Through the Storm (Bellingwood Book 8)

by Diane Greenwood Muir

  "Stop it, Anthony," Sylvie said.

  "Oh, pardon me," he said dramatically, "I forgot, she's your boss."

  "Why are you here?"

  "I came into town to see some of my buddies. We get together on Sunday nights. You know, try to forget that we have to go to work on Monday mornings? I was over at the Alehouse when someone said you were here. So I thought I'd drop in and see your pretty little face." He brought his hand up and grasped her chin, turning her to face him. "It's always been a pretty little face."

  Sylvie pushed his hand away. "You're hurting me."

  "Oh, that ain't nothing and you know it. You're a tough girl. You can take it. Speaking of tough. What in the hell are you doing with Andy. What a little sissy boy he turned out to be."

  "He's smart and witty and a really good kid," Sylvie said.

  "I'll fix him right up. And how's Jason? Did you screw him up too?"

  "Jason is fine. He's just fine."

  "We'll see about that."

  "Anthony, I don't want to have this conversation here."

  "Where in the hell do you want to have it? I come into town and find that you've ducked out of your apartment. Don't tell me you're hiding from me, or did you find some other man to move in with. Someone else who can take care of you." He turned to the rest of the table. "She's always needed someone to take care of her. A lot of pretty in the face, not a lot of stuff in her brain, you know."

  Polly opened her mouth to speak, but Sylvie gave a slight shake of her head.

  "Where's that beer?" he called out. "How long does it take to pour something into a glass?"

  "You've been drinking all night, haven't you," Sylvie asked.

  "What's it to you? You gonna call your cop friend again? I ain't hurt you none tonight." He winked at Polly. "Not yet, anyway. She likes it sometimes when I hurt her, don't ya baby." Anthony put his arm around Sylvie's shoulders and pulled her close to him.

  She pushed him away. "Stop that, you don't have any right."

  "Any right? Right? I don't need a right. I'm just being friendly."

  The waitress came back with his beer and put it down in front of him, scurrying away before he could say anything else to her.

  "Go back to your friends, Anthony. We don't want you here tonight."

  "I'm not going anywhere until I'm ready to go. And I haven't spent nearly enough time with all you pretty ladies."

  Sylvie shifted her chair away from him and turned to face him. "Anthony Donovan, you're a big, nasty bully. I'm done being afraid of you. You can hurt me, you can bloody me, you can insult me, but you can no longer control me. You're drunk and you are being loud and rude. Either leave now, or you know what? I will call my cop friend. In fact, I will call all of my friends, the Sheriff, the Chief of Police, deputies and anyone else that needs to show up to tell you to get away from me. You can't intimidate me any longer."

  She stood up and looked down at him. "And you lost all rights to Jason and Andrew. You will not talk to them or have anything to do with them. The custody agreement is still in force and you screwed up when you took Andrew last Monday. If I wanted to have you arrested for that, there's nothing you could do about it. So get the hell out of here before it is me that makes trouble for you."

  He scooted his chair back and stood up. Sylvie planted her feet and put her hands on her waist and stared him down. "I. Said. Leave," she said flatly. Her voice never rose in pitch. Now that didn't mean that her face hadn't gone fully flush. Polly watched as her hands trembled at her waist, realizing that there wasn't much time before the poor girl was going to fall apart.

  Polly slowly stood up and before she realized it, both Sal and Joss were standing as well.

  Anthony shoved the chair and said, "We're not done, you and me. This conversation has a long ways to go before we're done."

  "Oh, we're done. Come near me again and I'll show you how much we're done," Sylvie said. She grabbed her chair, pulled it out and sat down, showing him her back. He took one more look at her and walked out of the restaurant.

  Sal, Polly and Joss sat back down.

  "My knees are a little weak," Sal said. "And I'm pretty sure I might have peed my pants, but there's no sensation down there right now, so I can't be certain."

  Sylvie looked at her and started to laugh. Soon there were tears streaming down her face as she lost control of her laughter. It was contagious and Polly and Joss found themselves out of control as well. It didn't take long for Sylvie to begin sobbing.

  "I'm so sorry. I don't know why I'm crying. I did it. I finally stood up to that asshole and I made him leave."

  "It's just release," Polly said. "Let it out."

  She looked up to see Dylan Foster, the owner of Pizzazz and the husband of Mark Ogden's sister, come to their table. He put his hand on Sylvie's back and she jumped.

  "I'm sorry, Sylvie," he said. "Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine, now. Thanks."

  "I called Mark. He's on his way over. There might be a posse with him," Dylan said. "He was going to call the Sheriff and Henry and your husband, too, Joss."

  Polly started laughing again. "We're so sorry this happened in your restaurant," she said. "And now all of our knights are showing up to keep us safe. After we dealt with it."

  She stood up and held her right hand out, "High five, ladies. Our Sylvie girl rocked!" They stood and clapped their hands together, raising them as one, when Mark and Henry strode in the front door.

  "You're a little late, fellas," Sal said. "Sylvie got her mean-girl on. She took out the bully and didn't even have to shoot him in the kneecap or anything."

  "Are you girls really okay?" Henry asked.

  "We're fine. And look," Polly pointed at the money on the table. "He left money to pay for our dinner tonight. Do you want to join us?"

  Aaron Merritt came rushing in the front door, Lydia close behind him. "What happened?" he asked.

  Lydia grabbed Sylvie and pulled her in for a hug. Sylvie turned in her arms and looked up at Aaron. "I did it. I told him to leave and I meant it. And he left."

  "I'm proud of you. I knew you'd get there," he said. "What's he doing in town?"

  "He got a job in Fort Dodge. He thinks he's going to be involved in Jason and Andrew's lives. He's wrong, but I'll deal with that tomorrow. Tonight, I think I'll just pass out."

  "Pull up another table and bring some chairs," Sal said. "We have some celebrating to do. It isn't every day we get to see a bully stripped to his knees."

  Sylvie dropped into a chair as Lydia turned the chair Anthony had appropriated and sat down beside her. "Are you sure you're okay?" Lydia asked.

  "I'm positive. I didn't know if my legs were going to keep me upright, but I made it. I finally realized that the physical crap he did to me didn't have to make me weak. If he hurts me, I'll heal. And I don't give a crap what he says to me anymore. He's nothing."

  She leaned forward on the table, "At least I no longer feel like I'm going to puke."

  "You did great, girlfriend," Polly said. "I'm proud of you."

  "I'm a little proud of me, too."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Turning to go into the dealership after Henry and Rebecca drove away in her new truck, Polly felt a little wistful. A few last things to sign and she would take the keys to her dad's truck and go home. She'd asked Henry to take Rebecca with him back to Bellingwood after they'd stopped to see Sarah at the hospital. She couldn't believe that she was feeling so attached to a vehicle, but she wanted a few more minutes with her dad before finally parking his truck and moving on.

  A young man held the door for her and pointed to the desk where her salesperson was waiting. It had been years since she'd actually had to go through the process and Polly was more than a little surprised at the fact that with all the technology available to humanity, buying a car still took forever and frustrated her to no end. Most of it had been completed last Friday, the check had cleared and yet here she sat. Finally, the girl came back, handed Polly an extra key fob
and a folio with paperwork in it.

  They walked to the front door, commented on the thunder sounding nearby and Polly broke away and got into her truck. Today was a good day to take the long way home. She drove back through Boone and turned left. There was a road to the west of town that she hadn't explored yet. She was in no hurry, there was plenty of gas in the tank and she was taking a farewell tour.

  Polly thought back to the first time she'd driven a pickup truck. She had to have been about twelve and barely reached the pedals. She kept insisting that all of the other farm kids were running errands for their parents who were working in the fields. Mary had finally convinced Polly's dad to relent. The first time she put her foot on the gas pedal, she'd nearly wet her pants. The truck had gone ripping down their long driveway and her Dad had quickly slid over beside her, put his hand on the wheel and lifted her leg away from the gas. It had taken a while for her to build up the courage for that again.

  But over the years, driving her dad's trucks had become as comfortable as driving anything else. They were part of him. And it was going to be strange not having this one around any longer. She bent over to the glove compartment and flipped it open, then looked up quickly and placed both hands back on the wheel as she approached a bend in the road. There were more bends and curves and hills and valleys than she was used to driving. It might be important to pay a little better attention.

  A vehicle passed her and she realized that even though the road was twisty, forty miles an hour might be a little slow. She hadn't been paying enough attention to her speed. Yes, she could pick it up a little. She glanced once more at the glove compartment. She'd kept a pair of her dad's work gloves in there, just like he always did. They smelled like him, sweat and cologne ingrained in the leather. Polly wanted to remember to take those out when she got home. They could just as easily reside in the new truck as they did in here. She couldn't stand it, so reached over to grab them when she was startled by a bump. It felt as if someone had run into her from behind. She sat back up and looked into the rear view mirror. A large, black SUV was right behind her, just a few feet from her bumper.

  What in the world? The SUV dropped back and Polly flipped her turn signal on and slowed down to pull off on the shoulder. Damned kids. The poor truck was already damaged from the last altercation with a ditch.

  Annoyance quickly turned to fear as the all-black vehicle with a large brush guard on front, lunged at her instead of slowing down. She was already pulling onto the shoulder and jerked her truck back onto the road. She had absolutely no desire to take a ride into the ditch again, and besides these were deeper. The vehicle slammed into her bumper again and she lurched forward.

  Polly's mind reeled. What did he want? It had to be a mistake.

  When he rammed her a third time, she knew she had to take action. It wasn't a random accident, this guy was trying to hurt her. She stepped on the gas as she saw him taking another run at the truck. She lurched forward, but the SUV kept pace with her. There was no way to outrun him.

  In her mirror, Polly caught a glimpse of a silver car coming up behind the truck and breathed a sigh of relief. The idiot would surely stop harassing her if there was a witness. She pulled her foot back off the accelerator and was grateful the SUV didn't take advantage of it by hitting her bumper again. If she could just stop and pull over, she could call for help.

  They'd come up to one of several sharp bends in the road and Polly was shocked when the silver sedan pulled around her pursuer. They were only going thirty-five miles per hour, but this corner was completely blind. As the sedan came even with her truck, she broke out into a cold sweat. It was the same silver sedan from last time. She looked at the driver - a kid with long, greasy black hair and a bit of a beard coming in. He reached his arm out and flipped a finger up at her.

  Her truck lurched again. Polly had no idea what kind of sick prank this was, but she was terrified and her terror was giving way to fury. Even at thirty-five on these roads, someone was going to get hurt if they kept this up. Apparently, they'd moved past simple racing and leaving accidents in their wake, to deliberately causing damage by terrorizing drivers. She and Jason had been collateral damage the last time, this time it looked as if she was their target.

  She stepped on the brake, lightly at first, not wanting the SUV to hit her too hard. If she could, she'd use her brakes to slow down both vehicles. The expected impact came, harder than before. This time, instead of dropping back, the SUV stayed on Polly's bumper. She pressed harder on the brakes, but with his power and speed, they weren't working like she wanted them to work. He was also causing her truck to weave on the road. She was losing control.

  They entered the curve and since she couldn't afford to let him stay in control, she let up on the brakes and was horrified when the truck accelerated. The silver car was still driving beside her and when she looked, the greasy-haired kid was rocking wildly back and forth in his seat, with one arm circling.

  Coming out of the curve, to her continuing horror, she saw a third vehicle, the blue Dodge Charger, sitting across her lane about forty yards ahead. They were herding her. All Polly wanted to do was come to a stop and call someone for help, but there was no time and she couldn't afford to take her hands off the wheel.

  Polly had to make a decision. She either rammed the Charger or flew off the sharp embankment. The ditch was too deep and at this speed, that was a horrible idea. She gulped and took a breath, then jammed both feet onto her brakes, pulling on the steering wheel to give her more leverage. She'd heard brakes screaming on asphalt when she lived in Boston as cars careened into each other, but in all her life, she'd never been in anything like this. The slide toward the Charger began and apparently this wasn't what the kids had planned for. The silver sedan accelerated, opening up the lane on the left. Polly desperately wanted to jump over there, but the SUV chose that moment to switch lanes and was overtaking her.

  What in the hell were they doing? Why would kids be so bent on such destruction? Had she done something to piss them off?

  There wasn't going to be enough room to stop. The kid in the Charger saw it too, and he'd finally figured out that Polly wasn't going into the ditch like they'd planned.

  "Get out of the way," she screamed. For a moment, she thought he'd do the right thing and all she would have to do was keep moving forward, but they were out of time. She didn't want to hit him head on, so at the last minute, Polly released the brakes and cranked the steering wheel to the left.

  That might have worked, if the idiot in the Charger had known what she was doing. But, he chose to move forward and they were moving together. Her truck struck the front end of his vehicle, going way too fast. Metal joined with metal and the vehicles became intertwined for a moment. For a few surreal seconds, Polly had a perfect moment of clarity. The back end of her truck lifted when they collided and it cartwheeled.

  The black SUV and the silver sedan drove on down the road, leaving their friend and Polly. Her truck slid upside down on the pavement, and it occurred to Polly that her father had just given her one last moment of protection. When it finally came to rest, Polly was hanging upside down, her head sideways on the crushed roof of the cab, still held in by the seat belt.

  Polly tried to reach the release with her right hand, but pain ripped through her shoulder. After a moment of struggling, she reached across her body with her left hand and triggered the catch, then fell into a heap. Pain jolted through her body. This was worse than anything she'd ever experienced.

  The windshield had broken out and Polly crawled toward the opening. She saw her Dad's gloves lying beside a pool of blood, but couldn't bring herself to reach for them. Everything hurt. She half-crawled, half-slithered through the windshield, glass biting into her left hand and knees as she cradled her right arm close to her body.

  When she was finally clear, she tasted blood in her mouth, reached up to her head and felt more at her scalp line. The adrenaline finally left her body and she took a look at her hand,
now covered with blood. Big drops of rain started falling on her head. It was too much.

  ~~~

  "Gloves," she murmured.

  "What's that, Polly?"

  "Dad's gloves. Blood."

  "Shh. Go back to sleep. You're safe and you're going to be okay."

  The voice was familiar, but it was going to take too much effort to put a name to it. Her eyes wouldn't even open so she could try to put a face to the voice. Sleep was fine. She didn't fight it.

  ~~~

  "Why can't I move?" she asked. Her eyes still felt heavy, but Polly knew she had to figure out what was going on. She hoped she wasn't paralyzed. No, she'd managed to crawl out of the truck. She was being ridiculous.

  "You were thrashing and you needed to stay calm." The voice. She knew who that was. It was Henry. "As soon as you are back with us fully, you'll be okay," he said.

  Polly opened one eye. "Hospital?" It seemed obvious. Lots of light, beeping sounds, people moving back and forth, curtains hanging around the bed. She closed the eye again.

  "Yes."

  "What time is it?"

  "It's about seven o'clock."

  "Morning?"

  "No, it's still Monday."

  "Thank God."

  "Do you have big plans for tomorrow?"

  "No. Just didn't want to lose a whole day. I'm going to live?"

  She felt his hand stroking her arm. "You're going to be just fine."

  "Other kid?"

  "I'm going to kill him, but until then, he's alive."

  "Why?"

  "We don't know that yet. Stu Decker is with him."

  "Two other vehicles. Scared me to death."

  "Polly?"

  She recognized Aaron Merritt's voice and started to cry. "I couldn't call you. I was scared and I wanted you to come help me, and I couldn't even call. All I could do was keep driving."

  "Oh honey," he said. His voice quavered. "I'm so sorry."