“We have her in counseling twice weekly and it is important for you to know that she has told us everything…including that she made you promise not to tell anyone what happened that night.”
Ms. Cordone took over the meeting and said briskly, “Ms. Thurston, I have Rachel’s statement, backed up by a neighbor who had suspicions, and now I’d like to hear from you…what actually happened on the night that your stepfather died.”
I noticed she did not refer to the incident as the night you killed your stepfather and for that, I was grateful.
The freedom to tell my story allowed it to rush from me, as though no longer pent up behind the dam of my promise to Rachel. I told of going to their house on an impromptu visit one evening. Walking in and seeing my drunken stepfather mauling Rachel. He was on top of her on the sofa with his hands up her shirt as she tried to fight him off.
“I jumped on his back but he shoved me away. I grabbed the lamp on the end table and hit him as hard as I could in the back in an attempt to get him off her. He howled in pain and jumped up as though to rush toward me but tripped over his feet. When he went down he hit his head on the coffee table. Blood gushed everywhere from a head wound but I ran to Rachel. She told me he had been abusing her since mom died. I was so angry but she made me promise to tell no one. She said she’d rather be dead than live with the shame. I had no time to convince her otherwise because the police and EMTs arrived. A neighbor heard the commotion and had called them.”
The room fell silent as I finished my dissertation and I stared at the table, chest heaving with the onslaught of memories. Not looking at their faces, I was terrified of what I would see.
Ms. Cordone was the first to speak. “Molly, your account is the same as your sister’s. To be perfectly frank, if you had been my client, we would have fought for a ruling of accidental death…certainly not manslaughter. And worst case scenario, if they had stuck with involuntary manslaughter, I could have gotten you off with a reduced sentence of probably only probation.”
Her words stunned me but I couldn’t find it in myself to be upset over my conviction and sentencing, because I did it to protect Rachel. Before I had a chance to ponder the ramifications, she continued. “I will be representing you at this point and will be filing to have your conviction expunged.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but found the words halted in my throat. Conviction expunged? Is that even a thing that can happen?
“With the truth now out and with your sentencing complete with the best of behavior, combined with the time you spent on your community service project and continuing your education while incarcerated, I should not have a problem convincing a judge that this travesty should be wiped from your records.” Her sharp eyes stared at me through her glasses as she asked, “Do I have your permission to proceed?”
I opened and closed my mouth, unable to speak for a moment. Finally, I gathered my wits enough to consider the costs. “I have some money put away but don’t think I have enough to pay for your services—”
“There will be no fee to pay,” Thelma replied. “I choose a few cases each year to do as my own community service. And you are definitely a case I want to pursue.”
Nodding jerkily, I jumped to my feet, tears streaming down my face, and grabbed her warm hands in my cold ones. “Oh, my God, thank you! Thank you!”
Clarice stood as well, walking around to offer me a hug and said, “Thelma will also be working to get your visitation rights back to your sister. She’ll stay with us until she graduates from high school next year, but you’ll be welcome to visit anytime.”
Thelma stood and placed the files back in her briefcase before slipping the leather strap up on her shoulder. Sliding a business card across the table, she said, “Ms. Thurston, you’ll be hearing from me.”
As Clarice and Thelma left the room, I stared at Susan, my eyes brimming with tears. She walked over to me, throwing her arm around my shoulders, saying, “I knew there was something different about you the first time I met you. I wish you could have told me earlier, but I understand now. You felt it was Rachel’s story to tell.”
Nodding, I said, “If Sam had lived, I would have told the police everything to get her away from him. But with him gone, she was safe.”
Susan escorted me back down the hall until we came to the block of cells. “In a week, you’ll be out of here,” she said, smiling.
Returning her smile, I nodded as I walked through the locked doors once more, hearing them slam behind me but knowing it would soon be over.
Chapter 10
(October – Brody)
I stood at the end of my bed, putting the last of my things in my footlocker. Todd, his leg now healed, was lounging on his bed watching me.
“I see you stuck her last letter in the lid of your locker,” he observed.
“Figured it would be a perfect reminder of what an ass I was, making the biggest mistake of my life.”
Sitting up in a rush, he grinned wide. “I’ve never heard you say anything like that before. So this girl was the real deal?”
“She was perfect…I was the fuck-up.” What he couldn’t see was the unopened letters I had tried to send that she returned. They were tucked underneath my clothes, along with the first book she sent to me that I had gone back and snagged from the MWR.
“So what are you going to do about it?” he asked, watching me carefully.
Staring down at him, I placed my hands on my hips, my stance wide. “Do? What am I supposed to do, Todd? This girl made a mistake, bared her soul to me, and I threw it back in her face. I made suppositions and accusations and never gave her a chance to tell me her story.” Sighing, I scrubbed my hand over my face. “If there was something I could do, I would, but she shut down her internet and returned my mailed letters of apology without even opening them. I’d say she figured out I’m an asshole and wants nothing more to do with me.”
Laying back, propped up on his elbows, Todd replied, “I don’t know. You two got pretty chummy. Anyway, you’re heading home, back to Virginia. No reason you can’t look her up and see if you can apologize in person.”
Shaking my head, I said, “That shit only works in movies. She’s got her life to live and I need to figure out what I’m going to do next with mine anyway.”
The idea of getting out of the Army and meeting Molly had been my plan for months and now…who the hell knows what I’ll do!
Watching my nephews dress up for Halloween, I smiled as I opened bags of candy and poured them into the large bowl mom provided. After out-processing from the Army base, I’d been home for a few days and spent most of the time with family. While still completing all of the necessary arrangements for my Army discharge, I managed to interview for a job with an international air ambulance company as a critical care flight paramedic. I was more than qualified and they appeared eager to offer me a job. The company had a base in Richmond, Virginia and I planned on looking for an apartment on the outskirts of town.
Waving goodbye to sis and my nephews as they headed out for Trick or Treating, I walked into the den, moving toward the bookcases dad had built in on either side of the fireplace. My fingers trailed over the spines, seeing some of the old Hardy Boys that I had read as a child. My gaze landed on an old book containing six of Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple mysteries. Unable to hold back my smile, I pulled the musty copy from the shelf and opened the front cover. Someone, years before, had written, To all mystery lovers, here is one of the best!
Mom walked into the room, coming up behind me for a hug. I felt her arms encircling my waist and patted her hands as her head rested against my back. “Are you going to Richmond tomorrow to look for a place to live?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to be in the city, so I thought I’d look in the county to the west of the city. That’ll put me closer to here anyway.”
She walked around to my front and stared up into my face, her eyes appearing to search mine. “I’ve felt a heaviness about you since you came home. I k
now it has a lot to do with the war and what you’ve seen and done, but I’m here if you need me.”
Bending to kiss the top of her head, I said, “Don’t worry about me, mom. I’ve got a plan to find happiness.” With that, I tucked the book underneath my arm.
Chapter 11
(November – Molly)
Answering the knock on the door of my tiny efficiency apartment, I smiled at the deliveryman. Taking the package from him I walked into my kitchen to grab some scissors. Knowing I didn’t order anything, I wondered who had sent something to me. There was a return address but no name. Cutting open the box, I peeked inside, pulling out the newspaper surrounding the…book? As I held the old Agatha Christie book reverently in my hand, my heart began pounding. Opening the front cover, I read the unique words someone had written many years before. Seeing a note stuck in between the pages, I pulled it out gently.
Molly,
I hope you will accept this gift from one mystery book lover to another. I have so many things I want to say to you…the most important being that I am so sorry for my behavior and hurtful words. You offered me friendship…and I threw it away, and my regret over that is greater than you can imagine.
I wish for you everything that was stolen from you. I wish for you happiness and health and a future full of good books. If you can ever find it in your heart to forgive me, please do. You made an unbearable war easier to get through. You made lonely nights better with the books you sent. Your friendship gave me hope and for that I am so grateful.
I truly miss you,
Brody
I stared at the letter in my hand, re-reading the words several times over. Closing my eyes, I felt a tear slide over my cheek before it dropped onto the page, smearing one of the words. Sucking in a deep breath, I laid the note to the side so I could examine the beautiful book, smoothing my fingers over the cover. Walking over to the shelf, I slid the treasured item next to some of my other classics.
After class the next day, I rushed to work, closing the door behind me to keep out the chilly wind. Smiling at Gus, the owner of Candlestick Books, I hurried over to the counter. He perched on a high stool, his plaid shirt and sweater vest giving him an elfish appearance.
“Molly, my girl,” he called out, his friendly smile curving his wrinkled face.
“Sorry, I was late getting out of class.” I looked at the groups of people mulling over books and sitting at small tables drinking coffee. The barista behind the coffee counter nodded my way as he continued to fill orders.
“You’re okay, my dear. We’re handling things just fine,” Gus said, sliding down off his stool. “I’ll head home to the missus now, so you and Richie can close up.” He patted my hand as I moved behind the counter to take his place.
As soon as the crowd thinned, I headed to the shelves containing mysteries, a particular book in mind. Scanning the covers, I found what I was looking for, smiling at my discovery.
(Brody)
I left the airfield, the successful medical flight from Washington D.C. to Chicago was now over and I was back in my new pickup truck driving toward my apartment. Arriving forty-five minutes later, I gathered the mail from my mailbox that had been collecting for the three days I had been gone. Walking toward my apartment, my neighbor popped out of her door.
“Mr. Molina! I’ve got a package for you. I signed for it while you were gone.”
Smiling at the elderly lady, I stepped inside her apartment—like mine, only filled to the brim with knick-knacks…and three cats. Taking the box from her outstretched hands, I thanked her before making my way to my own front door.
Dropping my bag, I tossed the mail on the counter and glanced at the return address on the package. It was from a bookstore near Charlottesville. I recognize that handwriting – Molly! Nerves hit my stomach as I stared at the box for a moment, the desire to open it warring with the fear that she might be returning my gift to her with a fuck-off letter enclosed.
I had found her address from an easy internet search but had heard nothing from her about the gift I’d sent.
Finally, steeling my courage, I sucked in a deep breath as I ripped it open and peeked inside. Seeing a copy of a Jonathan Kellerman novel, my breath left my lungs in an audible whoosh. Lifting the older book, I saw that it was a signed copy. And there was a note tucked inside. Nerves hitting me once more, I unfolded the note.
Dear Brody,
I was surprised to receive your sweet gift of the book and your note. There has been so much I have wanted to be able to say to you, but yes, I do forgive you. Although, I need to ask your forgiveness, as well, for not being forthcoming about my situation at the beginning.
I never meant to deceive you. In the beginning, I just thought I would send some books, but then as we became friends, I did not want you to judge me…I judged myself enough.
A great number of changes have occurred in my life and I miss having you in my life to share them. I hope you enjoy this book. I am now working in a bookstore part-time while I finish my degree. So once again, I am surrounded by my old friends.
I wish you happiness as well.
I miss you too,
Molly
I flopped down on the sofa, my legs ready to give out from underneath me. A smile split my face as I leaned my head back, feeling lighter than I had in months.
(Molly)
The sun was shining through the picture window in the front of the bookstore, casting a warm glow onto the old, polished, wooden floors. I loved this time of day when the morning rush of coffee patrons had left and the lunch shoppers had not yet appeared. Gus was in his small office in the back, Richie was cleaning the coffee machine, and I was dusting the worn, wooden shelves loaded with books. Beautiful, antique candlestick sconces lined the paneled walls, giving Gus the idea for the name of his shop, as well as a tribute to a bygone era.
Moving behind the shelves, I disappeared into the aisle of mysteries to continue to dust. Hearing the bell over the door ring, I continued to clean, knowing Richie could assist the customer if necessary.
“Need some help?” I heard Richie call out.
“Um…no, I’m just looking,” a deep male voice replied. The timbre was rich, low, and sexy. I felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach as I stood slowly. My feet moved of their own accord around the end of the tall shelf until I had an unobstructed view of the man standing just inside the door.
Tall, muscular, wearing jeans that were sinfully molded to his body. He had a warm jacket that was open in the front, showing a hunter green shirt that stretched across his chest. His dark hair was almost military short, but not quite—as though it had been but was growing out. And his chocolate eyes were staring right at me.
I had never seen this man, but I knew. Every fiber of my being knew. “Brody?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. The man smiled, his eyes never leaving my face. I tilted my head, waiting for his answer.
He jerked as though he just realized I had spoken to him.
“Yeah,” he grinned. “And you’re Molly.”
I stood, mesmerized but uncertain what to do. His eyes mirrored my emotions, but still, he opened his arms and said, “I’m so sorry.”
Dropping the feather duster to the floor, I rushed forward, slamming into him. Our arms encircled each other and he lifted me easily off the floor. Setting me down, he kept his hands on my shoulders, his fingers holding on tightly.
Looking down, he asked, “I’ve wanted to come for so long. But I was such an ass—”
Reaching up, I shushed him with my fingers over his mouth. My intent had been to silence him, but the feel of his lips underneath my fingers sent an electric jolt through my arm. “No, don’t say that,” I begged. “You were honest, but please know that I never meant to be dishonest.”
Brody’s eyes crinkled at the sides as he smiled down. “I’d like to take you to lunch. When do you get off?”
“Now,” came the reply from Gus, who had appeared from the back of the store.
; Jerking around, I saw the older man grinning, with Richie standing next to him. “We got this. Go. Enjoy!” Gus exclaimed, shooing me with his arms flapping in front of him.
Looking back up at Brody, I smiled shyly. “I guess I’m off now. Let me get my coat and purse.” Hurrying to the workroom, I returned, my arms full. Brody took my coat from me, holding it out so that I could slide my arms in. Escorting me down the sidewalk, he kept his hand on my back, guiding me to his truck.
(Brody)
I was unable to take my eyes off the vision next to me, entranced from the moment she popped around the corner of the bookshelf. Molly was more beautiful than her Facebook picture had shown. Her dark, curly hair was a rich chestnut color. Her stature was more petite and her curves more pronounced. Her heart shaped face held a pixie quality. And where my hand rested on her back, the warmth moved up my arm.
“Wow,” she exclaimed, when we got to my truck. “This looks new. And big!”
Chuckling, I opened the passenger door while explaining, “It was the first thing I bought when I got out.” My hands spanned her waist and I lifted her easily into the seat. Still grinning, I ordered, “Buckle up,” before closing the door and jogging around the front to my side.
Soon we were seated in a local restaurant known for their home-style country cooking. “I hope this is okay?” I asked, suddenly nervous about my non-fancy restaurant selection.
“It’s perfect,” Molly beamed, her fingers fiddling with the napkin. “So, um…did you move back to your parents’ farm?”
“I visited when I first got out, but that wasn’t where I wanted to live…”
My explanation died out and she continued to twist the napkin around in her fingers. “Oh…” she said, her nerves visible. Wincing, she looked down, biting her lip.
I reached over and placed my large hand on hers. “Are you nervous?”
Freedom of Love (Letters From Home Series Book 2) Page 7
