightening than a mob price on his head. The way his fingers were methodically shredding his napkin told Emily it was true, too.

  “Did you go?” she asked.

  “Not without a fight. I didn’t want to leave her alone with him. I begged her to come with me, but she refused. I never got over the guilt of knowing I’d abandoned my mother. I tried to live a normal life with my aunt, but the scars were always there. Demons chasing me.”

  Curiosity won out over animosity for the moment. “How did you meet Rachel?”

  “Drove through here on the way to a construction job in Florida. Couldn’t believe a place like this still existed, so I decided to stop and eat something. Rachel was my waitress. Prettiest thing I’d ever seen.” He stared out the window for a moment, a pensive expression on his face. “I thought for sure she could banish the demons.”

  “So, you did love her? At least in the beginning?”

  His eyes softened as the corners of his mouth curved up. Again, just like Nate. “Yes, I did. Rachel loved me too, and all I ever did was hurt her.”

  “Then why did you leave?” Emily burst out. “I don’t understand. What did you think you were saving them from?”

  “Me. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing a fist flying toward my face. I’d wake up with my mother’s screams in my ears. So, I tried to drown out the voices and the memories. Drugs, alcohol, pills. Whatever I could get my hands on to try and escape.”

  “Rachel didn’t suspect?”

  “I was a born con man. I’d already recreated myself into someone who deserved a woman like her. She didn’t even know about my family. I told her my parents died when I was a kid. I kept hoping I could find a way to change, but I never—”

  Dale swallowed, and Emily fought not to reach out and touch his hand.

  “I could feel the walls closing in around me,” he said. “And when Rachel got pregnant with Zach, I panicked even more. I took it out on her, and Nathan. He already resented me, and all he had to do was roll his eyes or mutter something under his breath to set me off. Then one day we got in a huge fight.”

  “Over what?”

  “I don’t even remember. I only know a kind of rage came over me. I realized my hands were clenched into fists. I was seconds away from hitting my own son. It was my worst fear. I was becoming my father.”

  Emily shouldn’t have felt sorry for him, but she couldn’t help trying to comfort him. “But you didn’t hit him. You realized what you were doing, and you stopped yourself. Your father didn’t.”

  “Maybe in the beginning he did try to stop,” Dale said, shaking his head. “Maybe the rage took over. His blood was in my veins. I couldn’t take a chance of becoming the monster in the closet.”

  “Did you think leaving your family would be the better alternative?” Emily asked, her temper igniting again. “Letting Nate grow up believing you left because you thought he was stupid?”

  Dale reared back in shock. “What?”

  “Because of his dyslexia. He doesn’t read well.”

  For a moment, Dale’s expression wavered and then he stiffened his shoulders. “I’m sorry about that, but should he have grown up fearing me instead? Wondering what would set me off and whether he’d be able to protect his mother the next time?”

  Sympathy warred with disgust. Emily believed Dale Cooper had done what he’d thought best at the time, but in the end, he’d chosen to run away. And he’d left a trail of broken hearts in his wake.

  “You took a coward’s way out.”

  “You’re right. I was a coward,” Dale said, not bothering to deny the truth. “I can’t offer any excuses. I can only say I didn’t feel like I had a choice.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I wandered. Hitched rides with truckers and stayed wherever I got dropped off. Took whatever job I could get so I could make enough to eat and feed my addictions. Until I wound up in Phoenix. I rented a pool house in this lady’s back yard. Her name was Geraldine Frasier, but everyone called her Geri. I don’t know why she gave me a room, let alone took an interest. She pushed like no woman I’d ever met. Kept on at me about going to church with her.”

  “She wanted to save you.”

  “Only God knows why. Geri told me later she recognized the look in my eyes.”

  “What look?”

  “Like a war veteran. From the losing side. She read the agony because she’d experienced it, too.”

  “Everyone has a story,” Emily mused.

  “Yes, and Geri’s was tragic. She’d gotten behind the wheel after a night out at a club and hit another car head-on. Killed the other driver.”

  “She must have been eaten up with guilt.”

  “For a lot
of years. She’d punished herself any way she could think of, like I’d been doing. She told me I could wallow in misery for the rest of my life or find a way to forgive myself.”

  “Did you listen?”

  A ghost of a smile flitted across his lips. “Not hardly. Not right away, at least. Geri didn’t let up, though. Kept after me about getting clean and going to church, until I thought I’d go nuts. I finally went to get her out of my hair, and it changed my life. Meeting God changed everything. Filled a hole in me I’d desperately tried to fill.”

  “You became a new man,” Emily said, not bothering to hide her skepticism.

  Dale acknowledged the sting in her voice. “Not overnight, but eventually. I know it sounds cliché, but it’s true. I haven’t touched alcohol or drugs in years, though I still go to a counselor whenever I need to. And I’m working with the youth at my church. Trying to help other lost kids before they go down the path I did.”

  “Noble of you, I’m sure,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her mouth. “Too bad you couldn’t have helped your own kids.”

  “I know, but you understand now why I had to go. I didn’t feel like I had a choice.”

  “There’s always a choice.”

  He started to speak, and Emily waved him off.

  “I do understand in some strange way.” She leaned forward, chin jutting out. “I am curious, though. When did you have this great epiphany? You say you’ve been clean for years, so why didn’t you ever bother to come back and clean up the mess you left here? Why didn’t you try as hard to fix your own family?”

  “So much time had gone by,” he said, unable to meet her gaze. “I thought I’d only make things worse by storming back into town. I hoped Rachel would’ve found happiness somewhere else.”

  “You have a twisted sense of nobility.”

  “You’re right. I was so scared of facing them again. Scared of seeing the hatred in my sons’ eyes.”

  “And now?”

  For the first time, Dale regarded her without a trace of his earlier unease. “Now Rachel is dying, and I have to try and make things right once and for all. I have to tell her how sorry I am and beg her forgiveness.”