"Technically...you're the same person you were before the phone call, and before this case. You're Gabriella Scott, reporter and house sitter. Your biological parent doesn't change that."
She gave him a look that would have felled a lesser man. "You're dumb as a stump, aren't you? I can't believe you actually said those words. That they came out of your mouth but I heard them loud and clear. You think that I should be fine because nothing has changed. Well, fuck you, because everything has changed and if you can't see that then you're a fucking idiot."
So I was right. I should have stayed quiet.
"You're absolutely one hundred percent correct. I don't know shit about your situation. I've never been in it before and even if I did, I probably still wouldn't have the right thing to say to make you feel better. What I'm trying to say - and badly - is that deep down who you are is unchanged. Yes, your life has changed and that may change some parts of you but who you are - who you really and truly are - as a person is solid as a rock."
Ella seemed to think about what he'd said and he thought he might be getting somewhere until she tugged her hands away and sprung to her feet, walking over to the small window overlooking the street. Even from a few feet away, he could see the tears glistening in her eyes. They were far overdue.
"Then tell me, since you know everything, who am I? Because I thought I knew who I was and I don't anymore. So please tell me and be specific. None of that flowery language where we're all special and wonderful and the world is rainbows and kittens."
She wanted to do this? Get into the nitty gritty? Okay, he could do that.
"How about I tell you a story first? About me and my dad."
Chris wasn't the type to talk about his personal shit but he could give up a little privacy to help someone he cared about.
And he cared a hell of a lot for this woman who was clearly in a great deal of emotional pain. She'd slipped under his defenses with a minimum of fuss. But here they were. He would do whatever he could to help her through this.
Even talk about himself.
22
"I'm a recovering alcoholic. I've been sober for seven years, three months, and fifteen days. This is my second attempt, by the way. I was doing pretty well on my first attempt and but I fell off the wagon, set fire to it, and then drank a bunch of whiskey while I watched it burn. The next day I felt like hell so I tried again. I take it one day at a time but so far so good."
Ella couldn't believe her ears. It had sounded like Chris had said he was an alcoholic, which couldn't be. He was the personification of chill, laidback, and practical. He was the proverbial Rock of Gibraltar in a storm.
"I don't think I understand," she said, shaking her head in denial. "That...can't be."
"Why not?" he challenged. "Because I don't act like I'm addicted to alcohol? Because I'm not hanging from the chandelier with my pants down around my ankles? Not everyone acts the same, Ella, and I'm embarrassed to admit it but I just might have swung from a light installation at one point. Doubt I'd remember it, though. There's a whole bunch I don't remember, in fact."
Searching his face, she tried to evaluate the veracity of his words but he appeared to be totally sincere.
Chris was an alcoholic. Okay...she hadn't seen that one coming.
Maybe she should have, though. He'd told her twice that he didn't keep booze in the house. She simply hadn't put it all together.
"So you're an alcoholic. Are you trying to say that you're like my biological mother or something?"
Smiling, Chris shook his head. "No, I'm saying that I'm like you, Ella."
Her brows flew up and her mouth fell open. "I'm not an alcoholic. I barely drink at all."
"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about not knowing who we are. That's what we have in common." He settled back against the couch cushion and patted the one next to him. "Come sit with me and I'll tell my story. I warn you it's kind of boring but it has a decent ending."
Mercutio the cat must have also wanted to hear the story because he jumped from the arm of the couch right into Ella's lap. She stroked his soft fur and murmured in his ear, listening to him purr.
"Growing up, I struggled with living in my dad's shadow," Chris began. "He was something of a legend in the little town I grew up in. He was the football hero in high school, married the head cheerleader - that would be my mom, and even went into the military. When he came back he became the sheriff. Not just any old run of the mill lawman, either. Everyone said he was the best sheriff ever. He was amazing and there was supposedly nothing he couldn't do. It seemed like he knew everyone and everyone knew him. And they all adored and respected him."
"Sort of the opposite of Kelly," Ella observed. "I'm not sure how this story pertains to me."
"Give me a minute and I'll get to that."
"Sorry."
"To me it was strange that because everyone in town knew him they thought they knew me. They thought I should be just like him. A veritable chip off the old block. Hell, one better. They thought I should be his clone. Look like him, talk like him, think like him. I didn't have an identity of my own and especially in those troubled teen years that became a huge problem. I wanted to separate myself from my dad. I wanted to show everyone that I wasn't him. But I went about it all wrong."
Chris had alluded to some wild behavior before but this sounded more serious than a few teenage pranks.
"I became rebellious at the best of times, and a complete asshole at the worst. After I got married and we had Annie, it didn't get any better. I was a lousy father and husband, I couldn't hold down a job, and I spent most nights and weekends hanging out with my buddies drinking and getting into fights. I resented him for being perfect and then I resented him when he wasn't. All in an effort to create an identity separate from my father. "
Ella couldn't imagine that this man sitting next to her was the man he was describing.
"Did it work?"
Chuckling, Chris shrugged. "For some it did and for others it didn't. I learned that people see what they want to see. One of the things I had to learn the hard way was that I couldn't control how others perceive me. I could only control myself. That's tough enough."
It was still different, though.
"It's not quite the same. My biological mother was a mess and your father was a hero. Two different sets of circumstances."
"My dad had his own demons. He was an alcoholic, too."
She hadn't expected that. Chris was full of surprises today.
"Your dad was an alcoholic. How...I mean...did the town know? Did you know?"
"Dad was what you might call a functional alcoholic. He only drank when he wasn't working and he managed to keep the two separate. He was gone a lot though, so I had my suspicions when I was young. As much as I wanted to be separated from my dad, when it came time to deal with my own demons I walked right into his footsteps. It was him that got me into a rehab down in Arizona, helped me clean up and become a decent husband and father. He never gave up on me even when I'd given up on myself." Chris leaned forward, his expression intent. "I'm only telling you this because you need to understand that who you are is not defined by those around you. It's also not defined by some DNA strands. I have a lot in common with my father but I am not him. His issues are not my issues and vice versa."
"I want to believe that. But how will other people–"
"Fuck 'em," Chris replied firmly, not letting her finish. "Just fuck 'em. There will always be people who want to judge you. They'll do it no matter what and they'll make sure that you come up wanting in some way. Don't let them shake what you know in your heart is true."
"What if I'm like her?" Ella's voice trembled as she voiced her fear. "What if I screw up my life like she did?"
It was the old nature versus nurture argument, and she didn't have an answer. She only knew that she'd thought she was one person a few days ago and now she was someone entirely different.
"What if you don't?" Chris asked. "We'll never really
know the whole truth of Kelly's story, Ella, because she's not here to tell it. Even then, just like the story I told you, it might be full of biases and rationalization. I'm sure my dad would tell you a different story about my youth. We have bits and pieces of who she was but we don't know her dreams or her fears. We don't know the things she tried and failed at. We don't know her successes. I don't think it's fair to judge her all these years later."
Ella's fingers trailed through Merc's silky fur. "Not everyone is going to think like you do."
"So fuck 'em," he repeated with a grin. "Don't let a few people's opinions run your life. I did and I can tell you that it didn't turn out well. It was only when I stopped caring what others thought and started caring about what I wanted that my life truly turned around. I had to do it for me. Not for my dad, or Stacey, or even Annie. For me."
"I don't want other people to run my life," Ella admitted, a lump building in her throat. "But I can't help wondering who I am right about now. I thought I had all of the answers."
"That has to have knocked you off of your feet. You thought you were the same flesh and blood family as your parents and now you found out that isn't true. But Ella, that wasn't that long ago. You've been so busy with this investigation you've barely given yourself time to digest it all and figure out how you feel about it."
How do I feel about it?
"I'm angry at my parents."
She didn't like saying it but it was true.
"That seems natural. They lied to you for a long time even if they thought it was for your own good."
"I still love them," she said swiftly, her fingers curling around Merc's sparkly blue collar. "They're still my parents. I'm just mad."
"And you've told them that?"
"Yes, they seem to understand."
"That sounds healthy then. You've expressed your feelings and they've heard you. Time will sort it all out, I would imagine."
"I don't trust them as much any more."
That was the hardest to admit. They'd shattered her trust and she was scrambling to get it back. Chris, on the other hand, was nodding as if it was totally natural.
"The day we find out our parents aren't perfect is a tough one. I remember seeing Dad drunk and it messed with my head for a long time. I'd thought he was perfect and invincible, just like the town. But seeing him as a flawed human being has made us closer. I just had to get over my anger at him. I was so mad because if he wasn't even close to perfect then what chance did I have?"
"Exactly!" Ella nodded in agreement, going up on her knees on the cushion, her excitement making her antsy. She couldn't sit still and Merc jumped down to the floor, clearly disgusted with her behavior. Chris had verbalized the thoughts she hadn't been able to describe or understand. "Our parents are supposed to teach and guide us, but if they're messed up then aren't we by default? And how much of Kelly's mess did I inherit? Because I seem to have plenty of my own without adding hers."
Chris picked up the feline and placed him on the edge of the couch. "Let me just say that in the years that I've been in law enforcement I've seen a hell of a lot of screwed up parents and the kids don't always turn out the same way. They have a tougher time in life, that's for sure, but it's not preordained that they're going to be like their parents. It seems to me that your mom and dad gave you a pretty solid start in life, better than most kids. I think you'll be fine." Chris paused for a moment. "In fact, I know you'll be fine. You've got a hell of a lot more level head than I ever did. I was one angry jerk and I blamed everyone for my problems except me. No one thought I was going to straighten up and look at me now. I'm the most boring man on the planet."
Ella might have agreed with that statement when she'd first met him but she wouldn't say it now. Chris was fascinating with all sorts of layers that she was only beginning to pull back.
"When did you get so wise, Chris Marks? I feel like I've just had a session with a therapist. Or Yoda."
Apparently he found that incredibly hilarious because he threw back his head and laughed, the sound traveling all around the room. It was rich and throaty and it made him even more attractive than he already was.
Maybe it was because what he was saying was...kind of helping. A little bit. She still felt like hell but at least now she was reminded that lots of people felt that way and they got through it. It wasn't like she didn't know that, but she'd forgotten it for a little while, instead wallowing in her misery.
I'm not alone.
"I'm not wise in the least, and I hate to give advice but frankly it looked like you needed some even if it wasn't all that good."
"Actually it helped," she admitted. "You've helped me realize though that I can't avoid this, and I'm a world class avoider. I can avoid and ignore just about anything until it's a moot point."
"But you can't do that with this. It's not going to become moot."
She shook her head. "No, that won't work here. There's only one way forward and it's full steam ahead. No taking a shortcut or a bypass. It sounds...painful."
Grimacing, Chris rubbed his stubbly chin. "I hate to say it but it might get worse before it gets better, but just deciding that you're going to get out the other side is a huge step forward."
Having taken that huge step, Ella was now exhausted. She had a hell of a lot of emotional work ahead of her but was it so bad that she just wanted to rest? She'd work on her mental health tomorrow. Tonight she didn't want to think about it.
23
Ella twisted under the covers and punched her pillow a few times more than necessary to fluff it up. She couldn't sleep. She could blame it on an unfamiliar bed or her empty stomach but those weren't the reasons she wasn't drifting off to dreamland.
It was the deep sense of violation that she couldn't shake after having her apartment ransacked.
Why? Why had they done it? Was Chris correct in thinking that they wanted to discourage her from pursuing this investigation? It was a plausible argument and she didn't have anything to counter it.
People...strangers with ill intent...had pawed through her belongings with their grubby mitts. They'd touched her clothes and her bed. They'd put their hands on every throw pillow and cushion in her home. She might not have picked out and bought that couch herself but she'd sat there every night and ate dinner while watching television. She'd stumbled into the bathroom in the mornings and made herself coffee in the kitchen. It was her home and sanctuary and it had been invaded. If she couldn't feel safe there...
There was no real reason not to feel secure. Logically Ella knew that. Chris had a gun, after all, and he was an experienced lawman. He wasn't about to let anyone break in and hurt them. But she couldn't shake that uneasy feeling. The one that kept her awake and staring at the windows wondering if anyone could climb in. She'd actually crawled out of bed to see if they were locked more than once.
This is crazy and a total waste of time.
Throwing back the covers, Ella swung her legs out of bed and placed her bare feet on the pastel butterfly rug next to the bed. She couldn't just lie there and wait for sleep that would never come while slowly going out of her mind. She needed to move around, maybe get a drink of water or check her email. Whatever, it didn't matter. But lying in bed counting sheep was useless.
Shoving her feet into a pair of warm socks, she padded into the kitchen in her flannel pajama pants and t-shirt. These were her favorite comfortable pants to lounge around the house, plus there was a unicorn on one of the legs. It was pastel and silly with long eyelashes and a sparkly horn but it always made her smile. Even now when life was looking a little too grim.
She poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher in the refrigerator, lighting up the tiny space. Closing the door, she turned to head into the living room to check her email but stopped short, a strangled scream erupting from her lips. She almost dropped the glass as her heart stopped dead and her blood ran cold.
Clutching her chest, Ella gasped and coughed, shaking in her wool socks. It took a moment befo
re she could speak to the man that was standing in the middle of the kitchen, a flashlight illuminating his face.
Chris.
"Jesus motherfucking Christ, don't ever do that again. I almost fucking died right here in the damn kitchen from fright. What the fuck are you doing creeping around the fucking house? Shouldn't you be in bed dreaming of catching bad guys or something?"
He snapped off the flashlight and flipped the switch on the kitchen wall. The room was now almost bright as day. Things didn't look so scary or sinister in fluorescent lighting.
"Got quite the potty mouth when you're scared. I kind of like it." Chris set the flashlight on the counter. "And I wasn't creeping around. I was checking for noises."
It was then that she realized that he was also carrying a gun in his other hand which was also placed next to the flashlight. This was the second time he'd been packing heat and surprised her.
Wait...he'd had a gun.
"You could have killed me," she croaked, pressing a palm to her chest once again. Her heart had not only resumed beating at some point but now it was galloping as if being chased by demons. "Shit, I could be lying in a pool of blood right now. Are you crazy? You can't go walking around like that."
Her voice had gone up a few octaves and she sounded hysterical. But shit...she might have been shot.
"I couldn't have killed you because I never had the gun pointed at you," Chris explained in a far more reasonable tone than her own. "The first rule of gun safety. Don't point at anything you don't intend shooting. I had a gun, Ella. I didn't intend to shoot it."
"Unless you had to," she completed the sentence for him. She was still shaking in her socks. "What if you'd mistaken me for a burglar?"
"The second rule of gun safety is don't shoot at dark figures that you can't identify. Once again, you were never in any danger. I wasn't even close to discharging my weapon."
Her heart was still beating like a brass band in a parade.
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