For The Love of Easton : A Single Parent Romance and Sequel to For The Love of English

by A. M. Hargrove

  “High-five, Dad!”

  We were cracking each other up when Mom said, “You two need to grow up.” She tried to be serious but ended up making ‘little Bucker’ jokes too.

  “Hey, do you think autocorrect will change his name to Ducker?” I asked, which sent us all into a fit of laughter.

  Tristian’s phone rang and he left the room. He didn’t come back for a while and when he did his expression was grim. Easton was gabbing away and I didn’t want to interrupt her stride, so I didn’t say anything.

  “Daddy, when are we going to have our campout in the backyard like you promised?”

  “Campout? I’m in,” I shouted, to which everyone stared.

  “Mommy, you don’t like camping.”

  “I don’t?”

  “Nope. You like your comfy bed. Isn’t that right, Daddy?”

  The grownups waited for Tristian’s answer. I couldn’t remember if I liked camping or not, so I was happy somebody knew.

  “You’ve never been camping with me, but said you didn’t care for it.”

  Dad spoke up, along with Mom. “Nope, she is not a fan.”

  “Well, darn. It sounded fun.”

  I kept eyeing Tristian. He gave a slight nod. When everyone left, Dad lingered for a second. “Call us when you can fill us in.”

  When the room cleared, Tristian said, “That was Ryan Cooper, one of your attorneys for the McLure trial. They’ve set a date. It’s in two weeks. He tried to get a delay, due to your condition, but the judge overruled it.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  Tristian sat on the bed. “English, if your memory doesn’t return a hundred percent, it could hurt the outcome of the trial. You’ll be testifying and the defense will try to use that against you.”

  “How so? This accident occurred after Stuart tried to kill me.”

  “If you can stand up to them, exactly like this, then you’ll do fine.”

  “Tristian, that asshole came into my home—my home, where my daughter was asleep—and attempted to kill me. You’re damn right I’m going to stand up to them. I won’t be some spineless fool simpering away up there. If they want a fight, I say bring it on. They picked the wrong girl to do it to.”

  He beamed. I wasn’t sure why, but I guessed we’d find out soon enough at the trial.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Tristian

  English’s old personality was poking its head out. I wanted to wipe away her worry, though, about Easton. She was having trouble remembering everything about her, which made her snappy.

  “I’m sorry I can’t answer you!” she barked one day. It was about a week after her release. We’d been discussing taking Easton on a trip and I suggested Disney, but wondered if she’d already been.

  Dropping the clothes I was folding, since I was helping her with chores, I went and put my arms around her. “I don’t want to upset you. We can ask your parents.”

  “But I should know these things, dammit. It’s crazy I don’t,” she growled at me.

  “Look how far you’ve come. You even remember Elvis and Priscilla in Vegas. You know so much more now than you did even a week ago.”

  “Tristian, we are talking about my daughter, my blood. How can I not know every single thing about her?”

  “I know it will come. The therapy is helping. Don’t forget what the doctor said. The brain can be tricky, so don’t give up. This has to be the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but you are the strongest person I know.”

  “Me? I’m not. I’m a mess. Look at me.”

  “I am looking, and I see a beautiful woman who has been through a very traumatic accident and pulled out of it with amazing results. You can’t see what I do. All I ask is for you to trust me and have faith in yourself.” I dabbed the places beneath her eyes that were damp from tears.

  She leaned into me. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  We finished up our tasks and then prepared to leave. We had an appointment with the attorney to prepare for the upcoming trial. English was a witness, as was I, so we were reviewing the questions he would ask, along with the possible defense questions.

  Ryan Cooper and Clayton Summers were in the office conference room, along with two paralegals, when we arrived. Since Clayton was the expert on criminal law, he was handling the trial. We were ushered in and offered refreshments before we began.

  “English, I want you to be as prepared as possible for this,” Clayton said.

  “As do I.”

  “Tristian told us you are aware they will do their best to rattle you.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Let them try.”

  We spent several hours, reviewing again and again what might take place. English drummed her fingers on the table and sighed. “Clayton, can I stop you there? I understand what their goal is. I won’t let them. My memory is fine on what happened that night. You don’t have to be bothered about it. I will handle it.”

  Clayton glanced over at me and I nodded. “English is very capable. She can and will do this.”

  “All right. If you two are comfortable with this, then so am I.”

  We left the office and in the car, English vented. “He treated me like I was stupid.”

  “No, he wanted to make sure you were okay with everything.”

  “Tristian, I’m not five. I had a brain injury. Everyone acts like I don’t know anything.”

  “You’re overreacting. Clayton hasn’t seen you since before the accident. He didn’t know the extent of your memory loss.” My comment elicited a pout. Her lower lip stuck out and I chuckled. “You look like Easton now.”

  “Do not.”

  I reached over and gently squeezed her thigh. “You do. Don’t worry, you’re very cute when you pout.”

  “Stop. I don’t want to be cute.”

  “What do you want to be?”

  “Treated like an adult.”

  “Hmm. I can’t imagine what we did in bed last night wasn’t adulting.”

  “Tristian!” She slapped my hand playfully. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  “Yes, but everyone else is treating you as adult, English. You need to cut them some slack. They’ve been really worried about you. I’ll be honest, the way you snap at others makes people walk on eggshells around you.”

  She didn’t respond immediately. We drove on in silence. I hated to tell her that, but somebody had to. She wanted to be treated as an adult, so that was what I’d done.

  “I’m sorry. I have been acting out. You get the brunt of it too and for that I apologize.”

  “I appreciate that, but consider your words and actions before you speak and act. Your child needs her mother back. I won’t pretend to understand your emotions where she is involved.”

  “Where is the ‘but?’”

  “I don’t want you to alienate her. Her behavior toward you has already changed.”

  “I see it. From the things I remember, she’s different.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  English chewed on the tip of her thumbnail, a habit that had increased since the accident. “You know what? I need some mommy-daughter time.”

  “That’s a great idea and she’ll be excited.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To see Stanton and Landry. I hope you don’t mind, but there is news. I didn’t want to upset you but your accident and my father’s… well, it seems they weren’t accidents after all.”

  “I know mine wasn’t. The brakes and then being run off the road were sure signs, but your father’s too?”

  “Yeah. After what happened to you, I knew there had to be a connection. We hired a private investigator to dig into Stanton’s car, so I called and made sure they were aware of your accident too.”

  “And? Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  “That’s what we’re going to find out.”

  English didn’t know who the silver Mercedes that had run her off the
road belonged to, but I did. And there was going to be a confrontation over it today.

  We turned onto the road, where the accident occurred. “Do you remember this road?”

  “Yeah, I do. I remember when that car sped by and I lost control thinking about whether I had tightened Easton’s harness enough. But that’s it.”

  “Do you recall bringing Easton out for her riding lesson?”

  “Vaguely. I get flashes of her on the horse, laughing, and of Landry leading the horse around. I also have odd pieces of conversation about horse poop.”

  That had me laughing. Landry had told me about how Easton wanted a pet horse, but they’d talked her out of it by showing her the manure pile. I explained it to English.

  “No wonder I keep getting those bits of poop conversations. Leave it to my daughter.”

  We arrived at the circular drive in front of the house and Landry came out to greet us. He enfolded English in a warm hug. “You have no idea how great it is to see you and looking so well too.”

  “Thank you. I need to visit you more often.”

  “I don’t know about that. Look what happened the last time you were here.”

  “That had nothing to do with you.” English tried to ease his concerns.

  “I hope you don’t blame me. And I miss that daughter of yours. Give her a big hug from me.”

  Stanton was waiting for us in Dad’s old office. He looked better than ever, but still had the crutch and boot.

  “How’s the leg?” I asked.

  “Better and better. I hope to get rid of this soon.” He tapped his boot with the crutch.

  “It’s great you’re maneuvering the stairs now. Are you going to go back to work, as in the office?”

  “Maybe in a couple of weeks. I’ll wait and see.”

  I was very happy to hear it. “So don’t keep us in suspense. Fill us in on what’s going on.”

  After everyone was seated, he pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to me. “Everything is in there, but the bottom line is the power steering was tampered with. That’s most likely why I lost control. Whoever did this knew I drove fast and would possibly have an accident.”

  I flipped through the multitude of pages, scanning them until I got to the summary statement, verifying what Stanton said. Two things stood out. If he had been driving the speed limit or slower, he might have maintained control of the car. Might have, not would have. One of his tires had also blown. The investigators concluded they could not tell if the accident had caused it or it tampering had.

  “There is someone rotten in our woodpile and I know who it is.” All eyes turned to me for answers.

  Chapter Fifty

  English

  Tristian had just pointed a finger at one of his own family. That was a huge accusation.

  “Tris, you think it was Sherman?” Stanton asked in disbelief.

  “Nope, not him. Closer to home than that.”

  “No way, man. Wait a second. I know Mother is a bit frozen and never one to share her affections for us, but she loved Dad at some point.”

  “Stanton, I’m not talking about Mother.”

  “Then… Ravina? You think she did it?”

  “I know she did.” Tristian glanced at me first before he went on. “After English’s accident, she said she remembered a silver Mercedes running her off the road. Who drives a car like that?”

  “Ravina! But what if she lent it to someone?” Stanton asked.

  “English, did you see anyone in the car as it went by?”

  “No, I was too busy trying not to die.”

  “And let’s be honest. Who would Ravina lend her car to?” Tristian asked. Personally, I doubted the woman had any friends to speak of.

  “Fair point. So, what should we do now?” Landry asked.

  “Confront her. See what she says and gauge her reaction,” Tristian answered.

  “She had motive,” I said, adding my two cents’ worth. “We had words the last time I was here. She wasn’t too pleased with me.”

  “She was pissed as hell at me,” Tristian added.

  “But why me, or Dad for that matter?” Stanton asked. “He spoiled her. That piece doesn’t make sense.”

  I called George and had him bring Ravina in. She wasn’t too pleased about it and did nothing to hide her annoyance. Her continually pinched mouth was accompanied by crossed arms as she stood before us, refusing to sit.

  “This may take a while.”

  “Very well,” she huffed. Then she stomped to the nearest chair and sat.

  “Ravina, we want to talk to you about Dad and English’s accidents.”

  “What about them?” There was zero hesitation in her question.

  “Why did you do it?” Tristian asked.

  “Do what?” She frowned.

  “Tamper with both cars.”

  “Tamper with… you think I tampered with the cars and caused the wrecks?”

  “We do.”

  Her mouth slackened for a second, right before she raised her chin and flared her nostrils. “How dare you accuse me of that! I’ll admit that English and I argued when she was here. Yes, I was hostile. But I never touched her car. And Stanton? You know damn well I adored Dad. Why on earth would I do such a thing to him?” Her lower lip quivered. If she was lying, she was a damn good actress.

  “Then can you explain why English was run off the road by someone driving a silver Mercedes?”

  Her penetrating gaze moved to me. I was being scrutinized and feeling like she thought I had lied.

  “It’s the truth, Ravina. Someone driving a silver Mercedes ran me off the road, causing the crash, and that was after my brakes failed. The brake lines had been cut.”

  “I swear to God it wasn’t me. I may not like you, but it doesn’t mean I’d try to kill you. For God’s sake, someone in this room has to believe me!”

  I looked over at Tristian to see him staring at his sister. Then I said, “I believe you.”

  Tristian’s head whipped in my direction. “English!”

  “I do. Don’t ask me why, but I believe her. We had an argument and she wasn’t very kind, and neither was I, but as she said, that doesn’t mean she’d want me dead.”

  “I believe her too,” Stanton said.

  “So do I.” Landry joined in.

  Tristian sighed and asked, “Ravina, when was the last time you drove your car?”

  She shrugged. “A couple of days ago.”

  “I want it inspected to see if we find any evidence inside. Maybe we can figure out who did this that way. In the meantime, lock your cars, everyone. We can’t be taking any chances out here.”

  Her car was towed away later that day. We hoped for news soon.

  We went to trial the following week. I was prepared to put this behind me. Clayton assured me as long as I didn’t cave on the witness stand, it would be a slam-dunk for us.

  I was fine until they escorted that rat bastard into the court room. When he saw me, a smug grin appeared on his face. A multitude of images rushed into my head, namely of his hands around my neck and me trying to breathe. I flinched when Tristian touched my arm.

  “You okay?”

  “Y-yeah. I had a flashback.”

  “You’ve got this, starshine. Show him what you’re made of.”

  I remembered my daughter and how I’d thought I was going to die when he’d been choking me. Rebar took over my spine as I sat higher in my chair. If he thought he would win, I’d show him who was the victor here.

  His mother came in and I did feel sorry for her, but only for a second. She was partly to blame for his terrible behavior and should be ashamed of herself. Then again, like father, like son. Maybe she’d been at the wrong end of her husband’s hands too.

  When they called me up to the stand, I took a seat after I was sworn in. Clayton questioned me about the relationship between Stuart and me when we were in college. I didn’t leave out any details, even telling Clayton about when I’d had to go to the hospital
after Stuart beat me. I glanced at Tristian and he dipped his head.

  Then Clayton wanted the details about the time Stuart had come over. I went through them all, beginning with him pushing his way inside to me nearly blacking out from lack of oxygen.

  Stuart’s sneer flatlined. That was until the defense cross-examined. His attorney tried to make me out to be some brainless idiot who didn’t know what day it was.

  “Is it true, Mrs. Baines, that you were in an accident that destroyed your memory?”

  “No.”

  “Is it true you lost your memory due to an accident you were in?”

  “No.”

  “Let me restate. Is it true that you’ve had some memory issues since your accident?”

  “Some.”

  “Can you explain?”

  I did. Of course, he interrupted me.

  “Then you don’t really remember everything before the accident. Is that true?”

  “Yes.”

  “How can you claim to know what happened the night Mr. McLure paid a friendly visit on you?”

  It was my turn to give my side of the story. “It was anything but a friendly visit? When someone has their fingers wound tightly around your neck, crushing the life out of you, and you can’t get an iota of oxygen into your lungs, you are unlikely to forget it. My memory of that night is fine. While it’s true I can’t remember some of the less important details of things, I do remember vividly feeling I was going to die. Mr. McLure did not pay me a friendly visit. He tried to murder me and had it not been for the intervention of my husband, he would be facing a murder charge instead of an aggravated battery charge.”

  As I spoke, Stuart’s attorney objected to my statement, but I continued to speak. In the end, he moved to strike it, but the judge ruled against him. Oh, glory day! Tristian did a silent clap for me from where he sat.

  The rest of the trial went smoothly and it didn’t take long for the jury to find him guilty. With this result, Clayton said we could expect Bill to get convicted too. I breathed easier as one big obstacle was removed from our lives.

  As we drove home, I shouted, “Yes!”

  “You sound excited.”