9. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Stephanie
D read sits heavy in my stomach since Mother died. It never occurred to me that we wouldn’t get the chance to mend things. Now, Alan wants to contest the will. I want nothing from my mother’s estate, aside from the few items I brought back after the funeral.
Before James, I thought she’d never be happy with me. I spent so much time as the rebel, I just assumed it wouldn’t happen. After I left him, I was embarrassed. Ashamed. It was then that I decided I needed to shape up. I could be poised and put together. But it didn’t help our relationship. A stable husband who could provide for Maci and me didn’t either. We never could get on the same page.
Contesting the will after all of that just seems like a slap in the face to her. I could never do that.
So, the dread deepens. I contemplate if I’m getting an ulcer. When Alan returns from his work trip, he’ll want to know where I stand. He’ll want to know I stand with him. I’m not sure I’m prepared for his response when I tell him no.
Maci’s name lights up my phone screen just as I’m getting back from the gym. I can count on one hand the number of times she’s called me in the last six years.
I swipe the green button, noticing the state of my nails. I haven’t gotten them done since before the funeral. He will have something to say about it if they’re in this condition when he returns. Alan used to tell me the nail care was for my benefit. To be pampered. But the sweet gesture became frustration whenever I would decline or allow too much time to pass.
“Maci? Is everything alright?”
Her tone is formal, but less confident than usual. “Do you have a few minutes to talk? There are some things we need to discuss.”
“This sounds serious.” Normally, I’d go straight for a shower after the gym, but Maci has me curious. Eyeing the security camera in the ceiling corner, I tuck my legs against the couch, crossing them at the ankle.
“It is.”
“Well, you caught me at a good time.” I wait for her to continue. I would’ve assumed she said all that was needed at our lunch over the weekend. She has my propensity to lash out, though I tried to curb it in her. Her will has only grown since leaving home.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” she says quietly. I’m not even sure she’s talking to me.
“For heaven’s sake, you’ve got me on pins and needles. What’s going on?” My annoyance is more about a lack of control than not wanting to hear what she has to say. From the jump, she was a dramatic child.
“I met my father.”
“James?” His name sticks in my throat. I haven’t said it aloud in too many years, though I used to sigh and scream it for so many reasons.
“Yes. He came to see me on Saturday, after you left.”
“Oh?”
She continues, “He saw us together at lunch and decided it was time to clear the air. But you had already left and since the cat was partially out of the bag when he showed up at Nana’s, he told me the rest.”
“The rest.”
“He told me how in love you both were. How you eloped to Vegas.” Maci’s words come across kind instead of smug. Maybe she hasn’t seen me spontaneous, but she doesn’t seem cynical.
James lit liquid fire in my veins with his touch. I thought nothing could ever come between us. Every day without him has sent me deeper into a cold cavern of despair.
She continues when I can’t bring myself to speak. “Told me that you found out about his brother—his family—and got scared. That you left him a note.”
When the news of Corbin’s death reached us, the fear was overwhelming. Would they come for James, too? Maci? Would he want us to move to Ireland? “I did what I could to protect you.”
“I know.”
“I—what? You know?” For the first time in too many years, she believes me. I expected more disdain.
“Yes. James confirmed that the way you handled things was probably the safest option. And based on what he said, I would’ve been scared shitless and run with my daughter, too.”
“Maci.” Even as I half-heartedly reprimand her for her language, I don’t fully believe what she’s saying. Maci has the kind of strength I wish I could have held onto. She’s tenacious, untamed. But I’m not convinced James would have thought me leaving with our daughter was best, so I wonder why he would’ve said it.
How could he think what I did was right when we hardly had a conversation about it? And why is she so quick to believe a man she’s just met?
“That’s not all.” Her tone changes abruptly, like she’s leading into something else. Meeting James is a pretty big event, given that Maci hasn’t seen him since she was almost four. I can’t imagine what could be bigger.
“Go on.”
“There was a guy I met right after Nana passed. Here in town. At a bar.”
Seriously? We may not have agreed on much, but surely I taught her better than to get knocked up by some small-town hillbilly. “Oh, Jesus, Maci. Please tell me you’re not pregnant.”
“No!” A shocked anger infuses her words. “Wow. That’s the worst you could think of?”
I recall my conversation with Mother when I called to tell her James and I had eloped. She’d asked if I was pregnant and I was horrified that she thought so little of me, despite my wild nature. Then I got pregnant with Maci during our honeymoon and all but confirmed her initial thoughts. I’m not sure she ever believed me. No wonder they say you become your parents. “I just want you to do things the right way.”
“That’s a conversation for another time.” She brushes me off, annoyed, and redirects the conversation. “The guy…he’s not very nice. Well, wasn’t.”
I tap the side table with my nails.
“Has Alan gotten any bad news lately?” she asks abruptly.
I steal another look at the camera. Nothing blinks, or otherwise changes, to indicate if he’s watching. I’m suddenly thankful there’s no sound included. “I haven’t heard from him in close to a week, since he left town for business.”
Early in our relationship, we worked out the kinks of me calling while he’s away. He can’t usually get out of meetings, so it always made more sense for him to call when he’s available. He’s usually quite busy when he’s gone though, so the calls are rare. I don’t pretend to be interested in pharmaceutical sales, and he doesn’t attempt to tell me much about work.
Silence from Maci is usually an indication of worry. Or that she’s ignoring me, which she does well. I’m about to tell her to get on with it when she continues. “This man…he was Alan’s son.”
“Colt?” Two estranged family members in one weekend? That seems too coincidental.
I seem to have unknowingly confirmed something for her. She grunts a “Yes.”
“You know him?” I ask, despite her saying as much. I never met Colt. While Alan and I dated, their relationship was strained. After we moved, Alan all but forbade me from speaking of him. Once, I asked one too many questions and Alan gave me a bruise that lasted for a long weekend after his temper got away from him. Colt never came up in conversation with Maci for that reason.
Maybe she could’ve asked about him more, but she avoided Alan and anything pertaining to him like the plague. She has always been on edge with him, like a dog that distrusts someone based on something only it can sense.
Her breathing is audible now. “I knew him.”
My eyebrows pinch. “Maci, get on with it. Tell me what happened. I don’t understand.” Her rising panic is fueling my own, dredging up too many unwanted memories.
“Colt and I met after Nana passed. Let’s just say, he was a Class-A asshole. Unfortunately, his behavior escalated. He attacked me at Nana’s house.”
I stare at the plush, beige carpet, trying to process what she’s said. Maci quiets, but I can’t bring myself to respond.
“He stabbed me. After a very lengthy discussion where he told me that he was the person who attacked you and me in the parking lot ten years ago.”
The pounding of my heart in my ears threatens to drown her out, and the room begins to spin.
Maci prompts, “Are you listening?”
“I…” Is this a heart attack? My arm doesn’t hurt, and I think I’m too young, but something low in my chest threatens to burst. “Colt attacked us?”
“Yes.” Maci’s voice softens. “He thought you and I were taking everything from him. But his plan to teach us a lesson backfired. I’m not even sure what he wanted to achieve. Anyway, he claimed that Alan knew he was the one to attack us and that Alan told him off and never contacted him again.”
My marriage with Alan wasn’t exactly a love match, but surely he would’ve told me if his son was disturbed. Right?
“Did he ever say anything?” Maci’s tone is insistent, pressing for answers. Answers I don’t have.
Something breaks in me. How do I always manage to choose wrong? Every single choice I’ve made. “No! Nothing!”
“There’s more to this story, but I need to know you can get out of there.” Maci’s voice is muddled.
“What? Get out of where?”
“I’m worried for your safety, Mom.”
Mom.
“Maci?”
Her voice is laced with tears. “He was going to kill me. I shot him. It was the only way...”
The room is a spinning blur. My hand flies to my mouth. “Oh my God. Is he dead?”
“Yes. I think you need to leave Alan. He may retaliate.”
Has he heard? Would he come home without telling me? If he could hide that his son attacked me, anything seems plausible. “I’ll think about it.” What would I even do if I left? I gave up my tiny career to be a useless trophy wife for him. “Are you ok?”
“Yes. I was seen by a doctor and I’m recovering fine.”
Our conversation ends with a promise to follow up. I get the impression Maci’s not told me everything yet. I can’t tell if it’s her usual guarded nature with me, or something else.
After we hang up, I contemplate everything she’s told me. Once again, I’m faced with leaving my husband out of a necessity for safety.
Was it all for nothing? It feels like it. Can you feel betrayal from a man you never loved?
So many moments from the last ten years spiral through my brain. Indicators that something was really off. My panic gives way to anger. Rage. That I’ve allowed so much to transpire while I sat passively by, just seeking Mother’s approval, just hoping to bury my head in the sand.
I had a husband who cherished me, who was a wonderful father. A husband I left at the first sign of trouble, without even a thorough conversation.