Chapter 4
4
P ulling the cord on her window blinds, Meredith used slow, deliberate movements to block out the midday sun. She was desperate not to make a sound or stir the bubbling nausea in her belly. One sudden move or any loud noise, and it would release. Sighing with relief, albeit minuscule, she closed her heavy lids as she gently rested her head against the wall. She’d take her successes, however small, whenever and however she could get them. If she didn’t get ahead of this headache, it would be a full-blown migraine before she knew it.
Who was she kidding? She was nearly at migraine status now. Sliding her cheek along the wall, she slowly turned toward her bed. Looking through one eye, she was able to make out the clock on her nightstand.
She had an hour. Maybe an hour and half before she was expected downstairs. A third evening event in less than five days was likely the culprit for her current state. But as this was an election year, the buzz regarding who would be running was high and, undoubtedly, her father wanted to ensure he was backing the right candidate .
It was Meredith’s duty to listen, probe, and report back what the women were repeating. To glean out pillow talk. Doing so left Meredith with a desire to shower often and an ever-ready apology on her lips.
Oh no, it would certainly not do for Markus Hanover to be on the wrong side of this outcome, for he had too much at stake, depended too much on strong-arming others as a business tactic. To back the wrong person would result in a large dip in profit. Or so he liked to rant about these days.
She shuffled to her bed, as picking up her feet would require too much energy and jostle her stomach more than she’d like. She set the pillows up so she’d be upright when she got into bed. Lying down would be far too uncomfortable. Easing onto the bed, she managed to get herself into a comfortable position without losing her stomach contents.
Success!
She’d rest for a bit before forcing herself up to get ready. If her father hadn’t said a million times how essential tonight was, she’d beg off. Plead if she must. But because tonight’s event was hosting the cream of the crop of movers and shakers, Meredith knew her pleas would fall on deaf ears.
Letting her eyes drift closed, she tried to clear her mind of all the things that polluted it. Who did she want to be?
Ever since Sabrina had asked the question, Meredith had been trying to find the answer. When she took a close look at her life and her relationship with her father, she was unable to find any happiness, any brightness in the emptiness inside her.
Would she be able to live under a new identity, telling a story that wasn't her own? For the rest of her life? What if she met someone and wanted to marry him? Would she tell him the truth? If not, could she sustain the lie? Truth was, she wasn’t very good at subterfuge .
Just thinking about it made her already aching head pound harder.
Today, in the throes of the flashing, painful lights that intensified when her eyes were closed, waiting until autumn seemed like an eternity.
Taking deep breaths, Meredith tried to force a calmness over herself. She lightly massaged her temples, letting her mouth go slack, her breathing go shallow. She swallowed passed the nausea and let the ebbing darkness blissfully claim her.
A sudden banging, the loud sound reverberating through Meredith’s head, pulled her from her sleep and forced her to jerk upright. Bile rose up her throat, its bitter taste only making her queasiness worse. When the bright overhead light went on, she ducked her head, covering her eyes with her hands.
“What are you doing?” her father bellowed.
Meredith was torn between continuing to cover her eyes or move to her ears as both his voice and the light were like an assault on her senses.
“I have a headache, Father.” Her voice sounded rough, dry, but not without a pleading tone. “Could you please turn off the light?”
“Get up. We’re late as it is, and you aren’t even ready. Have you been sleeping all afternoon?”
She knew he was moving toward her by the sound of his heavy footsteps and could feel them reverberate around the room as they pounded against the wood floor.
When he stopped at her bed, she felt him loom over her. “I can’t go. I’m not feeling well.”
“Did you take any medicine? What about those pills Dr. Goodman gave you?” His tone was not of a concerned parent but was laced with irritation and frustration.
She’d seen him like this before. Soon he would spiral into anger and there would be no point in reasoning with him. Yet she tried anyway, hoping he was still merely irritated. “Those pills don’t help, and they make me spacey.”
“Meredith,” he boomed. “I don’t have time for this. Get up and get dressed. This is an important dinner. Lyle Brady is going, and he asked about you.”
In for a penny, in for a pound her Mother had always said.
“Lyle Brady is an old man, Father. Didn’t he graduate a year or two behind you in school?”
“He would still be a powerful ally to have on my side. The political climate is changing and—”
“No.” She opened her eyes, knowing she needed to see his reaction, but the pain and energy required to do so was exhausting.
“No?” His voiced echoed through the room, forcing Meredith to wrap her arms around her head to block out the sound.
“I’m not going, and I will not be sold off to some old man to suit your business needs. What year is this anyway?” Hoping to steady her world, she let out a long exhale. Only, the churning in her stomach increased, the bile rising higher.
“Why can’t you ever do as I ask?” he roared. “Just do as I say.”
“Father, puh-p-please.” She hated the begging, but she'd do it if it meant he would go away and let her be. It wasn’t worth the effort to point out she’d done everything he’d asked, or commanded, since momma died. Being the daughter he wanted had never been and wouldn’t ever be enough.
He grabbed her by the wrist, her hair getting caught up in the grasp as well, and jerked her from the bed. “Enough of this Meredith.”
But the sudden movement was too much for her, and she recoiled, twisted away, and retched on the floor. Tears stinging her eyes, she fell to her knees and tried to catch her breath, control the heaving. Her wrist stung from his abrasive grasp, and her head ached from where her hair had been pulled from the scalp.
Never had he touched her like this. Yes, her father was a calloused, single-minded, distant person who’d come to her birthday parties when she was younger, but stood in the background. Even so, he’d taught her how to drive a car the year before her mother died, and for all his flaws, he’d never been aggressive. But the longer her mother was dead, the more bitter, angry, and resentful he grew. Even intolerable.
But he was her family. He was all she had left. Both her parents had been only children of only children, and there was no aunt or cousin with which to seek refuge.
Meredith reached forward and found the edge of her bed. She pulled herself closer and collapsed against it. Through narrow slits, she looked up at her father’s red face.
“Get a handle on this, Meredith. This is unacceptable.” He turned on his heel and marched out.
Left to clean up the mess, her throat burning from the acid of her vomit, she rested her head against the soft cotton of her quilt, using the cloth to absorb her tears. She couldn’t do this anymore. Ever since her mother’s death, nothing had been the same, and it looked like it would never improve.
In this dark moment, Meredith accepted she’d lost both parents. Hoping her father would become the man she wanted him to be, needed him to be, was gone. He was a person she didn’t like, a person she didn’t respect. Yet she was forced to live as he chose.
Not any longer.
Making a decision in this state could very well be a mistake of epic proportions, but what options did she have? As she saw it, there were two. The first, she could take what money she had and try to strike out on her own. But spending each day looking over her shoulder wasn't freedom she envisioned. The other, she could take Sabrina up on her offer. The idea frightened her, the unknowns were great, but it was an opportunity that couldn't be ignored. A stop-gap that gave her breathing room to figure out her next move. No reasonable person would force her to stay in a marriage she didn't want. Not all matchmakers had a hundred percent success.
Easing forward, she reached for her bedside table. She skimmed her fingers across the wood surface until she found the knob for the drawer, then slid it open. Inside was her old-fashioned address book. Though most people kept this info on their phone, Meredith liked having hers in a book. The strikethroughs and address changes of her college friends were vicarious little adventures she dreamt about, having let go of social media since it was too painful to watch people’s lives move forward while hers didn’t.
She wanted to be a strikethrough in someone’s book.
Her fingers sought the cool, smooth sensation that was the telltale leather binding. After opening the cover, she felt for and found a small, thick card. She didn’t have to see it to know what the embossed letters said.
Hope.
Meredith closed her eyes and tried to picture a new life. Would it be like her friend who married the Marine? Living all around the world. She didn’t want to romanticize the idea, but the thought of living in a small, quaint European town had become a fantasy she struggled not to cling to. How could any reality compare to that?
She felt and found her phone on the top of the table and slid it toward her. It took three tries, but she finally dialed the number correctly.
When Sabrina answered on the second ring, Meredith said, “Please help me, Sabrina.”
“Of course, honey. Tell me what you need.” Sabrina’s voice had an immediate calming effect on Meredith. Perhaps it was because it reminded her of her mother’s or because there was a quiet confidence, a streak of strength that Sabrina embodied that told Meredith she was doing the right thing.
“I need a new life. I want a new life. Help me.” Meredith was pleased to hear the quiver in her voice fade as she spoke.
“Are you certain? I can help you get a new life, but I can’t help you go back to this one if you chicken out. You have to commit to what I'm offering.”
No one would fault her for fibbing. “I’m beyond certain. I even know how I’m going to get away from the house.” Meredith shut her eyes, rested her forehead on the edge of the bed, and filled Sabrina in on the ruse she’d have to undergo to get away. “Can you make this happen in two days?”