Chapter 45 Jonah
JONAH
The next day, Candice and I show up at the airport, determined to get to Alabama and to Winnie by that evening.
But nothing seems to work in our favor. Our flight to Denver, where we’ll connect, is delayed for hours, and then finally canceled.
We sit in the airport waiting on standby for the next one, but don’t end up getting seats.
We finally make it onto the last flight of the evening, which will mean we have a five hour layover before getting on a plane to Birmingham tomorrow morning.
By the time we leave Montana, my nerves are shot. By the time we get to Denver, I’ve spiraled back into anger, and have come up with more than one creative way to end Winnie’s parents. By the time we get to Birmingham, Candice is about ready to throttle me from annoyance.
“Oh, no, no, no,” she says, plucking the rental car keys out of my hand. “I’m driving. Not you. You shouldn’t be operating heavy machinery right now.”
“You hate driving,” I grumble.
“Sure, but I’ve been working on that with Nathan recently, and I’d pick me over you right now in a heartbeat. I slept like a baby on both flights. Did you?”
I shake my head. I haven’t really slept since I found out Winnie left, over twenty-four hours ago.
“Sleep on the car ride there. They’re in a suburb outside of the city, so you’ll have time.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine.”
As soon as we pull out of the airport parking lot and get onto the highway, my eyes drift close and my thoughts blur.
When Candice shakes me awake later, I open my eyes and see that we’re parked across the street from a large, rather ugly white house with a manicured lawn in front.
It has ornate columns, a wide front porch, and a god damn turret.
I know enough from my years of wood working to be able to see right through it.
It’s no authentic Victorian mansion—it’s a tacky imitation.
“It’s really quite something, isn’t it?” Candice says, staring at the house with me.
“It’s exactly the kind of house I pictured her parents living in.”
Candice snorts. “At least it looks like everyone is home.” Two gleaming silver sedans sit in the driveway. “Let’s go.”
We hop out of the car, and I can immediately tell that the hour of sleep I just got has done wonders for me. My thoughts feel clearer, and I’m more steady on my feet.
“How do we want to play this?” Candice asks as we walk across the street.
“Just let me do the talking. Don’t mention the Morning Joe in front of her parents. And record everything.” I shoot a pointed look at the cell phone in her hand.
“And what if Winnie doesn’t want to leave?”
“I’m not leaving here without her. So if she’s not leaving, then I’m staying.”
“Okay, well as long as you have a plan.”
I give her a small smile. In all honesty, I haven’t considered what I’ll do if Winnie insists on staying. I’m fairly confident she won’t, though.
The front door is painted a bright shade of blue, and has a stately door knocker fixed to the front.
Candice grabs the brass lion head and knocks a few times.
After a minute, a red faced man opens the door.
He’s dressed in a golf shirt and light wash khakis.
He scrutinizes our faces for a moment, and once he figures out who we are, his face turns even redder.
“You’re not welcome here.” He moves to shut the door, but Candice sticks one heavy boot-clad foot out and stops him.
“I think we are,” I say, giving him a pleasant smile. And then I push the door open further, and muscle my way inside and past him, Candice at my heels.
Inside is just as gaudy as the outside. A parquet floor has been put in, but it feels like vinyl under my boots. And there are several chandeliers dripping in faux crystal. I even spy a gold sconce on one wall.
“Richard, who is that?” a woman’s voice calls out.
Candice and I follow the sound of it, Richard trailing behind us, blustering on about how he’s going to call the police and have us arrested as we go.
In the living room, we find a camera set up, with Winnie in front of it.
Her back is towards us, and her mother is fixing her hair.
It looks like she has an awful blonde wig on, and she’s wearing a butter yellow dress.
Her mom’s head whips up and when she sees us she just glares.
“How could you let him inside, Richard?” she hisses at her husband.
Winnie whirls around in her chair, and when she sees me, all of the color leeches from her fake tanned face.
“Jonah,” she mouths, shock written on her face. “What are you doing here?”
I stride across the room, gently pushing her mother out of my path as she tries to stop me. I lean down and envelope Winnie in a hug. She’s stiff at first, like she still can’t believe I’m here, and then she’s hugging me back, clinging to me.
“I have a plan. We’re going on the Morning Joe tomorrow morning, and telling the world our story, in our words. No one else,” I whisper to her, making sure it’s pitched quietly enough that her mom won’t hear. “Is that okay?”
I glance down at her, and can see her quick mind working through what I’ve just told her, sorting through whether this is the right thing to do or not.
She casts a look at her father, who is now standing by her mom with his arms crossed, anger written on his face.
Her features twist in fear, and then she looks up at me and nods.
Whatever happened here in the last few days has her wary—has her afraid.
It’s past time I got her out of here. I turn to face her parents, angling my body so that Winnie is behind me.
From the corner of my eye, I see her move and scoop up two phones from the chair next to the one she was sitting in.
“I’d say it was nice to meet you both, but I’d be lying.” I level her parents with a flat stare. In the corner, Candice glares at their back, her face set in fury.
“I’m going to call the police now,” Richard huffs. “Right Melissa?”
Her mother nods.
“And say what? That your son-in-law paid a short visit and then left with his wife?”
“You’re divorced now. You have no right to take Winnie with you,” Melissa says calmly.
I just laugh. “I didn’t sign shit, so from where I’m standing, we’re still married.” I look at Winnie, and try to silently encourage her to speak if she wants to.
“You don’t have a right to keep me here, either,” she says to her mom, her blue eyes turbulent. “No one has the right to control me—to make my decisions for me. Not my husband, and certainly not you.” Her voice is stronger now. “When I leave this house, it will be because I want to.”
“We’ll bury him in scandal. His family, too. They’ll never know peace again.” Melissa’s voice is sharper now, and she’s giving me an assessing look.
“You can try,” I shrug, and give her another pleasant smile. I turn to look at my wife, who is smiling at me, color now back in her cheeks. “Should we get going?”
“Yes, definitely. I just need to get my things from upstairs.” She leans in and kisses me on the cheek.
As Winnie crosses the room to make her way upstairs, her father reaches out and catches her by the arm, hauling her towards him. I try to stop him, but I’m a step behind her.
“Don’t think you can leave so easily, girl.”
I watch as Winnie shrinks in front of my eyes, all of her happiness draining out of her, as her father’s hand presses into her arm.
“Take your hands off of her, right now,” I grit out. “Or I will end you. Right here. In your own fucking home. And I’ll enjoy it, too.”
“Leave her be, Richard,” Melissa says softly.
I pull Winnie towards me and her father lets go, something like shame crossing his face. And then it’s replaced by anger once more, as if he doesn’t have it in him to feel truly guilty for causing his own daughter harm. It makes me sick.
Winnie and Candice go upstairs to get her bags together, and I stay in the living room, monitoring Melissa and Richard. I’m not sure what they could do at this point, but they’re snakes, and they’re desperate. I wouldn’t put it past her dad from trying to physically stop us from leaving.
“Jesus Winnie, do you have to travel with all your clothes, all of the time?” Candice mutters. “I mean they basically kidnapped you and you still took all of this?” A suitcase thuds on the stairs, and I can’t help but chuckle. My wife doesn’t pack light. Ever.
“I thought I’d be here for a long time,” Winnie says, her voice breathy. “I need my clothes!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Once they’re downstairs, they set the suitcases by the front door. I walk over to them and grab Winnie’s hand in mine. She took her wig off and there’s a spark in her eyes—she looks like herself again.
“Any last words?” I ask.
She faces her parents and says, “This is the last time you’ll ever see me, or hear from me.
And I wish I could say that I’ll miss you, but I know that I won’t.
In fact, I’ll hardly ever think of you. And if you ever find yourself wondering why your only daughter has forgotten you existed, just remember, you did this to yourselves. ”
And then she turns on her heel, opens the door, and walks out into the sunshine.