by Shandi Boyes
He was a wolf wearing sheep’s clothing, but since he failed to interrogate me on my father’s whereabouts as his predecessor had done on numerous occasions, I let my guard down. I was an idiot.
I didn’t stumble upon the missing millions as my love of accounting flourished like Axel’s feathers do when he struts like a peacock. Axel pointed the blunder out to me.
I won’t lie; I was devastated. I called my mom every name under the sun while pacing in my den. From the pittance she left in our savings account, I knew there was no way I could repay the money she had stolen. Right at the time my father’s displacement issues began playing out, I was thrown a curveball. I wasn’t even holding a bat.
When Axel suggested his proposal, I thought it was perfect. He needed a well-known local girl to get his parents off his back about his philandering lifestyle, and I needed a lifeline to stop me from drowning.
Once again, I was a gullible idiot.
Axel couldn't care less what his parents thought; he just wanted a scapegoat at the ready if his plan went awry. I was his pawn. By helping me fudge the records to hide my mother's apparent theft, I shifted the burden of guilt from his shoulders to mine. My fingerprints were all over the ledger, and my handwriting was additional proof of deceit. If Regina hadn't suggested that Ryan wear a wire, I'd most likely be spending my college years behind bars.
I did everything Axel asked as he genuinely seemed worried about my wellbeing. He's a good actor—even the jealous boyfriend routine he played like a pro. There was just one issue: his performance didn't end once we were away from prying eyes.
Axel wasn’t just intimidated by Ryan. He hated him. I often wondered if he could sense the natural connection Ryan and I always had. Even though we hadn't been within one hundred feet of each other in years, the electricity that forever bounced between us could be felt for miles. I could feel it. Ryan could feel it. Even Axel couldn’t deny it.
It was only when Axel disclosed the reason for his parents’ separation did the truth come out. Just like the dissolution of my parents’ marriage, Ryan's father was responsible for Axel's parents’ demise. But instead of Axel's mother suffering the kickbacks of her cheating ways, his father did.
Axel's dad is an everyday guy. He doesn't have millions of dollars in his account or an infamous last name that opens doors to him. He simply fell in love with a woman who had a mobster for a brother.
Axel may not have the Petretti name, but he has their blood.
Although I don't give two hoots about Axel or anyone in his family, Regina keeps me updated on his whereabouts. The last update I was given was that he was working with the authorities on their inquiries. Though peeved by the delay in the trial, in all honesty, I'd rather pretend it never happened. Who wants to have their stupidity broadcast for the world to see? My family has always been private. I want to keep it that way.
My thoughts switch from negative to positive when I spot my family home peeking over the horizon. I’m glad after everything my dad has been through the past four years, he can still call this place home. It may have a mortgage on it the size of Ben Hur, but his name is still on the deed.
There was one point earlier this year I thought that would change. The two weeks following Justine’s eighteenth birthday were the lowest days of my life. With my betrayal stinging Axel’s ego more than his heart, he demanded the remaining money I owed by the end of the week.
I was blindsided and desperate. I didn’t have the means to amass over four hundred thousand dollars within days. I barely had two nickels to rub together. Axel knew this; that is why he demanded what he did.
"Stay away from Ryan, Savannah, and we will continue our current payment plan,” he said with a sigh, as if he was helping me instead of hurting me.
I wanted to say no—I was screaming “no” on repeat in my head—but one glance into my dad’s tormented eyes forced me to agree to Axel’s request. My dad had no one on his side. I had to pick him over everyone—even Ryan.
That killed me.
It honestly stung like a thousand bees when I stood behind the door, listening to Ryan knock on repeat and not answering him. I wanted to let him in; I wanted to explain what was happening, but I also wanted my dad to spend his final years in a familiar environment. He lost his wife; he didn't deserve to lose his dignity as well.
My foot slips off the gas pedal when my car enters the long circular driveway of my family home. It isn’t the moving truck parked at the front that has me backpedaling. It is the person standing on the stoop, directing over a dozen men.
It's been years since I've seen her, but I'll never forget her glossy honey hair and peachy red lips.
It is my mom.
Chapter 2
Savannah
After parking my car next to three men taking a breather from my mom’s demanding aura, I curl out of my car. I feel like I’m dreaming. My mind is hazy, and my steps are sluggish. This can’t be happening. Not now.
You’d think my first response to seeing my mother would be excitement. It isn’t. It is angered confusion. What is she doing here? And why is she moving our belongings out of our house instead of returning the ones she wrongly left with?
I count to ten while rounding the back of the truck half-loaded with the possessions I've stockpiled the past nine months. My long drive must be wreaking havoc with my composure, causing me to hallucinate—what else would instigate such weird delusions?
My mind isn’t playing tricks on me. The back of the truck is laden with my favorite belongings. There's even a handful of items I purchased for my dad. His disease requires familiarity, so as much as I wanted to rid his bedroom of the disaster my mom’s brush with interior design caused their room, I couldn’t. The hideous fur rug and mismatched floral cushions had to stay, much to my dismay.
The workers have barely sucked down their hand-rolled cigarettes when my mother claps her hands together, demanding they return to work. She commands them with the same pompous attitude she used on our house staff in the years leading to her disappearance.
She's the captain. They are her soldiers.
“Who do you think you are? You have no right to waltz in here after three years and act like you own the place,” I snarl, taking the stairs of my family home like I’m Rocky Balboa climbing the stone steps at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
The anger in my voice shocks me. I always anticipated being grateful upon discovering my mother is alive, but all I feel is anger. I went to hell and back when she left, and now, just as all the pieces are falling into place, she returns like a bat out of hell, ruffling more feathers than settling them.
No! I won’t let her ruin this for me. I won’t let her ruin this for us.
“Does Dad know you’re here...?” I stop talking when bewilderment bamboozles me. “Does he even know who you are anymore?”
My mom takes in a sharp breath as a mask of shock and anger slips over her face. Her response replicates mine to a T. I’m equally pissed and traumatized.
With her mouth gaped, she stares at me like I'm a mirage. I don’t know where she thinks I’ve been. Unlike her, I belong here. This is my home.
“Savannah...” she whispers in a breathy moan, half-startled, half-stern. “You’re home early. We weren’t anticipating your return until tomorrow.”
“We?” I ask, clearly confused. “There's no we, Mom. There is us. Me and dad. Not you.”
The confusion on her face is pushed aside for sternness. “Oh.” Her eyes reveal she wants to say more than she just did. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she eventually settles on, her words not matching the deep groove between her blonde brows.
“Where’s Willis? Dad needs familiarity. He’s been with him for nearly a year.” I skirt past her to enter the foyer of my home. “Willis?”
I’m left windless for the second time in thirty seconds when my eyes absorb the shell I used to call home. Everything has been stripped. It is even emptier now than it was when I sold every possession we
owned the week after Justine’s party. I wanted out of my agreement with Axel, so I did everything in my power to get out.
If only it had been enough. Axel had me over a barrel, and he knew it.
Not recognizing a single face, I charge for the curved stairwell I’ve slid down more times than I’ve climbed.
“Dad!” I shout, my frantic stomps matching the thumps of my heart. “Daddy!”
I hear my mom shout my name, but my strides remain strong. Even with the half a dozen men removing childhood memories from my home making a ruckus, my dad heard my shout.
“Ruth?” he calls back, his voice echoing out of his room at the end of the hall.
Tears drop onto my white cheeks as I increase my strides. His voice—thank god. I was afraid my mother’s return would coincide with me never hearing it again. I was petrified he was gone.
“Daddy,” I choke out via a sob when I enter his room.
He's standing at the foot of his bed, his face as tormented as ever. “What’s happening, Ruth? I don’t understand.” His words sound as exhausted as I feel.
The last six months have been tough on us both, but with Willis agreeing to be his fulltime caregiver, the transition wasn’t as daunting as expected. My father may not remember my name, but he has never forgotten my face. That means we’ve racked up a lot of Skype minutes since I left for Cornell six months ago.
The moisture slipping down my cheeks is absorbed by my dad’s shirt when he tugs me under his broad arm to comfort me against his chest. The wild beat of his heart causes more tears to topple from my eyes. He's as scared as me, but acting brave not to startle me.
This is definitely the man I know and love.
“I don’t know what is happening,” I admit, my voice showcasing my bewilderment. “But I’ll find out. I promise you, I’ll find out.”
My pledge has barely left my mouth when my dad stiffens. His fingers dig into my arm when he spins me around, sheltering me from the person I hear scuffling across the hardwood floor with his body. My tears flow more freely. Even with his mind destroyed by a horrible disease, it can’t stop his protective nature. It is as naturally engrained in him as it is in Ryan.
“Thorn,” whispers a tormented voice, one I would have given anything to hear years ago, but will give anything to silence now. “You know me. You just don’t remember.”
My spine straightens, expecting my father to react negatively to my mother’s remark. Displacement issues are my dad’s biggest trigger, but being told he can’t remember is a very close second. He can handle prompts, but if you straight up tell him he can’t do something, you’re set for trouble.
My stomach continues receiving blow after blow. My dad doesn’t react as I am expecting. He doesn’t scream, yell, or even clench his fists. He doesn’t do a single thing. This is as abnormal to me as seeing my parents in the same room.
My mom smiles, pleased by his lack of aggression. “Every rose has its thorn. Just like every thorn needs a rose. I’m your Rose, Thorn.”
The wind is knocked from my lungs, shocked by the sweetness of her voice. It is brimming with love and admiration, a stark contrast to the one she used when placing the blame for her extramarital ways on my dad’s shoulders years ago. She wanted the world but couldn’t understand that he had to work relentlessly to give it to her. She used his absence as an excuse, failing to see that if she weren’t so greedy, he wouldn’t have worked sunup to sundown.
“I still remember the first time you said that ...” She sighs as if recalling fond memories. “...and the millions of times that followed.”
I shake my head while pulling away from Dad’s grasp. The extra beat his heart gained during her disclosure reveals a truth I don’t want to face. He's remembering her—the woman who betrayed him time and time again.
I lift my eyes to an equally unique pair. “You can’t believe her, Dad. You don’t know what she did. How she hurt you.”
My lungs hunt for air when he stares at me, somewhat confused. I grab his hand and run it down my cheek like he always does. “It’s your Ruth. You can trust Ruth.”
I stare into his eyes, allowing mine to speak the words my mouth will never be able to say. Nothing’s changed. I couldn’t tell him years ago about her deceit, and I can’t today either. I will not break his heart for anyone’s benefit, not even mine.
I inhale my first breath in what feels like minutes when my dad briefly nods. “There’s my Ruth,” he mutters as his thumb traces the indent in my cheek.
“Yes. Here I am,” I reply, nuzzling into his hand.
Hating that the torment in his eyes grows from spotting the moisture brimming in mine, I aid him into his bed. My mom’s breaths are so ragged, I hear every inhalation. She isn’t gasping for air because she is surprised by our closeness—there isn’t a father/daughter bond in the world that can compare to the one I have with my dad—she's just shocked seeing the man she once loved stare at her as if she's a stranger.
I can imagine her pain. I pray every day for that day to never arrive. The day my dad forgets who I am will be my most painful day. I wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone. Not even the woman who broke his heart.
“Savann—”
“No,” I interrupt my mom, my tone stern like I am the parent in our dynamic. “Not in here. You have no claim to anything or anyone in this room.”
Pretending I can’t see my dad’s confusion growing from my mom calling me my real name, I smile at him before asking, “Orange juice?”
His eyes light up like a Christmas tree. “Please.” His love for his favorite drink is all over his face.
“I’ll be right back.”
I press a kiss to the edge of his mouth before spinning on my heels and making a beeline for the door. I don’t glance over my shoulder to ensure my mom is following me. The deep sigh she releases before saying goodbye to my dad tells me everything I need to know.
She isn’t here for him. She’s not even here for me. That only leaves one thing on her list: money.
Once I'm halfway down the hall, I spin around to face my mom. Her lips twitch like she's preparing to speak, but I beat her to the task. “What do you want? If you are here for money, I hate to tell you we have even less now than we did when you left us the first time—”
“I’m not here for money, Savannah,” she interrupts, shocking me with the sincerity in her voice.
I was so sure she was here for money, I didn’t prepare another defense. “Then why are you here? Why now?”
When she steps closer to me, I hold my hands out in front of my body, demanding she stop. I’m not falling for her tricks again. If she wants to continue her lies, she can do it while looking me in the eyes.
She stares up at the ceiling for several seconds before lowering her eyes to mine. They are glistening with tears, but nowhere near the number in mine. “I’m not who you think I am. I didn’t leave because I don’t love your father. I love him, more than you’ll ever know—”
“Yet, you still cheated on him. Again and again,” I argue, unwilling to go down without a fight this time.
I’m not the naïve teenager she battled during our last confrontation about her adulterous ways. I am a grown woman who won’t tolerate her belittling my father any more than she already has.
When my mother shakes her head, denying my claims, I scream, “I saw you!”
“You saw a woman doing anything to claw herself out of hell,” she fights back, yelling.
“Did you see him? Did you look into his eyes and see the man on the inside pleading to be set free?” I ask, pointing to my father’s room. “You saved yourself from hell by sending him in your place!”
My mom steps closer to me, her face as haunted as mine, her lips as hard-set. “If I didn’t leave when I did, you would have lost us both, Savannah. What would you prefer, one parent suffer or both?”
I glare at her like she's insane. She can’t honestly believe she is the victim in all of this. My father lives in a nightmare. Can you
imagine waking up every day and not recognizing the people surrounding you? If that isn’t bad enough, your body doesn’t understand the prompts your brain is relaying, and over time, even remembering how to sip orange juice is above your means. My father is suffering enough for the both of them. Things can’t be any worse.
I’m dragged from my somber thoughts when my mother mutters, “What happened to your father wasn’t an accident. It was deliberate. I’m just glad I got out when I did.” She peers at Dad’s door without a bit of remorse on her face, too revolted to comprehend empathy.
My mother is saved from witnessing the lengths I’ll go to protect the ones I love when a deep voice at my side pipes up. “What your mom is saying is true, Savannah. It may not be what you want to hear, but it is honest.”
“What...why...?”
Now I have even more sympathy for my father’s condition. I can hear the words I’m trying to articulate in my head, but seeing a man I never expected to see standing in my hall has me swallowing my words.
“Axel, what are you doing here?” I ask, my voice brimming with suspicion.
Did I fall asleep during my commute? Nothing about this evening is making any sense.
I shoo away Axel’s hand when he tries to brush a tear off my cheek. “Don’t touch me,” I snarl, my bewilderment not strong enough to leash my anger. “You’re not allowed within five hundred feet of me. If you don’t leave this instant, I will have you arrested.”
My head slings to the side when an accented voice assures, “That won’t be necessary.”
A balding man with shoulders as wide as my height flashes his FBI badge. I don’t need to see his identification to know who he is. The day he asked me to pass on a message to Regina will stick with me forever, because the love he projected will be seared on my heart for eternity. Furthermore, if he hadn’t requested for Regina to step down from her investigation, I doubt Ryan would have left the interrogation room at Ravenshoe PD without cuffs on his wrists. Tobias saved our hides that day, so I’ll never forget him.