26. Gemma
Chapter Twenty-Six
GEMMA
“I’m sorry, can you say that again?” I asked, adjusting my phone in my hand.
“Harley got a really weird message,” Daphne explained. “Here’s exactly what it said, I wrote it down. ‘I’m looking for Harley Jackson. This is Tom Johnson, an attorney based in Portland. I understand you’re familiar with Gemma Marlon. We have a question about a legal case pertaining to her and are hoping you might be able to provide some information.’”
Bitter dread coated the insides of my stomach, and I felt a little sick. “Do you recognize that attorney’s name?” Daphne pressed.
I swallowed and that familiar panic-laced anxiety tightened around my chest. I took several deep breaths before managing a reply. “I do. Now I have to explain an uncomfortable situation.”
“Do you want to meet to talk? Would that be better?”
“Actually, it would. Should we grab coffee at Misty Mountain?”
“I can be there in a half hour,” Daphne replied.
* * *
I took a swallow of coffee, needing the strong flavor. I nervously traced my finger along the edge of the table, wondering when Daphne would arrive. I felt exposed as I sat alone at the table. As if somehow everyone in the café knew my past and the events that left a lingering stain on my life.
Cammi had been sweet as always and had my coffee ready in a jiffy even though she was chatting with another group of customers. Although she hadn’t commented, I sensed she noticed I was feeling out of sorts. I didn’t know if “out of sorts” could accurately capture how I felt. It was more that an old wash of shame slid through me, followed by a sense of weariness and chaos. I couldn’t control the events, and I hated the sense of helplessness.
“Do you want to taste these?” Cammi asked, appearing by the table where I was seated in the corner.
I eyed the tray she held, which had an array of pastries on it. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but my body apparently thought otherwise. “Sure,” I said, pleased to discover that my voice sounded normal. “What are they?”
“We have several options. I’m doing some menu testing. There are savories—spinach with red peppers and feta, and ham and gruyere popovers. Then, I have sweet options, including apple, blueberry, and elderberry.”
“Can I try two?” I asked. Having options made my appetite perk up a little.
“Of course.” She handed me a slip of paper. “Let me know which ones taste the best. I’m actually doing this scientifically.” She cast a sheepish grin at that. “Okay, maybe it’s not quite scientific, but I want to know what people think.”
Glancing down at the paper, I noticed the pastries were listed with space for notes. “I’ll try them all.” They were small, so that wasn’t too much.
“Please do.” As she handed me a plate and carefully placed the pastries on it, she asked, “How are you?”
I managed something resembling a smile. “I’m okay. You?”
I mentally congratulated myself for managing a normal conversation even though something weird, stressful, and linked to the most painful part of my life was careening toward me like a meteor I couldn’t avoid.
“Busy, but that’s life,” she replied. “If you need anything, let me know.”
Cammi moved on to another table, and moments later, Daphne came through the door to the café. She waved to me before getting in line at the counter. I was hungry enough that I enjoyed the pastries.
Slipping into the chair across from me a few minutes later, Daphne smiled. “Hey, I hear we’re testing food.”
“I’m a terrible food critic,” I offered. “I think they’re all good.”
“That doesn’t make you a terrible food critic,” Daphne said reassuringly. “Sometimes they are all good.”
She looked at the list, her lips curling in a bashful smile. “She’s trying my suggestions.”
“It’s a safe bet that anything you suggest when it comes to food will be good.”
Daphne rolled her eyes. “People have different tastes. We met to discuss what might work here while she’s trying to revamp the menu. It’s fun to try to help her find things with an original twist and that she can make from local resources when it’s in season.”
With Daphne’s slight southern accent soothing my frayed nerves, we chatted conversationally about the menu, and she made some more detailed notes than what I had to offer on her slip of paper. By the time she brought up my uncomfortable topic, I was relaxed and not feeling so high strung.
“So, tell me what’s going on,” she said softly. “That message that Harley got was pretty strange.”
I took a gulp of coffee. I needed the fortitude of caffeine. After a steadying breath, I began, “It is strange. I do know that attorney’s name, but not because he’s my attorney. He reached out to me as well, asking me to testify on behalf of my old high school softball coach.”
Daphne nodded along. “Okay, so what does he want?”
Here came the hard part. No matter how supportive people wanted to be, no one liked to hear uncomfortable stories like this. I had learned, in brutal ways, that some people preferred simply not to know the truth. They preferred for the truth to remain in the shadows and out of sight. Unless it was a truth that was comfortable for them.
“Softball was my big sport in high school. I was really good. We won the state championship twice.”
“That’s awesome, right?” Daphne asked hesitantly.
“Winning was. What wasn’t awesome was that our coach sexually abused some of us. Including me. I never said anything about it until the day I walked in on him with one of my closest friends.”
Daphne’s eyes widened, and she reached over to grab my hand. “Oh, no. That’s awful. I’m so sorry. What happened after that?”
Daphne exhibited nothing but genuine concern. Relief gusted through me, and I took another breath, her calm and supportive reaction buoying me.
“Well, we decided together to tell our parents, and they went to the school. Everyone on the team was interviewed. A few others came forward, and others didn’t. It was pretty ugly. Nothing happened other than that, and he kept on coaching. I lost some friends, including some that surprised me. It was hard for lots of reasons, but also because what bonded us together felt broken.” I stumbled over the last word because I didn’t like it. It was the only word that rose to the surface when I tried to explain though.
When Daphne nodded encouragingly, I pressed ahead. “My senior year, I actually injured my back and didn’t play. I’d always loved riding horses, so I started doing that more. I never competed after that and left the team. He kept coaching, and it all felt like a waste, not worth all the trouble.”
Daphne sighed. “I’m so sorry. God, why does it feel like these stories are so similar?”
I shrugged. “Maybe because they are.” I didn’t even try to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “He went on to get a good job coaching for college teams and led a star team for a few years until there was a case there. Now, things are a little different and people pay more attention. He’s facing legal charges for the first time. The DA’s office has reached out to me about whether or not I would be willing to testify at his trial to help them establish a pattern of behavior. I’m sure some of my old friends have been asked as well, but I don’t know because we haven’t stayed in touch. It’s been over a decade now.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Until his attorney called me, I wasn’t sure. That’s the attorney who left Harley a message, or that’s who I think it is. After he called, I was like fuck this, I’m not going to let them try to manipulate me. Now I’m freaking out though. How does he even know I know Diego, much less Harley? It feels like a nightmare, like they’re trying to reach out to people in my life to make me nervous. I came here for a fresh start. My life wasn’t ruined. I was doing okay, but the whole situation cast a long shadow. Now, it feels like it’s chasing me up here. I wasn’t trying to run, but moving on felt good.”
Daphne gave my hand a hard squeeze before leaning back in her chair and releasing it. “I know how it feels to have something cast a long shadow. Starting somewhere new isn’t running. I can’t imagine how it feels to have that attorney reaching out. Things like that happen in high profile cases with attorneys who are getting paid a ton of money. They go looking for any way they can to rattle witnesses. I have no idea how he found out you know Diego, but there’s nothing to do about that now.”
“I can’t even imagine what Diego thinks,” I said, leaning my chin in the curve of my palm. “I don’t really want to tell him about this. It’s not exactly fun to talk about when you’re just starting a relationship. I don’t even know if I can say we have a relationship.”
I meant what I said, but I also knew the way I felt when I was with him. It was much more than a passing, casual encounter. Now my old, ugly history had cast a long line and snagged a hook in my life. Again. The whole situation made me so tired.
Daphne regarded me quietly. “Obviously, I don’t know what’s in your heart, or Diego’s. I do know he likes you an awful lot. Just tell him what happened. You did absolutely nothing wrong. I would also consider contacting an attorney for yourself. If this guy’s attorney is going to be reaching out and nosing into people’s lives like this, you need someone to make it stop. I would also make sure to let the DA know. They can reach out and help put a stop to it. What a fucking asshole,” she said vehemently.
“I don’t know if ‘asshole’ is sufficient for him,” I muttered.
“Don’t forget you have already moved on from this,” she said fiercely. “You’re not letting it define your life. Don’t let it define your life now.”
Daphne’s words echoed in my thoughts later. I was not going to let the past define my life. Yet, that didn’t change how frustrated I was and frankly furious about the actions of that attorney. I was going to take my story back, and I wasn’t going to let this man fuck my life up any more than he already had.