Epic Love

by Trudy Stiles

  But the vision of her in my dream became grotesque. Rotting. Dead.

  Am I finally beginning to heal? Is this what happens when I spend days on end thinking about her, wishing she was still here?

  My phone rings from my nightstand and I swipe it immediately.

  “Dax,” I say, slightly out of breath.

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?” He laughs.

  “No, just waking up.”

  “Dude, it’s almost eleven. Late night?”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “I hadn’t heard from you so I thought I’d check in. I guess it’s safe to assume you and Haley worked things out?” He chuckles into the phone.

  “No. We didn’t.”

  “Oh, sorry. I just figured since you were up so late and you just woke up–”

  “Don’t assume, Dax.”

  He huffs on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry,” he says again.

  “It’s okay. I’ve just had a rough night.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “No, I just need to clear my head.”

  We’re both silent for a little while then he speaks up again. “I’m sorry Garrett and I got in your business. We didn’t mean to pry about Haley. Whatever you two are going through, I’m here for you.”

  “Thanks. But we’re not going through anything because there is no us or anything to go through. I ended it for good, and she’s accepted it. I think.”

  “You think?”

  “It was a rough conversation. She showed me a side of her I never knew existed. So yeah, I’m done.”

  “Cool. Well, glad to know you’re alive and breathing. Glad she didn’t try to kill you or anything.” He laughs nervously.

  “What? Why would you think that?” I ask, startled. What would ever give him the impression that Haley would do something like that?

  “I’m kidding, bro. You seem to forget that we’ve met Haley before. She can be–intense. When we didn’t hear from you yesterday, Garrett and I joked that you were either having incredible make up sex, or you were at the bottom of the ocean with a brick tied around your waist.”

  My head begins to pound, my heart racing again. Visions of Noelle in my dream come flooding back, and I feel like I’m going to puke. “That’s not funny,” I say weakly.

  “Hey, are you meeting us tonight at my place? Garrett, Sam, and Kai are coming over. We’re going to grill some stuff.” Quick change of subject. Good.

  I’m used to going to various functions alone. Haley was never an arm piece for me and I hate the concept of it. Dax and Giselle were nice enough to invite me to their little party with Garrett and his family, but for once I’m going to bow out.

  “I don’t think so,” I mutter. “I got a shitty night’s sleep, and I’d like to just chill, if that’s okay with you?”

  “Totally cool, man. If you change your mind, you know where we live.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Later,” he says.

  “Later.”

  I hang up and I’m about to toss the phone onto my bed when I notice how disheveled my sheets and comforter are. They must also be completely filled with sweat. I tear them off the bed and roll them into a ball, tossing them into the corner of my closet. I have a spare set of sheets and an extra comforter on the shelf and I take them out and place them on the bed. I’ll make the bed later.

  The room is warm, and I need to shower. I look around one last time, searching for signs of Noelle, searching for something that would have triggered that horrible nightmare. Her light catcher is sitting on the nightstand where I just placed my phone. I’ve carried it around with me for years, trying to preserve our memories. Our love.

  “Noelle, I wish there was something I could’ve done to save you,” I say out loud, knowing there will be no response.

  I’ve carried so much guilt around for too long. I suspected abuse for years and never told anyone. I should have. Maybe she’d be here with me today instead of these grotesque dreams that remind me of the pain that I could have prevented.

  MY SHOWER DIDN’T REFRESH me at all. My body is still tingling from the nightmare I had, fresh memories of Noelle vivid in my mind.

  I did make a decision, though, while I was showering–to stop carrying the light catcher with me everywhere. It needs a permanent place in my home, rather than in my pocket.

  I hold it up in front of me, watching it reflect the light from the kitchen window. Colorful patterns reflect off of the walls, and I imagine Noelle’s eyes lit up. She loved my mother’s collection that hung in our breakfast nook back home. She was always mesmerized by how unique each one was and the level of light they reflected. I don’t have a kitchen nook like my parents do, but I have a deep set window above the sink. There’s an empty hook already in place because wind chimes used to hang there. I took them down a few months ago because they annoyed me.

  I reach up and hook the fishing wire that holds the light catcher over the hanger, letting it fall gently from my hands. As it settles, it twirls in place, reflecting every color of the rainbow onto the walls and ceiling in the kitchen. From this perspective, it’s amazing, and I can fully understand and appreciate why Noelle loved these so much.

  “That’s beautiful,” a soft voice says from behind me, startling me.

  I turn to see my housekeeper, her eyes glistening. “Hey, Rosie.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you. I thought you heard me come in.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “Did you get that overseas?”

  I turn to look at the crescent moon hanging in my window. “No. It was–an old friend’s.”

  “It certainly complements your kitchen and home, beautifully. Like it always belonged there.”

  “Yes it does,” I mutter.

  “I didn’t expect you to be home. You’re usually gone by now.”

  “I had a late night, so I slept in today.”

  “Good for you. You need rest.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry, I took all of the covers off of my bed and tossed them into my closet. I’ll bring them down to the laundry room for you.” I feel bad. I’m embarrassed that those sheets are a sweaty mess.

  “I’ll take care of it, don’t you worry. Have some breakfast and relax,” she orders, disappearing up the back stairs.

  Rosie is great, and I don’t know what I’d do without her. She is always thinking one step ahead of me, anticipating my every need.

  I pull the English muffins out of the bread drawer and pull apart two of them, dropping them into the toaster. Once I have a couple of eggs scrambled, I drop the English muffins onto a plate, dividing the eggs on top of them. I squirt some ketchup on each and inhale my breakfast.

  My phone rings from the counter, but I ignore it. My mouth is full, and I wipe ketchup from the corner. These egg sandwiches could have used some bacon and cheese, but they hit the spot anyway.

  Now I’m thirsty. There’s container of orange juice on the table next to me, and I swig it right from the bottle, quenching my thirst.

  My phone rings again, and I look at the Caller ID. It’s an unfamiliar number and it says it’s coming from Massachusetts. Not many people have this number and I certainly don’t know anyone from there, unless it’s Stuart calling from Boston. Is he even up there?

  I swipe to answer, “Hello?”

  I hear light breathing on the other end of the line, but nobody responds.

  “Hello?” I say again, annoyed.

  Still nothing.

  “Look, I don’t have time for–”

  “Heath?” a hauntingly familiar voice interrupts me. I swallow hard, the hair on my arms suddenly standing.

  “Who is this?” I ask, already knowing the response I’m going to get.

  The voice returns and I wonder if I’m still dreaming.

  “Heath, it’s me. It’s Noelle.”

  Noelle

  Past

  Age 18

  MY BODY ACHES. I just finis
hed a strenuous physical therapy session, and each time it seems to get harder and harder. My strength is slowly returning, the visible signs of Tonya’s beating slowly fading. But it’s still so fresh in my mind.

  I walk through the doors of the medical building about to text Heath to let him know I’m finished, and I’m surprised to see my father’s car waiting for me. The window rolls down, and his face is serious. The past few weeks have been rigorous, trying to nurse my body and my mind back to health. Tonya’s lies were not found out. She stuck to her story of two masked men pushing past her into our home, searching for our safe and subsequently beating us both to a pulp. Me, obviously more than her. She visited me in my hospital room the day after she told the police her version of events, threatening to expose the secret she’s been keeping for years if I didn’t keep my mouth shut. A secret I still don’t know, but she assures me it will destroy my family. In return, she promised to keep her hands to herself. She told me she was seeking help for her anger issues. I don’t believe a word she says and I vow to remain guarded around her until I can do something about it.

  Heath has been by my side almost as much as my father has. Every single night, the firefly house is placed on my windowsill, dozens of beautiful lightning bugs glowing into my room, aided by moonlight. I know it’s Heath, but he just shrugs his shoulders and smiles. He says they are there to make more fairies to watch over me and protect me. He hasn’t brought up what happened again, and for that I’m thankful. He’s let me heal at my own pace. He’s also been my main chauffeur to physical therapy, which is why seeing my father is so surprising right now.

  “Dad?” I ask, approaching the car.

  “Hey, Buddy. Want to go for a ride?”

  “Where’s Heath? Is everything okay?”

  His lips tighten as the back door of his car opens. My Uncle Ronald, who is also our family lawyer, slides over to make room for me.

  “What’s going on?” My heart begins to race. I haven’t seen my uncle for at least a year. He never makes a trip out of the city unless it’s important.

  “We’ll explain in due time. Please get in the car.” My father’s voice tightens. I tense up so much, a random bystander would think I was getting kidnapped.

  “Okay,” I say and hesitantly slide into the back seat next to my uncle. There’s another man in the front seat who turns around, nodding his head at me. He looks like he would be Secret Service if my father were the President.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  My father slowly accelerates, driving us from the physical therapist’s office.

  “I know what Tonya did to you,” he declares, and I choke.

  “What?”

  We drive in silence for a while, before he pulls into an underground garage and parks the car. A door opens to the building in front of us, and we all get out.

  “Daddy?”

  He grabs my hand and squeezes. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. Everything is going to be okay.” His voice breaks as he releases my hand.

  “Uncle Ronny? What’s happening?”

  “Your father will explain as soon as we’re inside.”

  The other two men stand guard on either side of the door, allowing the three of us entry into the building. We walk into an open elevator, my father pressing the button to the eighth floor. When the door opens, we walk into a large office. We’re the only ones here.

  “Welcome to my new offices,” my father says, arms outstretched. I had no idea he had office space this close to home.

  “Nice?” I say, still suspicious of why we’re here. He would never be so secretive about showing off new space.

  We walk through the vast office and into a conference room surrounded by ceiling-to-floor glass walls. The door shuts behind us, and my father presses a button on the wall, causing the clear glass to become frosted, hiding us from our surroundings.

  “Cool effect,” I state, falling into a large leather chair. “Now can you tell me what the hell is going on, and what you said about Tonya before?”

  My father drops his head, shoulders shaking. He breaks down, sobbing like I’ve never seen him sob before. Tears fall down his face as he pulls a handkerchief from his suit pocket. I get up to console him, but my uncle holds his hand out, indicating that I should stay seated. I nod and let my own face fall into my hands.

  “Daddy, please tell me what’s happening,” I cry. “You’re really scaring me.”

  He chokes on his remaining tears and makes eye contact with me. “I’m so sorry, Buddy. You have no idea how horrifying it’s been for me to learn you suffered at her hands. This is all my fault, and I should have done something to protect you sooner. It’s time.” He dabs his eyes with the damp cloth in his hands. “I’m so sorry and hope you can forgive me someday.”

  “What are you saying? You knew? You knew what that bitch has been doing to me for years? Beating me to a pulp? Nearly killing me?”

  His eyes widen. “Been doing?”

  “Dad, she’s been beating the shit out of me for years. Since I was twelve years old. This last time was the icing on the cake. She nearly killed me.”

  “What? I thought it was just this once!” he cries and looks at my uncle, alarmed.

  “Yes, it all started with a slap here and a punch there. It started escalating when I was about fourteen. Every single time she laid a hand on me, you were away on business.”

  “I had no idea. I had no idea,” he repeats, shaking his head, his tears return. “I can’t imagine you’ll ever forgive me for putting you in so much danger.”

  “How could you have known if I didn’t tell you?” I try to let him off the hook a little, but this entire conversation is making me sick, bile rising in my throat.

  My father nods to my uncle and says again, “Ronny, it’s time.”

  My uncle slides closer to me, opening a series of folders as I try to keep from puking all over the table.

  “Your father has signed papers to fully release your trust fund to you, as of close of business today. Once you sign this document, it will be considered fully executed. The money in the accounts your mother set up for you is now completely yours. You’ve just inherited your mother’s fortune to the tune of eighty-six million dollars.”

  My eyes widen, and then I puke. My mouth full of bile and my lunch, threatening to spill out of my lips as it burns my nose. My uncle pulls his own handkerchief from his pocket, quickly handing it to me.

  I turn and spit the contents of my mouth into the rag, tears stinging my eyes.

  “What?” I stammer, trying to breathe deeply so I don’t throw up all over the table.

  “Your inheritance. It’s yours,” Uncle Ronald reiterates. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t understand why–how–this is happening?”

  My father looks back up at me. “I want you to take it all. And disappear.”

  The room starts to spin, and I can’t think. This can’t be happening.

  “Noelle, take a deep breath and listen to me very carefully,” my uncle says, getting my attention.

  I close my eyes and inhale deeply through my nose. I must be asleep–dreaming. This can’t possibly be real.

  “For your safety, we’re going to keep some of the details to ourselves, but Tonya and her family are extraordinarily dangerous. Your father was blackmailed into marrying her when you were a baby. At the time, it seemed like he’d be able to get out of the deal after a few years. But then other things surfaced, and her family threatened everything your father loves and holds close to his heart.”

  I sit in silence, the room spinning around me. None of this makes sense at all.

  He continues. “Your father found evidence that Tonya murdered her first husband and locked it away as leverage. She and her family realized that they couldn’t do anything to either of you until that evidence was found and destroyed.”

  “The safe,” I mutter, bringing my fingers to my lips.

  “Yes, the safe. He used it as a diversionary t
actic, building an elaborate safe in your home, keeping her looking, guessing, hunting. The real evidence has been copied, recorded, and locked away in more than one location. If anything happens to you or your father, I have permission to blast it to the world. Tonya’s family may be dangerous, but they’re protective of their own. Several of her brothers have already perjured themselves protecting her. They would all stand to go to jail for a very long time.”

  “What do they have on us? What are they holding over my father’s head?” I demand.

  My dad makes eye contact with my uncle and nods his head.

  “Before you were born, when your parents were young and in love, your mother made a very big mistake. A grave mistake. She got behind the wheel of a car and drove drunk. Your father was the passenger and their friends in the back seat. The conditions were terrible, an ice storm coating the roads. That, paired with the fact that your mother shouldn’t have been driving in the first place, contributed to a horrible accident, injuring both of your parents and killing both of their passengers. Your father pulled your mother from the car and told the police that he was driving. However, his blood alcohol was minimal, so the police wrote it up as just what it was, a terrible accident.”

  “So? It was an accident? How is this blackmail material?”

  “Because it was your mother behind the wheel. And the people she killed were Tonya’s brother and his wife.”

  I suck in my breath, the room spinning once again.

  “My mother’s dead. I don’t understand why we have to worry about this now?” I can’t believe I want my dead mother to take the blame for an accident from so many years ago, but if she did it, doesn’t the crime deserve to fall on her shoulders?

  “I won’t allow that!” my father yells from his perch at the head of the table. “I refuse to let her memory to be tarnished in anyone’s eyes. She doesn’t deserve it. It was an accident.” He stresses the point, and I can tell he won’t budge.

  “But Dad, think about it. If you let the truth come out, then we’re all free and you can put Tonya and her family away for a lifetime.”