by Chris Taylor
The memory of the night he’d spent with her was burned inside his brain. The softness of her skin, the sweetness of her lips, the indescribable feeling of being buried deep inside her. He was with the woman he loved with every fiber of his being and words couldn’t come close.
He came home late, but his mother was still awake. She noticed the change in him right away. Unable to keep it to himself a moment longer, he revealed his love for Josie. After all, now that she’d finished high school, it was only a matter of time before they declared their love to the world.
It was during the conversation with his mother that he mentioned the lumps. Being a nurse at the local hospital, she immediately became alarmed. Her reaction caused the tiniest fissure of fear to creep in and wind its way into the love that filled Chase’s heart. He hadn’t wanted to think about what the lumps might mean and how they could affect his future. Their future.
His mother insisted he see a specialist and she arranged it for the very next day. Although he protested, she insisted and instead of spending promised time with Josie, he waited in a hospital for a diagnosis.
In the rush to leave the house, he’d forgotten to take his phone. All the agonizing hours he spent in clinics and he hadn’t even been able to let her know. He couldn’t find the courage to make the call from a payphone. He didn’t even tell her that he was thinking of her and praying—every minute, every second of that day.
Then finally, the doctor had called them in and he’d followed behind his mother. They’d taken seats opposite the doctor’s huge desk and Chase had waited with dread to hear the news.
“I’m very sorry, Chase…”
It was all he needed to hear. All he could hear. The roar in his ears had drowned out the rest of the doctor’s words. He’d caught snippets such as ‘surgery’ and ‘chemo’ and couldn’t believe they were talking about him. He was young; he was healthy. There had to be a mistake.
He couldn’t have cancer; it wasn’t possible. Cancer was for old people, or people who’d spent their lives in the sun. It wasn’t for young people like him. He’d barely had a cough or a cold during the entire nineteen years of his life.
But the doctor’s words kept coming and the noise in Chase’s ears slowly receded. His mother’s grip on his hand got tighter and he forced himself to listen.
He had cancer inside both testicles. It was rare, but that’s the way it was. The tumors were deep inside the tissue. They needed to remove the tumors and along with the cancer, all of one testicle and most of the other. The doctor hurried to reassure him that in time he would feel normal sexual urges again. Surviving with even part of one testicle was a little like living with one kidney. After the surgery, he could supplement Chase’s hormone levels with synthetic testosterone and he said Chase could go on to have a full and productive life. There was no reason to think it couldn’t happen.
It was his mother who raised the question about his fertility. The doctor assured her he could function with even just part of one testicle, but of course, there was no guarantee about healthy sperm. It was unfortunate that the chemotherapy couldn’t be contained to only one part of Chase’s body. The risk that the chemo might make him sterile was very real.
Then again, the doctor added, no one knew if they were fertile until they tried to make a baby. There were men with both testicles who couldn’t make that happen; Chase’s cancer didn’t definitively make it so.
The doctor was doing his best to put a positive spin on it, but all Chase heard was the possibility of sterility and his heart shriveled and died. Josie was born to be a mother. She couldn’t wait to have a family. As soon as she finished university, they intended to marry and work on making that a reality.
If Chase was now infertile, and they were together, her dream would die in the dust. He knew she loved him, but he didn’t want her to hate him for being the cause of her dream’s demise. He couldn’t bear that thought and he couldn’t bear the deceit. He’d have to tell her and let her decide: Did she want him more than she did a baby?
How badly he wanted to ask her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t face rejection for something he had no power to change. He couldn’t force her to give up her dream for his happiness. Night after night, day after day, sitting in a chair with a needle in his arm, filling his body with the poison that would keep him alive, he imagined the scene before him and he still couldn’t find the words.
How could he put her in such a position? How could he ask her to choose? She’d dreamed of a large family. Who was he to take that dream away? He loved her too much to force her to choose.
And so, he said nothing. Instead, he walked away. He buried his own dreams deep inside him and refused to ever think of them again. As the years went by, he hoped she’d found a man who deserved her. He hoped she had the family that she craved. Everything inside him screamed out against giving her up, but all he wanted was to see her happy.
And then she’d come back into his life and she wasn’t married and she didn’t have any kids and no matter how hard he tried, knowing those things had suddenly filled him with a hope so glorious he could hardly contain it. From the moment Riley told him she’d returned, he found it hard not to shout out his joy. And now he’d gone and ruined any chance of that. Again. And the worst thing of all was, this time it had been intentional.
He lifted the bottle of scotch to his lips and cursed when he found it empty. Despite his best efforts, the pain in his heart was still there. He thought he was doing what was best for her. It was obvious she still wanted kids. He still had part of one functioning testicle, but what if it wasn’t enough? What if the chemicals that had killed the cancer had also killed the very thing he wanted for her, above all else? He hadn’t found the courage to discover the answer and now it was probably all too late. After what he’d gone and done tonight, he was sure Josie Munro would hate him forever.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Josie forced her eyes open and did her best to resist the pull of a few more moments of mind-numbing sleep. After fleeing The Bullet and arriving at her rented cottage in record time, she’d spent the night alternating between pacing the modest confines of her living room and tossing and turning in her bed. Images of Chase and the young woman were emblazoned on her mind and fresh anger bubbled to the surface.
He was a jerk of the highest order and she was a sad and lonely fool. For more than a decade, she’d held on to the secret wish that he’d come riding in on his white stallion, begging her forgiveness and proclaiming his undying love. It was obvious she’d read too many romance novels and it was way past time to stop living on dreams. She was twenty-eight years old and mature enough to face the facts, no matter how painful.
Chase was her high school sweetheart, her first love. It was natural she’d harbor feelings for him and that he would hold a special place in her heart. No one forgot their first love. If things between them hadn’t ended so abruptly or if he’d even attempted to explain, she would have put it down to experience and moved on, pushing the episode firmly behind her.
But it had ended abruptly and he hadn’t tried to explain. The reality of that gnawed at her like a slowly festering wound, always there to remind her it needed tending to. Like a thorn wedged so deep under her skin, it took years to emerge and when it did, it exploded in a mess of ooze and puss and infection.
Well, she had no intention of letting this wound get any bigger. She didn’t know what kind of game Chase Barrington was playing, but she was sure as hell through with it—and him.
The phone rang on her nightstand and she rolled over and picked it up. “Josie Munro.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end and then Chase said, “Josie. It’s me.”
A white-hot wave of fury gushed through her veins. How dare he call her the very next day? How dare he have the nerve?
“Josie, please, don’t hang up. I’m so sorry.”
She scoffed in his ear. “Sorry? You have to be kidding? Sorry doesn’t even
come close.”
“I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
“That’s the thing, Chase. I don’t want you to say anything to me. Nothing. Not one word. Not ever.” She went to hang up the phone and heard him call out.
“Josie, please, wait up. It’s about Daniel Logan.”
Her hand paused mid-air and she reluctantly brought the phone back up to her ear. “What about Daniel? I’m almost finished my report. I’ll deliver it to the prosecutor later today. It’s ahead of schedule so you shouldn’t have anything to complain ab—”
“It’s not about your report.” Chase’s tone filled with quiet dread. Sudden fear turned Josie cold. She forced herself to ask the question.
“What is it, then?”
“It’s…it’s about Daniel’s mother, Kelly. She—”
“She what? Tell me, for heaven’s sake!”
“I just took a call from Riley. He’s at the Logan farm. I’m about to head out. I’m sorry, Josie. Kelly Logan committed suicide. Her husband, Trevor, found her early this morning.”
Josie gasped in horror and a hand flew to her mouth. She thought of the sad and broken woman she’d met in her office and tried to hold back the pain.
“H-how?” she stammered, needing to know.
“She overdosed on sleeping pills. They’d been prescribed for her by the doctor who examined her after the assault.”
“Does Daniel know?”
Chase sighed. “Yes. Riley told me Trevor broke the news to his boys right after he called us.”
Josie shook her head against the tragedy of it all. How much was one family meant to endure? How much could one family endure?
“I wanted to tell you before you heard it from someone else. I know how close you’ve grown to Daniel.”
“I-I only spoke to his mother a fortnight ago. I tried to get her some help. A psychologist friend of mine from university works in Grafton. Phoebe was going to call her… I-I can’t believe it. That poor family. That poor, poor boy. I have to see him. I have to be there. He’ll be blaming himself. I know he will. I—”
“I’ll call Riley,” Chase interrupted, his voice gentle. “I’ll find out if the children are still at home. Their mother’s bedroom is once again a potential crime scene. They might have been taken someplace else.”
Josie drew in a deep breath laced heavily with sadness. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I appreciate your call.”
“Anytime,” Chase whispered back. “It was the least I could do. I’ll call you right back.”
* * *
Daniel sat on the old floorboards at the far end of the porch with his legs tucked up to his chest and his arms tight around them. His chin was on his knees. He stared blindly across the front yard. The sun was bright and shining, oblivious to the darkness inside the house. Like a rerun of a bad movie, the yard was once again crowded with emergency vehicles. He rocked back and forth on his butt.
It was all his fault. If he’d never blown that asshole’s head off, his mother might still be alive. People survived rape; he’d seen it on TV. And yet, his mother was dead. She’d taken too many pills.
His father told him it was an accident; that she hadn’t meant to die. She’d simply taken too many by mistake. She’d done it in the middle of the night and probably hadn’t wanted to wake him by switching on a light.
But Daniel was having none of it. He’d seen enough to know. People didn’t take a handful of tablets by mistake. Nobody did that kind of thing. It made him mad to think his dad thought he might fall for that lame explanation. Jason, perhaps, but he was only eight. Tell Jason that kind of made-up rubbish, but don’t try to sell it to him.
The tired floorboards creaked under measured footsteps and Daniel lifted his head. He stared at the police officer who made his way toward him. It was the same one who had attended their house a month ago; the one who had taken him to the station.
The man reached him and hunkered down on his haunches, bringing his face up close. Daniel could see the tiny flecks in his bright green eyes.
“Daniel, my name’s Chase Barrington. I’m a police officer in town. You might remember me?”
Daniel nodded and lowered his gaze, not needing the reminder of how they’d come to meet.
“I’ve spoken to your dad. He said he told you what happened.”
“He told me a bunch of lies, that’s what he told me.” The words spewed from his mouth in a gush of pain and anger. The officer’s expression didn’t change.
“Why do you say that?”
Daniel looked away and shook his head, avoiding any further conversation with the officer. He was beyond trying to explain. All he wanted was for the nightmare to be over; for his life to go back to the way it was.
“It wasn’t your fault, Daniel.”
The gentle tone and the kindness in the other man’s eyes undid him. Tears stung his cheeks. The officer leaned forward, as if to offer him comfort, but Daniel shuffled out of the way. He didn’t want comfort; he didn’t want to be touched. This was his fault, no matter what anyone said.
“I’ve spoken to Josie Munro. She’s the psychologist you’ve been talking to. I just thought you might like to know, she’s on her way over.”
For the first time since he’d woken that morning and been given the news by his dad, hope flared in Daniel’s chest. Josie. The beautiful woman with the long blond hair who listened and understood. He didn’t have to pretend or be guarded when he talked to her. She made him feel safe. Now, she was coming out to see him. He’d get to stand close to her again. Or maybe they could just sit right here, out on the porch, out of sight.
He was a little in love with her already. She filled many of his dreams and in each and every one of them, she smiled and laughed and had eyes only for him. It was stupid. He was only twelve years old. Nearly thirteen. She was way older than that; way too old for him.
Still, the impossibility of it only made it more enticing. A look, a glance, a touch… Thinking about those things kept the fear and pain at bay that surfaced when he woke. The excitement of his dreams was what got him through the day because once dawn arrived, everything came crashing down and the awful reality of his life took hold until the end of another day.
* * *
Josie picked her way across the tidy front yard that bordered the Logan house and tried to ignore the dread that weighed her down. Three police vehicles and an ambulance were parked haphazardly nearby. The back doors of the ambulance were open and she noticed the gurney was missing. It must be inside. The thought only added to the heaviness that engulfed her. She couldn’t imagine how members of the Logan family were feeling.
She’d just stepped out of the shower when Chase had called her back. He told her that Daniel and Jason were still at the farmhouse with their father; apparently they had nowhere else to go. The family had been in the area for only a matter of months. They hadn’t made friends with many in the community and they had no relatives living close by. Josie’s heart broke at the thought of them suffering alone, without the comfort of extended family and friends and she resolved to do whatever she could to help.
She walked up the front steps and strode across the porch. She pulled open the front screen door. It squeaked loudly in protest, making her wince. The air around her was still and quiet. She couldn’t even hear the murmur of voices. Knowing she couldn’t turn around now, she swallowed a sigh and forced herself across the threshold. A moment later, she entered the house.
The morning sun filtered through clean but tattered curtains that covered a wide window in the front room. A large, faux leather brown sofa, paired with matching armchairs, filled most of the modest space. A low coffee table was stacked with magazines and a flat-screen television hung on the wall.
The next room led into the kitchen where a pile of dirty dishes filled the sink. Stale bread, an opened cereal box and half a dozen empty beer cans littered the counter. After the tidiness of the front room, Josie could only surmise Kelly Logan hadn’t ventur
ed into the kitchen too often since her assault.
Continuing down the hall, she saw a bedroom that contained a set of bunk beds. A motorcycle print hung on one wall. Underneath it, a row of medals on ribbons that looked like they were for running events hung from a handful of nails. Josie stepped closer and turned one of the medals over; the weight of it was heavy in her hand. Her heart skipped a beat at the words inscribed on the back: Daniel Logan; Watervale Public School; twelve-years boy cross country champion.
A noise behind her snagged her attention and she looked up. Daniel stood in the doorway. He stared at her and at the medal still in her hand. His eyes were huge and shadowed in his pale face. His blond hair was mussed and untidy, like he’d only just climbed out of bed. He still wore his pajamas. Her heart filled with sympathy.
“Daniel, I-I just heard about your mother. I-I’m so sorry.”
He stared and blinked and stared again and then she saw him swallow. Tears glinted in his eyes. With a sudden need to console him, she closed the distance between them and pulled him into her arms. She didn’t care if it crossed professional boundaries; he was a child who was in desperate need of comfort. He’d endured more horror than anyone should and she wasn’t going to stand by and let him deal with his pain alone.
His arms came around her waist and his body shuddered against her. Sobs poured out of his mouth in a torrent of tortured gasps. She held his head against her breasts and blinked back tears of her own.
His obvious pain tore right through her and she groaned at its force. Then, thrusting it aside, she concentrated hard on the boy in her arms and murmured wordless noises of comfort. Her hand brushed through his soft, messy hair over and over again.
“Shh, honey. It’s going to be all right. Shh. I’m here. I promise everything’s going to be all right.” The words tasted acrid on her lips, but at that moment she meant every word. Her brain might have tried to argue differently, but she refused to listen to reason.
She’d all but completed her report that declared Daniel fit to stand trial. She’d also offered the opinion that he had sufficient capacity to know that his actions were wrong. If her report was accepted by the court, he was going to be tried for murder and she would be instrumental in allowing it to happen.
