Chapter 37 When the Truth Comes Out
When the Truth Comes Out
? Safe and Sound - Taylor Swift ft. Joy Williams and John Paul White
Callie
Storm gallops past with Memphis chasing her as I stand off to the side of the paddock. Footsteps approach. My heart recognizes him before I see him.
Jaxon wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind and kisses the top of my head. "How are you feeling?"
"Nervous."
"We've been over every scenario. You know what you want to get out of it, right?"
"Closure."
"That's the goal. So, focus on that. Get the answers you need. You don't have to offer anything but your time. Forgiveness is earned."
I spin around and wrap my arms around his waist, resting my head over his heart. "Thanks for being my rock."
"I'll be whatever you need."
Tires crunch on gravel as a dark blue sedan pulls into the parking lot outside the big barn. I take a deep breath and blow it out, trying to ease the anxiety.
Jaxon cradles my cheek in his palm.
I lean into his touch, hoping to steal some of his strength for myself.
"Do you want me to stay with you?" he asks.
I place my hand over his. "I have to do this on my own."
He slips his hand into my hair and kisses my forehead. "I'll be close by if you need me."
Jaxon strides off to the barn, leaving me alone to face the past I've tried my best to bury. I have to remind myself that this is what I wanted.
"Hey," Clio says, striding over to me with her hands in the pockets of her wide-leg jeans.
I wouldn't recognize her if not for her eyes. She's thirty-one now. We've lived apart longer than we were together. For all intents and purposes, we're nothing more than strangers.
She scans her surroundings, her gaze stopping on the horses grazing beyond the fence. "This place is beautiful. You live here?"
"Yeah. It belongs to my boyfriend's family."
Her mouth pulls into a frown, and her brows draw together. "God, I never thought I'd see you again." Her voice a mix of awe and despair.
"That was your intention all along, wasn't it?" My tone is accusatory. I can't stop the anger from bubbling to the surface; I’m not sure I want to. After everything I went through, I think I'm entitled to at least a modicum of recrimination.
She jumps at the chance to deny the accusation. "No. I always meant to come back for you."
I don't know what to believe, so I remain silent.
"Is there somewhere we can sit down?"
We settle on opposite sides of the picnic table with our hands folded in mirrored positions. She smiles, likely noticing our similarities, and I place my hands in my lap instead.
I'm not Copycat anymore. We're nothing to each other.
"How are you?" she asks.
I scoff. "You really want to start with small talk?"
"No. I guess not. I know you must have a lot of questions. What do you want to know?"
I’ve had an entire day to think of all the things I want to ask, and the one question that has always niggled at me the most is the why of it all. "Why did you leave?"
Clio pinches her eyes shut and exhales a long breath. "I was pregnant."
My brows shoot up as soon as the words leave her lips. I stare at her in stunned silence.
"Rodney found out. He called me a whore among many other horrible names. He said if I didn't leave, he'd make me pay. He... he said he'd hurt the baby. I had to protect her."
Her. She has a daughter.
"I had to choose. My sister or my daughter. It was an impossible choice."
"Where did you go?"
"A friend from work helped me. She told her mom what happened, and they sent me to live with her aunt in North Carolina."
A knot lodges itself in my throat. All these years, I assumed Clio was leading a life similar to mine.
Living on the streets and in shelters. Struggling to make a life for herself.
That's not even close to the truth. An overwhelming wave of jealousy washes over me.
While I was being starved and beaten day after day, Clio was living a simple life on the coast.
"You had a good life," I mutter accusingly.
"It wasn't easy. I was raising a daughter and working hard to make ends meet."
"Yeah. Sounds awful to have a roof over your head and food in your belly. That must've been so hard for you."
"Calliope."
Tears sting my eyes. "It's Callie. And while you were building a life without me, I was left behind with the worst people imaginable. I was beaten and bruised. Starved. Degraded. I almost died."
"I'm sorry." The words are barely audible as her own tears begin to fall. "I never meant to leave you there."
"But you did, and I…” I close my eyes and breathe in through my nose, letting this place and its stillness soothe me. “I did what I had to do to survive."
"What do you mean?"
I catch sight of Jaxon across the small patch of grass. He's leaning against the barn with his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on Clio and me. He gives me a subtle nod, and that's all the strength I need to continue.
I swallow down the heady mix of guilt and anguish. "I killed him."
Clio gasps.
"He attacked me. I didn't have a choice."
Head shaking, she reaches for my hand and holds it between hers. "Callie. That's not possible."
"It is. But I'm not sorry. It was him or me."
"No. You didn't."
Clio pulls out her phone and types something. My heart lurches when she turns it around with a news article displayed on the screen.
Rodney Anderson of Montclair, New Jersey, was attacked in his jail cell on Tuesday. He was taken to a nearby hospital, where he was pronounced dead on arrival. Anderson was in jail awaiting trial for aggravated child abuse and assault with a deadly weapon.
There’s a mugshot of a haggard man with thin, wiry grey hair and an unmistakable scar on the left side of his neck. His eyes are cold and unyielding. I shiver at the sight.
“Rodney was alive up until two days ago, Callie. You couldn't have killed him. Whatever you did, he survived.”
I stand on shaky legs and stumble backward. Jaxon's there within seconds to catch me, steady arms banded around me.
"What did you say to her?" he growls at Clio.
Clio stares at us both, shock written on her face.
“Sh-she. I-I. He's not dead. I didn't kill him, Jax.” I burrow into him as violent sobs rack my body.
He holds me tight, stroking soothing patterns along my back. "Explain."
“Rodney. Our stepdad. She didn't kill him," Clio says. "He died in prison two days ago.”
“Fuck.” He roughly sweeps the hair away from my face. “Bluebird, look at me. I need you to breathe for me, baby.”
My thoughts travel back to that night: his body splayed out across the kitchen floor with blood pooling all around it. Were his eyes open or closed?
I used to have nightmares about it. He’d blink those furious eyes open and come after me. Eventually, little details started to blur and change with each reminder.
Jaxon’s voice wrenches me out of the memory, and his steady arms cradle me to his chest as he rocks us back and forth like I’m a child in need of comfort—something I only ever experienced from the panicked woman standing several feet away.
Jaxon’s lips press against my temple. “That’s it. In through your nose and out through your mouth.”
I reach out a weak hand and place it on his jaw. “I’m ok. You can let go now.”
He shakes his head. “I need a minute.”
I rest my head against his chest and listen to the erratic rhythm of his heart. “I’m ok. I promise.”
“You scared the shit out of me,” he mutters. “I thought you were going to pass out.”
“You caught me.”
“As long as I’m around, I’ll always catch you.”
Good, because I think I’ve already fallen heart-first.
Jaxon sets me back on my feet, and we walk hand in hand back to the table. He takes the spot next to me and glances across at my sister.
“I’m staying,” he says, his tone brooking no argument.
She nods and reaches for me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that.”
“It’s ok,” I say. “You couldn’t have known what would happen.”
“Have you been back to New Jersey? Is Mom still alive?”
She rubs a hand down her arm. “She died about six years ago now. Some lawyers contacted me about her will. They tried to get in touch with you, but nobody could find you.”
Makes sense. I would’ve been living on the streets or in one of the shelters back then.
“How did she die? Was it Rodney?”
“In a way, I’m sure he contributed, but it was cancer in the end. She left him, Callie. Not long after you ran away, from what I can tell. Rodney found some other family to torment, and it landed him in prison. Mom tried to get right with god, or so she said.”
I scoff. Whatever god she was praying to, I hope he didn’t grant her any mercy for what she forced us to endure. She deserves to rot in hell. Her one job as a mother was to protect us, and she failed spectacularly.
“You spoke to her?”
“No.” Clio reaches into her purse with shaky hands and slides a sealed envelope across the table. “She left this.”
My bottom lip quivers as I slide it back to her. “I don’t want it. She doesn’t deserve my forgiveness. That woman has no place in my life anymore.”
“I understand. Just take it, ok? You don’t have to read it, but you might change your mind someday. Maybe when you have children of your own.”
“You have a daughter.”
I’m an aunt.
Her expression softens in that motherly way I’ve witnessed from both Evie and Olivia. “I do. She’s fourteen now.”
“Please tell me you didn’t name her after one of the muses.”
Our biological father was very into Greek mythology, and our mother was so in love with him that she let him choose our names. At least, that’s what I was told.
“God no. Can you imagine?” She gets a far-off look in her eyes. “Her name is Alexandra. After you.”
My eyes burn with fresh tears. “Clio.”
She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I thought of you every single day. I tried to find you once, but Rodney saw me. He said if I ever tried again, he’d kill me. After our mom died, I hired a PI to find you.”
“So, running into you wasn’t a coincidence?”