by M. Sembera
A million things ran through my mind as I asked, “By whom?”
Stepping closer to me, she gritted her teeth, informing, “Don’t try to be firm with me. You think I don’t know you? I know you, you’re weak and pathetic. Your parents are dead. Emerson, like his mother, is running away and hiding. Oh and poor Abigail, she’s unstable at best. You’ll have no one.”
Curious as to why she didn’t mention Hert in her threat, I shared, “Don’t threaten me.”
With a secretive smile, she assured, “Watch yourself, missy. You have no idea what I am capable of.”
Holding my head high, I stated, “I don’t have to do a damn thing and as far as you and your husband are concerned, this is the last time I will be disrespected in my own home.”
Angelina took a step closer, saying, “It would be such a shame to realize everything bad that has happened is all your fault. That type of thing could drive someone insane, being responsible for so much with so little knowledge. You do know what happened to your parents don’t you? And all because you simply would not obey the rules. Such a sad reality.”
I wanted to respond but I couldn’t.
Taking short breaths, my vision became blurry as I watched her walk out of the front door. Trying to grasp what Angelina had revealed, I couldn’t process the possibility that I was responsible for so much. I heard Jackson coming down the stairs. I watched him lock the front door but as he got closer, I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Holding up my hands, I felt off balance. Trying to steady myself, I took a step back before everything went dark.
Chapter 4
Barely opening my eyes, I found myself in my room.
As I recalled Angelina’s visit, I heard Dr. Chepelli’s voice ask, “Do you know what today is?”
“Saturday, I think,” I said, finding him sitting on a chair by my bed.
“What is your name?” he asked.
I answered, “Ren,” before he stated, “Your full name.”
Confused, I replied, “Rennillia Marie Cantinelli….Herterand.”
“Do you know where you are?” he asked.
“Um…at the house,” I answered.
Dr. Chepelli walked to the bed, crouched down and shined a little light in my eyes.
Standing straight up, he informed, “You passed out. This is the first time I have been able to get a coherent response from you.”
Shaking my head, I asked, “What did I say?”
As he stepped back to the chair, Dr. Chepelli questioned, “How often does this happen?”
“When I hurt my leg was the only other time,” I answered, before asking, “What did I say?”
Seemingly avoiding my concern, he asked, “When was the last time you ate?”
Distracted now, I was embarrassed to reveal, “Last night at an event.”
With a disapproving nod he sat in the chair.
Watching Dr. Chepelli’s expression carefully, I wondered how trustworthy he was. Obviously, he was a friend to Ms. Herterand but would he be willing to help me?
Deciding I would start small, I asked, “Is Ms. Herterand feeling better?”
Nodding, he shared, “She is,” before advising, “I believe your spell was due to low blood sugar. I cannot stress to you the importance of …”
I didn’t let him finish, saying, “I know, eat regularly. Dr. Chepelli, please tell me what I said.”
After staring at me for a moment, I noticed compassion cross his face as he asked, “Which time?”
Panicking, I blurted, “What did I say?”
A soft smile appeared as he assured, “Nothing that bares repeating,” then said, “Ms. Herterand would appreciate a visit from you Monday morning and while you are out, stop by my clinic after.”
“Can you help me downstairs?” I asked, thinking Monday would be a better time to question him.
Dr. Chepelli stood before walking over and holding out his hand to me.
Walking with me, Dr. Chepelli held one hand under my elbow and the other on my opposite shoulder. Trying not to look at Jackson and Emerson as they hovered at the bottom of the stairs, I watched my feet as we made our way down.
“Are you okay?” Emerson asked.
I nodded, saying, “Yea, sorry.”
Jackson’s voice was concerned as he questioned, “What happened?”
Barely glancing at him, I answered, “I didn’t eat today.”
Before Jackson could fuss at me, Dr. Chepelli said, “Make sure she eats something,” before handing me over, saying, “I will see you Monday Rennillia.”
Nodding, I smiled as Jackson walked me to the couch.
When Dr. Chepelli left, Emerson offered to make me a bowl of soup. Jackson sat next to me on the couch as I accepted.
“Are you really okay?” Jackson asked.
Nodding, I replied, “Yea, I hadn’t eaten anything since last night. Dr. Chepelli said it was low blood sugar.”
Appearing slightly hesitant, he shared, “I heard what Angelina said to you.”
Feeling sad, I asked, “Do you think it’s true? Do you think I’m the reason Salvador had them killed?”
Shrugging, Jackson started to reply, “I’m sure she’s twisting it to get you…” when Hert walked in.
I hadn’t realized Jacks still had his arm around me until Hert glared at us, griping, “You’re a little close to my wife.”
Before Jackson could respond, I turned to him and said, “I need to talk to Hert.”
Without expression, Jackson stood up, walked into the kitchen and out the back door.
Emerson brought me my soup before heading upstairs as Hert stood by the couch.
“Can you sit for a minute?” I asked.
Scowling, Hert fussed, “You don’t have to be blatant about it.”
“What?” I questioned before asking, “Blatant?”
Sitting at the opposite end of the couch, Hert snapped, “We are still married you know.”
With a heavy sigh I agreed, “I know that.”
“Then could you show a little respect and not shove it in my face?” Hert snapped, leaning forward.
“What am I shoving in your face?” I questioned before taking a small bite of my soup.
His jaw flexed as he stated, “You and him.”
Shaking my head, I clarified, “It’s not like that, Hert. I got sick earlier because I didn’t eat anything today, he had just helped me to the couch.”
“Why is he staying here then?” Hert questioned.
Shrugging I answered, “Probably because of earlier and last night.”
Looking away, he asked, “What did you want to talk to me about?”
Taking a breath, I had almost forgotten, as I said, “I want to know what my father actually did wrong.”
“He did a lot of things wrong,” Hert stated.
I took another bite of my soup before saying, “You know what I’m talking about.”
Appearing frustrated, Hert snapped, “He took money that…” before I cut him off questioning, “Did he steal it?”
Hert shook his head.
This was going to be difficult. Clearly Hert wasn’t willing to offer any information. My head was pounding and the more I ate the hungrier I felt, making it hard to focus. Exhaling loudly, I decided to just throw it out there and hope that he would be honest.
“Was it because of me?” I asked.
His expression revealed his obvious dislike for my question as he questioned, “Did Salvador tell you that you were responsible?”
Shaking my head, I replied, “No he didn’t but you’re not answering me.”
Leaning back, Hert frowned before saying, “I suppose one could interpret it that way.”
I felt sick wondering at eighteen what I could have done.
“What did I do?” I asked.
Softening his expression, Hert replied, “You didn’t do anything. Your father made a bad decision.”
Feeling as though this could go on and on and I would never get an answer, I de
manded, “Damn it Hert, just tell me!”
After staring at me for a moment, Hert shared, “Your father sold your shares in The Office to Salvador. When Mr. Roberts found out, he brought it to Salvador’s attention that since you were already eighteen, he had no right to. That made the transfer of shares void and the money was considered stolen.”
Confused, I asked, “Why would I have shares in The Office?”
With an uncomfortable head shake, Hert replied, “Your father was one of the founding members.”
Everything seemed to stop. I was no longer hungry or light headed.
Instantly it hit me. If Hert wouldn’t reveal he was really Mr. Robert’s son to keep control of The Office then he must have needed me, the daughter of a founding member with shares to do it. That explained his original plan of Emerson being the figure head of the company with Hert actually running things. Since we were married when Mr. Roberts died, Hert no longer needed Emerson.
My revelation made it a little hard not to hate him.
“You told me my father owed Mr. Roberts a lot of money,” I reminded.
Nodding, he said, “Mr. Roberts gave him several loans against his own shares until finally they were dissolved. There were a few times his ventures were profitable and the money was rolled back into The Office, aside from that your father owed Mr. Roberts close to eight hundred thousand dollars.”
“Why didn’t my father work for The Office if he was a founding member?” I asked.
“That, I don’t know,” he said before imparting, “Your parent’s death may have had to do with you but you were not responsible. It was all your father.”
Feeling a little better about that, I had to ask, “Is that why I have money? Is it from my shares?”
Suddenly, Hert appeared nervous as he replied, “No.”
“So my father really had insurance?” I questioned.
“No,” he replied.
Recalling when Hert told me, Mr. Roberts put up the money to repay the debt my father owed Salvador, before it was refused, I never bothered to ask what happened to it.
“When Salvador refused the money, on principle or whatever, what happened to it?” I questioned.
Hert answered, “Mr. Roberts put it back.”
“What happened to the money my father got from Salvador?” I asked, feeling I already knew.
My hunch was confirmed as Hert looked away without answering.
Furious with him, I snapped, “Answer me.”
“Ren you have to understand…” he started before I cut in questioning, “Why would Salvador pay that much for my shares then not want the money back?”
Shaking his head, he revealed, “It wasn’t about the money. It was about control.”
“Of The Office?” I asked.
“Salvador is a founding member. Whoever has the most shares controls the company,” he answered.
“So with my shares, he would have had control?” I asked.
Hert replied, “No but it would have evened things up and he would have had more of a say.”
“Mr. Roberts didn’t want that?” I asked.
Shaking his head, he assured, “Read his file, no one would want a man like him to have any kind of control.”
Nodding, I said, “Okay, thank you for being honest with me.”
“Is that all?” he asked.
Taking a moment to think, I recalled something we should have taken care of months ago.
Nodding at Hert, I wished Jackson hadn’t had his arm around me when he walked in.
Hoping Hert would be on the same page with me and see I was looking out for Sophia, I slowly said, “I want Jackson to be Sophia’s godfather.”
Hert stared at me for a minute before saying, “Yea, okay.”
Then hoping he would still think it was a good idea, I said, “I want to set it up so that if something happens to me, Jacks legally adopts her.”
“Does he want to?” he questioned.
Shrugging, I answered, “I don’t know. I haven’t asked him yet,” before explaining, “I wanted to talk to you about it first because I think this is a decision we should make together.”
Serious but understanding, Hert asked, “Is that where you want her if something happens to you?”
“You’re always going to be her dad but I don’t want anyone to be able to use her to get to you or for you to make deals on her behalf because you’re afraid of what might happen to her if you don’t. This way, she will be their family and no one can do that to you or her. Mr. and Mrs. Thomas are already kinda like grandparents to her, they could help him and I think Jackson would do a good job with her,” I offered.
Nodding, Hert agreed, “That’s a smart decision.”
Nodding back, I informed, “I will take care of that this week, if he says yes. I only want the three of us to know though, so I will find an outside lawyer to draw up the paper work.”
“I have an early morning tomorrow,” he shared standing up.
I slowly stood up saying, “Alright, I’m going to talk to Jackson then I’ll be going up too.”
With a swift nod he headed upstairs.
Finishing my bowl of soup, I wondered why it couldn’t always be that easy with Hert. So many things would be different right now if a simple conversation was all it took. Slowly standing up, I carried my bowl into the kitchen, set it on the table then walked out the back door. Looking around, I didn’t see Jackson. Smiling to myself a little, I knew where he was. As I made my way around the garage, I saw him sitting on the slab that was once the basketball court.
Nudging him with my leg, I asked, “You wanna come back in?”
Looking up at me, he smiled before saying, “Not really.”
Sitting down next to him, I said, “You can go home, I’ll be okay here.”
“I’m not leaving until you do,” he assured, before asking, “How are you feeling?”
Smiling, I replied, “Better, I ate my soup.”
“So…you wanna talk or are we just pretending I didn’t say what I said earlier?” he asked.
Trying to hold back a smile, I offered, “Your call.”
Smiling wide, he laughed, “I think I pretty much summed it up with ‘you’re my everything’.”
Laughing back, I said, “Yea, that was pretty clear.”
“Are you still right here with me?” he asked.
Knowing I had to get a handle on this, I replied, “I don’t know how to answer that.”
Reaching over, Jackson took my hand before saying, “I know it can’t happen but it’s just you and me out here.”
Shaking my head, I tried to think of things to say.
Nothing I thought of sounded right and I knew no matter what I said, the words wouldn’t come out the way I wanted them to. Scooting closer, I placed my free hand on his shoulder and kissed him. It wasn’t much of a kiss and it only lasted about two seconds but it felt like everything.
Jackson’s smile beamed as he leaned forward, saying, “I can’t believe you just did that.”
I took a breath and with a soft smile I said, “We should go back in.”
Making a little pouty face, Jackson let go of my hand and stood up. Reaching down, he took both my hands in his and gently pulled me to my feet. It took a moment for the dizziness to wear off, before I felt like I could walk without falling down.
As we made our way around the back of the garage, Jackson stopped me. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into him. Sliding my arms around him, I hugged him, welcoming the feeling.
Jackson kissed my cheek then whispered, “One day, I’m gonna kiss you back. I’m gonna put a ring on your finger. I’m gonna kiss you every morning and make love to you every night and spend the rest of our lives as desperately in love with you as I am right now.”
Letting my arms fall to my sides, I thought I might pass out again. His words were the most romantic thing I had ever heard in my life. It wasn’t because he said them, it was because I knew at this moment he meant
them. There was so much ahead of all of us and his sentiment gave me a sense of calm, knowing whether it ever happened or not, I had a promise to carry with me. Our friendship relationship was solid and even though the knot in my stomach made it hard not to want more, I knew we were committed to each other as friends.
With Jackson settled on the couch, I made my way upstairs and into my room. I sat down on my bed thinking for a second before I picked up Jackson’s file. Patting it with my hand, I glanced at Emerson’s file. Taking a deep breath, I decided Emerson could wait until the morning. With a two down one to go attitude, I pulled on my green hoodie and carried Jackson’s file downstairs.
Walking around the side of the couch, I nudged Jackson asking, “Ya got a minute?”
Sitting up, Jackson smiled wide.
Taking a seat next to him, I handed him his file, saying, “Here, this is yours.”
Glancing down at the JPT-2, stamped across the front of the file, he quickly looked back up at me.
“I didn’t read it,” I informed before saying, “I thought you should have it.”
Careful not to touch my hand, Jackson rubbed the sleeve of my jacket, asking, “Are you okay?”
Nodding, I questioned, “Are you?”
Curling his fingers into my sleeve, he nodded back saying, “I meant what I promised earlier.”
“I need to ask you something,” I started before taking a deep breath and asking, “Would you like to be Sophia’s godfather?”
Smiling wide, Jackson cheered, “Sure.”
Feeling as though his cheerfulness on the subject was quickly going to fade, I said, “There’s a little more to it than just the title.”
Giving me a confused look, his eyes questioned my statement.
“When I came back here…Remember when I tried to have the little meeting with ya’ll about who would be Sophia’s father?” I asked, watching him nod as I continued saying, “You offered first but then you said you would rather be Uncle Jacks.”
Appearing slightly embarrassed, he explained, “I was just thinking about me and you. Then you said you wanted her to have a devoted father.”
Shaking my head, I asked, “You didn’t want that right?”
Shrugging, he replied, “It’s not that. I didn’t know if I could love her.”
