But the story isn’t done.
“For a long time,” Mona cuddles me close as if I’m still that four-year-old she took home, “I thought you would be okay. I mean, we had our struggles through your teenage years, but you were a good kid. You didn’t fight with the other kids in the house. You always had your eyes fixed on the horizon, as if a great adventure was about to start. I blamed those fairy tales I read you. But I never imagined you were still looking for a white knight to rescue you. And when Todd showed up in town, there was no stopping you.”
His promises had been the stuff of a story book.
You want money, you’ve got it.
That ranch you’ve been walking by since you were a kid? I’ll buy it for you.
You want to fall in love and be mine forever? Of course, my darling.
“And when that story ended,” Mona pulls the hair back from my eyes, “I wasn’t sure you’d ever recover.”
“Me either,” I whisper.
“You put everything into your son, and he’s remarkable. Looks a bit like his grandfather to me.” Mona sighs and the exhaled air blows over my skin. “And here we are Finn, devastated by the loss of another prince, looking for rescue and forlorn in your tower until you find it.”
She’s right. I’m starting to entertain Jay’s offers to make me famous. Every call brings me that much closer to accepting, no matter the terms involved. I do want adventure. I want more than Ridgedale, but it’s not like I can get it on my own.
“Do you know why I changed your name?” Mona’s finger hooks behind my ear and pulls the hair back. “There’s nothing wrong with Sarah. It’s a strong, biblical name. In fact, it means princess. You’d think with all the tales I filled your head with that I might have wanted that for you.”
I push off her lap and stare at her because I’ve never considered my name. I thought up until twenty minutes ago I’d been born Finley. Kids in school teased me about it, said it was a boy’s name, and I always agreed, but never cared because I loved the way Mona said it.
Now I love it because she gave it to me.
“Why?” I ask her. “Why did you change my name?”
“Finley means fair-haired hero. I watched the way you waited on rescue, saw the way your eyes lit up when the prince stormed the castle, or gave that fateful kiss. That way of thinking worried me. I never wanted you to wait on anyone, Finn.” Mona takes both my hands in hers and squeezes tight. “I want you to be your own hero.”
“But, I’m not—I can’t, I mean, how would I?”
She smiles in the way that only Mona can, soft, stern and brimming with love.
“First, you need to know what you want. After that, the talking mice will take over.”
It’s exactly what I’d expect from her, and I wrap my arms around her neck to pull her close. “You are my mom, Mona,” I whisper against her hair. “I never knew how long, but you’ve been my mom since the beginning.”
“Always and forever, Finley.”
Chapter 20
What do I want? That’s a rabbit hole I’ve never ventured inside of, not lately at least, if ever. It takes me days, maybe longer to make any progress. I chew on it. Chew on my nails. Chew on my lip. Chew on the taffy Ester brought back from her trip to the coast with her new boyfriend. Lady is in her seventies and still gets more play than I do. Granted, Oliver gets more play than I do holding hands with his little girlfriend, so maybe it’s not a decent measure. But that’s the problem. That’s what I want.
Zane.
Of course, the one thing I can’t have.
And then I worry that I’m looking for rescue again, afraid to venture from my tower. I’m sitting on the back deck, watching the sun set as Oliver chases the chickens back into the coop, when it hits me.
This tower.
This prison.
I’m living in the same home where my ex-husband routinely tried to beat the life out of me. Of course, I feel trapped. Of course, I can’t help but be depressed. It’s as if I thought removing the monster would make this my castle, but I’m still in my dungeon, waiting for life to happen.
“We have to leave,” I say and in the next moment my heart splats against the wood slats, because Ridgedale is home. Where on earth would we go?
“Be your own hero, Finn,” I whisper to myself. I imagine a sword in my hand, a bow slung across my back, and Oliver wielding a club. Maybe not a club, he could hurt himself. He can have a baby dragon. One without fire. Well-behaved.
I’m off topic.
We’re going to take on the world.
Somehow.
✽ ✽ ✽
“Finley, it’s Jay. You’ve got to be getting sick of these messages because I’m getting sick of leaving them, honey. Call me back. I’ve got people asking about you. The movie is still number one in the box office. Time to cash in and make us rich, baby. Call me.”
I look at Mona and she frowns. “I think we should stop calling him Little Jamie McGuire.”
“You’re late to the party. I don’t even call him Jay anymore. He’s affectionately known as Slimeball around here.”
“Well the slimeball is right, Finn. You should cash in on this,” she presses the delete button until the beep erases the newest trace of Hollywood calling for me.
“I should call him back?” I ask. “Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me to avoid? Stop letting other people rescue me, forge my own path, slay my own dragons?”
Except Oliver’s dragon. He’s nice. And imaginary.
“Why do you sell yourself short? You landed the first job on your own. Stick your neck out.” Mona takes her keys from the bowl by the door and gives me a hug before she leaves. “Believe in something, dear.”
“Bye, mom,” I say before she walks out the door.
It still feels new, but I don’t mind it. There’s closure in calling her by the right name. I move to the kitchen, feeling restless and unsure of how to slay this next dragon. I’ve started boxing up our things. The house will be on the market in a few weeks. Strange to move before the holidays, especially when I don’t know where we’re going. If we have to, we’ll stay with Mona for a little while, but not forever.
The fractured vase on the counter catches the light and my eye. Mona likes to fill it full of wildflowers from the field. It’s a crazy juxtaposition of the luxurious vase paired with the humble mustard flowers. But it makes me smile because it’s like Zane and me, mismatched, but working.
When the dark thoughts start tumbling in, I take a deep breath and hold it, counting to ten in my head until I’m dizzy from lack of oxygen. Like a leaking balloon, I let the air out and banish the thoughts with it. I can’t stay in the past. I can only look to the future.
“She’s right,” I say, and I move to the kitchen table where my laptop sits open. “I should cash in on this. I’m capable, someone must need my talents. I need to reach out and cash in.”
It’s only a matter of time before someone wants me.
✽ ✽ ✽
No one wants me.
I sent letters and resumes to every movie and film studio I could find. Not a single reply. It’s not like I know what I’m doing. I’m not much more than a girl who’s handy with some brushes. I got the last job by walking on set and lucking into it.
When the local high school does Scrooge, I’m there to make the talent believable. When the drama teacher asks me to start a workshop for kids interested in my craft, I jump on board. It’s not Hollywood, but I’m doing something. Bids are rolling in for my house, and I can feel the winds shifting.
✽ ✽ ✽
“Finn, pick up!” Mona’s voice echoes over the answering machine. “Pick up! Pick up! Pick up!”
I set Oliver in his highchair and stumble over the moving boxes in my path. Lunging at the last second, I lose my balance as I grab the phone and tumble to the floor.
“Hello? Mom? What’s going on?”
“Are you okay?” she asks, all sense of urgency gone. “You sound hurt.”
I s
tare up at the ceiling from the floor, wincing. Maybe my next house should be carpeted. I’ve spent way too much time on these hardwood floors.
“Just clumsy. I was rushing to get the phone because it sounded like an emergency. Are you okay? Is it Cecelia’s heart again?”
“Oh, Cece is fine,” Mona’s voice tilts up like the start of a roller coaster. “You were nominated for an Oscar, Finley!”
“You mean the movie? Happily Never After was nominated?”. I suspected it would. It grossed over one hundred and fifty million dollars.
“Well, yes I suppose it’s been nominated for a host of categories, but no, I mean you, Finley Sullivan. You’re nominated for Best Makeup and Hairstyle!”
“What? That’s a category?” I’m shouting, though I don’t mean to, but she can’t be serious. “I’m nominated?”
“Yes! Oh, Finn! I’m so proud of you!”
She keeps going, shouting so loud I have to hold the phone away from my ear, but I’m stuck staring at the ceiling because the world is opening up new to me.
I can’t believe it.
✽ ✽ ✽
Everybody wants me.
After two weeks of fielding calls and reviewing scripts, I’m working two different movies. Oliver and I have an apartment in Santa Monica with Mona staying in the third room. I thought she’d kick and scream to leave Ridgedale.
No, not my mother. She pulled out her floppy hat, threw on her oversized glasses and told all her friends that she’s going to meet the movie stars.
She actually spends most of her time with Oliver while I’m on set. But the studio doesn’t mind when he comes to visit, and Mona never minds meeting my new friends. She’s been dragging us to museums, galleries, plays and movies, anything she can in the name of culture, but for the most part I’m working.
Every day at work, I scan the faces, looking for Zane. But he’s not working on the lot. Actually, I don’t know where he’s working. My best guesses are thwarted by my fruitless searches on the internet, but even the paparazzi have lost him. The only tidbit I found was a clip on a celebrity site shortly after nominations were announced.
“Zane! Zane!” a press member yelled at him. “How does it feel to be nominated for Best Actor and have your movie nominated for Best Picture?”
Zane pauses his speed walk for a split second and gives a tight smile to camera. “Of course, it’s an honor. Working on that movie was,” he gets lost for a second before he says, “we had a good time.”
That’s all I have.
So, I spend time with him in his movies. I watch them one by one, a new one every night after work. Only skipping Shards of Glass because he told me to. But after three weeks, I’ve run out of films, and I’m craving more time with him.
I buy it on the way home from work. I wait until Mona has gone to bed before I pop it in the DVD player. It opens on a small boy trapped in a closet. Heavy breathing fills my ears. At first, I think it’s the boy’s, but the door snaps open and thick hands rip him free. His father’s breath, heaving with rage, ready to snap and brutalize his son. I cover my mouth to keep the cries of anguish inside me. My heart aches as I watch the boy grow, scenes familiar, though I have no way of knowing them except my own experience and the stories Zane told me.
Cigarette burns on his chest.
I know I saw them if Zane wasn’t careful with his wardrobe choices.
Falling down those stairs.
That crack in Zane’s cheekbone.
Watching his mother’s murder.
Caroline, he’d told Oliver.
Taking that first hit of cocaine when he was just a child.
The drinking.
The drugs.
The women.
Sixteen and acting like an adult because he had no other choice.
No other role models.
“Cooper!” The father yells as the dealer points a gun at his head, “Cooper, get my gun!” But the shot fires. The monster is dead. The boy, Cooper, stares at the drug dealer. Hate in his eyes as the searing end of the revolver presses against his temple.
“Do it,” the kid whispers, “just end me.”
I feel sick seeing what Zane endured. It’s no wonder this film landed him in rehab. It’s no wonder he leaves this side of his life untouched.
The movie follows the boy, growing into adulthood, into Zane. It shows his inability to trust, to connect, to be a part of anything because of the pain of his childhood. He hurts everyone around him. He cuts ties and keeps his distance. Zane’s acting is raw with pain and misery. Every part of his soul bleeds on the screen. I need to hold him again. I need to apologize for everything I never understood.
“That’s the problem,” he says from my TV, “shards of glass only cut, they won’t mend.”
The shot fires and Zane slumps to the ground on my screen. My tears won’t stop. My heart aches with the pain he must feel. I contributed to that. I made it happen.
I have to make it right.
But how?
✽ ✽ ✽
“Finn? Come here, you’re not gonna like this.”
I’m trying on my Oscar’s dress for the third time today. It arrived yesterday. It still needs tailoring, but the satin clings to my figure and for once I don’t look like a mom. I pick up the red fabric and swish my way to the front room.
“What’s going on?”
“Just listen.” Mona turns up the volume on the TV and backs away, hand over her mouth.
“Prominent criminal prosecutor Todd Lewiston may be in a little hot water of his own. Allegations are being brought against him by his current wife, Alice Lewiston, saying he’s guilty of domestic abuse. Lewiston denies all her allegations and has pleaded not guilty. He claims his wife is unstable.”
The camera cuts to video of the man who beat me mercilessly for years. His arrogant swagger, his perfectly arranged suit, all of it is the same. But my fear is missing because he can’t touch me anymore.
“Alice has a long history of histrionic personality disorder. She also suffers from Munchausen’s and pathological lying. She has no proof. There’s not a bruise on her body. She’s just coming after my cash.”
I flip off the power to the TV and toss my remote. Mona threatened him if he didn’t find a new state, but I guess the snake didn’t slither too far. Cold anger sears inside of me. I could have stopped this years ago. If I’d gone to the police like Mona had asked me to, if I’d found my courage instead of cowering on my ranch, none of this would have happened.
“Finn, what are you thinking?”
I start for my phone in my bag. A quick search gets me the number for the courthouse. I dial while Mona voices her objections.
“You can’t do anything. The time has run out. It’s your word against his, and it’ll ruin your career to have your name dragged through the mud.”
“So, what do I do?” I ask her. “Stand by and let another woman get beat? Who knows how many he’s hurt since I left him? Keeping my mouth shut could get someone killed.”
“And opening it could get you killed,” she says. “Think of Oliver, honey. Todd doesn’t know where he is. This would change all of that.”
I nod because she’s right, but it won’t change my decision. “Do you still have that video? And the pictures?”
“I do,” she says with mild hesitation. “Stored in the digital fog thing.”
“The cloud,” I tell her. I’m about to say more but a voice comes on the line.
“LAPD tip line.”
“Hi,” I say, “my name is Finley Sullivan. I used to be married to Todd Lewiston. I have proof that he was physically abusive towards me. Video, pictures, that sort of thing. I know it's too late for me, but if it could build a case—”
“Hold on, honey, the lead detective will want to talk to you,” the operator says. “Give me a second to transfer your call.”
I draw in a deep breath to steel my nerves and look to Mona for reassurance.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doin
g?” she asks me.
Ironic, considering the suicidal plan I’d hatched the last time she asked me that.
But I’m stronger now.
“Yes,” I say, “I’m slaying my dragon.”
Chapter 21
This would all be a whole lot easier if they’d let me bring a sword into the courtroom. Or an axe. I’d settle for a crossbow. But those metal detectors out front sure have a way of discouraging it.
Really, I wish Mona was here. Having my mother here to hold my hand as I face down this monster would make it that much easier. But she’s being Grandma because I’m not allowing Oliver to be a part of this circus.
Even if he does love a good circus.
“They’re ready,” Barry says through the parted doors. He’s the prosecutor representing the new Mrs. Lewiston. I’m their surprise witness. This is my big moment where I strut down the aisle and let the whole room gasp that I’ve come to tattle on all of Todd’s past sins. But my feet won’t move.
“Be your own hero,” I say to myself. “Be a hero for the victims.”
With strong strides, I follow Barry down the aisle, take the stand and face Todd for the first time in almost four years.
✽ ✽ ✽
The video is inadmissible, but Todd’s lawyers don’t get it thrown out until the jury has seen him reach for the statuette like he’s going to bash me in with it. Since that was his plan, I don’t feel the need to correct them. The entire courtroom erupts in chaos. People are starting to connect my name to the drama with Zane. Flashes go off at the back of the room. A woman screams. The table screeches.
“I’ll kill you!” Todd lunges over the table.
I shrink in self-defense but two officers pin him to the table, handcuffs tightening around his wrists. The judge’s gavel echoes off the high walls, but the place is in turmoil. An officer moves to my side, as if to protect me from the reporters rushing the scene.
I scan the crowd, looking for my next threat, but it’s not a threat I spot.
It’s Zane.
He’s against the wall, hat over his eyes, but I know the shape of his face better than most people. Our eyes meet and my mouth falls open, dry and unusable. He turns to leave, shifting his trench to cover his face.
Shards of My Heart (The Forgotten Ones Book 2) Page 19
