The Art of Going Home (The Art of Living series Book 1)

by Nicole Sorrell

  ~~~

  I walked through the door of Aunt Ceci’s house after Zac opened it for me. Gasping, I dropped my purse in horror and put my hands over my mouth. Why would anyone do this? He stepped in behind me to see what was wrong.

  “Holy fuck!” he said under his breath.

  The interior was trashed. Everything that was moveable had been turned over: tables, chairs, TV, bookcases, footstools, plants. All the closets, cabinets, and shelves had been emptied, the contents thrown on the floor. Each surface had been spray painted with every derogatory term for a woman in existence. The curtains, rugs, upholstered furniture, and pillows had also been slashed with a knife.

  Throughout, the destruction was the same. They’d tried to flood the place by turning on the tub and bathroom sink faucets. Thank goodness the worn stoppers couldn’t hold the water.

  Zac turned them off and urged me to get out of the house. I resisted. I couldn’t keep from staring at the dirty names written after “leave,” “get out,” and “go away.”

  I heard him calling the police and his office. I wandered around, preoccupied with the implication of the words.

  What if Bobby had done this? Oh, my God. He could’ve followed me here. Was he trying to make me leave, so I wouldn’t do anything to get his son taken away? I’d been such a fool to confront him.

  Chapter 19

  “AN OFFICER IS COMING over to take a report,” Zac said, pulling me into a hug. He kissed my hair. “Come on, let’s wait outside.”

  When the city police car finally pulled up, Officer Mark Lovelace seemed to unfold himself from behind the wheel. He had been in Zac’s class in school and one of the town’s top basketball players. He was three inches taller than Zac. His muscular frame was unlike the lanky kid I remembered.

  The officer spent quite a while looking at the house and taking notes. Zac went through it with him, snapping pictures of everything while I stayed by his truck. When they returned, he told me they must have gotten inside by breaking a pane of glass in the back door.

  “Where were you last night, Miss Chandler?” Lovelace asked. I wasn’t anticipating the question and hesitated. My reluctance drew a sharp look from him. I understood why he was asking. He had to confirm I hadn’t done the damage in order to collect the insurance money.

  I silently groaned. Telling him I was at Zac’s house would be the same as broadcasting it on the local radio station, right along with the lunch menu at the senior center.

  “I was with Zac,” I said coolly. He gave me a hard stare, so I clarified. “I was with him from about eight thirty last night, until we found the vandalism at eight fifteen this morning.”

  He was unsuccessful at hiding his grin as he turned to Zac, who confirmed my statement with a nod. Zac was smiling like a Cheshire cat. I almost expected them to bump fists or do a touchdown dance. I crossed my arms and frowned. Catching my look, they tamped down their enthusiasm.

  “Do you have any clue who might have done this?” Lovelace asked, returning to business. “Anyone who doesn’t want you here? Any enemies?”

  “No,” I lied. “I have no idea. I’m only in town for a few days. I didn’t know Cecilia left the house to me until Sunday.” Zac had apparently given him this information while they were reviewing the damage, because he didn’t act surprised. He took down my address and phone number and asked me to read and sign his report. When I was done, I handed him back the pen.

  “We’ll keep our ears open for any information that might lead us to the perpetrators,” Lovelace said, attaching the pen to the clipboard. “Locating them will be difficult since nothing was left behind to indicate who’s responsible. Should anything turn up, I’ll give you a call.”

  “When can we clean up?” I inquired.

  “Whenever you like,” he said.

  I asked him to give me his card should I need to contact him again. He handed it to me with a smile, shook our hands, and left.

  “I’ve got to call the office again,” Zac said.

  “Why don’t you go ahead? I’ll stay to report it to the insurance company. They’ll have to come out to look at everything before we can start cleaning.” Because I worked in the industry, he took my word for it. “I’ll be okay. You don’t need to lose a whole day because of this.”

  He didn’t want to leave me. After I called the local agent’s office, he looked like he might reconsider. I’d been told that the representative, Delbert Tover, was out on business and wouldn’t be back until the afternoon.

  Mrs. Wells had been sitting on her porch since the arrival of the police car. When I asked her if I might wait at her house until Mr. Tover came, she immediately invited us in. Zac declined, deciding to leave me in her capable hands, and went to work.

  She settled me at the table with a cup of coffee, asking what had happened. I could tell her curiosity was about to get the best of her. I filled her in without telling her about the awful names written on the walls.

  “Land sake’s alive!” she said. “What’s this world coming to? And right here, in the house that’s not a hundred feet from mine! Why, they could’ve walked right into my bedroom as I slept and knocked me over the head! What’s a body to do?”

  “I’m sure all they had in mind was destruction,” I said. I didn’t want to make her apprehensive. “To be on the safe side, you should keep your house locked from now on, especially at night.”

  “Oh, of course. I’d best do that. I wish I could say I heard them at it. I would’ve called the police right away. I wear hearing aids, you know. Without them, I wouldn’t have heard anything in the next room, much less next door.”

  I listened to the latest inane gossip from Mrs. Wells as I cleaned her house. She never stopped talking, even when I was vacuuming her carpet. After three tedious hours, Mr. Tover arrived. In his fifties, he was a short man in a wilted suit with a dark complexion and thick glasses.

  “Hello, Madisen,” he said, shaking my hand. “I saw in the paper that you attended Cecilia’s funeral.”

  What the hell? Only in this backwater of a town would that be newsworthy.

  “I’m sorry something like this happened,” he went on. “Must be some young hooligans who did it. Hope it doesn’t ruin your visit.” As he continued to chatter, his lack of detached professionalism gave me misgivings about his abilities. Nonetheless, as he looked over the damage, he was calm and reassuring. He was quick, taking lots of photographs and filling out the required forms. After jotting down my phone number, he said he would need copies of the police report and the deed transferring ownership of the house to me.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll drop them by your office as soon as I can.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to bother. I’ll get them.” I was surprised he could obtain such personal information without my permission to release it. At least that would be one less thing for me to worry about.

  “In case I have any questions,” he asked with a knowing wink, “it was Zac that handled the legalities of the property transfer, right?”

  Damn busybody. “Yes,” I allowed. He’d obviously already heard about my overnight stay with Zac. “Being Cecilia’s nephew, she asked him to take care of it before she passed away.” The mention of Aunt Ceci’s death knocked the sparkle out of his eye.

  Mr. Tover promised he’d take care of sending the claim to the insurance company’s home office as soon as possible and call me if he needed more information. After that, he was on his way.

  I stayed inside after he left. I had to do one more thing before I could call Aunt Marie to ask her to pick me up. Staring at Officer Lovelace’s card, I wrestled with the decision.

  Should I tell him about my confrontation with Bobby yesterday? Although the city police department was handling this, I was sure the county sheriff’s department would hear about it. The news would surely reach Sheriff Rey.

  If Bobby was innocent of this and Angeline’s murder, being questioned by the police could cause him problems he didn’t deserve. Conversely, if
he was guilty, I didn’t care how many problems I caused him.

  I didn’t want to believe he was guilty of the vandalism, or of killing Angeline.

  I turned it over and over in my head and finally decided to give him the benefit of the doubt regarding the murder. However, I couldn’t be sure about the vandalism. Bobby was probably capable of anything if it meant holding onto his son.

  Deciding I had to give him the facts about my visit with Bobby, I dialed Officer Lovelace.

  ~~~

  Aunt Marie was still in shock after spending thirty minutes going through the house. “Oh Maddie, this is awful!” she cried. She turned to me slowly. “I don’t want to offend you. Carlos told us what happened at the restaurant Thursday night. Your father was very angry. Do you think he might have done this?” she asked.

  “I’m not offended in the least.” It never occurred to me to consider him. Could it have been? “I’m sure he wouldn’t have any reservations about doing something to hurt me. On the other hand, I don’t think he would do it himself,” I said. “He might have hired or coerced someone to do it.”

  I paused to contemplate it some more. “On second thought, Father would probably prefer that I remain in town. That way he could insult and punish me. I think he knows my life is in San Antonio now. He wouldn’t expect me to stay, so making threats to get me to leave wouldn’t be necessary.”

  “This is impossible,” she said. “Let’s not worry about cleaning up until we can get a large dumpster. We can put everything in it at once. Unless you want to keep the furniture, it’ll all need to be thrown away. Reupholstering would probably be more than it’s worth.”

  She was right. Nothing in the house could be saved. Thank God I’d taken a few mementos with me yesterday.

  ~~~

  In my hotel room after Aunt Marie had dropped me off, I stared earnestly at my phone. I tried to remain calm as I searched the Internet.

  I didn’t want to believe I was such a fool as to think I could challenge Bobby Wittford with no consequences. Confirming the story of his father’s death would allow me to put some faith in him. But after half an hour, I hadn’t unearthed any information about Clayton Wittford’s accident.

  Feeling queasy, I pounded the hotel bed with my fists in frustration. I kept at it, changing my search parameters again and again.

  Chapter 20

  THERE! I FOUND IT. His first name was Jonathon, and Clayton was his middle name. That’s why it had been difficult to find.

  The article said Jonathon C. Wittford, age sixty-one, died on April twenty-first in a single vehicle accident. It’d happened near Paola, Kansas. He was the driver and sole occupant of the automobile. He lost control due to driving under the influence of alcohol. He was survived by one son, Robert W. Wittford, and a grandson, Anthony B. Wittford.

  Relief overtook me. Bobby had told the truth. Maybe he wasn’t the one who trashed the house. If he didn’t do it, then who had?

  Perhaps the vandalism wasn’t directed at me, personally. Someone bent on destruction could’ve picked the house simply because they knew it was vacant. After all, Aunt Ceci’s obituary had been in the local paper, and it said she was a widow. They’d correctly assumed she lived alone and could easily have found the location.

  I bounced happily off the bed as my phone rang.

  “Hey, Dash!” It was Katie.

  “Hi. How’s that cute little boy of yours?” I asked.

  “Oh, Ty’s like any other healthy two year old. Every other word he says is ‘no.’ I miss the sweet agreeable baby he was ten months ago.” She laughed. “Anyway, I heard you were staying longer, and I wanted to let you know there’s a party at the Wybeck farm Friday night. Mom will be watching Ty. I was hoping we could meet up. They’ll have a bonfire and always have plenty of beer. Can you come?”

  “That sounds great. I won’t miss it,” I said.

  After the call ended, I raced to the shower. I’d have to hurry if I was going to get ready in time for my date.

  ~~~

  Zac scratched the inside of my wrist lightly and gazed at me with those bottomless chocolate eyes. He lavished attention on me, making up for what the restaurant lacked in ambiance. Though the atmosphere wasn’t exactly romantic, it was the nicest restaurant Clantonville had to offer. We sat at a cozy table for two in the steakhouse where our dinner had been interrupted by Father after the funeral.

  I was so absorbed in the feelings Zac stirred as we waited for our salads, I didn’t remember to worry about Father showing up.

  “So, what did Mr. Tover say?” he asked.

  “Hmm? Oh,” I said, giving myself a mental shake. “He said he’ll get the paperwork he needs in a day or two and send the claim to the home office. I suppose it’ll be best to get a dumpster delivered to the house and toss everything away at once. It’ll save time since nothing can be salvaged.”

  “Sounds like a good idea. I’ll ask Carlos to look into it for you.” I briefly wondered why he wouldn’t do it himself and quickly regretted it. I knew he was devoting a lot of time to me that he normally spent working.

  “No, I can take care of it.” He picked up my hand and kissed my palm, and my train of thought crashed into a jumbled heap. His lips made frissons of heat run through my body, and my heart bottomed out.

  “How are you holding up with everything that’s happened?” he asked.

  “I’m starting to get a handle on it. I have a great boyfriend who keeps me grounded and lets me cry on his shoulder if I need to. Literally.” I was touched by his concern.

  “This boyfriend of yours sounds awfully great. Can I measure up?” he asked, only half joking.

  “Sweetie, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’re the perfect man for me.”

  Throughout dinner, Zac continued to focus on me completely. I’d never felt so important or so cherished.

  “I’ve concluded that the vandalism must have been random,” I said. “Everyone who knows me realizes I’ll be going back to San Antonio in a few days. There would be no reason to bully me into leaving.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, baby.” He seemed pleased I wasn’t dwelling on it.

  “Let’s talk about something else. Have you decided what to do regarding Lauren? And are you going to get to know your mom?”

  “It’s a dilemma,” he said. His attractive face took on a troubled expression. “I haven’t talked to Dad about it because I know his opinion, and I don’t think I can persuade him to change his mind. It’s exasperating, being caught in the middle. I don’t want to hurt him. But I don’t want to give up on a relationship with my sister.”

  “And your niece,” I added. “Won’t you want the chance to be an uncle to her?”

  “Yeah. I would like to be a part of her life. Her name is Grace.”

  “What a beautiful name,” I said. “If you explain to your dad that Grace shouldn’t be penalized for your mom’s actions, and you want to be an uncle to her, do you think he would understand?”

  “I think that, despite the years that have passed, he’s in too much emotional pain to be logical.”

  “Do you think it’s possible to see Grace without him finding out?”

  “I could never do that,” he said. “It would be like lying to him. I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye.”

  Ouch! If keeping visits to his niece a secret would be the same as lying, all of the things I was keeping from him were lies, too. I was inundated with guilt.

  Abruptly, I realized that a relationship with him would be impossible because it would be based on deceit. I could never tell him about hearing Angeline’s voice in my head. That I contained a ticking bomb of insanity that could explode at any moment. I also couldn’t confess to the number of men I’d had one-night stands with. Either of those things would force him to abandon me.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking around to see if Father had entered the restaurant.

  I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Tears pricked my eyes. Say something
, Madisen. I took a drink of water. It was a full minute before I brought my eyes up to his.

  “I… uh…,” I faltered.

  “What is it? I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.” He winked, trying to lighten the moment.

  I gathered my resolve. I had to do this.

  “Remember when I said that if I told you everything about me you wouldn’t like who I was?” He nodded and squeezed my hand. I understood the strength of his support, and I knew. “I’m not ready to tell you.” I couldn’t do it. Not yet. The thought made me panic. “Please don’t be mad.” The words streamed out of me. “I’ve never told anyone. Not even Aunt Ceci knew all of it, and since she’s gone now, no one knows. Not even Tabs,” I finished breathlessly.

  “Will you be able to tell me someday?” he asked, studying me carefully.

  No. “Yes.” Another lie. I couldn’t be honest, couldn’t stand to see his look of revulsion when he found out. Couldn’t bear to be left alone.

  His smile conveyed his relief. “I’ll hold you to it. You can tell me whenever you’re ready.”

  I nodded in agreement, knowing I would never reach that point.

  Later that night, as we sat on his sofa, I marveled at how satiny Zac’s skin was under my lips. I kissed his collarbone, bit him gently, and lightly stroked my tongue over the hollow of his throat. He growled softly, and it was one of the most erotic sounds I’d ever heard. I moved my hand over his chest to unbutton his shirt.

  “God, Maddie,” he moaned, pulling my hands away. “It’s hard enough to control myself when you’re sitting ten feet away from me. If you keep doing this, I’ll end up going batshit crazy.”

  “That makes two of us.” You didn’t just say that. “I mean, it’s hard to resist a man as sweet and handsome as you,” I added quickly.