Chapter 37
It’s darkest before the dawn. I’m not sure it’s scientifically correct, considering I’d sat outside in the dark and watched the sky gradually lighten before dawn, but I understood the expression, nonetheless.
I’d just lived out the darkest part and could only hope things were about to get better somehow.
The light of a new day revealed the aftermath of the storm. Palm fronds littered the muddy yard and puddled street. A broken tree limb, a beach ball that didn’t belong to me. The aftermath of my own storm still lingered. Bruised with a weariness that I wished didn’t belong to me too.
I blinked against the grittiness of my eyes.
I needed to go inside and get some rest, but my brain was like a live wire as it tried processing everything I’d just gone through.
I could hardly believe it actually happened.
Easing my sleeve up, I studied the red and purple rings around my wrist, proof that it had.
A black Suburban with blacked-out windows pulled into my driveway, barely missing the downed tree limb. Too late to dart inside, I stayed put and slid my sleeve back down.
Three men exited the vehicle and started toward the porch.
“May I help you?” I asked as they reached the stairs.
“I’m Congressman George Michaels.”
A snicker slipped out and I blamed it on sleep deprivation. “George Michael?”
“Michaels.” He stressed the s, making a hissing sound. He yanked off his aviator sunglasses and leveled me with a look. “I’d like to talk with you about last night’s incident.”
My guard instantly went up. Why would a politician be about police business?
“The authorities have taken care of it.” I tried to inflect some steel in my declaration but I was too drained to properly pull it off.
More like a flimsy piece of floral wire that had been twisted and unwound one too many times.
Before I could ask them to leave, I heard the rumble of a fast-approaching sports car, loud enough it drew all of our attention.
The Corvette wheeled into Henry’s empty driveway and came to an abrupt stop, then Gilbert sprung from the driver’s side.
He broke out in an angry-man fast walk as if on a mission to kick butts and take names. My waning confidence rallied.
“Who are you?” Gilbert demanded as he came to a stop in the muddy yard.
“I’m Congressman Michaels and I’m here to speak with Miss Wilder on what transpired here last night.”
I noticed he forwent sharing his first name this time.
Gilbert didn’t seem impressed. “Last night? I just read the police report. Try two and a half days, not counting the other incidents where your son broke into Miss Wilder’s house.”
“Son?” My eyes volleyed between Gilbert and the congressman.
“And you are?” Michaels asked Gilbert.
“You know who she is and how to find her, so I’m pretty sure you know who I am as well.” Gilbert moved up the steps and stood beside me.
Michaels huffed, unimpressed. “You’re the probation officer?”
Gilbert didn’t confirm. “The police are handling what your son did. You have no right being here.”
“Deaton is your son?” I asked Michaels, since no one answered me the last time.
“Yes. My son goes by his mother’s last name. We thought that was for the best, considering the stupid stuff he likes to pull.” He rolled his eyes.
“Stupid stuff . . . like kidnapping?” I asked, furious that he would downplay such crimes.
“Amongst other things, yes.”
“Oh, you mean the gun?” I tried again and got another eye roll.
“It was a pellet gun,” one of the other suits muttered.
“She didn’t know that!” Gilbert balled his fists.
Michaels glanced around the yard. “May we go inside and discuss this?”
“No,” Gilbert and I said at the same time.
I eased slightly behind Gilbert. “I’m not comfortable with strangers in my home, not after what Deaton just did.”
Michaels sighed. “I just want to make things right. What will it take for you to not press charges?”
I thought about it for a second and the answer came fairly quickly. “Just make sure he never steps foot in Charleston County again, or South Carolina for that matter.”
“He’s on his way to a facility in Hawaii. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
My eyes narrowed, not quite believing him. “Hawaii? The police left with him in handcuffs just hours ago.”
One of the suits spoke. “Didn’t take long to put him on a private flight. You should be happy about that.”
“Happy? Oh, thank you so much.” I crossed my arms but flinched in pain and dropped them back to my sides. “How can you guarantee he won’t jump on another plane and be back here tonight?”
“I’ve taken his credit cards, his license, and passport. He’s basically stuck there.” Michaels ran a hand through his thinning hair. He appeared as exhausted as I felt. “I’m really hoping this new treatment facility will help him.”
“For what it’s worth, I do too.” I remembered the rehab counselor saying that around forty to sixty percent of people in treatment for substance abuse will relapse. Not a very encouraging estimate at all.
I turned to go inside but paused as Gilbert spoke up. “Your son stole Junie’s sense of security. I think the least you can do is pay to restore it.”
Michaels hesitated, eyes flicking to me then to Gilbert. “How?”
“New locks and a security system for her house. And you can pay for the security services for as long as you remain in office.”
“That might be years,” one of the goons grouched.
“I’m sure it will still be the cheapest cover-up Congressman Michaels will ever have to pay for.” Gilbert gave him a stern glare.
“Fine.” Michaels looked at me. “Is that it?”
“He broke the glass in my grandmother clock. I need that fixed.”
Michaels sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face, the diamond in his signet ring flashing in the sunlight. “Did he break anything else?”
Deaton broke something in me, but I didn’t think any amount of money could patch that up. “No. Just the clock.”
Michaels turned to the guy on the left. “Do a quick estimate on the cost and write her a check.”
The guy walked over to the SUV, splashing mud on the back of his suit pants.
Minutes later, he returned with a check from some private corporation I’d never heard of, I’m assuming so it couldn’t be traced back to the congressman.
I gladly took it, needing to reestablish safety in a house that would soon be home to my daughter if all went well.
“I really am sorry for what Deaton put you through.” Michaels handed me a business card. “My personal number is on the back. If you hear anything from him at all, you let me know and I’ll take care of it.”
I glanced at the card, then stacked it on top of the check. “Thank you.”
Gilbert and I remained on the porch until the SUV disappeared out of sight.
Walking into the living room, I placed the check and business card on the coffee table and sat on the couch. I rubbed my eyes and yawned. “Thank you for being here.”
He waved my appreciation off, as if it were no big deal. “You have the mobile deposit app?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Get that check deposited while I go grab new locks.” He started toward the door. “And try to get a little rest while I’m gone.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll go do that.” I rose too fast and swayed a bit on my feet.
Gilbert shook his head and left without responding, so I sat back down before I keeled over. There I remained until gathering enough gumption to grab my phone and deposit the check.
I hated to face the destruction in the back hallway, but that glass needed to be cleaned up, so I grabbed the broom and dustpan. I kept my focus on the floor, sweeping up the shards, but once that was done I lifted my gaze and took in the broken top glass.
“It’s fixable,” I assured myself. I opened the bottom case and wrapped my fist around the first chain, pulling until the weight reached the top, then doing the same with the other two chains.
With a shaky hand, I nudged the pendulum.
Seconds later, the ticktock began as tears streamed down my cheeks.
I wished Cy were here, instructing me on how to fix what just occurred here, but I couldn’t involve him.
This was my mess to clean up. Even though my life seemed just as shattered as this glass, I felt it was all fixable. I’d come too far for it not to be.
After throwing the broken glass away, I took some ibuprofen and hurried through another shower in hopes it would wake me up enough to help Gilbert change the locks. By the time I made it down the stairs, Gilbert had returned.
He handed me the heavy hardware-store bag. “There’s more. Be right back.”
I placed the bag on the kitchen island and looked for the receipt but didn’t find it. “I need the receipt so I can pay you back,” I said as I heard the door reopen. I turned when he didn’t answer, finding him carrying two Taco Bell Party Packs. “I’m hungry but not that hungry.”
Gilbert handed the boxes off and left out again. This time he came back with two more Party Packs and a group of my favorite people. The entire Magnolia Nephalist Society crew shuffled in, carrying stuff I couldn’t make out due to the tears flooding my eyes.
“What are y’all doing here?”
“We’re in the mood for Taco Bell,” Bruno said, giving me a side hug.
“And cookies,” I heard Chris Evans say as Jackée wrapped me in a fierce hug. “I’ve already made the salted caramel dough. We just need to bake them.”
“Great,” Gilbert commented. “Let’s eat the tacos, then the ladies can help Chris with the cookies while Bruno and Axil help me change the locks.”
I eased away from Jackée, only to be accosted by Patsy.
“Are you okay, darlin’?”
“I think so . . .” I rested my head on Patsy’s shoulder, taking in the comforting scent of her fancy perfume. “I’m more mad than anything.” I straightened. “And having to use the bathroom in handcuffs? Zero out of ten, would not recommend.”
Pearl hobbled over, relying heavily on her cane, and wrapped an arm around my waist. “If you can make jokes, then you’ll be okay.”
“Maybe you’re the one we need to worry about being okay or not. How’d you manage getting up the tall steps outside?”
“I’m fine. Gilbert said I just have a hitch in my giddy-up.” Pearl straightened her purple glasses. “I’ll be even better after a few tacos.”
“I brought Things!” Mei held up the game box, one I’d never played before. “We can play it after we eat and while the cookies bake. It’s so fun!”
By the time we all had plates heaping with tacos, my world began to feel a little more level.
With the room filled with the delicious aroma of freshly baked cookies and lots of lighthearted chatter, I realized by early evening what this group had done. They’d chased away the bad memories from the last few days and replaced them with the warmth of friendship, support, and comfort.
While cleaning up, Patsy and Mei went outside, then returned with small suitcases.
“What are you two doing?” I asked, tossing a wayward taco wrapper and napkin into the trash.
“We’re having a sleepover,” Patsy answered, looking around. “Where can we put our stuff, suga’?”
“Y’all have already done so much. You don’t have to stay with me too.”
Patsy started toward the stairs. “All the rooms upstairs?”
I followed, knowing her mind was made up. “Yes, ma’am.”
I offered Patsy Olla’s room and put Mei in Cy’s. By the time I went downstairs to lock up, the guys were gone and Gilbert was settling on the couch. He’d changed into a pair of lounge pants and a T-shirt.
“You staying too?”
“Just for tonight. You need some sleep and we thought you’d be more likely to do that if you had some company.”
Close to tears again, I went to the laundry room and pulled a pillow and quilt from the linen cabinet and brought them to Gilbert. “Gilbert, you know you’re my best friend, right?”
“Sure am, kid.” Gilbert wrapped his arms around me and I felt protected in a way a daughter would in the arms of her father.
“You’re gonna be okay.” He held me at arm’s length, meeting my eyes, and said, “The Bible says, We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance.”
I huffed a laugh. “I have to be in the best shape of my life then.”
“Of course you are. I’m your personal trainer, after all.”
I grimaced. “How’d you know I called you that?”
“Henry told me.”
“Figures, the snitch.” I dried my face on my shirtsleeve, yawning loudly.
“Go get some rest. When you’re all caught up, us two are going to have a heart-to-heart on forgiving that boy.”
I didn’t consider a thirty-four-year-old man a boy but didn’t feel up to arguing with Gilbert. “I’ll think about it.”
I went to bed and slept for a solid year straight. Well, not really, but it felt that way.