"Anyway, your mama and I grew up there. Your grandparents were still alive at that time and we were so happy," she smiled as if remembering times gone by. "Then your father showed up. The day he walked into town Sharon took one look at the young man and fell head-over-heels in love with him. Oh Ash, if you saw your father back then... he was sweet and charming. Your mama thought the sun shined just for him." She chuckled sadly, as if the thought of it was now ridiculous.
"Even I had been fooled by his false persona. Well, like I said, they fell in love and as the picking season came to an end, there was no doubt in Sharon's mind–they were meant to be together. Within a month, they were married. Your grandmother, Eleanor, was heartbroken. She knew something wasn't right, but I assured her she was just going to miss her daughter and that her little girl was eighteen. Our mother's parting gift to your mama was that pearl necklace I gave you at Christmas. The watch I gave you earlier on was a wedding gift."
My hand flew to the pearl around my neck, while my eyes stared down at the watch I rarely took off.
Ava's voice changed as she continued, "Liam fooled us all. A real wolf in sheep's clothing if I ever saw one." She paused and looked up to gauge my reaction, but I just nodded my head once, signaling for her to continue.
She walked over to the bed and sat down, patting the spot next to her, a gesture for me to take a seat. I didn't budge, just crossed my arms tighter, as if that would protect me from what was to come.
Ava continued on with her story. "We barely heard from Sharon after that–a call here and there, months apart and then scarcer as time went on. It was almost a year at one point when she finally called. It was a blessing really, as your grandmother was ill with breast cancer. She only had a few weeks left, but trying to get hold of your mother was impossible. Sharon and Liam came home just in time to say goodbye. She had changed so much. Although she tried to look happy, well… she was beaten down."
I knew that feeling all too well, surviving my entire life with my father. I knew just by Ava's words that my mother was probably hiding the bruises and beatings she, too, had endured back then. My heart broke just thinking about dear sweet Sharon having to live through that.
"The day of the funeral, your parents only hung around long enough to say their goodbyes before getting back on the road. I knew your mama wanted to stay, but Liam said they needed to get back to work. Any charm the man once had was replaced with a piercing coldness that chilled me to the bone. I begged her not to leave but, in the end, she hopped in the truck and left town again. Six months later, your grandfather Carl passed away in his sleep. I swear it was from a broken heart. I didn't know what to do. Your parents never had a permanent address and I had no idea where they were, so I buried my father and waited, waited for her to finally call me. It was over three and a half years later when she did. I was so mad. I wanted to tell her how cruel she was for missing our father's funeral, how not hearing from her had scared me half to death. Yet, I didn't say any of that. The moment I heard her voice, I knew something was terribly wrong."
I needed to sit down; the overload of information was draining me not only emotionally but physically. Hearing stories of the past, stories I had waited my whole life for, felt like a sucker punch to the stomach. I sat down on the polished wood floor and crossed my legs.
"Sharon was crying so hard I could barely make out what she was saying, but the fear in her voice as she begged for my help was one of the scariest moments of my life. That's when I found out about you. She told me she had a little girl and you both needed to get away. I was so shocked. I was an aunt and had no idea until that moment. She wanted to come home and needed money for the bus fare. I wired it through the next day and waited. Oh Ashley, when your mama stepped off that bus in Ithaca with you on her hip, I just exploded with love. You were the prettiest little thing I had ever seen. I imagined watching you grow, all the things we would do as a family together. The night you two arrived Sharon told me everything–the drinking, the gambling, the abuse. The bright, confident girl I grew up with was gone. Yet even back then, we had hope for the future, for the two of you. It wasn't even four days later when your father showed up and our world changed.
He caught your mama hanging the laundry out behind our house while you and I were at the store getting groceries for dinner. At least that's what I pieced together from the washing basket and clothes strewn in the back garden. He had been drinking and forced your mama into the car. To this day I don't know if they were coming to find you first or if he was forcing her to leave town. I guess it will always be a mystery. He was smart though, and made her drive. I don't exactly know what happened in those moments, I can only guess. It was only a light rain, but it was enough to make the roads slippery. Your mama drove right off the road and into a tree, the car completely totalled. She was rushed to the hospital with internal injuries and severe head trauma while your father walked away with a few scratches. They say the alcohol in his system could have saved his life, something about not tensing up because he was inebriated. Ridiculous. There was no inquiry into the accident and two days later you were gone. I called the police when he came to take you away, but there was nothing I could do. Your mama woke up two months later with no recollection of who she was or anything about her life. The brain injury was so severe she had to learn to walk and eat again. I sold our parent's house they left us and found this little B&B for sale, figuring I could look after Sharon and bring in an income as well. Make a fresh start for the both of us the best I could."
"How did my father find you again? I mean, it can't be chance that we came through this town."
"Actually, that's exactly what happened. I saw your father walking through town one day and followed him. I just couldn't believe it. But knowing his nomadic ways, there was a part of me that wasn't surprised. I begged him to let me see you. At first, he wouldn't allow it. But then the we came to an arrangement, said he would bring you back here every year for the summer if I paid him."
That made sense to me. It actually explained how my father managed to drink and gamble even when the work money was gone.
"There was one condition though. If I ever told you about us being related or about your mother, then Sharon and I would never see you again. And he didn't mean not ever coming back–Liam said he would kill you. The look in his eyes, I didn't doubt it for a minute."
I didn't either as there were times he did almost kill me.
"So that's it. I agreed and your summer returns to Ligonier began." Ava gave me a sad smile, one that seemed to beg me to understand.
"Did he ever come here to see my mother?" I felt weird asking.
"Nope, not once. He would call me from the payphone when he arrived and tell me to meet him at Pesky's Bar with his money, and I would. I'm so sorry, Ashley. I'm just… so very sorry," she apologized, and fell to the floor next to me, tears pouring from her eyes again.
I couldn't help myself as I wrapped my arms around her wanting to comfort her. We remained like that, silent, as I tried to filter all the information. I was exhausted and hurt and a part of me still felt betrayed. The past was unchangeable, but surely there could have been a way to let me know all those years ago. To be kept in the dark even after I returned punctured my heart.
As Ava's cries began to slow, I let her go. We both stood up and she wiped the tears from her bloodshot eyes. "You're still leaving, aren't you?" she asked, pointing to the suitcase at the end of the bed.
"I have to. I need to go settle things in Las Vegas, pack up the apartment, and make funeral arrangements. And… I need time." Not that my father deserved any kind of funeral, but if I didn't go then who would? I didn't know a single person who cared for him.
"Will you come back?" she asked, panic evident in her voice.
I was unsure how I could come back and deal with everything. What about Sharon–my mother? What about Eric? Oh God, Eric, I had to tell him. Suddenly I was struck with a questionable thought. "Who else knows about this?"
> Ava's head jerked up. "No one until..."
"Until what Ava?"
"When you didn't return that summer I went to Pastor Graham to see what we could do. I called the police, but they wouldn't help knowing your father's hobo lifestyle, apparently it wasn't in their jurisdiction. Eric was there and…I told him."
They knew? Graham and Eric knew and they never mentioned it to me?
The morning just seemed to be getting worse the longer it went on and I couldn't handle it at all. I finished packing my suitcase and walked past a devastated Ava, still standing in the same spot in my room.
I stopped in the doorway, and looked back at her. "Tell Sharon I love her."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ashley
I found myself on the six AM bus, headed for Las Vegas, Nevada, the place I swore I'd never return to after leaving it several months ago. Once seated, I opened my purse and pulled out my beaten up copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. The words were so familiar and soothing, enough to relax me just a little.
I let the book fall open in my lap and glanced at the Polaroid picture of me and Eric. What was I going to do? Everything was finally falling into place. I had a real home, a job I could have only hoped for, an education I was finally able to receive, and the man I loved who said he loved me, too.
Looking at our smiles in the old photo, I realized something—maybe life was supposed to be messy. Maybe no matter how I felt in the moment, anything could be repaired in time. I treasured the small things–like how Sharon loved to braid my hair or how Ava always looked out for me. But most of all, with Eric in my life I would always know how it felt to be loved and wanted. I wanted to take all those positive thoughts and hold them close, and I tried, but my heart was just shattered. I couldn't see past the hurt. I couldn’t even speak to God about it. So many questions began to rise up in me. Why did He allow me to live that kind of childhood? Why is there so much hate and hurt in the world? Why could I never escape my past? I just didn’t understand any of it. If He was a God of love, then why? So many questions, and yet, not enough answers.
I knew it wouldn't take long for Ava to alert my friends about where I was going. Should I sort things out in Nevada and then, as I had been raised, move on to somewhere else or should I head back to Ligonier? But how could I return to Ligonier after all that happened? So many secrets were hidden for so long–I felt betrayed.
I understood why Ava kept things from me before, but I wasn't a child anymore. If she had just told me sooner, then maybe I would have taken it better. Honestly, I just didn't know and there was no point going over and over it in my mind, especially not while I couldn't think straight.
Still my mind refused to give up. I stared out the bus window, the road speeding past as I contemplated whether there had been any clues. Maybe I had missed something that could have alerted me earlier. My birth certificate listed my mother's name as S.M. Gains, which was odd considering the fact Ava and Sharon go by the last name of Hartley. I didn't even have a photograph of my mother so why would I ever have suspected. My memories were that of a two and a half year old, which I knew was mostly a caricature of what I hoped my mother was like.
When I couldn't find a single clue hidden away in my memory, I turned my thoughts to all those moments of happiness I got to share with those I loved and had called family—our dinners together, the laughter that always filled the room, all the walks I loved to take with each and every person in my life—but those memories now felt tainted with untold truths.
I wondered if Meg and Aiden or Mrs. Brooks and Mrs. O'Connor knew. Had everything been one big lie? I closed my eyes and prayed for a few hours of sleep so I didn't have to feel so lost and confused.
One final thought slipped in as my exhausted brain was about to shut down. Sweet Sharon was my mother.
I arrived back in Vegas, my body cramped and achy after days of sitting on that bus with only a handful of rest stops. I stretched out every muscle before reluctantly grabbing my suitcase from the side of the bus. And with that, I was ready to walk the forty minutes it took to get back to my father's apartment.
I was grateful for the time, as anything was better than being on that bus a moment longer. I began to wonder how I was going to feel walking back into the apartment. Although I knew when I left that my father was dying, there was always this horrible feeling like he would simply live forever, continuously haunt me and in some way have a hold on me from which I could never escape. He was a monster and I still couldn't comprehend how someone could do such horrible things to another person, especially his wife and child.
My father thought of no one but himself and I was ashamed to call him my flesh and blood. For a long time, I thought all the beatings and word slinging would have crushed anyone weaker than myself. My only reprieve from his abuse came when he had fallen too ill to raise a hand to me. But now, I think anyone who is forced to live in a controlling situation is stronger than people ever give them credit for. They endure, they survive, and when they finally hit that breaking point and realize they no longer need to live like that, they become brave. Bravery is what it takes to finally get out!
As I approached the front of the apartment building, I witnessed a sight I had only ever seen once before–at least ten Harleys were lined up outside along the street. I stepped up the front steps, about to walk inside, and the bikers all stood, making me visibly swallow. My hands began to feel unsteady as I searched my satchel for the old apartment key. Glancing back, I noticed one of the biker's patches—The Heathens MC. I paused, cognizant of the name I thought about from time to time—Eric.
A tall, burly man who had be in his mid-forties walked towards me. His long, graying beard, sunglasses, and the tattoos that snaked their way across his shoulder blades and down to his knuckles made him look positively scary. He pulled up short no more than a foot away and asked, "You Ashley?" His intonation had a sweetness to it I didn't anticipate.
I nodded at him, wondering all the while as to whether I should have lied. For all I knew, he could have been there to hurt me.
"Great! I'm Trevor." He held out a bear-sized hand and raised his glasses to the top of his head showing kind, chocolate brown eyes. Another contradiction to what I had been expecting, thinking behind the lenses I would be cold, hard, calculated killer eyes.
I cautiously shook his hand. He had a gentle grip and, once again, it was unexpected. I may have had unfounded ideas about bikers in general because the people I imagined didn't act like Trevor.
"Ahh, well, it's nice to meet you. Why are you here, may I ask?"
"Alec and Eric called us and asked a favor. They're on their way, but we were closer by a good twelve hours."
"That's really kind of you but I'm more than capable of looking after myself and, well, my father is dead so I'm not afraid if that's what you think." I confidently raised my chin, refusing to let this stranger see one ounce of fear. But I was lying through my teeth because everything about being back scared me to the core.
Trevor beamed down at me and chuckled to himself. "You're quite the spitfire, aren't you? Well, little lady, you wouldn't be saying that if you entered your apartment.” He tilted his head towards the building's front door. “Seems your daddy still owes a ton load of money.”
I looked at the large man towering above me with confusion. How does he know what has occurred in there?
With a lift of his head, three more bikers joined him and he held out his elbow to me in a very gentlemanly manner. I cautiously looped my hand through it, wondering if I was making the right choice or walking stupidly into a trap. Nonetheless, a peace I couldn't quite explain settled within me and no internal warning bells were sounding off, so, I took the chance.
Trevor led me through the building and all the way up the three flights of stairs. As we neared my old apartment, I pulled out the keys ready to open the apartment, but there was no need as the lock was broken.
The burly man looked down at me. "Think you're ready to see what's
behind this door? If you're squeamish, it's best to turn around and walk right back out of the building."
I hesitated a moment. Why didn't I have a cell phone! Heaven knows everyone tried to convince me to get one. Even though I had managed twenty-four years without one, I now wished I had listened. I really wanted to call Eric to verify these guys weren't about to walk me into Hell.
Chapter Thirty
Ashley
The apartment door swung in and I immediately gasped, taking a step back. It wasn't the memories or the sight of the place that had my stomach wanting to upheave non-existent food. No, it was the two men that were covered in blood and tied to the old orange vinyl kitchen chairs that had me wanting to run.
Though they were barely recognizable by their bruised and battered features, I still knew they were the men my father had tried to give me to as payment for his unpaid gambling debts. They worked for Archer, and even thinking about the man I had only met a few times had my shaking in fear.
I dropped my hand from my mouth. "How? W-why are they here?"
I pointed towards one of the men with his body bound to the chair. He had one eye swollen shut while the other was stiff with fear. His mouth had been duct-taped and I could see the blood from his face slowly dripping from his chin. Another puddle of blood pooled on the floor behind him where his hands were tied.
Trevor gently pulled me through the door, his MC brothers closing in around me like a half circle as if placing a protective dome around me. Either that or they were going to stop me from running. From the scene in front of me, I didn't think anything was going to happen. The two men weren't going anywhere, much less retaliating. On the other hand, I most definitely wanted to get the heck out of there!
Where She Was Loved Page 17