The Forgotten Child

by Eckhart, Lorhainne

This time she didn’t try to hide the tears. She was mad at herself for falling for the first man who’d told her everything she wanted to hear. She realized why it hurt so much, even after these hellish few days. She’d still held out hope Brad would see the error of his ways, take a stand and tell her he wouldn’t let her go. That he was a fool and she meant something to him, he’d make Crystal leave. But he said none of that. A reality that crumbled the last of the pedestal she’d stuck him on. Idiot. The strong, confident, honorable hero she assumed he was dissolved before her eyes. It would be easier to hate him.

  “I’ll call Gina to see if we can stay with her until I find another job, a place to live. I’m sorry for Trevor. I hope…” Emily’s voice shook. Her face was drenched by the tears pouring down her cheeks, a free-fall. Even after what Bob had done to her, abandoning her emotionally, not being there for her, not being the man she wanted, but a little boy. With Brad, this hurt worse. Maybe because of whom she thought he was. The first man she’d really looked up to, depended on, in a way she never thought possible. He had strong values and views on the role of a man and woman. The way he loved and cherished his son, a dependable man who could handle any problem, fix anything, or so she’d come to believe. But she was fooled. How could she have been so wrong? Not once had he brought up what almost happened between them, their intimacy, what they’d shared. Was it that easy for a man to erase from his mind?

  The simple truth of the matter was he’d allowed a spiteful, mean, hurtful woman to walk back into his house and treat Emily, Katy and Trevor horribly. Could he not see how Crystal was hurting her own son—his son?

  “You hope what, Em?” Brad reached out and clasped her hand, squeezing tight. Emily wiped her eyes and noticed the sheen of tears gloss his eyes before he looked away.

  “I’ll call Gina in the morning. See if we can’t move tomorrow.”

  Brad said nothing. He nodded and appeared very much a lost man struggling to stay afloat. Even with his scruffy hair and what appeared to be two days without shaving, it was just like him to be so unbelievably handsome. And he’d never be hers. Well, damn him to hell.

  “I’ll make sure you’re paid up till the end of the month.”

  It was that damn pride which almost had her refusing. She bit her tongue. No, he owes me. Brad squeezed her hand when she said nothing, and then pulled away. The chair creaked when he stood. She gazed up. He stared off into the darkness, fingering the brim of his hat. Then he placed it on his head and strode off, down the steps, swallowed into darkness. The sound of gravel crunching beneath his boots, each step, cut open the hole in her heart a little wider.

  The painful lump in her throat swelled, breaking apart any hope Emily had of not falling apart. Her body, her chest shook as the noisy sob burst out. Tears flowed; she buried her face, covering her mouth, as she wept openly on the porch, no one to comfort her, just the sounds of a broken spirit, echoing in the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Brad wanted to eat out his guts as he walked away. Listening to this kind, loving woman weep so pitifully. He was responsible for her pain. She was a wonderful woman, the best thing to happen to him and Trevor, and she didn’t deserve this. But it was better for her to leave. This wasn’t her battle and she’d become the target. An innocent he couldn’t protect.

  It was killing him, this whole twisted, fucked up mess. Brad should have protected himself years ago. Filed for divorce and established through the courts legal custody of Trevor. You know, to make sure every “i” is dotted and every “t” crossed. It was careless on his part, which was so unlike him. In any other area of his life he was shrewd, paid attention to detail and never took anything for granted. So why, in his personal life, hadn’t he done that? His five hundred acre ranch had been in his family for two generations. In business, Brad was shrewd and he’d turned this ranch into the successful operation it was now. Although his daddy had done well, Brad took advantage of every opportunity, expanding, landing the dairy contract for the area, was the largest beef producer on the peninsula and haying. He saw opportunities and he took them.

  So how’d he manage to allow a woman like Crystal to cuckold him, use his son, his one weakness, against him? And for what purpose? Since she’d shown up, he’d been unable to find out what she really wanted. He didn’t believe her passionate plea that she wanted to be his wife, a mother to Trevor, she’d had a change of heart and she loved him and needed him. Bullshit.

  He’d allowed her to get away with far too much, including allowing her access to his bank account, their joint account. But this was only one in a long line up of many truly monstrous fuckups. But he’d been a desperate man, drowning in the care of his child. A child, he now knew wasn’t quite right.

  When Trevor was born, she’d never looked after him. She’d fretted through her entire pregnancy of the baby ruining her body. She was amazing in bed, but she’d never truly been his wife.

  Now after years of being gone, she still avoided Trevor, wouldn’t touch him, look at him or talk to him. Nothing. So why was she really here?

  Well she was up to something. Their big blow up revealed a few things. She knew way too much of his personal business, his current offers to buy more land, his pending development permit to build a big show ring for the horses he was breeding. How’d she find out? Well, once Brad found that leak, he’d plug it and find a way to be rid of her.

  As for Emily, just thinking of her sweet innocence and what this must be doing to her pounded the nausea in his stomach. He knew she cared for him and Trevor. She wore her heart on her sleeve, her passion for life and her angelic love for children. She was so beautiful. Her inner radiance reached out to touch whoever was around. Brad leaned against the worn cedar siding on the barn. He squeezed his fists and slapped his hat against his leg. He wanted to hit something. Emily, Katy and Trevor deserved better. Brad slid open the barn door and climbed the ladder into the loft. It was completely dark as he sank down against the wall.

  He’d never expected Crystal to return. When she first walked out, he tracked her down in Hawaii. He jumped on the next plane; arrived at the all-inclusive resort where she’d rented a suite. He’d convinced the hotel manager to let him into her suite and he waited for two hours for Crystal to show. Time healed some wounds, but not that. He’d watched as his wife burst through her hotel room door, giggling, wearing a skimpy green string bikini with some blonde buff young surfer draped and drooling over her. The arrogant prick left after Brad threatened to kick his ass if he touched his wife, and even then, he had to shove the guy a couple times before he stood down. Crystal stared right through Brad, like a cold heartless bitch. She poured herself a glass of red wine. When Brad yanked her suitcase from the closet and started jamming in her clothes, she’d clawed his arms and face, threatening to call security if he didn’t leave. She screamed and cried; she never wanted to be a mother and shouted Brad was no fun anymore.

  Until then, Brad couldn’t see her for what she really was. But she successfully ripped off his tattered blinders. He left, slept in a chair at the airport and hopped on the first plane home. He never tried to find her again. Crystal stayed away. She never called. And Brad did nothing but care for his son, and struggle to get through each day. And that mistake was what Emily and the children paid for now.

  Once he was a fool. Never again. This sudden change of heart, Crystal now wanting a marriage, even expecting Brad to return to the bedroom and feigning a deep frantic concern for a child she didn’t know—what did she want?

  At one time, Brad would have done anything to have her, to keep her. As a young arrogant player, he’d obsessed with having her. Now the only feelings he could summon were contempt and a bone chilling fear when she’d threatened to take Trevor, the first day, during their first of many fights.

  Emily filled his dreams at night. She was the type of woman he’d never looked twice at. But now, every part of her small rounded bottom, curvy bust and innocent soft eyes, filled and occupied his every wak
ing moment. He dreamed of running his fingers through her heaps of rich brown hair, with its gentle waves that bounced over her shoulder. Every time he closed his eyes, he’d picture her silky warm and naked, lying under him, her brown eyes shimmering with open desire, an honest love given with no expectations.

  When he walked upstairs into his bedroom the afternoon Crystal arrived home, he was bowled over by her brash and bold arrogance. She’d hung all her clothes in his closet, as if she’d never left. She’d raced over to him and threw her arms around his neck, pressing her full breasts against him, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

  Brad couldn’t believe how good she looked, even as he pried her arms away. Her smile turned bitter. She crossed her arms and coldness filled her pale blue eyes. She accused him of sleeping with Emily, said she was his paid whore. She twisted his feelings, the goodness Emily brought here and tainted it with her own poison.

  Crystal knew Brad was attempting to get Trevor diagnosed with autism, that Emily was doing therapy with Trevor.

  He still remembered how he grabbed her suitcases, now stored in the back of the closet, and opened them on the bed. He said nothing, but seized her neatly hung clothes and shoved them in her fancy bags. She was a dirty fighter; she clawed at his arm, and then had the nerve to say, “I know you’re trying to steal Mary Haske’s property. Right out from under her.”

  Someone had been talking, but not the truth. Brad would never do that to Mary, but he’d be first to buy when she put it on the market. He also knew by Crystal’s smile she’d hurt Mary with her lies, twisting the story into something it wasn’t. Because Brad hadn’t been completely honest with Mary, he’d never told her he was buying up the land around her, he wanted hers, and that his realtor was now watching and waiting for hers to be listed.

  “I want a divorce. And I want you out of my house.” Brad fisted his hands and had to remind himself no matter what, don’t hit her. Keep your hands down.

  She laughed a deep seductive, throaty laugh and raised her palms up as if showing him something. “If you try to divorce me, or throw me out of this house, my lawyer will proceed with action to take Trevor away from you with full custody of the boy. I’ll take half of this ranch that’s been in your family for two generations.”

  Crystal now paced around him; a woman with a plan.

  “Then I’ll subdivide this property, breaking it up and sell it piece by piece.”

  Brad wondered if the chest pains he was experiencing were just a warning or a heart attack. Because he knew she was right. She’d done her homework. She also knew Brad would pay her to go away, but the ranch was a part of him, taking this prime land and breaking it up would hurt him. But it was the threat of taking Trevor away that would kill him. That threat, she knew, would be enough to keep him in line.

  Crystal yanked open the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out her black channel bag. She dug inside and handed him a letter from her lawyer.

  Brad hesitated he shoved his hands in his pocket. His chest tightened; he struggled to breath. But he gave in and ripped the papers from her hand. As he read the legalese, a cold sweat beaded his spine. She’d placed Trevor on a list for an institution in California for autistic children. Her lawyer had already begun the paperwork and Trevor hadn’t even been diagnosed, citing a long waiting list.

  Brad was positive the room took on a slow sick spin, and the floor softened beneath him. He ground his teeth so hard and then roared. Throwing his arms in the air, he backed Crystal into a corner and rammed his fist through the wall above her head. Crystal screamed and ducked. Brad backed away and the papers fell to floor. His knuckles were scraped and bleeding. He stared at her scrawny neck and pictured his hands wrapped around it, squeezing the life out of this cold heartless bitch. She screamed, and must have seen the threat of murder in his eyes. He blinked then grabbed the crumpled letter at his feet ran down the stairs. Brad flicked open his cell phone and dialed his old friend, and lawyer, Keith Rainer, as he climbed in his truck.

  “I need to talk to Keith, this is Brad Friessen.”

  “I’m sorry Mr. Friessen, Keith’s at home sick today. Can I take a message?”

  “No, I’ll call him at home.” He hung up on Keith’s secretary and dialed Keith’s home number. Brad had grown up with Keith, went to school together, chased girls and, as teenagers, were a nuisance, causing all kinds of typical teenage trouble together.

  The phone rang six times before the poor bugger answered. He could barely talk and he sounded like he was so congested. He coughed so hard, Brad would swear he choked up a lung. When Brad told him what happened, he urged him to come over. Thank goodness, he was close. Keith owned a small acreage not far from Brad.

  Keith looked like hell, his dark hair sticking up in clumps, a two-day beard, pale with a bright red nose. Jenny, Keith’s high school sweetheart, and now his plump, short wife, frowned from the kitchen when Keith led Brad into his home office with a box of Kleenex tucked under his arm. He zipped up his dark blue hoodie and sank down in a brown leather chair, scooting closer to the desk. Brad sat across from him and handed him the letter from Crystal’s lawyer. Keith plucked out a few tissues, blew his nose and dumped the wet tissues in a pile on his desk. When he adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his blood shot eyes appeared to wither before Brad. “I’m sick; my head’s pounding so let’s not mince words. You fucked up, Brad. You should have filed for legal separation and full custody of Trevor when Crystal walked out. I told you then.”

  Keith waved the letter in the air. “I’ve heard of this guy, Sandy; he’s slimy and underhanded. They’ve created quite the tale. You forced Crystal out of the house when Trevor was a baby, while she struggled in a bottomless pit of sorrow with postpartum depression.” Keith flicked the letter with this finger. “This part’s my favorite. You hid her child from her and kept her from seeing Trevor. You told her she had no rights and she had to do everything you said, when you said it. Now with Trevor being diagnosed with autism, her only interest is to make sure Trevor’s respected for who he is. He was born this way and should be left this way; it’s who he is. Also she’ll not allow you to experiment with her child, engaging him in a therapy that is cruel, abusive and isolates him.”

  “Is there a possibility she can win?

  “Absolutely.” Keith tossed down the letter, grabbed a wad of Kleenex, and blew his stuffed up nose. “So what happened to your hand?

  Brad glanced down at the dried blood on his knuckle. He squeezed his fist and winced. “I lost my temper and put my fist threw the wall above the bitch’s head.”

  Keith didn’t move, but his bloodshot eyes took on that stern parents look. The one you get when you screwed up big time.

  “I know it was stupid, but fuck, look what the conniving bitch is doing.”

  “You better pull your head out of your ass. I guarantee you right now; if she didn’t call the cops, she’s taking pictures for her lawyer. And she’ll play this up. You’re building her case for her.”

  “She’s dragged Emily into this, saying if there is any inappropriate behavior with Emily and she’ll take action against me. How does she even know about Emily?”

  Keith coughed and leaned back in his seat. He held up the flat of his hand. “Are you involved with this woman?”

  Brad’s face colored. He fidgeted in the straight back chair. “I hired her to look after Trevor and to cook. But I got to tell you this woman’s amazing. She helped me see there was something wrong with Trevor. She researched autism, contacted a parents group and helped me to see his symptoms. She helped me connect with the right people to get him diagnosed and to start intervention. She helped me understand my kid. She fought for Trevor, who’s not her kid, and she’s taught me not to give up, to advocate, to help Trevor. She showed me the potential and chance my kid has for a bright future. And she has so much love and passion flowing through her veins; I think she’s the most beautiful, selfless woman out there.” Brad knew he was shouting.

  “So you�
�re in love with her. And she works for you. Kind of like the servant and master. You sleeping with her?”

  Brad nearly came out of his chair but instead, he slammed his fist down knocking over the pencil holder on the exceptionally neat desk.

  Keith calmly picked up the dark green plastic holder, pushed aside a stack of bills, clearing the desk so the only thing on it was his box of tissue. Keith rested his arms on his desktop then glanced at the open door. Frowning, he casually glanced back at Brad. “You always were a player with the ladies all through high school. I watched you when you chased around Crystal, your head shoved so far up your ass you couldn’t see how she’d lead you around by the nose hairs. Just so you could have some hot filly hanging off your arm. To you it was just looks, always going for the same type, a blonde bimbo whose only interest was your bank account and their own pretty ass. What the fuck are you doing?”

  It was as if a light bulb blinked on and Brad was ashamed. He’d allowed his feeling for Emily to lead him. He’d pushed aside the little voice warning him to leave her alone. But he wanted her and the sparks between them were off the charts. But not in a got-to-get-you-into-bed, purely physical way, like it had been with Crystal. With Emily, it was deeper. Something he’d never experienced, nor thought possible. He wanted something real with her, and right now, he saw it being snatched away. “I don’t know anymore.”

  “Yah, well let me give you a little advice. Whatever you’re doing with this lady, you end it now. You’ve got enough trouble in your backyard you need to clean up first. Let me paint you a picture. You’re standing in front of a judge. Your whole relationship with the lady will be the focus, after of course, you’re painted as the abusive violent man who can’t control his temper, who threw out a postpartum woman who was terrified of you and your threats and didn’t believe she had any rights. And yes, she may have behaved badly, using your money. But she didn’t know what to do. You separated her from her baby. Who is also being diagnosed, as we speak, with autism. You don’t tell the mother, and she’s devastated when she finds out, giving her the strength to stand up to you. Meanwhile back at the farm, you’ve paid a woman to move in and cook for you, look after Crystal’s child and warm your bed at night. She’s there at your beck and call, tending to all your needs. But it’s not a relationship. She’s an employee you pay. Add to that, her small child, who’s watching all of this behavior. I hope you’re following how this is going to look for a judge. A powerful man with no respect for women—women he has to have on his terms, his way. Get the picture?”