The Bed She Made

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The Bed She Made Page 9

by Elicia Hyder

She squeezed him. “Yay!”

  He nudged her with his shoulder. “Go get your crap. Let’s get out of here.”

  She laughed and stumbled back a couple of steps. “Are you encouraging me to skip school, Officer Garrett?”

  His lips spread into a thin smile. “I like it when you call me that.”

  She stretched up on the tip of her toes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

  Later that night, they rented movies and ordered pizza. Elena got home after a work dinner and was only mildly surprised to find Marcus there. Marcus, always the ladies’ man, greeted her at the door and offered to take her briefcase.

  She kissed him on the cheek and gave him a friendly side-hug. “I didn’t know you were coming,” she said, genuinely delighted to see him.

  “I didn’t even tell Journey,” he told her. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  Elena shook her head. “Of course not. I meant it when I said you are welcome anytime you want to come. You don’t need an invitation.”

  Journey’s entire family credited Marcus for single-handedly pulling Journey out of the viper pit and setting her on the road to redemption.

  He carried her briefcase to the kitchen and motioned to where Journey sat on the couch with the pizza box in her lap. “We ordered a pizza if you’re hungry.”

  “No thanks,” Elena said. “I already ate. I hope you’ll both forgive me if I just retreat to my room. This has been a week from hell at work.”

  Marcus waved her away. “Don’t worry about us.”

  Journey looked over her shoulder as Elena passed behind her. “Hold up a sec. I have news,” she said.

  Elena leaned against the back of the couch. “What news?”

  Journey’s bottom lip poked out. “Marcus came to tell me I have court on June 5th.”

  “June 5th,” Elena repeated.

  Marcus sat back down next to Journey. “Yeah,” he confirmed.

  Elena nodded. “Hey, look on the bright side. At least you’ll be at home around your birthday.”

  Marcus slapped Journey on the knee. “That’s right.”

  Journey hadn’t considered that. “That certainly is a plus.”

  Elena squeezed her shoulder. “I would love to talk more about this tomorrow. My feet are killing me, and I have to get out of these shoes.”

  Journey patted her hand. “No worries. Go to bed. Love you.”

  “Love you, too,” Elena replied, heading toward her bedroom. “Marcus, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Thank you, again,” he called after her.

  She closed the door, and he picked up another piece of pizza. “It’s scary how similar and how different the two of you are at the same time,” he said. “She was wearing high heels, Journey. And a suit!”

  Journey elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut up. I own heels.”

  He laughed. “Hooker boots don’t count.”

  She giggled and put her feet up on the coffee table. “What movies did you get?” she asked.

  He had picked out the movies while she went next door to get the pizza.

  He stretched to where he had stacked the DVDs on the table. He held them up. “I got The Sixth Sense and Fight Club.”

  She scrunched up her nose. “Not Fight Club.”

  He went slack-jawed. “What? Chicks love Fight Club!”

  She shook her head. “I saw it with David, and I don’t want to think about David.”

  His expression was vacant. “You still haven’t talked to him or heard from him?”

  She shook her head. “No. Have you?”

  “No,” he said through a mouthful of pizza. “Have you tried?”

  She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. “I tried his cell a few times, but his number is disconnected.”

  “What about his parents?”

  “They moved,” she said.

  He thought for a second. “What if you wrote to their address? Maybe the post office would forward your letter.”

  She bumped him with her shoulder. “I told you, I don’t want to think about David.”

  He nodded and dropped Fight Club back on the table. “The Sixth Sense then?”

  “Is it scary?”

  “Yep,” he answered.

  She laughed. “Then I’m sleeping with you tonight.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you always?”

  She hadn’t spent the night with Marcus since she had left her parents’ house and had no other place to go the summer before. That seemed like another lifetime.

  He got up and put the movie in the DVD player. Then he stretched out on his side across the couch, settling his feet behind her back. He tugged on her sleeve. “Come here,” he said.

  She kicked off her shoes before lying down beside him and relaxed against the warmth of his chest. He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over them before curling his arm around her waist. Thirty minutes into the movie, she was sound asleep.

  · · ·

  Journey became more and more nervous the closer they got to Steven’s trial date. By her birthday weekend, she had practically given herself an ulcer with worry. Marcus had driven to Nashville to pick her up and bring her home, insisting that her car shouldn’t be seen around town. He told her that he wasn’t as worried about Steven as he was about Steven’s brother. Journey couldn’t argue; Brian Drake made Steven come off like a Boy Scout. He scared the absolute bejeezus out of her.

  She thought it was sweet of Marcus to be so concerned. He had even offered to stay over at her parents’ house, just so she felt safe. She had declined, however, knowing that although her father might be a conservative Baptist deacon, he kept a small arsenal locked up in his gun safe.

  For her birthday, her mother had offered to cook dinner for Journey and invite her friends over, but Journey quickly shot down the idea and went tubing with her friends instead. She knew a party at her parents’ would be too painful of a reminder of David’s absence since he had been present there the birthday before.

  David was still nowhere to be found. Marcus had driven by and confirmed that his parents had, in fact, sold their house and moved, but no one knew where. Following Marcus’s suggestion, Journey had sent two different letters to their old address and both had been returned as ‘undeliverable’ with no forwarding address. She was beginning to lose hope that she would ever be able to apologize for how she had acted toward him.

  The trial began on Monday morning, and Journey was scheduled to testify for the prosecution early in the process along with two other witnesses. Journey sat in the crowded courtroom sandwiched between Marcus and her father. She looked around and then leaned over to Marcus.

  “Steven’s mother is here, but Brian isn’t,” she said.

  “I’m sure Steven’s lawyer advised him not to be here. It wouldn’t help his case at all,” Marcus replied.

  A moment later, the door opened, and a man with a comb-over and a pot belly stuffed into an expensive suit entered the room. Steven followed close behind, but Journey almost didn’t recognize him. His hair was cut neatly like a politician, and he was wearing a suit that didn’t quite fit. He scanned the room, and his eyes fell on her briefly before his lawyer instructed him to sit down at a small table. Journey shivered, and her father reached over and squeezed her hand. Steven didn’t look in her direction again.

  After forty-five minutes of legal jargon and opening arguments by the prosecution and the defense, the first two witnesses, a man and a woman, were called to testify. Their stories were almost identical. They had both described seeing Journey’s white hatchback swerve in the direction of the 4-wheeler and then speed away. The man identified Steven as driving the car, and the woman gave a heart-wrenching account of how Marci Kennedy had died in her arms on the side of the snowy gravel road. Journey felt like she might throw up.

  When Steven’s oompa-loompa lawyer finished his weak cross-examination of the woman, the prosecution called Journey to the witness stand. She swore to tell the tru
th, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth before sitting down and spelling her name for the clerk. The prosecuting attorney, whom she had met with a few times, gave her a reassuring smile. Journey was careful to keep her eyes on him and to not glance in her ex-boyfriend’s direction.

  “Miss Durant, can you please describe, for the court, your relationship with the defendant?” he asked.

  Journey clenched her hands together in her lap. “I was Steven’s girlfriend. We started dating in April of last year and lived together from June until the end of December when he was arrested.”

  The attorney leaned casually against the panel wall in front of the jury. “Can you please tell the court about the night of Friday, December 10th?”

  Journey nodded. “I was working the night shift at Barry’s Bar & Grill on Main Street. Normally, the bar closes at 2:00 AM on Friday nights, but it had started snowing really hard around 9:00 PM, and Barry decided to close early at midnight. Steven came by around eleven and told me that he would drive my car home and return with his truck to give me a ride in the snow.”

  The lawyer stopped her. “Was this unusual behavior for Mr. Drake? Did you think he might have an ulterior motive in taking your car? Perhaps to deliver drugs to…”

  Steven’s lawyer stood up and shouted, “Objection. Leading the witness, your Honor. My client is not on trial for drug charges.”

  “Sustained,” the gray-haired male judge ruled.

  The prosecutor held up his hands in surrender. “Let me rephrase.” He turned back to Journey. “Was Steven Drake the type of boyfriend who regularly picked you up during bad weather?”

  “No,” she answered. “I was surprised.”

  The prosecutor seemed satisfied. “So, the defendant came to your work at 11 PM and picked up your car. Then what happened?”

  “He came back about forty-five minutes later and waited for me to get off work. Then we went home.”

  “What time did you go home?” he asked.

  “At about ten after midnight,” she answered.

  He turned his palms face up. “So, just to clarify, Steven Drake was in possession of your car at the time of the accident at 11:20 PM?”

  Journey nodded her head. “Yes.”

  “When did you first hear about the Kennedy girls’ accident?” he asked.

  Journey shifted in her chair. “One of my friends is a police officer. He called me at work before Steven and I left the bar to make sure I was OK. He said that a car that fit the description of mine had been involved in an accident, but he didn’t elaborate. The next time I heard about it was when I returned to work on Sunday.”

  “What was your involvement with the victim’s sister, Julie Kennedy?” he asked.

  Journey shrugged. “I had never met her before she showed up at mine and Steven’s house a few days after the accident.”

  “Why was she at your house?”

  “She asked to see Steven, but he didn’t come out to talk to her. He asked me to give her a bag of marijuana that he had in our bedroom,” she said nervously. “I did but only because he told me to. He said he wasn’t going to charge her for it.”

  His eyebrows rose with fake surprise. “Charge her for it? So, Steven Drake was a drug dealer?”

  Journey nodded. “I believe so.”

  “Objection, the witness is speculating!” Steven’s lawyer shouted.

  “Your Honor, the witness is attesting to the character of the man that she lived with and why he might have been present on the road the night of the accident. And since both of the other people who can attest to his involvement with the Kennedy girls are dead, I ask that you allow this testimony,” the prosecutor insisted.

  The judge nodded. “Overruled, but watch yourself counselor.”

  “Miss Durant, do you believe that Steven Drake is a drug dealer?”

  “Yes, I do,” she answered.

  “Do you believe that Steven Drake intended to use your car to deliver drugs the night that Marci Kennedy was killed?”

  “Yes,” she stated.

  He held up his hands and walked toward the audience. “Why?”

  Journey shifted in her seat. “Because Steven told me that he did.”

  There was a shift in the air in the courtroom. People began to whisper.

  “Steven Drake told you that he was at the scene of the accident,” the lawyer clarified. “Can you please tell us what he said?”

  Journey cleared her throat. “The night that the police came to question us when Julie disappeared, the police officers separated us, so Steven didn’t know what I had told them. He wanted to know if I had told them that Julie was asking him for drugs. When I began to question why he was so worried, he had a meltdown. He told me that he had caused the accident. He said that he was messing around with them and swerved toward them as a joke, but my car had slid on some ice. He said he saw the 4-wheeler flip, but that it was an accident. He said he panicked because he had a lot of drugs in his possession and he ran.”

  The prosecutor raised his eyebrows. “Steven Drake admitted that he was guilty of vehicular manslaughter and leaving the scene of an accident?”

  “Objection!”

  The prosecuting attorney gave her a small wink. “I retract the question, your Honor.”

  · · ·

  No one was surprised that Steven Drake was convicted on all charges. The jury had only spent thirty minutes deliberating at the conclusion of the trial, and Marcus said that he heard that most of the deliberation was on whether or not Steven had wasted his own money on his worthless lawyer. Steven was taken into custody and booked into the county jail to await sentencing.

  On the day her parents were supposed to drive her back to Nashville, Marcus showed up and tried to talk her into staying. “There’s no reason for you not to come home now,” he said as they sat on the bed of his truck in the driveway.

  She took a deep breath and looked up at the clear, blue sky. “Yeah, there is,” she said. “I need a fresh start. I need to get away from everything here for a while. Maybe forever.”

  His shoulders sank a little, but he nodded. “You do have a lot of history here.” After a long silence, he wrapped his hand around hers. “Just so you know, I really wish you would stay.”

  She smiled and rested her head against his shoulder. Being with him would be so easy, but it also wouldn’t be fair. Because of David, she could only see a fiery ending to any kind of relationship with Marcus, and she loved him too much to lose him too.

  9

  The Little Spoon

  When her sophomore year of college ended, Journey returned to Emerson and found her parents’ driveway full of familiar vehicles. Over the front door was a huge sign that read, “HAPPY 21ST BIRTHDAY!” She laughed and got out of her car in time for a small welcoming party to run out the front door.

  Kara was the first to reach her with wide arms. “Happy birthday!”

  Journey laughed and took a step back. “Thank you,” she said.

  Justin stepped over and wrapped an arm around Journey’s shoulders. He squeezed her until she grunted for release. “You don’t know how glad I am that you're back.”

  Kara posed with a hand on her hip and glared at him. “He keeps hoping that your commitment issues will rub off on me, and I’ll let him off the hook about getting married.”

  Journey’s mouth fell open a bit. “I don’t have commitment issues!”

  There was a brief exchange of wide eyes and awkward glances before the entire group burst out in unison laughter around her.

  She covered her red face. “Shut up!”

  “I would like to testify against the accused.” Marcus’s hand was raised in the air as he stepped around Kara and Justin.

  It had been a while since she had seen him without his cop uniform. For most of her weekend trips home, he was working, and he hadn’t had time to visit her at school all year.

  When Steven was sentenced to four years in the state prison, the media turned Marcus into somewhat of a su
perhero in Emerson. He had quickly advanced through the ranks at the police station and made detective in less than three years. At the same time, he completed a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice.

  That night, standing her parents' driveway, he looked almost edible in khaki shorts and a button-up blue striped shirt. He scooped her into his solid arms and lifted her feet off the ground.

  “Welcome home, stranger,” he said with a smile that sparkled in the moonlight.

  She gave him a friendly peck on the lips and blew out a slow sigh. “Marcus.”

  His head tilted to the side. “Are you ready for the best weekend of your life?”

  Journey smiled as he carefully lowered her back to the ground. “I've been marking the days off on my calendar.” Emerson was just a pit stop to meet up with her friends before heading to Charleston for the weekend. Her Uncle Ray was graciously allowing them to celebrate at his beach house.

  Journey’s parents were next in line to greet her, and they both hugged her at the same time. Randall Durant planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Welcome home, sweetie. Did you have a good trip? Any car problems?”

  She shook her head. “It was uneventful.” She kissed his cheek and then hugged her mother again.

  Carol jerked her thumb toward the house. “I made everyone lunch so you can eat before you get back on the road. We’d better get to it before you lose too much daylight.”

  At around seven o’clock, the four of them arrived at the beach house on the Isle of Palms, just outside of the city. Marcus carried his bag and Journey’s inside. “Where are we sleeping?” he asked when she opened the front door.

  “Kara, you and Justin can have the master. Marcus and I can take the other two rooms,” she said as she led them all inside. She pointed down the hallway and looked at Marcus. “We’re on this side of the house.”

  When they reached one of the bedrooms, he looked at her sideways as he deposited her suitcase onto the bed. “You know you’re going to wind up in my room,” he teased. “You always do.”

  She laughed. “You have a girlfriend now,” she said. “I wouldn’t feel right about it.”

 

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