by Debbie Civil
Chapter 9
The cabin is in the middle of nowhere. It has been two and a half hours, and we’re slowly driving away from civilization. I think that Donald is driving through New Hampshire. But honestly, the place is inconsequential. The only thing that matters is that most of the people I love are in this car. In a matter of minutes, I’m going to see Jake, Tiller, and Grace. That’s beyond exciting. Tiller and I have been exchanging e-mails. He isn’t dating Teresa anymore. She said something unflattering about his sister, after all. But I know the breakup is killing him. Tiller is a serious guy who plans a whole lot. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s mapped out what meals he’ll be eating for the next twenty years.
“We are almost there,” Carmen says as she stifles a yawn.
“Is Eliza mad at you?” I ask, knowing that she’s currently texting her cousin.
“More like left out. She didn’t realize that we were going on a getaway. She’s also worried about you. Chelsea, she’s sorry.”
“She’s done a lot to annoy me. I’m just not willing to think about her right now,” I say, snuggling into Peter’s warm side. His strong arm has been around me for most of the car ride.
“What happened between you two?” he asks. When I tell him everything that’s going on, I find that there are no angry words. I’m reciting the events as if they are happening to someone else. Carmen resumes texting.
“She wants you to come back, Chelsea. Your mother is frantic,” Carmen reports.
“Tell Eli to tell my mother that I’m fine,” I tell her. Carmen nods and does my bidding. She sighs.
“Your mother wants to know why you left.” That’s a stupid question. Is she serious?
“Chelsea, maybe you should call her to ease her worries.”
“Can Grandmother track my phone?” I ask. Carmen closes her eyes and considers her answer.
“Considering Grandmother was the one that organized the trip, she wouldn’t bother.” Her statement hangs in the air. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This is a very irrational feeling, but part of me feels as though it sucks that Grandmother knows where I am. She has influenced another course of my life. Will it ever be possible for me to make a decision without the interference of others? Peter kisses the top of my head that distracts me from my current thought.
“Why would she do that when she was one of the ones that didn’t want us together?” Peter asks Carmen. She shrugs.
“Grandma has a feeling that Chelsea is going to run off with you if my Aunt continues to meddle in your relationship. She doesn’t want that to happen, despite how far you’ve gone, you’re not ready to run off yet.” Her words cause bitterness to rise. No one thinks that I’m ready to do anything. It’s not up to them. All of this is up to me.
“Carmen, I decide when I’m ready,” I admonish gently. I don’t want to be harsh with Carmen, especially because she is the one who probably organized this whole thing.
“Chelsea, have you been considering settling down with me?” Peter asks, interest in his dark eyes. A blush comes over my face. This is so embarrassing.
“Um… Well… It is the next step. I…” Peter kisses the top of my head and chuckles.
“Now, waking up with you every morning is something to look forward to.” I smile up at him, and he winks.
“Aren’t you two sappy,” Carmen teases. I pinch her, and she says “Ouch!” The three of us start laughing as “Marry you” by Bruno Mars begins to play. Rain has such good taste in music. Rain peers up at us and frowns.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” I giggle. She pouts and resumes playing a game on her phone.
“We’re here,” Donald cheers as we bounce down a paved road. Trees line either side of the road. Peter frowns when after a mile we still don’t see anything.
“It’s a dead end,” Carmen says, pointing ahead of us. A half a mile later, paradise unfolds in front of us. A three story log cabin stands, right in a semi-circle of rose bushes. Beside the bushes, a different path leads to the back of the house. To our left, another road leads to an unknown destination.
“Everybody out,” Donald orders, and Malcolm opens the door and hops out without hesitating. Rain and Danny follow suit. I’m next to squeeze in between the two seats in front of me and hop down. The afternoon air brushes against my face and my legs are stiff from all of that sitting. Unless I’m driving, I hate long car rides. I tip my face up to the sun and smile with glee. Peter hops out and heads straight for the trunk. I follow him. The trunk is jammed packed with luggage, duffle bags, and a cooler. I grab a duffle bag and grunt under the weight. This person packed a lot. Peter grabs a suitcase and a duffle and we make our way to the door. It flies open, and Jake smirks at us. His eyes are filled with relief.
“Thank goodness. You guys took forever getting here.” I smirk at him.
“We were derailed by the ever so annoying press,” I tell him. His face grows dark.
“I saw your statement. Great.” He moves out of the way, and we walk up the porch steps and enter. The front door opens up into a massive kitchen with an island in the center. The counter tops are covered with covered dishes. The smell of mayonnaise assaults me. Jake winces.
“Grace dropped a jar of mayonnaise,” he explains. I nod and turn left and see a very comfortable living room with two couches, a recliner, and a love seat. I drag the duffle into the living room and set it down on one of the couches. I sit in the love seat and grin as Peter gets rid of his baggage and joins me. It’s nice to be sitting on a comfortable surface. Malcolm comes in with his load and smirks at us. He seems to like the fact that we are together. It’s an overall improvement from how he treated me before. Danny strolls in with the lightest duffle bag out of the bunch. I want to glare at her, but Peter rubs my neck, which distracts me.
“That was quite the ride,” Danny complains to no one in particular.
“It would have been much more entertaining if Lilly had been there,” Malcolm comments with a look of longing on his face. Danny frowns.
“And you wonder why I broke up with you. Malcolm, you’re so immature.” And that’s the amount of those two that I can take.
“Enough,” I yell. Both of them stare at me.
“Malcolm, can’t you just be nice? Please, for everyone’s sake. We all want to relax and have a good time. And Danny, stop calling Malcolm immature when he has every right to be angry with you. Just go and work things out. Please.” Malcolm glares at Danny, picks up a duffle bag and storms out of the room. She sighs and crosses her arms over her chest.
“Chelsea, there’s nothing to work out. I’m engaged to Dominic. He will have to get over me.” She says this in a way that makes my temper ignite.
“Danny, he can’t stand you because you did something wrong to him. What makes you think that Malcolm isn’t over you?” Seriously, she’s the one that looked passionately at him.
“Because if I didn’t matter, he would ignore me.”
“Then, what does that say for you?” I snap. Danny frowns and begins tugging at her peasant blouse. She apparently doesn’t realize that it’s her who can’t let go. I sigh, and Peter begins to massage my shoulders. It’s wonderful to have him around.
“Chelsea, he provokes me. What do you expect?” Her dark eyes flash with aggravation. She’s easy to figure out. I was like her once. After cheating on James, life had gone downhill. It was difficult to understand why no one was understanding. I guess it took meeting Peter to change my outlook. I hurt people, and that was a hard pill to swallow. Danny needs to understand that she made some terrible choices.
“Danny, you hurt him. What else do you expect him to do?” Carmen chooses this moment to stroll into the room. Unlike Danny, she is dragging a heavy suitcase. Her eyes say that she heard the entire argument. Danny takes a look at Carmen, winces and turns away. The two of them use to be inseparable. But now, things have changed. If only time machines existed. Things were fun when we were all friends.
�
�Tiller is grilling,” Carmen tells us. Tiller. He’s out back. Suddenly, a shot of adrenalin travels through me. I follow Carmen out of the living room, threw the kitchen, and out the back door. The door opens up into a spacious patio with a round table, chairs, and an umbrella to block the sun. The smell of charcoal reaches me as I walk over to the steps.
“Pass me the buns, Grace,” Tiller directs and warmth fills me. I run down the stairs two at a time and land in a soft patch of grass. Tiller is fifteen feet away with his shirt off flipping burgers. Grace stands by the picnic table which is stocked with burger buns, hot dog buns, and covered platters. Tiller’s back is to me, so he doesn’t notice me yet. A tear runs down my cheek. It has been so long since we’ve all been together. Warm arms slide around me from behind. I sigh and lean into Peter’s warm chest. Carmen, who is standing beside Grace, doesn’t even look our way. The PDA must be too much for her. I still feel horrible for the girl. She had her heart set on marrying Dominic.
“Hey sis,” Tiller says as soon as he spots me. He puts the tongs on a plate that’s resting on the picnic table and strolls over to me. Peter releases his grip on me, and I fly into Tiller’s arms. He hugs me tightly.
“Tiller, it’s so good to see you.” He releases me and then smirks.
“By any chance, can you bake some organic sugar-free brownies?” I smirk. Of course Tiller would want some sweets. He’s almost as bad as me.
“Sure.”
“The stuff is in the fridge. Peter my man, want to help me out here?” Peter nods, kisses my cheeks and walks over to the grill. Grace runs over to me, and we wrap our arms around each other and begin squealing, loudly. After two solid minutes of hugging we release one another. I smile at Carmen.
“Grace, you’ve met Carmen?” My friend beams at her.
“Chelsea talks about you all of the time,” she says. My cousin looks relieved by that.
“Are you going to keep me company while I bake dessert?” She nods and we walk into the house and straight to the kitchen.
It turns out that neither Grace or Carmen know how to cook. They watch while I crack eggs, measure cups of milk, and mix the cocoa powder with the other ingredients. An overwhelming sense of gratefulness flows over me as I cook. If Grandmother disinherits me, life will still go on. Peter and I won’t starve. We can take proper care of ourselves. If the same were to happen to Carmen, she’d have more of a struggle. Maybe she should start learning how to do the basics.
“So, what’s next for you, Grace,” Carmen asks as I scrape the brownie batter into the pan.
“I’m not sure. College is out of the question. Not that school was ever my strong suit. I guess I’ll have to seduce a rich old man or get a reality show,” Grace responds. After a moment of silence, she bursts out laughing. “Okay, I’m just kidding. Carmen, I don’t have the slightest idea what I’m supposed to do. Maybe I’ll go to a program. I have in interest in respiratory therapy. Some of the programs are affordable,” she says.
“I want to be a reporter. Though, I might change my mind. I don’t think that I could put someone like Chelsea through all of this,” my cousin confesses. I slide the pan into the oven, shut the oven door and turn to face her.
“Carmen, you wouldn’t do something like this. You’re too interested in trying to find the truth.” My praise makes her smile wide.
“I guess you’re right. Besides, I want to be a free-lance writer.” Of course that’s what she wants to be. Carmen doesn’t need a stable job when she has access to all of her money. Thinking about my cousin’s inheritance brings up a question that I’ve meant to ask.
“Hey Carmen, how is grandmother rich?” She smirks.
“Well, grandfather is old money. He invested in oil. When that business became tiresome, grandfather started an investment firm. Uncle Ben runs it,” she says sipping at the ice tea that Tiller made. “Grandmother’s family owns a wine company. They are loaded. Uncle Vincent’s son Garret runs the vineyard.” It’s horrible that I didn’t even know that Uncle Vincent even had a son.
“What’s Uncle Garret like?” I ask. Carmen frowns before remembering that my mother is Uncle Vincent’s step daughter.
“Oh, he’s nice. You’d like him. He’s a true rancher. I like him a lot! He’ll be there for the wedding. I’m sure you’ll meet him then,” Carmen says.
“Now that Uncle Vincent is dead, how will mom get an inheritance?” I ask, knowing that my crazy grandmother who has different personalities isn’t going to give my mother a sent.
“Her entire plan hinges on sucking up to Garret. When he flies out here, she will apologize and kiss up to him. Maybe he’ll reconsider. Maybe he won’t. It depends on if he believes Adam’s interview or not.” Unnecessary guilt slams into my heart. The interview serves as a constant reminder that I screwed up, really badly.
“Great. If Uncle Garret doesn’t accept Mom’s apology, Dad will just blame me for it. I can’t wait until the wedding,” I say, without enthusiasm. Grace frowns.
“Chelsea, don’t say that. Eli is your cousin. How would you feel if someone said that about you and Peter’s wedding?”
“Sorry,” I grumble and Grace is placated. As the smell of brownies fills the kitchen, I plop down at the bar stool beside Carmen.
“Dominic is going to crash this party tomorrow. I overheard Jake and Danny talking about it,” Carmen announces. How great! Now this will be the most awkward trip ever. What is Danny thinking? This trip is supposed to be about me getting away, and she’s invited an unfamiliar guy. What if he’s a traitor? What if Dominic releases my location to the press? What if Malcolm clobbers him to death? Either way, Dominic showing up here isn’t going to turn out well because Carmen is still heartbroken over him.
“That blows. Who invited him?” Rain asks as she strolls into the room. She must have taken a nap as soon as we got to the cabin because she is suffering from a major case of bed head.
“Danny. She feels as though she has every right to invite her fiancé along. After all, Chelsea and Rain’s boyfriends were allowed to come,” Carmen replies. Rain rolls her eyes.
“This will be very awkward,” she grumbles before getting a glass from the cabinet and getting some sugar-free iced tea from the fridge and pouring herself a tall glass.
“Jake told her that inviting him was a bad idea. But she told him that he had to get use to the idea of Dominic,” Carmen reports. The clearing of a throat makes me look toward the doorway. Danny is standing there with a scowl on her face.
“What else did you overhear?” she asks, her stance confrontational. My cousin shakes her head and exits the room. I groan. She still has a hard time being in the same room as Danny. Rain glares at my friend and follows Carmen. Grace has no idea what to do. She raises a questioning look at me and Danny glares at her.
“Grace, don’t you have somewhere to be?” Danny snaps. My friend stands, pats me on the shoulder, then leaves. Fury slams into me.
“You… You… You had no right talking to my friend like that!” It seems that all I do is yell at Danny. But this is different. She’s crossed the line.
“You guys had no right questioning my decision about inviting Dominic here.”
“You only invited him here because you want to hurt Malcolm. To be honest, you don’t give a crap about Dominic. If you did, you wouldn’t have involved him in my drama. Danny, what are you thinking? What if the media comes here and starts taking pictures? What if someone realizes that I know him and gets him involved in the trial? What if he reveals my location to the press? How can I trust him? He’s a nobody. One slip and this getaway is ruined. Did you even think about that when you invited a complete stranger along?”
“Did you think about it when you jumped out of the limo? Did you think about how everyone would feel? Did you think about Peter? Chelsea, do you ever think about Peter. If you did, you would have been strong enough,” Danny fires back. Her words don’t hurt me mainly because she can’t possibly understand what that day was
like. If anything, they anger me. I see red.
“Danny, I killed people. I picked up the gun and killed people. I saw Uncle Vincent’s dead body. I saw Otis die. I… I almost lost Peter. Adam had a gun to his head. It was all too much. Besides that, I was the one to find Amy. Do you have any idea what’s it’s like to take lives? Have you ever been pushed far enough to shoot your uncle and have your father blame you when all you wanted to do was survive? Until you can look in the mirror and are forced to reconcile with the fact that you are a murderer, come talk to me. Now if you would excuse me, I’m going to take a nap. Unfortunately, another side effect to being a killer is lack of sleep!” Tears are brimming in my eyes as I shove past Danny and run into the living room. In my haste, I trip over a duffle and fall to the ground. But the pain doesn’t register. All I feel is the pain that I’ve tried to drown. All of it is here and maybe, if I run far enough, I can escape the truth of my words. That’s the one thing that I can’t get over. I’m a killer. I’ve shot someone in cold blood. I’ve picked up a gun, and watched someone as they took their final breaths. I shot my uncle. The guilt is overwhelming.
“Chelsea! Chelsea! Chelsea! Chelsea! Chelsea, wait up,” Danny calls, or does she shout it. I’m not sure. Everything seems so far away. I vaguely register running up a stair case and going down a long hallway. I open the door and spot a bed and throw myself onto it without even bothering with my shoes.