by Iris Morland
Caleb leveled a look at his brother, anger eclipsing any other feeling right now. "What the hell do you know? Why is it that everyone else knows what I should do? You weren't there. You think I’m acting like nothing happened? Fuck you." His head spun. He was in that car, trapped, seeing Daniel's mangled body next to him. The blood running down his friend's face; the smell of it, metallic and bitter. The sound of him calling out Daniel's name until his voice was hoarse.
Caleb put his head in his hands. The bar and his brother disappeared, and in that moment, he was back in that car. He wanted to scream until his voice gave out.
"Hey, buddy. Look at me. Caleb, look at me."
Caleb looked at Harrison. His brother seemed out of focus, and the room began to spin dangerously.
"Caleb, you're not there. You're in the Fainting Goat with me, your brother. The brother you think is a giant pain in the ass."
Caleb blinked. "You're all a giant pain in my ass."
"True, but since I'm your only older brother, I like to think I get the top spot." Harrison waved to the bartender again and pushed a glass of water in Caleb's direction. "Drink something. And don't complain, otherwise I'm going to pull physician's rights and take your ass to the ER."
Caleb gulped the glass of water, its coolness clearing the dizziness from his head. Wiping his mouth, he muttered, "You're a pediatrician."
"Pediatric oncologist. Now, are you going to faint on me or not?"
Caleb gave him the finger, which seemed to reassure Harrison enough that he wasn't in danger of keeling over.
"I don't know how I can forgive myself." He felt exhaustion swamp his body. He hadn't slept in days. How could he, when one dream was about Megan, and the next was about Daniel? Even worse, sometimes the dreams twisted together, and it wasn't Daniel dead in that passenger seat—it was Megan.
"I don’t know, but you need to. I never agreed with our parents covering this all up. I know they thought they were protecting you, but we both know they were afraid just as much for our family's image as they were for your future." Harrison let out a breath. "I really shouldn't have been surprised to see how Mom acted when I started dating Sara."
Caleb grunted.
"Whatever happens, though, I'm here for you. We all are. We love you, and we want you to be happy."
His head swimming and his emotions in turmoil, Caleb could only nod. He hadn't realized how much he needed to hear someone say those very words, but they opened something in his soul. Perhaps it was the first piece of absolution he needed.
And as he sat with Harrison, neither of them needing to say a word, he knew what he had to do next.
When Caleb saw the small woman with gray-streaked hair sitting in the coffee shop, he felt like a teenage boy again. He hadn't seen Stephanie Finley since Daniel's death, and although she'd aged, she had somehow remained the handsome woman he remembered.
He walked up to her table and, not sure what to say, waited for her to notice him.
"Caleb!" Stephanie rose and enveloped him a tight hug. "Oh my word, look at you! You're so tall. And wearing that uniform? Sit, sit. How are you?"
Caleb had played over and over in his mind how this encounter would go after he'd replied to Stephanie's email. He'd expected, at the very least, a cold reception from her, if not outright antagonism. He'd practiced his apology more times than he could count, and he'd envisioned all manner of things. Stephanie yelling at him, throwing her drink in his face, crying.
But not this. Not this genuine kindness and, unless he was losing his mind, joy at seeing him.
"I'm good," he said huskily. He had to force his hands underneath the table to hide their shaking. "You just moved back here?"
"That's right. Oh, I'm so glad you decided to see me." She reached into her purse to grab a tissue, dabbing at her eyes. "Seeing you just brings everything back, you know? You were like a second son to me."
He wanted to crumple at her feet. He wanted to beg her to forgive him. Yet the only words that emerged were: "I'm sorry. For everything." He coughed to cover the feeling of impending tears. "I should never have let my parents cover up what happened. I should've been charged and gone to jail for what I'd done, but I was a coward then. I'm still a coward, but I want you to know that I'm not keeping this a secret anymore. I can't bring Daniel back, but I can clear his name. Since I was formally charged with a lesser crime, I can’t be charged with what I deserved now, but I can find a way. Something. I got off too easily."
He didn’t know what else to say or how to go on. He grabbed his glass of water and gulped it. The sound of the glass hitting the table seemed to echo through the café.
Stephanie regarded him with sad eyes. Finally, she covered his hand with her own. "Can I be honest with you?” After he nodded, she said quietly, “When Daniel died, I wanted to blame someone. I wanted to blame you. You got behind that wheel when you knew you shouldn't have, and in those early days, I wanted to scream at you. I wanted to ask why you had survived and my son didn't. I blamed you with every fiber of my being, and I blamed your parents, and God. Everyone. I wanted to hate you."
Caleb's heart squeezed until it hurt. "I don't blame you."
"But then I saw you after the funeral, and I realized that the situation could've been reversed so easily. Both of you were drinking that night. Daniel had driven you two there, and I would bet that he'd been drinking before that, right?" At Caleb's silence, she nodded. "I'm not saying you shouldn't feel guilty, or that everything was all right after that. I struggled. I was in a dark, dark place, but after the years passed, I began to remember my son as my son. Not as my child who died that night."
"How can I ever make up for what I did to you?" Caleb whispered. "I don't deserve forgiveness."
"Maybe not, but I'm going to give it anyway." She squeezed his hand. "I forgive you, Caleb. If you loved Daniel—and I know you did—you'll live your life to its fullest and not stay in the past. You made a stupid mistake because you were young and you thought you were invincible. But what does your guilt do for Daniel? It won’t bring him back."
"I should've been charged, though. How can you say that? I got off without a scratch. I got to live while Daniel..." He swallowed against the lump in his throat. "It wasn't fair."
"Perhaps, but I think you've suffered for years in silence, haven't you? I can see in your face that's the case. I can’t imagine a worse punishment than never-ending, silent guilt." She let go of his hand, but her eyes remained as kind as ever. "I moved away because this place had too many memories, but I returned to care for my mother. When I realized you lived here, too, I knew I should see you, because I want you to know that although you hurt me, and Daniel, and others, that doesn't mean you don't deserve forgiveness. So here it is again: I forgive you."
Caleb's shoulders slumped, and he covered his face with his hands. When Stephanie moved her chair to sit next to him, rubbing his shoulder, he didn't stop her. He might not deserve her words, but he drank them in like rain after a drought. The chains around his heart loosened, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he saw the light at the end of the long, dark tunnel.
"Thank you," he murmured.
She passed him a tissue from her purse. "Don't thank me. Just show me—and Daniel—that you're going to be the man we both knew you were going to be. Promise me that."
He could—and would—promise just that. She gave him a watery smile, and he brushed tears from his cheeks.
After they talked of the past, and of Daniel, and the happier times, Stephanie said, “I was going to visit Daniel today. Would you like to join me?”
Caleb almost said no. He shouldn’t be there, but Stephanie’s insistence allowed him to accept.
They drove to cemetery in silence. The sun was out today, bright and shining, and when they reached Daniel’s headstone, Caleb saw that colorful flowers had been planted around it. His breath caught when he read the inscription—Daniel Jonathan Finley, Born May 11, 1984, Died March 23, 2002. Beloved son. May
your soul rest in angels’ arms—he couldn’t speak. The sun felt too hot on his shoulders, and he was afraid he’d collapse right there.
He’d never visited Daniel’s grave. He’d avoided it because he had never felt like he had a right to say goodbye. The tears fell, endless rivers, and Stephanie took his arm.
“I’m so sorry,” Caleb could only say, over and over again. “I’m so sorry, Danny. It should’ve been me, not you.”
Stephanie was silent, tears in her eyes, and Caleb found the strength to kneel in front of his best friend’s grave. He traced his fingers over the inscription.
“You should’ve been the one to live, but the universe has a wicked sense of humor, doesn’t it?” He wiped his eyes. “I’ll live my life for you, and I won’t hide what I did any longer. The truth deserves to be set free. I hope you can forgive me. God knows I can barely forgive myself.”
When Stephanie laid a hand on his shoulder, he covered it with his own. They stayed just like that, whispering the words they wanted Daniel to hear, and slowly the wounds of old began to heal.
When they parted, Stephanie giving Caleb a big hug, he felt hope for the first time since the accident.
“Be happy, Caleb,” she murmured. “Be happy, if not for yourself, then for Daniel. He would’ve wanted that.”
“I will. I’ll do it for him, and for you.” He hugged her one last time when they returned to the coffee shop. “If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to let me know.”
“Of course. The same goes for you.” Before she got into her car, she said, “Oh, and Caleb? Don’t let happiness slip from your fingers, not when you get so close to it. I know more than most that you have to fight for that happiness.”
He couldn’t speak; he just nodded.
As he watched Stephanie drive away, he knew what he needed to do.
18
Caleb drove straight to Megan’s house. He felt free, his heart unburdened, and it was like a revelation. He might not be worthy of Stephanie’s kindness, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t clutch it to his heart as hard as he could. And now he knew that he had to get Megan back. Without her, he was only a shell of a man.
As Caleb drove up to Megan's house, though, he felt a chill crawl up his spine. The initial excitement of seeing her faded to cold terror. After so many years on the force, he'd come to rely on his instincts, and his instincts were telling him that something wasn't right.
Caleb wasn't on duty, but he still carried his gun. Parking his car a block away, he quietly walked to Megan's house, taking in the surrounding houses and yards. He didn't see anything. It was early evening, and the streetlights had only just turned on. But that feeling—the indescribable feeling of doom—had latched its fangs into him. He hurried his steps. If anything happens to her…
Fear wanted to eclipse everything. The thought of Megan getting hurt was almost too much to bear. He couldn't let fear overwhelm him—he had to stay on alert. Eyes wide open and capable. Any amount of panic could result in tragedy.
He walked the perimeter of her house. He almost believed he’d been paranoid for no reason, until he reached the back door. Broken glass littered the porch, and the door hung wide open. He pulled out his gun.
That was when he heard her scream.
It was a sound that he would never, ever forget.
“I need backup immediately,” he said after calling the station.
“Roger that, what’s the situation?”
“Break in with homeowner inside. I have reason to believe this is the same perpetrator who robbed Megan Flannigan’s bakery. I’m going in now.”
“Backup is on its way.”
He maneuvered around the door, creeping into Megan’s house. After that initial scream, silence had fallen. He strained to listen, to find where this creep was, and he heard shuffling. It was coming from her bedroom. Panic almost closed his throat, but he had years of training that kept him calm.
He stepped as silently as he could, trying not to crush any more broken glass into the carpet. He heard a thump. Slowly rounding the corner, he made visual contact, confirming that both the perp and Megan were in her bedroom. The light was just enough to show him that the man had his hands on Megan, and red covered his vision.
He burst through the open doorway. "Police! Drop your hands or I'll shoot!" he roared, his gun pointed straight at the man.
The man hauled Megan against him, and she gasped. Caleb barely restrained himself from killing this guy. He wanted to rip out his throat like some kind of savage animal. When he saw the stark fear on Megan's face, his rage only worsened.
"Drop your hands and let the woman go!” When he didn’t move, Caleb’s voice rose. “Either step away or I’ll shoot you where you stand!”
Caleb couldn’t see any fear in those eyes. If anything, the man seemed almost amused, like this were some kind of elaborate game. He wasn't wearing a mask this time, either. When Caleb saw the scar on his lip, he knew without a doubt this was their guy.
The man finally put up his hands, letting Megan go. She hurried to Caleb’s side.
“Get out of here,” Caleb told her, never letting the man out of his sight. “More officers are on their way.”
Megan wouldn’t move. She was clearly in shock, her face pale and her eyes wide, and Caleb wasn’t sure she’d even heard him.
Caleb couldn’t help Megan with the threat of this criminal still very present. Pressing his gun to the man’s back, Caleb began to check him for weapons. He pulled out the guy’s wallet, and he finally was able to ID him: Jason Worth of Seattle, Washington.
“You done yet?” Jason sneered. “I have places to be.”
“Shut your mouth. Turn around, now.”
Jason obeyed, although his mouth and scar still stretched in a grim smile as Caleb moved to finish checking him for weapons.
Megan still hadn’t moved, to Caleb’s infinite frustration. “Megan, get out of here,” he commanded. “Now.”
She finally seemed to come back to herself. She opened her mouth to speak, and it was enough distraction for Caleb to give Jason the small opening he’d needed.
With a flick of his wrist, Jason pulled a wickedly sharp knife from his jacket, slashing at Caleb’s face. Caleb fell to the floor, and Megan screamed.
“Caleb, he has a gun!” she cried.
Jason smiled at her words, right as he pulled a gun that he’d managed to hide in his jacket. “And look at that? The girl was right. She’s smarter than you’d think.” Although he initially pointed the gun at Caleb, he slowly swiveled so the gun pointed at Megan.
Caleb slowly rose from the floor, his own gun pointed at Jason, his forehead stinging from Jason’s knife.
"I wouldn't move, if I were you," Jason said to Megan although his gaze stayed on Caleb. "Otherwise I'll blow your brains out. That would piss you off, wouldn’t it, police boy? I’ve seen how you keep following this one around like some kind of stray dog.”
Caleb inhaled a deep breath. Frissons of fear ran through his body, but his grip on his gun was steady. One false move could be the end of the woman he loved. "What do you want?"
Jason shrugged. "What else? Money. I tried getting it from this bitch's stupid bakery, but she didn't have anything really worth stealing. And then you guys decided to follow me, and, well, I thought I'd have a little fun before you caught me. Maybe enjoy something first." The man sneered. "I've seen how you all look at her. She got a magical pussy or something?"
"Shut your mouth, you piece of shit. Either put down your gun, or I'll shoot." When Jason didn't move, Caleb shouted, "Put down your gun, now!"
The moment slowed to a standstill in Caleb's mind. He saw Jason unlatch the safety of his gun—a swift movement of his fingers—and he knew a second before it happened that he was going to shoot Megan. Caleb fired. Jason fired as well. Something hot hit Caleb’s shoulder at the same time that Jason went down, screaming, clutching his belly.
Caleb gasped for air. Agony filled his entire body. He san
k to the ground, and he couldn’t figure out what was going on. He realized that Megan had her hands on his shoulder as he looked up at her. She kept saying something. She had blood on her hands. Why were her hands bleeding?
"You idiot! Dammit, Caleb Thornton, if you die on me, I'll find you in the afterlife and haunt you for all eternity!"
Caleb didn't understand what she was talking about until she pressed his shoulder. White-hot pain lanced through him. He cried out; it was like a hot poker had been shoved through into his skin.
He vaguely heard the sirens and saw the beams of light. He barely noticed when backup arrived, shouting orders and taking control of the situation. He only knew he had to tell Megan what she meant to him, because if he died with her hating him, he’d be trapped in his own type of purgatory.
"I’m sorry.” He gasped for breath. He babbled. “I'm so sorry, baby. I shouldn't have lied to you." He winced when she pressed harder on his wound.
Her face shone with tears, and she looked fierce as she said, "Shut up. Just shut up. It doesn't matter, because you're going to survive this and we're going to be happy. Nothing else matters." Tears fell from her eyes and dripped down her chin, landing on his face. "I love you, you idiotic, impossible man."
That was when he heard someone else say his name, and then he was being placed on a stretcher and taken out to an ambulance. He called Megan’s name. She climbed into the ambulance, and after she took his hand, he let the blackness take him completely.
19
Caleb realized two things when he opened his eyes: one, that he felt like shit, and two, he really needed to pee. After a few more moments, he finally figured out that he was in a hospital. Why was he in a hospital? And hooked up to a machine?
He glanced down at the IV in his arm, and his brain was sluggish in processing this information. What the hell was wrong with him? He touched the IV, which resulted in a flurry of activity at his side.