by Ben Marney
Melissa covered her face with her hands and cried. “How can I do that?” she whimpered, “Jerry has shared custody with Molly?”
“I’m not a lawyer, but Marshall has talked to one of Grant’s friends, who is a very respected attorney, and if you really want to get Jerry out of your life, these are his recommendations.”
“It will be a long process, with several steps. Step one: I believe that if you will go with me today, both of you, and tell the medical board what he told you, I’m confident they will take away his medical license. Step two: you need to change the locks on his office and his condo, then call the bank and tell them you will no longer guarantee the loan on that car. You need to cancel any credit cards he has of yours and close any bank accounts he has signing privileges on as well.”
“I can’t do that, he’ll go ballistic.”
“Melissa, I know this may sound drastic and you’re right, he will not take this well, but for it to work, you need to break him down to his knees. Unless he has some money hidden somewhere that we couldn’t find, if you cancel his credit cards and close your joint accounts, he will only have a few thousand left in his personal account and that won’t last long. Once that’s gone, he’ll be completely broke. That’s when you do the final step and have your attorney offer him some cash with a few conditions. Number one: he must agree to pack up and leave town forever. Number two: he must agree to sign papers giving you non-contestable sole custody of Molly.”
Melissa wiped her eyes with her sleeve and leaned back. “He’s not a monster, he’ll never sign that. He may have been a terrible husband, but he loves Molly...he’s her father!”
“I hope you’re right. I hope he refuses to sign the papers and take the money. I hope he proves us all wrong. If that happens, then you can decide what to do at that time.”
“But Melissa,” Brenda paused, took her hand and stared into her swollen, red wet eyes, “if he does take the money and signs the custody papers...that should prove to you beyond a shadow of any doubt that he’s no good and is only after your money. I know you don’t want to do this, but it’s the only way to tell if he’s any good, or if he’s nothing but a leech. And if he is, you have to remove him permanently from your life, and Molly’s life, especially Molly’s, for her own good. And the only way to get rid of a leech is to smother its head.”
12
Love Is Blind
By the time the police arrived, the no longer “Doctor” Jeremiah Ashford Hollingsworth was lying on his back in a pool of blood behind my truck. He was bleeding profusely from three places: his left eye, his nose and his rapidly swelling upper lip. And although I had caused all of the damage, I wasn’t in fear of being arrested because I hadn’t started the fight, but I damn sure ended it. Fortunately, there were at least twenty or so people standing around me, in their front yards or in the street, that had witnessed the entire spectacle.
I am not a violent man. I’ve only had two or three fistfights in my entire life. My father taught me to avoid physical confrontation if at all possible, but if it came down to it and you had to fight...fight to win and fight dirty!
Jerry started his assault by crashing through the front security gate. Melissa had removed his name from her visitors list. It was the security guard who had called the cops.
He wasn’t driving his shiny new Jaguar, he was driving an old rusty Chevy pickup truck and he let the entire neighborhood know why when he screeched into Melissa’s driveway and ran up her stairs, yelling at the top of his lungs. “THE BANK REPOSSESSED MY JAG, YOU BITCH!!”
Melissa was at my house. I told her to stay inside, then I opened my door and stepped out onto my front deck.
“She’s not there!” I yelled.
He glared across the yard at me. “Where the hell is she?”
By this time, the security guard had showed up, and some of the neighbors were opening their doors and watching from their decks.
“Jerry, she doesn’t want to see you or talk to you.”
“MELISSA!” he screamed, “GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE! NOW!”
I walked down my steps and jogged across the yard to Melissa’s driveway where he was parked. “I have a card here she wanted me to give you.” I held it up so he could see it. “It’s her new attorney’s card. You’ll have to go through him from now on to communicate with her.”
I stuck the card under the windshield wiper, turned and walked back to my house. I had just stepped onto my driveway when he grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around.
“Jerry, I’m warning you. Get off my property. Melissa doesn’t want to see or talk to you. Just get back in the car and leave. Call her lawyer.”
“Or what?” he said, defiantly. What are you going to do to stop me from walking up those stairs?”
I smiled. “Take one step and I’ll show you.”
“Please, Dr. Hollingsworth, you need to leave before the police arrive. You broke through the gate. I had to call them.”
“You called the cops?” Jerry turned around, facing the young security guard. “You little bastard!”
He raised his arm to swing at the guard, but I grabbed his wrist, stopping him. By this time, there was quite a crowd gathered, and that’s when Jerry made his big mistake. He jerked around and swung at me, but he missed.
I ducked his swing and countered with a left jab to his left eye, a right jab to his jaw, then stepped back and gave him all I had with a right cross to his nose. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, bleeding on my driveway like a stuck pig.
Jerry played the poor victim well, moaning loudly while they loaded him onto the ambulance gurney, but that quickly changed when they handcuffed him to the gurney and the police officer began to read him his rights.
“You are arresting me?” he shouted. “I’m the one who was assaulted and I want to press charges against him! I know my rights! Arrest this man!”
“Put a cork in it, Doc,” the cop said, with a slight smile. “Everyone here told me you took the first swing. Your only problem is that he swung back and kicked your ass all over the driveway. So shut the fuck up. You better hope he doesn’t want to file any charges against you.”
I did file charges, but only to keep him in jail long enough for him to meet with Melissa’s lawyer. I told him that if he would at least have that meeting, no matter what he decided to do, I would drop the charges.
At that meeting, he was offered a one million, seven hundred thousand dollar check with only three conditions. Number one, he would sign papers giving Melissa full custody of Molly, and number two, he would leave the state of Florida permanently, only to return for two yearly supervised visits with his daughter. Finally, number three, he also had to relinquish any future alimony suits for financial compensation from Melissa.
Sadly, he didn’t even think about it. He signed the papers immediately and the check cleared Melissa’s bank the next day.
Melissa took the news harder than I had expected. She locked herself away in her house for the next few days and didn’t seem to want to talk when I called her.
I called Brenda and Marshall to talk about it. “It’s going to take her some time to process this,” Brenda said over the phone. “Give her a little space.”
I sighed. “I’m trying, but I guess I don’t understand the problem. I thought she’d be celebrating to be rid of that bastard, but the second he took off, she started backing away from me. I don’t get it.”
“Grant, have you ever heard the old saying, ‘love is blind’?”
I laughed. “You must think I’m a complete hick or something. Sure, I’ve heard that saying before.”
“Well, you are a bit of a hick,” she snickered. “The clinical word for that is denial. We have forced Melissa to face the truth of that denial, and that is not an easy thing to accept. She’s known the truth all along, but she has always been able to deflect it or simply ignore it until now. But when you can no longer hide...the truth can be very brutal and difficult to deal with. It can make you question
everything you’ve ever believed. That’s what she’s going through now. She’s a smart girl, she’ll get through it. Just give her some space and time.”
“Grant,” Marshall yelled over the speaker, “next time you see her, tell her thanks for sending me the release forms for her medical records. I ordered them today. Her case still intrigues me. I can’t wait to get her files and see what’s in there.”
One of the things I hadn’t done since the plane crash was sit behind a drafting table and draw. I’m not sure why, I just had somehow lost the desire. The truth was I hadn’t even set up a design station in my new house. But when I got up the next morning, I suddenly needed to draw. I had no inspirations flashing in my head, no buildings or houses, nothing in particular. I just needed to hold a pencil in my hand again and see what happened. After a quick search of the house, I realized I didn’t even have a number 3 pencil, so I loaded Charley in the truck and headed north to Jacksonville in search of an architectural supply store.
At the store, I bought a small drafting table, a comfortable stool with a back rest, the best mechanical pencil I could find and a few other supplies. After I loaded the drafting table and the stool in my truck, I walked back inside the store to get the rest of my supplies and Charley. He was sitting by a computer workstation in the corner. I motioned for him to come, but he just sat there. When I walked up to him, he turned and looked at the computer.
“Yes, it’s a computer, like the one I had in my office. I see it. Now let’s go.”
“Arrr, arrr, arrr,” he said, touching the seat of the chair with his nose.
“What is it?” I stared down at him. “You like this chair better than the one I bought?”
He lifted his lip. “Gurrrr.”
“You want me to sit down?”
“Woof!” he smiled and wagged his tail.
I knew better than to argue with him, so I sat down behind the computer and moved the mouse. The screen came to life displaying AutoCAD. It was the same computer aided design software I used in my office, but it looked slightly different.
The salesman walked up. “That’s the latest version, but so far, no one can figure out what the new upgrades are.”
It took me a few minutes, but eventually I found the changes and began pointing them out to the salesman. As I explained the changes to the salesman and showed him examples of how they worked and would actually improve a working design process, a crowd of customers began to grow behind us. Then my expanding audience began asking me questions about the AutoCAD software program and some specific architecture questions.
I was getting frustrated. I hadn’t planned on teaching a class that day. All I wanted to do was get back home, set up my table and do some drawing.
I looked down at Charley and frowned, but he was loving it. He smiled up at me and wagged his tail. Something was up and I knew better than to argue with him. So I turned around and continued answering questions, giving graphic design examples on the large computer monitor.
This went on for almost an hour. When it was finally over, the owner walked up and handed me his card. “Mr. Nash, I really appreciate what you did there. You helped finally convince this old buzzard to convert his office to the new upgrade of AutoCAD.” He pointed to an older man standing to his right.
I shook the man’s hand. “I’m Grant Nash, nice to meet you. So I take it you haven’t been an AutoCAD fan in the past?”
“I’m Les Patterson, call me Les. I’m sort of old school. I’m the only one in my firm that still does it by hand.” He handed me his card. “Who are you with?”
I took his card and smiled. “No one at the moment. I had a small one-man shop in Texas, but closed that a few years ago, and moved to Saint Augustine. Actually, I’m not licensed in Florida.”
He raised his eyebrows. “What’s your name and number?”
I gave it to him and said goodbye. Then I loaded Charley in the truck and drove home.
That night, Melissa and Molly came over for the first time in almost a week and I grilled us steaks on the back deck. After dinner, Molly was sleepy, so I carried her back to her house and tucked her in. I opened two Diet Cokes, filled our glasses and we settled on her couch.
“Have you ever heard of someone called Lester Patterson?” I asked her.
She lifted her eyes above her glass as she sipped. “An older man, maybe 60’s, tall with thick gray hair?”
“Yeah, that’s him. Do you know him?”
“Yes, I’ve known him my whole life,” she said with a smile. “He was one of my father’s good friends. What about him?”
“I met him today in Jacksonville. He gave me his card.” I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. “Is this a pretty big firm?”
“One of the biggest in Florida, maybe THE biggest by now. He was one of my dad’s fishing buddies. I’ve known him since I was about twelve. I don’t know him that well, but he was always very nice to me. Are you thinking about going back to work?”
“I don’t know. I’m not really looking to go back to work, but I do miss drawing and designing. That’s where I met Mr. Patterson. I drove up to Jacksonville today and bought a drafting table. I thought that would give me something to do while...”
“While what?”
“Ah, well…” I stammered, “While I wait for you to get over this Jerry thing.”
“What Jerry thing?” She narrowed her eyes and glared at me.
I shrugged. “Melissa, please don’t make me say it. You know what I’m talking about.”
She stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Are you talking about what you and Brenda forced me to do? The thing that made Jerry do what he did? Is that the ’Jerry thing’ you are waiting for me to get over?”
I tilted my head and wrinkled my brow. “Excuse me? You blame Brenda and me for what your sorry ass ex-husband did?”
“What choice did he have? You forced me to close all of his bank accounts and take away his car. He had to sign the papers and take the money. He had no other choice. He was broke. He’s not a monster!”
I stood and faced her. “Seriously? That’s what you think, after all of this? After all we’ve gone through, that’s what you’ve convinced yourself to believe? First of all, it wasn’t his money in those bank accounts, it was yours! And they took away that car because he couldn’t afford to pay for the damn thing and you know it. No, no he’s not a monster, he’s just a selfish gold digging asshole! Melissa, I was there; he didn’t even think about it for a second. He would have signed anything to get his hands on that check. He’s never cared about you or Molly! All he’s ever cared about was your money! He’s a worthless piece of shit! Why can’t you see that?”
Her tear filled, bright red eyes shot daggers at me as she rushed out of the room. I stood there, furious in shocked silence trying to decide what to do next. I knew there was nothing I could do or say that would make any difference, so I walked out, slamming the door extra hard behind me when I left.
The next morning, my doorbell rang at 7:00 a.m. When I opened the door, Melissa was standing there.
I was a little shocked to see her, “Hey,” I said smiling, “good morning. Come in.”
She smiled. “No thanks, I just dropped by to ask you a favor.”
“Ah, sure. What do you need?”
“I was going to ask you last night before...” she dropped her head and looked down.
“Melissa, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that.”
“No, Grant,” she held up her hand, interrupting me, “you’re right. What Jerry did had nothing to do with you. It’s just so hard for me to believe he would just walk away from his daughter so easily, just for money.”
“Hey,” I reached out and touched her cheek, “I understand. Let’s just forget about last night, okay? So, what’s the favor? You need me to cut your grass, wash your windows, paint your house?” I said, grinning.
Her eyes sparkled for the first time that morning. “Well, now that you mention it, my windows co
uld use a good scrubbing, but that’s not the favor I was going to ask you. Molly and I are going away for a few weeks to visit my aunt in Savannah. She’s allergic to dogs and I was wondering if you could look after Donna while I was gone?”
I felt Charley’s wagging tail banging against my leg the second she said it. “Woof, woof,” he said, smiling up at us.
“Sure, Charley and I would love to look after her. Is your aunt sick or something? This is sort of a sudden trip, isn’t it?”
“No, my aunt is fine. In fact, she’s only about ten years older than me. My grandfather’s last wife was only twenty-one. It’s a long story I’ll tell you about someday, but it was quite the scandal. Anyway, she was my father’s half sister and much younger than him. She is my only living blood relative. I’m going there to have her sign some papers.”
“What kind of papers?” I asked.
She shrugged. “It’s something my new lawyer has been trying to get me to do for a few months, but I kept putting it off. It’s part of my will. Although I’m doing well, because I’m a transplant recipient, you just never know. Currently, my will states that if I die, all my assets would be transferred into a family trust for Molly...and the executor of the trust would be her blood relative. Right now, that blood relative is Jerry. I need to specifically select someone else to be the executor in front of Jerry. Actually, it could be anyone, but because there’s so much family money involved, my lawyer believes it should only be a direct blood relative. And that’s why I’m going there now, to have her sign the papers as Molly’s executor.”