"Belle!" Landon stood next to the bed, bewilderedly looking around for his clothes.
I wiped fresh tears from my face. "I have to go," I announced to him and headed for the door.
Landon was faster than I was, and he jumped between the front door and me, blocking my way.
"What’s wrong?" he demanded. "I told you that it wasn't a happy story. What did you expect?"
"You’re right. It's so much worse than that, Landon. It's a story that changes everything." Tears spilled down my cheeks. He reached up to wipe them away and I batted his hand away from my face. I couldn't accept his comfort...I didn't deserve it. I married the man who murdered his family!
"Please tell me what's wrong." When I didn't answer him right away, he put his hands on my upper arms.
"Take me home!" I yelled at him.
"I'm not going to take you anywhere until you tell me what's the matter with you!" he fired back.
"I can't! Don't you get it? I can't!"
"No, I don't get it, Belle. Explain it to me. You’re scaring me. Tell me right now what the hell is going on."
I pulled back and wrenched my arms free of his grasp. I was panicked. I had to get out of there. I thought of the most hurtful thing that I could say, and then blurted out, "Or what? If I don't tell you, are you going to force me? Sorry...but Derek already beat you to it. He's been knocking me around for years, remember?” When he didn’t move, I pulled back and slapped him hard, right across the face. He stumbled out of the way, a bright red mark forming on his cheek.
Right then, I knew I would never be able to take that horrific moment back. I couldn't take anything I’d said or done back. My heart shattered. I rushed past him and out the door.
I got into his truck and slammed the door behind me. My breathing was ragged and I was covered in a cold sweat. I pounded my fists on the dashboard of the truck until they stung, screaming, "No! No! No!"
Derek was right about one thing…he really did ruin everything. My life was no exception.
Chapter Sixteen
I jumped out of Landon's truck, slammed the door, and practically sprinted to my car. I didn’t want to go inside of my house, afraid of what the silence and time alone might do for my sanity. Landon didn't try to follow me and for that, I was eternally grateful. I peeled out of the driveway, leaving a confused young man behind me in a cloud of dirt and dust.
While I was captive in the truck, Landon had truly tried to get me to talk about what was wrong. I refused.
"Belle, tell me what the fuck is going on? You slapped me! Why did you do that?"
Would Landon ever be able to understand that the woman he loved was married to the man who had killed his mother and sisters? No. Landon would never understand any of this. Where would I even start? So, as we drove, I remained silent.
Once in my own car and away from Landon, I found it nearly impossible to focus on things like stop signs and speed limits as I drove in a daze through Cannon Beach. The image of a haunted little boy standing next to a trio of graves flashed through my mind. It had been raining that day, when they buried his mom and sisters. In a sea of black umbrellas, there stood a child, staring down at the three large holes in the earth, with a mixture of rain and tears falling down his face. When they had begun lowering the casket holding his mother into the ground, Joey cried out and ran toward the casket, almost throwing himself onto it.
"Mommy! That's my mommy in there! Don't leave me, Mommy!"
It was almost too much to bear. A young child's heart breaking. It was so unfair.
How many times had I heard the story? That was the only reason he was still alive was divine intervention. He should have been dead but God had saved him for some special purpose. That’s what all the old gossips — long before Theresa and her brand of ‘news’— claimed.
"What special purpose?" I screamed. "What special purpose?"
Certainly, it couldn’t have been to wind up stuck back in Cannon Beach, working part-time at a bookstore with an unused architect's degree.
Joey Peterson.
That image of Landon at the funeral haunted me for years and even more so after I had married Derek. I’d thought of him on my wedding day — when I married the man who took his mother from him. I felt responsible for what Derek had done, as if by marrying him and sharing a home with him, his sins had rubbed off on me. I’d visited the graves of all four victims often enough, and the roadside memorial set up in their honor weekly.
Then it hit me. The last time I went to the four crosses on the side of the road...there were fresh flowers.
Landon.
Why had I never asked Landon his last name? It had never come up. Never been an issue until now.
Now that I’d fallen in love with a man that was so wronged by the person I’d married.
All the times he talked about losing his mother at such a young age, and how his father was withdrawn, why didn’t I see who he really was?
But…now that I knew the truth, I realized that somewhere, deep down, it was there all along. Landon’s history had been staring me in the face since the moment that boy walked into my bookstore looking for a job.
Although Landon had changed in the twenty years since I’d last seen him, his eyes hadn’t — they were still haunted and heartbroken. Little lost Joey Peterson...was my Landon.
I pulled up behind the bookstore and rested my head for a moment on the steering wheel. I thought about running away. I could turn around, pull out onto the highway, press on the gas, and just keep driving. I could head north, like my mom, and stop when I felt I'd gone far enough. I could go where no one knew me and start my life over.
But I wasn't going anywhere. Not just yet. I wasn’t like Hannah — I couldn’t hide from my problems, even though I wanted to, very much.
Most importantly, I couldn’t let anything happen to Turning Point. It was my responsibility.
I got out and rushed into the bookstore, hoping Landon hadn't followed me. I couldn't deal with him right now. I needed some time...to think. To sit and figure out what I was going to do next...was that too much to ask?
Instead, I walked in to find Hannah, sitting cross-legged on top of the counter, reading a book.
"Hey sis." Her gaze met mine.
"What’re you doing here?" I asked her, abruptly.
"Hello to you, too. How's the head?"
"Fine. All better. Really, Hannah, what are you doing here?" I just wanted her to leave. I needed to be alone.
"I wanted to tell you about my trip." She put her book down and raised an eyebrow at me.
"Another time, Hannah." Of course, the visit was all about her.
"I brought you something...a souvenir." She threw a wadded black cloth at me. I held it out from my body. She brought me a Depeche Mode concert t-shirt.
"Thanks, Hannah. Really. If there's nothing else, I really need a few minutes."
"But what about my trip? Don't you want to hear all about it? You know...live vicariously through me?"
Seriously? I did not have time for this today.
"Not really. Maybe we could have dinner this week and you can tell me all about it then. Derek won't be back for another couple of weeks or so. You could come to the house and I could cook."
I honestly didn't want to make her dinner. I didn't even want her to come over to the house, but at that moment, I would have told her that she could move in with me if it would get rid of her.
"Okay." She shrugged her shoulders. "But while I'm here. You might want to think about firing the boy toy though. I got here this morning and the place was all locked up. That's not good for business."
"Shut up, Hannah."
"Okay. Whatever. If he still yanks your chain, keep him around for all I care."
"Thank you so much for your approval."
"What's got you in a mood?"
And that's when it hit me. Hannah, who had her nose in everything, must have figured out who Landon was. She was here the entire time.
Wit
h my temper flaring, I turned on her. "Did you know who he was?"
"Who?"
"You know exactly who I’m talking about! Don't deny it!" I took a step toward her, holding out my finger and pointing it at her accusingly.
"Belle, what do you think I knew?" Hannah leaned back as I advanced on her.
"I'll bet you did know all along. You just wanted to see me get myself tied up in knots. It was all a sick and twisted game for you, wasn't it? I hope I amused you!" I was being irrational, but I didn’t care.
"What the hell are you talking about?" She threw up her hands in frustration.
"Landon. Did you know who he was?"
"Other than a Greek god...I have no idea what you’re talking about."
"His mom—" The bell above the door cut me off. I expected it to be Landon, but when I turned around, I came face to face with someone even harder to confront.
A month ago, if people asked me what my worst nightmare was, I would have told them that it was hands down when Derek was in a drunken rage.
Today, I realized that wasn’t true.
"Hello," the older man offered.
"Hello," I responded in kind, dying on the inside.
"Do you remember who I am?" He glanced around the bookstore and then back at me.
I wanted to say yes, but not being able to find any words, I just stood in front of him and nodded like a complete imbecile.
"Then you know why I’m here."
I nodded again.
"Well, I don't know who you are, or why you’re here," Hannah retorted, sliding off the counter and crossing the room. She offered her hand to the stranger. "Hi. I'm Hannah. Belle's sister."
I turned to Hannah, looking for some kind of recognition in her expression and found none. My sister had absolutely no idea who Landon truly was, and as a result, she didn't know who this man was either. Cannon Beach was a small town, and although my sister seemed to have her nose in everything, she was so entirely self-centered she barely saw past that nose, to grasp what was going on around her.
"Hannah, this is Landon's father.
"Oh!" She smiled even bigger. "Namaste. Well, we just love Landon around here. He’s doing such a good job."
Silence. Pure, unmitigated, torturous silence.
“I’m sorry, what was your name?” She asked, looking, bewilderedly, between us.
I cleared my throat. "Joseph Peterson."
I waited.
I watched.
It took several excruciating seconds for the realization to come to my sister.
"Holy shit," was her only response, and she dropped Joseph's hand as if it had scalded her.
"My sentiments exactly," the man replied coolly.
"Hannah, would you mind giving us a moment alone?"
"Uh, are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. It will be fine."
"Well, okay. I'll be right in the back if you need anything." Then turned to Joseph, "It was...uh...nice...meeting you?" It came out more like a broken question than a statement, but he just nodded at her.
Hannah quickly exited the vicinity, although I knew she was not going to be out of earshot. My big sister may be clueless...but she wasn't stupid. She wanted to hear every juicy detail.
"Mr. Peterson," I began explaining for my own dear life, "You have to know that I had no idea who Landon was until this morning when he told me his real name."
The older man nodded in understanding, frustratingly calm. "Does he know who you are?" He was angry but controlled it well.
I shook my head. "No. He has no idea."
"Good."
"If I had known, I would never have—"
"What?" He interrupted me with a sudden burst, losing his composure if only for a moment. "You wouldn't have gotten involved with my son? You wouldn't have taken advantage of him?"
"I didn't take advantage of him. You're son is a grown man."
"And you are a grown, married woman who should have known better."
"I suppose you’re right."
"No... you don't suppose anything. I am right."
"Yes. You’re right."
"Landon came home this summer to figure things out. To think. Now you have him so twisted up that he told me the other day he has no plans to leave Cannon Beach. He wants to stay here… because of you."
"He told you that?"
"Not in so many words.” He dragged a hand across his face. What I saw in his expression was no longer anger; it was overwhelming guilt. “We don't talk much. Did he tell you that too, I suppose?"
I nodded.
"He would never betray you by telling me that he has feelings for you. But I knew something was going on when I heard him on the phone the other day."
I looked at Joseph, confused, and searched my mind for the last time I spoke to Landon on the phone. It was weeks ago, not the other day. Certainly, the man cared about his son enough to come and talk to me about him. Why couldn’t he just talk to Landon himself? Was their relationship that broken?
"Did you know he received a job offer from one of the biggest architectural firms in Chicago?"
"No," I spluttered, completely caught off guard by the news. "I had no idea. He told me that he doesn't know what he wants to do."
"Well, that may be true but at least he knows what he doesn't want to do. I heard him on the phone two days ago, turning down the job. When I confronted him, he just told me he wants to stay here." He waved his hands, encompassing more than my tiny bookstore and I understood the meaning. Landon was refusing to leave me.
“Mr. Peterson, you have to know that I would never stand in his way if he wanted to go to Chicago. I only want what's best for him."
"Do you? I mean, do you really?"
"Yes, of course."
"Do you think that getting involved with a married woman is in his best interests?" He raised an eyebrow at me.
"I care about Landon," I said quietly. "You have to believe me."
"He's giving up his future for you, young lady."
"I never asked him to do that!"
"But nonetheless, it's what he thinks he wants.” He pointed at me harshly, "You are what he thinks he wants."
After a few moments, I asked, "How did you find out about us? Did someone tell you?" My blood ran cold at the thought of anyone in this town knowing about Landon and me. Derek would kill us both.
"No one had to tell me. This is a small town. Every time I went looking for him, he was with you. And last night he didn't come home...it wasn't difficult to figure out."
I nodded in understanding.
"And what would your husband think? As worthless a piece of shit that I think he is, he’s still your husband. Or did you forget about him?
"Of course, I didn't forget about Derek."
"Well, that's something then, isn't it? You’re a married woman, Mrs. Walters. I know that in this day and age that doesn't mean much, but in my day, being married meant something. In my mind, none of this should have ever happened...regardless of who my son is."
I hung my head. "You're right. I know you're right. But it isn't what you think."
"It doesn't matter what I think," he spat out at me.
"What does matter?"
"That you leave my son the hell alone."
"Yes, of course," I conceded, having no more fight left in me. It broke my heart to think of letting Landon go, but I also knew that I needed to do the right thing. I would never want him to end up like me — giving up his dreams to live someone else's life.
Joseph Peterson watched me carefully.
"I'll tell Landon who I am and be done with it," I offered.
"You'll do no such thing," he commanded me. "Young lady, I've spent the last twenty years protecting that boy. He's been hurt enough by what your husband did. I won't allow him to be hurt further."
"What do you expect me to say to him?"
"Quite frankly, I really don't care. Just end it...today." With that said, he turned and walked out of the store.
&n
bsp; I stood there, unable to move, staring after Joseph long after the door had closed behind him. I had absolutely no idea how I was going to have the strength to end things with Landon, let alone convince him that we were over. He would see it on my face that I didn't mean it. He would know. Yet, I had to find a way.
I wanted to close the blinds, lock the door, curl up in a ball on the floor, and beg the world to leave me alone. I was completely overwhelmed. I needed to think so I could find a way to figure all of this out.
I heard Hannah's heels on the hardwood floor coming up behind me. With each clunk, I wanted to crawl under a bookshelf and hide.
"So...." She began carefully, "That's the boy toy's dad? Really? I didn't see that one coming."
"Shut up, Hannah." I walked over to the counter, needing to put distance between my sister and me so that I wouldn't strangle her.
"No, I won't shut up. Not this time." She followed closely behind me — too close.
"Did you listen to everything?"
She nodded. "Yes. And... He’s right you know."
"Stop! Stop talking. I just need to think this out." I snapped at her, hoping she would just leave me alone. I slammed my hands onto the counter in frustration.
"I can't stop because I have something to say. Then I will let you be. I promise."
"By all means," I rolled my eyes. I didn't want to hear it, but I was going to have to anyway. The easiest and quickest way to get her to leave me alone was to let her speak her peace and make her believe that I actually listened to her.
"I know I haven't been much help in the advice department over the years but there's no better time than the present, right?” She waited for me to say something. When I didn't answer her, she continued, "Like I said, I agree with Mr. Peterson. You need to leave Landon alone."
"Really, Hannah? Shock of shocks! And, why is that? Let me guess, so you can have him all to yourself? Here's a clue: he doesn't like blonde bimbos."
"Ha ha. Funny," she responded sarcastically. "I know what you think of me but I don't want Landon for myself."
"Then why, Hannah?"
Turning Point Page 22