by J. L. Mac
More silence.
“Don’t give me shit excuses!” she fumes. “There’s no excuse for doing those things to anybody! Jo just told me and Grams everything, so you can just go to hell!”
Damnit! Why the hell do I feel guilty for her now?
Elise hangs up, bows her head, and shuffles back to Grams and I. “I’m so sorry I judged him, Jo. And you. Stupid bastard! Why Damon? Why not me? Why didn’t I know?” She kicks off her heels and curls into a ball on Grams’ bed.
Grams strokes Elise’s blonde hair and murmurs comforting words. Part of me wants to join the hug party, but I’m just not much of a hugger.
“Hey, you didn’t know. Neither of you knew what was going on in that house.” I glance from Elise to Grams then back to Elise. “What’s done is done. Damon might be angry with me for telling you two, but I’m glad you know. Maybe now we can all understand him a little better.”
Grams doesn’t say or do anything. Elise just nods. I think they’re both in terrible shock and I can’t blame them.
“Grams, I have to get to Damon and let him know about the missing checks.” She nods. I lean in and hug her neck. “I love you, Grams. I’m moving you out of here soon. You watch.”
She says nothing, obviously still processing what I’ve told her. She nods and strokes my cheek and that’s enough communication for me.
When I near the door, Elise jumps from the bed and follows me. “Jo, I’m sorry. I—” She’s still crying, so the words come out hiccupped and wet-sounding. “I’m-hic-so-hic-sorry-hic, Jo.”
I shake my head and she shuts up. “Don’t. You didn’t know. It’s not your fault, either.” I touch her arm companionably and leave the room. It’s time to go face my Big Man.
I sit in my car for a long time and try to process all this shit. Telling them about Edward and Damon was painful and I’ll need to give Damon the heads up in case they get up the nerve to talk to him about it, but what’s happened with Grams’ checking account is at the top of my list. Damon needs to know about that ASAP; I think I’ll have Brian call and get some info from the home about their employees. Who else would be in Grams’ room for long enough to take her checks? It’s not like she goes anywhere…
Grams’ situation is a big distraction, but I refuse to forget about trying to look up the name that was listed on Damon’s birth certificate. Beverly Wynona Davis.
My gut tells me this is the right thing to do, so I can’t just walk away from it. At least not until I get some information to go to Damon with. I know he’ll be pissed at me, but I’m hoping that maybe, one day, he’ll thank me.
***
Damon isn’t home when I get back from Grams’, but by the time I’ve returned from taking Hemingway for a walk, he’s the one waiting for me. He seems to be in a great mood and I hate that I’m about to ruin his day, but if I don’t tell him about what happened with Grams and her bank, and with Grams and Elise, he’ll be pissed.
“Hey, baby,” I purr as I wrap my arms around his middle. The smell of him is the perfect medicine to soothe my stressed mind. I close my eyes and breathe him in deeply.
“Just the woman I’ve been dying to see.” He wraps his powerful arms around me then lowers his mouth to mine for a soft kiss. “I’ve missed you today,” he says softly.
“I’ve missed you, too.” I draw in another deep breath and open my eyes. It’s amazing how far he’s come in the last month. Dr. Versan must be so proud of us.
I really don’t want to ruin this.
“Let’s go to dinner,” he suggests, brushing the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip like he always does. I shiver, like I always do.
I don’t really want to tell him because he’s going to be angry, but if I don’t tell him what’s happened, he’ll be furious. “Okay, but first let me tell you about my visit with Grams.” The quicker, the better. “Someone is stealing from her. I don’t think she belongs in that place, Damon. She’s not sick or anything and being there makes her vulnerable to people who could hurt her.”
“What?!” Damon face turns bright red and his veins bulge under his skin.
“Someone has been stealing checks from Grams’ checkbook. We think it could be your dad.” I watch as his level of frustration goes from moderate to severe in a matter of seconds. He clenches his jaw. His nostrils flare as he shakes his head side to side in complete disgust.
“I’m going to take care of this. That motherfucker!”
I shrink away from his bluster. He’s already angry, but I’ve gotta tell him the rest. “And I burst your sister’s bubble about Edward. She knows what he did. Grams heard, too,” I say in a rush.
He stares me down. “Why would you do that?” he asks softly.
I feel like I’m in the spotlight and the heat beating down has sweat misting the skin along my hairline.I’m going to need to reapply my deodorant before we go out, I’m sweating bullets from all this anxiety.
“I had to!” I cry. “She was being a bitch and defending him at every turn. She basically said it’s your fault if he’s the one who’s been taking the checks from Grams’ checkbook.”
His arms fall to his sides. He turns from me and runs his hands through his dark hair. “You should have called me. You shouldn’t have told them. They don’t need to deal with that.”
“And you do?” I put my hands on my hips.
“Yeah. I’ve been the one dealing with him all my life.”
It’s just like him, not to want to burden anyone else with his problems.
“And how’s that worked out for you so far?” I fire back.
Damon narrows his eyes at me but he knows full well that I’m right.
“You know what? You don’t know how lucky you are! I’ve dealt with almost everything on my own because I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t have a sister or a grandmother who adored me that I could talk to. You do! They love you. Give them a chance to support you. Talk to them.”
He turns to face me and I can see the turmoil written all over his face. He’s such a protector, and I know he’d never want or allow Grams and Elise to do the protecting, but they’re both strong, bold women and if there is anyone for the job, they’re it.
“You underestimate them, Damon. I don’t know if you realize this, but you have three irritatingly brash women in your life who love you unconditionally.”
He scoffs at my statement of the obvious. “Yeah, I’m well aware. Trust me.”
I slip my fingers into his waistband and tug him towards me. “I’m sorry I told them, Damon. I couldn’t listen to Elise say one more thing about you not supporting Edward. I just couldn’t stand it.”
He touches his forehead to mine. “I know, Josephine.” He strokes my hair behind my ear and my chest feels a little less heavy. “I know you only want to help. And I love you for it. If you do something like this again, though…”
“Hey! Watch yourself, Big Man.” A smile tilts the edge of my mouth as I toss out the idle threat.
Damon’s eyes have a naughty glint to them and its obvious where this evening is going.
“Uh-uh.” I back up slowly while shaking my head side to side. “Eat dinner first.”
“You are my dinner,” he says as he prowls closer.
I squeal and run for the stairs with Damon hot on my heels. I’m no match for his speed and he catches me easily. I can’t say I’m mad, though. Being caught by Damon is how this whole relationship started. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Two precarious days have passed since I told Grams and Elise about the abuse Damon endured. Nobody has said anything to anyone, so there haven’t been any confrontations, but I’m still walking around with bated breath, just waiting for something to blow up in my face. Damon and Brian have been doing lots of research into Grams’ whole checking account debacle; interviewing the employees at the home, speaking with the Bank Manager, and I think Damon is even going to approach Edward about it soon.
I check the time on my cell phone then glance a
t the post-it with her address on it. It’s stuck to my computer and I’ve looked it so many times I have it memorized.
Beverly W. Davis
227 Poplar Drive
Las Vegas, NV 89115
My leg taps nervously against the floor beneath my desk. I didn’t think it would be so easy to find an address. I was even more shocked to find out that the most recent address listed for Beverly Davis is here in town. When I typed her name into the search engine, I never dreamed that I would actually find something. Truthfully, maybe I was hoping I wouldn’t. That would make this a lot easier to handle. If there wasn’t an address to mail a letter to, then there’s would be no need to even write a letter.
“Fuck,” I mumble to myself. Just get it over with. I pick up my pen and begin writing.
Dear Ms. Davis,
My name is Josephine Geroux and I am writing you in regards to a man named Damon Cole. If this name means nothing to you, then disregard my letter because I’ve clearly mailed it to the wrong Beverly.
I’m hoping that this name means quite a bit to you. I found your name listed on his birth certificate and I’m hoping to make contact with you. I know you were only 17 when you gave birth to Damon and I’m sure you had a very good reason to give up custody of him, but I’d love to speak with you. You have my full discretion and I hope that I can expect the same from you. Please call me if you feel that you are comfortable enough to talk.
Sincerely,
Josephine Geroux
I stand up and grab the letter from my desk and walk out into the store. I scan the space and quickly find Noni. She’s organizing the coffee bar inventory again. She’s been trying to decide if she wants to color code or alphabetize the bagged coffees, because she decided that we’ll be a more reputable shop if we sell coffee drinks and ground coffee to take home. So now we carry a vast array of locally made coffees. While she hasn’t asked for my vote (alphabetize, obviously—hello, Dewey Decimal System; this is a bookstore!), I’m pretty sure she’s been snapping pictures of all the variations she’s tried. It’s keeping her busy during the last weeks before we open.
“Hey.” I slide onto one of the high stools that are lined in front of the counter. “So I wrote a letter to Beverly, the woman on the birth certificate. Can you read it and tell me what you think?”
“Oh, okay.” Noni wipes her hands on a towel and takes the letter from me. I watch her eyes go line by line, reading my short and to the point letter. She raises her brows and inspects the letter one more time, then hands it back to me.
“So what do you think?” I ask nervously.
“Ah, well, I think it’s vague. Don’t you think she might want to know what it is that you want from her?”
I hadn’t thought about it that way and she’s right. I nod my head in agreement. “Good thinking”
“So if this is her, what do you want to know? What do you think he would want to know?” she asks. She shakes her head and snaps her towel on the counter, startling me. “I still can’t believe you’re doing this without his okay, Jo. Are you sure you should be doing this?”
“Well, if she doesn’t respond, then he never has to know a thing about it. I want to know her side of things. I know Damon says he hates her, but I just can’t believe that she would just dump him off, ya know?” Noni nods and sighs. I go on talking. “I want to know what she looks like, too. I think he would look like her, since he doesn’t favor Edward or Grams. I want to know if he has any other siblings. I want to know she’s even alive.” I shrug. “I guess the thought of having family out there somewhere is a little fascinating to an orphan.”
Noni smiles sweetly and pats my hand. “You’re no orphan, girl. You have me, Grams, Elise, Brian, and most importantly, Damon. You’re stuck with us.” She bulges her brown eyes at me like a crazy person and we both laugh.
“Okay, I’ll rewrite it and let her know that I just want to know the basics then I’m sending it.”
She takes a deep breath and gives me the thumbs up.
I’m doing this.
I rewrite the letter in no time and stuff it into the addressed envelope. I put it with the stack of outgoing mail and send up a silent prayer to whomever that it reaches the right person and she’s receptive. Or better yet, interested.
***
Damon’s been acting strange for a few days and I’m not sure if it’s what’s going on with Grams or if he’s still annoyed that I spilled the beans about Edward. He’s been “taking care of a few things” every day since I told him about Grams. I know some of it is recon on Grams and some must be work, but his behavior has me paranoid about writing to Beverly. I regret doing it one minute then, feel excited to know if it’s her the next minute.
Something’s up. I can feel it in my gut. And I intend on finding out what’s going on with him.
I absentmindedly line our new inventory on the shelf. There’s nothing better than the smell of new books, except maybe seeing lines and lines of shiny new books on my fancy new shelves in my newly remodeled bookstore.
We open for business in two weeks and things are finally looking the part around here. Hiring Noni is the best decision I’ve made during this whole renovation. I thought maybe we could sell some pre-packaged bagels and muffins but she shot that down with a brilliant idea to team up with a bakery here in town. One of Noni’s friends works there and she was able to hash out a fantastic wholesale deal for us. We’ll be getting weekly deliveries from them to sell at the coffee bar. She’s brilliant; it’s a mutually advantageous deal. I also discovered her secret to making great coffee. She mixes it, half chicory grounds and half plain house coffee beans. Simple as that. I’m thinking of having her bag it as our own distinct coffee—Captain’s Blend.
The familiar bell above the front door rings and I turn to face the visitor. It’s déjà vu. There’s Damon, standing in the doorway with sunlight spilling in behind him. I get to my feet and he walks towards me.
“Hey, you.” He takes my face in his hands and kisses me before I can say a thing.
“Hey to you, too.” I smile up at him and see him look over my head to Noni.
“Noni, you know how to lock up, right?” he calls.
Noni just gawks at my Big Man and nods her head.
“Okay, I’m stealing her for the rest of the day, if you don’t mind.”
She shakes her head no and I can’t help but laugh as she gives me a huge wink. I hurry to the office to grab my bag and scoop up Hemingway from his spot under my desk.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he opens my door and I slide into his pickup truck.
“You’ll see.”
“This truck doesn’t fit you. Why do you drive it?” I’m pretty sure I’ve asked this question before and have never gotten a straight answer.
Today it’s the truth. “Trucks are bigger and heavier than cars. They fair a lot better when they get into an accident.”
“Oh.” Another after effect of the accident that changed our lives. I watch out my window as he drives us through the city to the outskirts of town where the space between houses and buildings gets bigger. He turns onto a road and drives another mile or so. I look at him expectantly. Where the hell are we going?
The truck slows as we approach a gorgeous, two story, brick and stucco house. Damon turns into the drive and stops at a set of wrought iron gates. He rolls down his window and punches a code into a key pad. The gates slowly slide open. Damon glances over to me wearing that crooked grin that I love so much. He drives forward and parks the truck in the circle drive directly in front of the sprawling house.
“Who lives here?” I question warily.
“We do.” He swings open his door and hops out.
My eyebrows shoot up as shock registers. He bought a fucking house?
He opens my door and Hemingway jumps down from the truck in a hurry to find some grass. I sit staring at Damon, utterly shocked at what he just said.
“Come on, woman.” He grips my hips and sets me to my feet
in the stone driveway.
The house looks like a mission style home combined with southwestern stucco. Burnt orange terracotta roofing tiles extend to the edges of the roof. The front door is hand crafted, a massive mahogany work of art. It has an iron knocker that matches the gates. There are two tall brick pillars on either side of the awning over the front entrance. Sago palms line the circle drive and the perimeter of the house. It’s gorgeous and impressive, but it’s a bit overwhelming, too.
Damon takes my hand and tugs me forward. “Come see your house.” He whistles and Hemingway comes running up the steps.
I’m speechless as I look around. It’s clear now what he’s been up to. He opens the front door for me and we walk into a fully-furnished house. I turn to face him with my mouth hanging open.
“I did it myself.”
I can tell he did. The house looks more like his bedroom and the library at the penthouse. I cheer on the inside when I see that there isn’t one modern, low profile piece of furniture around. The soaring ceilings draw my eye upward to the track lighting. The walls are painted the color of sand. The floors are solid wood. They’re the same shade of wood as the old shelves at the store; Captain’s shelves. I know that’s a small detail that Damon has made sure to include for me.
“Oh, Damon, it’s stunning.” I actually think I’m crying a little. He did this for me.
“Come on, I want to show you my favorite part of the house,” he says softly. He interlaces our fingers together and walks me through the massive house. I look like an idiot with my mouth agape surveying the gorgeous furnishings and décor. For a moment I think he may be talking about the kitchen, but we walk past it and keep going toward the back of the house.
Damon opens the French doors and pulls me out onto the amazing backyard patio. He lifts his hand and points over toward the back corner of the yard. There’s a small building that matches the house; stucco with terracotta roofing and a front door with a knocker. I furrow my brows and look at Damon for an explanation. “It’s for Grams. So she can come home. She has her own apartment.”
