by Nesly Clerge
CHAPTER 134
Chelsea remained where she was in the foyer. She bunched the lapels of her robe together, gripping the fabric closed at her throat, as though to shield herself. “How bad is it? Is he conscious?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hall, your husband didn’t make it. He was already gone when we found him.”
“Oh God. Oh God.” Chelsea reached for something—anything—to support her.
The officer took her by the arm and led her into the living room, easing her into the nearest chair. He took a seat on the sofa, a foot away from her. “Mrs. Hall, although we’re certain of his identify from his license, we still—”
“Need someone to identify his … confirm it’s him.”
“Yes, ma’am. Are you able to do that now? Would you prefer to wait until seven or so?”
Chelsea shook her head. “No. I have to make sure. I have to see him.” She looked up at the policeman. “How did it happen?”
“Car crash. Mrs. Hall, had anything happened recently that might have made Dr. Hall depressed?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“Anything at all you can tell us?”
“His brother died yesterday. He felt responsible.” She added quickly, “Because he always felt responsible for his younger brother. But why are you asking?”
“We found a note in his car.”
“A note to whom?”
“To you, ma’am.”
“What did it say? Let me see it.” She thrust out her hand.
“I don’t have it with me, ma’am. He didn’t actually finish the note. Just started with dear and your name, followed by I. That’s all. There was also a bottle of Scotch in the car. We’re pretty sure he’d been drinking, ma’am. Heavily. Did he usually drink a lot, or maybe was an alcoholic?”
“No. Don’t say such things.”
“I apologize, Mrs. Hall. But you see why I had to ask about his mental state.”
“You’re saying he killed himself. I can’t believe that.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s what it looks like.”
“I can’t breathe. I can’t—“
Tears streamed from Chelsea’s eyes. She folded her body over, gulping for air to ease her lungs and tightening throat.
The officer leaped up. “Stay like that. Where’s your kitchen?”
Chelsea pointed in the general direction. The officer returned a minute later with a glass of water and a roll of paper towels. He handed both items to her and waited for her to regain composure.
“Would you like me to drive you to the—to where he is, Mrs. Hall? Or is there someone you can call to drive you? This weather’s nasty. I’d rather you not drive yourself.”
“I need to get someone to come here and stay with my daughter—I don’t want to wake her. I don’t want her to go with me. I don’t want her to see her father like … not until I know … I’ll call her friend’s mother. It shouldn’t take long for Angela to get here. Then, if you don’t mind, please take me to my husband.”
Chelsea pushed herself up from the chair. She glanced around, as though unsure about how to walk, to move, to breathe.
There was only one thing about this that was a relief, if it could be called that: Garrett had died in a car crash. It would be hard enough to tell Kimberlie. It would be too brutal to tell her, or Garrett’s family, that he had committed suicide. If she could manage to keep that from them. The two Hall brothers gone, in two days.
The house of cards they’d constructed out of their chaotic lives was collapsing.
CHAPTER 135
Rain turned to sleet. Tiny frozen pellets beat against the glass of the French doors. Chelsea checked the time again. Six thirty. She brewed her fifth cup of coffee since the policeman had brought her home at four fifteen. It was a lonely vigil, but she wanted Kimberlie to get as much sleep as she could. Before she learned her life had changed dramatically. That no chance remained for it to ever be the same again.
Angela had left at almost five that morning, promising to wait until noon to tell anyone other than her husband—and swearing him to secrecy—about Garrett’s death. The last thing Chelsea wanted was for Susan to call or text Kimberlie, before she’d had a chance to talk to her. To break the news to her. To break her heart.
While there was time, while everyone remained uninformed—because she was determined to tell Kimberlie before any of their family or friends, there was one thing she had to do. She sent a text to Luke, telling him she needed him to call her immediately.
She answered her phone and squeezed her eyes closed. Before he could ask how she was, she said, “Garrett’s dead. He killed himself last night. He got drunk and crashed his car. The police notified me just after three this morning. I went to the morgue to confirm it was him.”
“I’m so sorry, love. What a horrible ordeal for you to go through. Who’s with you? Who’s looking after you?”
“I’m alone. For now. I’m keeping it quiet until I tell Kimberlie, which I’ll do when she gets up.”
“Let me come to your house—as a friend. There must be something I can do.”
“I know you want to help, but your being here would do the opposite. After I tell Kimmie, I’ll tell my and Garrett’s family. Then I’ll start to notify others. I’ll have people here soon enough to help out. There’s so much to take care of.”
“When will I see you again?”
She cupped her forehead in her hand, swallowed hard. “You won’t.”
“Chelsea—”
“It has to be this way. What happened to Garrett is my fault. I caused all this grief.”
“You’re wrong about that, and you know it.”
“I should have never … I should have tried harder to save our marriage instead of—”
“Getting involved with me.”
“I’m sorry, Luke, but it’s true. Garrett may still have been cheating on me, but he’d be alive. My daughter would still have her father.”
“Chelsea, please don’t do this. You know what we have. Don’t let Garrett rob you of anymore happiness than he already has.”
“I’m sorry. And I need to go. I hear Kimberlie moving around upstairs.”
“Chelsea, I’m begging you.”
“I can’t. I wish you the very best, Luke, but this has to be over.”
She ended the call as Kimberlie called for her. “I’m in the kitchen, Kimmie.” She listened to her daughter’s heavy footfalls on the stairs. Dread of the burden that was hers alone welled in her chest.
“Mom, why’d you let me sleep so long? You knew I wanted to get to Gram and Gramp’s house early.”
“Sit here by me, Kimmie.”
Kimberlie yawned and shuffled to the chair Chelsea pulled out.
She took Kimberlie’s hands in hers. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
CHAPTER 136
Brandi suspended her hand a foot above her plate then dropped her fork onto the ceramic disk. A clump of scrambled egg bounced from the plate to the table. Luke didn’t react as she’d anticipated. “What’s wrong with you?”
Luke kept his eyes down and continued to push the eggs around on his plate. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”
“I realize we haven’t been getting along—we barely speak to each other these days. But you’re acting like someone died.”
Luke shook his head and tossed his fork to the table. “You’re suddenly concerned about me?”
“More annoyed than anything.”
“So, same old, same old.”
“I don’t have time for your moodiness. I need to get to the office.” Brandi rinsed her dishes in the sink then arranged them in the dishwasher. She grabbed her keys and purse, and said, “You could make an effort, you know. That’s always been your problem. You make only the effort you want to, not the one you need to.”
“You don’t want to be late.”
“If you’re not careful, Luke, you’re going to find you’re living alone.”
“I’m alrea
dy there.”
Brandi stormed from the house, slamming the door behind her.
Luke stayed at the table, unable to muster motivation to move or do anything. His cell phone rang. He bounded to the desk in his office, praying it was Chelsea calling, praying she’d come to her senses. His shoulders sagged when he saw who it was. “Hello, James.”
“Hey, dude. I need you to come in a few hours early today.”
“I was going to call. I’m not coming in.”
“Don’t do this to me, Luke. I’m shorthanded.”
“Something’s happened.”
“Tim okay? Brandi?”
“He’s fine, she’s fine. It’s Chelsea.”
“Aw crap. I told you she was bad news. You gotta end it now.”
“She did that. This morning.”
“Okay. It hurts. It sucks. But problem solved, and bigger problem avoided.”
“Her husband offed himself last night.”
James whistled. “That’s some bad shit, man. Better you’re out of it.”
“I understand she’s got to deal with all of that, but she’s free now. Why can’t she see that? It’s a clear path for us to be together. It’s what we said we wanted. What she said she …”
“You definitely need to avoid that situation.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve lost the love of my life.”
“Luke, listen to my words: Love is what we make it. Brandi’s pissed, but she hasn’t left or kicked you out. That means there’s still a chance with her. You never had a real chance with this Chelsea chick. Put this affair out of your mind and make it right with your wife.”
“It wasn’t right to begin with, as you pointed out a number of times.”
“I’ve been known to be wrong. Not often, but it happens.” James cut his laugh short when Luke didn’t join him.
“I can’t lose Chelsea.”
“Toxic territory, my man. Leave it alone. Now why don’t you come in. Nothing like hard work to take your mind off troubles.”
“I can’t.”
“Keep it together, Luke. You may have lost her, but there’s a lot more you could lose if you don’t get your shit together.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Every few minutes, Luke checked to see if he’d missed any calls or texts from Chelsea, knowing he hadn’t.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
CHAPTER 137
The funeral home had worked fast to accommodate a family grieving the loss of two of its members a day apart. Chloe had been the go-between, begging Chelsea, when Chelsea had pleaded her case, to let Thomas and Theresa make the arrangements for their sons, adding that they all felt it was a good idea to keep Kimberlie out of it, at least until the private viewing for family. She’d resented the repeated request, but agreed. They were hurting. These were, after all, Theresa and Thomas’ sons, their children, no matter their ages.
Chelsea wrapped an arm around Kimberlie’s shoulders as they entered the brick and glass building. She suppressed her humiliation and guilt about not having been involved until now and told the receptionist who she was. “Has the family already gone in?”
“Yes, Mrs. Hall. We opened a partition to make one large viewing room so both of your loved ones could be in repose near each other.”
“Thank you.” Chelsea hugged her daughter to her. “Ready, Kimmie?”
Kimberly nodded and began to weep. “I’m scared, Mom.”
“I know.”
They stopped outside the entrance to the room, each in turn signing their name in the guest book before crossing the threshold. Floral arrangements already lined two long walls. Chelsea’s stomach recoiled in response to the cloying scents permeating the space.
Thomas Hall stood stoop-shouldered at Richard’s open casket, with an arm around Anna, who leaned into him, one hand stroking Richard’s hands now positioned one over the other for eternity. Chloe clung to Theresa Hall at Garrett’s closed casket. Chelsea and Kimberlie joined them.
Kimberlie touched Theresa’s shoulder. “Gram?”
Theresa turned and clutched Kimberlie to her. “My precious girl. Your daddy’s gone. My boys are gone.” They hung onto each other as their tears flowed.
Chelsea stroked the framed photo of a smiling Garrett that rested atop the casket. “Be at peace now.”
Theresa screeched, “Don’t touch him. Don’t you dare touch my boy.”
Thomas rushed to his wife’s side. “Not now, honey.”
“Yes, now. Okay, you’ve seen him, Chelsea. You’ve seen what you caused. I’ve lost both of my sons because of you.”
Chelsea’s face drained of color. “Theresa, please don’t do this.”
“Garrett told us what you did. All the way back to—”
Paul and Janice Johnson walked up to them. Janice said, “What’s going on here?”
Theresa turned to her, her expression livid. “Your tramp daughter did this. She’s seen the results of her actions, now she needs to get the hell out of my sight.”
Kimberlie glanced from Theresa to her mother and back. “Mom? Gram?”
Theresa pulled Kimberlie to her. “You’re going to stay here with us, and with your father and uncle, but your mother is leaving.”
Kimberlie’s face grew even more pallid. “Mom, what’s going on?”
Janice said, “Just a damn minute.”
“No, Mom.” Chelsea touched Janice’s arm. “Theresa’s within her rights. I may not have directly caused their deaths, but it’s because of me that they’re gone.”
Janice slung her purse onto a chair. “Chelsea, I don’t understand any of this.”
“I know. I’ll explain it to you and Dad later.” She turned to Kimberlie. “Stay with the family today. One of them will bring you home tonight, or you can call and I’ll pick you up.”
Paul said, “We’ll take Kimmie home. We planned to spend the night at your house, as it is.”
All eyes focused on Chelsea. “I’m so very sorry. For all of us.” She glanced toward Kimberlie then faced her mother-in-law. “Theresa, I beg you not to—”
“Get out. Now. I can’t mourn my sons with you anywhere near me. Maybe the day will come when I’ll pray for you. But right now, I don’t know when my heart will be open enough to do that.”
Chelsea kissed Kimberlie and her parents. She left the room, walked sobbing through the lobby. Ignored the receptionist’s queries offered in kind tones, tones that sent her running from the building to her car.
She rested her head on the steering wheel, unable to move. Unable to catch her breath. Unable to stop the ache in her chest that threatened to overtake her.
CHAPTER 138
Sunlight faded then disappeared. Chelsea turned on the gas fireplace, now the only illumination in the living room, or house, for that matter. She returned to the same corner of the sofa, where she’d stayed motionless for hours.
The telephone had remained remarkably silent. Or perhaps it wasn’t so remarkable. It was a given that people who went to the funeral home would ask where she was. What wasn’t certain was what they were told about her absence, or who told them. If Theresa had her way in the state she was in, they’d know everything. Unless Thomas and Chloe were able to keep her contained. As for Anna and Kimberlie, it all depended on how much Theresa wanted them to know at such a painful time.
Time. It was only a matter of it before everyone knew what she’d done. It was only a matter of time before Kimberlie came home. And when that would be might depend on what she’d learned.
It was nearly ten o’clock when she heard the key in the front door lock. Chelsea turned on the lamp next to the sofa and went to the foyer. She switched on the light and opened the door.
A swollen-eyed Kimberlie dashed past her and up the stairs. Janice and Paul Johnson followed, each kissing Chelsea on the cheek. Paul put a small suitcase on the floor next to him and draped a suit bag over it.
Chelsea flinched when Kimberlie slammed her bedroom do
or. “How is she?”
“As you might guess,” Janice said, “Theresa Hall couldn’t keep her mouth shut.”
“What you must both think of me.”
“Whatever your father and I might think, I know you well enough to know it’s minimized by what you think of yourself.”
Chelsea nodded. “I’ll go up and talk to her.”
“Maybe you ought to wait until morning. She’s upset and exhausted.”
“Who isn’t? I prepared the upstairs guest room for you, when you’re ready for it.”
Paul took Janice’s hand. “I’m more than ready. What do you say, honey?”
“You go on. Chelsea may need help with Kimberlie.”
Paul shook his head. “That’s between mother and daughter. I’m sure Chelsea will call if she needs you.” He hugged Chelsea to him. “Try to get some sleep, my girl.”
He draped the suit bag over his right arm, grasped the suitcase handle, and then took Janice by the hand. The two trudged up the stairs.
Chelsea waited until the guest bedroom door closed behind her parents then started up, each step heavier than the one before it.
CHAPTER 139
Chelsea rapped lightly on Kimberlie’s door. No answer. She turned the knob, surprised the door was unlocked. “Kimmie?”
“Go away. And stay away.”
“I can’t do that.” She closed the door behind her and sat on the bed next to Kimberlie, who moved to the other side. “How much did Gram tell you?”
“Enough to know I can’t ever go out in public again.”
“God. Did she tell everyone?”
“Just me and Anna. Well, and Grandma and Grandpa Johnson. But Penelope knows, since she’s the one who told Dad. She’ll tell everyone.” Kimberlie pulled a pillow onto her raised knees and buried her face in it to muffle her sobs.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of, unlike me. All of this is my fault.”
“Damn right.”
“Language, Kimmie.”
Kimberlie looked at Chelsea. “Seriously? After you acted like a—a—whore, you’re going to call me on that?”
