by Gun Brooke
Trevor sat down on one side of her and Evie on the other. Feeling ridiculously grateful for their closeness, she looked unwaveringly at her father. “You were saying, Dad?”
“You never bothered to check on us.” The corner of his mouth twitched.
“Only what the private investigator in Raleigh reported every other year.” Blythe felt Evie flinch and realized she’d never told her about the PI.
Carl gaped. “You paid a private eye instead of picking up the goddamn phone?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “I didn’t think you wanted to talk to me, Dad. Not after how we parted.”
“What are you going on about?” Carl looked confused, moving his gaze to Trevor. “You have any idea?”
“I haven’t talked to Blythe since she kept vigil at my side in the ICU.” Trevor put an arm around her shoulder. “Something tells me that I’ve wronged her quite a bit, taking everyone’s word for some stuff.”
She turned to Trevor. “What?”
“When I got home from the hospital, I learned that you had stolen money and left. When we didn’t hear anything for a while, and then started getting the notes, the folks were convinced that you’d disowned us. I tried looking you up online when the Internet became commonplace, but no Blythe Murphy—at least not our Blythe.”
“I go by Blythe Pierce these days.”
“That figures.” Trevor looked unhappy. “But if I’d put some effort into it, I still could’ve found you. I didn’t. I let time go by.”
“Trevor. We’ve all done things we regret. I’m sorry you got hurt. It was me they were after and you tried to protect me.”
“Hey, you were hardly taller than an elementary schoolgirl. They broke your camera. I’ll never forget it. I was so pissed, I was ready to kill them. How you slaved with chores and after-school jobs to save for that camera. Didn’t you sleep with it next to your pillow?”
“Yeah.” She stared tearfully at her brother. She had no idea he’d even known that. “Yeah. I did.”
“And I could only look at it if she was in the room.” Susie walked in with a tray of cookies and cinnamon rolls. “Mom’s been baking since you called.”
“Looks great.” She swallowed against the dryness of her mouth. How would she be able to eat at all?
“These are beautiful. You must’ve inherited some of your talent for art from your mother.” Evie looked angelic, admiring a cookie before biting into it. “And they taste even better.”
“You work with art?” Samantha asked, sitting down at the very edge of the two-seat couch.
“I’m a photographer.” Blythe wanted to leave it at that, but naturally, that wasn’t going to be enough.
“Any decent living in that?” Carl asked.
“I do all right.”
“She just won an award.” Evie didn’t even flinch when Blythe pinched her. “The National Photojournalist Award. It’s pretty awesome. I was there for the ceremony a while back. Lots of celebrities.”
Blythe wanted to groan and push Evie’s entire cookie into her mouth to stop her from saying anything else.
“I’ve heard of that award. That’s amazing.” Susie stared at her. “They only hand that out to real big shots.”
Evie nodded. “That’s Blythe for you. Big shot.”
“Evie.” She shook her head. “Not helping.”
“So you make a living as a photojournalist. Been abroad?” Carl asked.
“Yes.”
“Overseas?”
“Yes. To most continents, Dad.”
“I think I’ve seen your work about our boys and girls in Afghanistan. Suddenly I remember. Blythe Pierce. I thought of you when I read the byline.” Susie swallowed and put her coffee cup back on the tray. “So that was really you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you leave because you hated us?” Susie asked, her voice barely audible.
“No. I didn’t hate anyone.” She was grateful that the couch was small enough to make her sit close to Evie. She could feel her warmth. “I was upset that Trevor was hurt because of me. That was the main reason. Also, I knew Mom and Dad blamed me, and since I was legally an adult, I knew I could leave and that way make it so much easier for the rest of you to move on.”
“What are you talking about?” Samantha stared at her. “We didn’t blame you for what happened to Trevor.”
“Yes. You did. You and Dad. You said it didn’t make sense that anything like that would happen to him. He’d been popular throughout his years in school. So was Susie. Only I was bullied. Only I was taunted and mistreated. I should’ve been the concussed one in the hospital, if everything had been fair.” She drew a deep, trembling breath. Trevor put his arm around her shoulders. Was it just her or was he trembling just as badly?
“God, Carl. Did we, you or me, say anything so horrible to her?”
“Not to me. No. I overheard you and Dad yelling at each other in here that same night, before I went to see Trevor. I felt so bad for him already, and it had taken me quite a while to calm Susie down. So, I stole a hundred and fifty dollars from Dad and took the first bus out of here. I figured that would make it a whole lot easier on all of you. Evie has persuaded me that I’ve been wrong.” She gazed at Evie, who in turn looked from one person to the next, as if daring them to contradict her.
“You paid your father back, with interest.” Samantha spoke quietly. “You thought we didn’t care, yet you wrote us once a year, letting us know you were alive, and apparently you regularly made sure we were as well. Your father and I don’t deserve any loyalty. We let you down early on. If we’d understood how bad the bullying was, we’d have acted differently. Only when it happened to little Mark did we realize.”
“Mark? Who’s Mark?” She asked as Trevor went rigid.
“My oldest son.” Trevor sighed. “It’s better now, but he was really bullied when he was about ten. He’s thirteen now and doing very well. The school actually has an anti-bullying program. Same school we went to. At least some things have changed for the better.”
She could hardly breathe. “He’s truly okay, your kid?”
“Yes. They do follow-ups every semester. The kids know this and he’s fine.”
“The boy was never as shy as you.” Carl still sounded harsh. “He was better at communicating, and he helped turn the situation around.”
“While I helped exacerbate my ‘situation,’ you mean, Dad? I was shy and tongue-tied in larger groups. Does that mean I deserved to be bullied?”
“Of course not, but if you’d opened your mouth and spoken up, things could’ve been different. We certainly did everything we could to strengthen you. Your mother tried everything from coddling you to God knows what.”
“Coddling me? I never noticed anything like that. Mom took me to one doctor after another, not to mention therapists, chiropractors, and psychologists. And all those supplements and vitamins. You, Dad, were convinced that I just needed to toughen up. I should just act the way you suggested, give the kids that bullied me your ready-made lines, and just so you know, I tried, even if I knew it would backfire. Not only did they laugh at me, they repeated those words of wisdom you’d bestowed upon me for all to hear for weeks. That’s one of the reasons I withdrew more and more from everyone. Self-preservation.”
“Why didn’t I know how bad the situation was until I got hit with a bat?” Trevor asked.
“Because as soon as you, or Susie and her gang of popular, pretty girls, were around, they were all angels. As soon as you were gone, it began again.”
“So now you’re here to say your piece? To set the record straight?” Carl sneered. “It’s not like our lives haven’t gone on without you. It’s not easy to miss one of the children, but we’ve managed to have a life anyway. You might have nourished some idea that our lives were destroyed and that you could return like a damn war hero or something—”
“Carl! Stop it!” Samantha stood, shaking a trembling fist at her husband. “You’re not speaking for me when you tal
k like that. You may have hardened your heart, but I’ve missed Blythe every—single—day.” She wept now and Susie rose to hug her. She knew she probably should have been the one to do that but was a long way from such closeness.
Susie turned to her. “I’ve missed you too. As has Trevor. We talk about you every now and then. If I’d known what you went through when I was old enough to understand, I would’ve given you my opinion.” She glared at her father. “As for you, Daddy, are you so ignorant, you don’t realize the bullying could have happened to any of us? Blythe was easy prey when she was little, because she was so small and shy. But kids from all walks of life are bullied all the time. How could you make her think it was her fault?”
“I didn’t say that, exactly.”
“Did you ever tell her that the other kids were wrong?” Trevor pushed his fingers through his blond mop of hair. “Did you?”
“So this is about me now? This is my fault? I’m to blame because some idiot kids picked on your sister?” Carl’s face was dark red, something else she remembered with a twitch of old fear.
She took a deep breath. “I didn’t come to cause trouble.”
“Why did you come?” Carl spat. “After twenty-some years. What brings you here now?”
“I allowed Evie to persuade me. She thinks I need closure, and I’m sure she’s right. To move on with my life and future relationships, I need to put the past to rest. I’ve carried around a lot of hurt and anger, and also a lot of guilt. Knowing now that Trevor is fine, and clearly successful, and that Susie looks healthy and happy, means a lot. Now that we’re in touch, I think we should exchange our real addresses so we can write. E-mails too, perhaps. I know Susie has kids also. I’d love to see them one day. Right now, I’ve had my fill of this emotional roller coaster. Evie and I are leaving.” She stood and Evie followed suit.
“Please, Blythe. You just got here.” Samantha took her hands.
“Mom.” She freed one hand and pulled out a business card. “Here. That’s my cell phone and work phone. E-mail and so on.”
“But—”
“Mom. Listen. I’ve got to go. We might stop by in a few weeks after we’ve all had some time to digest this. It’s a lot to take in. At least we’re in contact now, right?”
“I suppose. It’s just…I just got you back.”
“I am back. I really am. I just can’t stay any longer right now.” She turned to the others. “Trevor. Thanks. Susie, you too. Means a lot, what you said today. Dad.” She didn’t comment on anything her father had spouted. There was no need.
“Oh, God, I just realized.” Trevor stared at Evie. “You’re Evangeline Marshall.”
Helplessly, Blythe leaned against Evie and started laughing. The scene became completely surreal and she couldn’t control her joyless mirth. Wiping tears, she was grateful when Evie wrapped a supporting arm around her shoulders.
“Yes, I am,” Evie said.
“Good luck on your comeback.” Trevor looked between them, his confusion obvious. How was a poor guy supposed to feel? Happy to have his sister back. Thrilled to have a NASCAR celebrity under his parents’ roof. No wonder he looked stunned.
“Thank you,” Evie said.
She and Evie walked out onto the porch where Samantha took a tear-filled farewell of her. Her mother hugged her tight, and even if she wasn’t quite ready, she couldn’t hurt her and returned the hug, then had to do the same with her siblings. Carl stood in the doorway, and suddenly he seemed much older than only a few minutes ago. Life’s too short. She lifted her hand and gave a tiny wave, which he disregarded and instead walked back into the house.
“Let’s keep in touch, then,” she said. “Bye for now.”
Her mother and siblings stood by the gate and waved her off. Blythe sighed in relief when they sat in the car. Happy to have Evie drive, she closed her eyes. “That went well.”
“All in all not a complete catastrophe.” Evie patted her thigh. “Three out of four isn’t a bad score. I’m sorry your dad is so, um, hard-nosed.”
“That’s a good description. Remember, he is a dentist.”
“I didn’t think of that! If he treats his patients like that, he may have traumatized generations of kids in Myrtle Beach.” Evie groaned. “I’ve always hated going to the dentist.”
“As a matter of fact, he was known for having an exceptional hand with kids. He was another man at work, apparently. Gentle and understanding.”
“Isn’t that weird? I swear family dynamics can screw up even the most down-to-earth person.”
“You’re so right.”
“You did really well in there.” Evie caressed her arm. “You were strong and together, and kept your cool.”
“Really? Thank you. It helped to have you with me.”
“Good.” Evie took her hand after shifting gears. “I want to be with you as much as you’ll let me.”
She looked over at Evie and saw her kind smile and very pink cheeks. “I’m glad. I feel the same way.” Was her imagination running wild when she saw unedited happiness on Evie’s face? It ignited a glow inside that warmed her like nothing she’d ever felt. She covered Evie’s hand with hers, and when Evie turned hers and interlaced their fingers, the gesture made her feel so safe.
Chapter Twenty-three
Evie pushed the weights up from the level of her chin, up, up, up. Straight arms. Down again. Rest a little. Up, up, up. Her arms burned, but she had to keep going. If she wasn’t in her best physical shape before Daytona, she was screwed. The race would take every ounce of her strength, and if she became exhausted when she had five laps left, she might as well not enter; she wouldn’t stand a chance of winning.
Winning was everything. It was ultimately why she’d fought her way back through blood, sweat, and tears. She needed to win. Win the race, win over her father and grandfather, and now, something unexpected and more important than anything. Win the girl. Or the woman, as it were. She focused on her thoughts of Blythe and the image of the petite woman who preferred to watch the world through a lens rather than with her eyes. Still this courageous person let the whole world in without realizing it. The world could see exactly what Blythe saw through her camera because of her pictures. That was so clear, to everyone but Blythe. She knew Blythe considered herself a non-celebrity who enjoyed privacy and lived a secluded lifestyle. In certain circles, especially the news media, the photography aficionados, and news buffs, Blythe was totally famous in her own right.
Pushing the bench-press weights into their holder, she nodded her thanks to the guy that had assisted her and moved over to the cross-trainer. She plugged in her MP3 player and let the music set her pace. Noelle Laurent’s latest upbeat hit hammered in her ears, making it easier to work out. A longtime fan of the singer, Evie had been impressed with her courage when she came out last year. If she can do it, so can I.
She was nowhere near Noelle’s star status, not by a long shot. Mal had instilled shame in her all those years ago, but that shouldn’t keep her from living authentically. She had no idea about Blythe’s take on this. She didn’t know if Blythe was interested in anything lasting. Blythe didn’t strike her as a “love ’em ’n’ leave ’em” kind of woman. To the contrary, Blythe was very serious-minded.
She loved Blythe Pierce. She couldn’t imagine her life without her, and she feared she’d have to say good-bye forever when Blythe had shot all the photos she required for the book. That would shred her into tiny, miserable pieces. She couldn’t let that happen. Perhaps the first step was to come clean with how she felt?
But what if that was a mistake? What if she scared Blythe away? Then again, there had been nothing shy in the way Blythe clung to her during the night. Nor the way Blythe had caressed her entire body with her hands and her lips. She’d demanded access to every single intimate part of her, and Evie had been glad to share herself with Blythe.
Her heart pumped extra hard at the memory of the hours she’d spent with Blythe, returning her caresses, tasting every se
nsitive area on the slender, yet curvaceous body. Blythe was simply delicious. She smelled good, her skin was like hot velvet, and the sounds she made would drive just about anyone crazy. She was addicted to the incredible moans that emanated from Blythe, and she’d do anything to hear them over and over again.
*
Blythe sat at the dining table, her computer plugged in, and backed up her photos. She downloaded the raw format, and every now and then a particular photo would capture her attention and she scrutinized it and sometimes copied it to her folder labeled Potential Book Photos. On even rarer occasions, she copied a photo to her personal folder. She kept about twenty images there, all of them of Evie. They’d never make it into the book, since they were too personal. Eight of those pictures were from the evening Evie had posed dressed in her sheer lingerie. Her green eyes beckoned Blythe, drew her in as she looked up at her from the bed. In another shot, Blythe had been kneeling on the floor and Evie was on her back, arching toward the ceiling with her arms above her head. Since then, she had seen Evie in this exact pose while in the throes of an orgasm, calling out her name repeatedly.
She crossed her legs to silence the urgency between her thighs. The next photo showed Evie sitting on her heels and holding on to a pillow. It could’ve been a weird kind of Lolita picture, if she hadn’t seen Evie cling to a pillow in a similar way more than once. She did it while watching something scary on TV or in the night, when a nightmare hit. Evie held the pillow so innocently, like a teddy bear, and looked at her with so much emotion, she was almost afraid to try to decipher the feelings Evie expressed. She pressed a key and studied the next photo, shot from the opposite angle. Evie was still hugging the pillow, but now she looked over her shoulder with an almost startled yet sensual gaze. Her hair flowed around her face like a dark veil, and her long, dense lashes shadowed her cheeks, making her appear deceptively fragile.
“What are you working on?” Evie’s voice came from behind her, taking her by surprise.
She pivoted on the chair, the tip of her tongue stinging from where she involuntarily bit down. “You’re home.”
