by Alana Terry
CHAPTER 7
Dennis was a cruel man. A heartless man.
His lawyer did a good job keeping them out of the trial, but there were two exes willing to testify against him. To let the judge know how violent he was.
I was young, Justine. Barely eighteen when your father and I met. In his defense, I told him I was twenty-one. They used that at the trial, trying to prove I was dishonest. A pathological liar. The defense attorney grilled me for a full hour about the details of my age. Too bad he didn’t spend a fraction of that time probing into Dennis’s past abuses.
I don’t mean to speak ill of your father. I’ve debated whether or not to tell you everything. I don’t want you to worry that you’ve got a monster’s DNA making up half of who you are. Because you’re different, Justine. I know you are.
I’m not a well-off woman, not anymore, but I have my resources. I hired a female investigator to tell me what she could about you. To keep me posted. Once she even sent me pictures from my grandson’s birthday when you took him to the swimming pool with all of his little friends.
I love that child, Justine. I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve been spying on you, and I hope you know I only did it because I love you so much. Your son is adorable. So sweet. So innocent.
So pure and happy.
I was like that once. At least I think I was. It’s hard to remember now. But that’s what I’m doing. Remembering so you can finally understand what happened.
Dennis was eighteen years older than I was. My parents didn’t like him, but I was raised to be an independent thinker. Strong and ambitious. In a way, I like to think that you inherited these same traits from me, just with a little bit of wisdom to temper that stubborn streak. A woman who’s fiercely independent as well as sharp and intelligent, now that’s a woman the world has to fear.
Sometimes I wonder who I might have become. What might have happened. I think a person could drive themselves crazy going down that rabbit trail for too long. But not me. I think about the what ifs, wonder how drastically different my life would have turned out, but you know what?
If I hadn’t met Dennis, I would have never had you.
You’re my gift to the world, Justine. You’re my reason for living. You’re the only hope I have that somehow, some way, God knew I needed my life to matter. Otherwise, I should have died the same night your father did.
CHAPTER 8
Justine gave in and let West eat three donuts then bought him two puzzle books and a new headset at the outlandishly expensive airport electronics kiosk. She was probably spending extra money on him just to assuage her guilty conscience. While other happy families meandered by in the terminal to spend Christmas with relatives or embark on exciting vacations, she was traveling to Detroit with her son so she could dump him off at a daycare while she visited a woman she loathed.
Happy stinking holidays.
She didn’t want to face Alice. Even now, she realized, she could take West’s hand, walk down toward baggage claim, and leave the airport.
Steve might be a little upset, but he’s not the one who lived his entire adult life knowing he was the offspring of a felon. Why in the world had Justine let him talk her into a trip like this?
Snow was falling outside. Part of Justine wished that they’d cancel her flight. If it got delayed due to weather, maybe she’d take that as a sign from God she shouldn’t go to Detroit after all.
She wasn’t a religious woman. Not as religious as her husband, at least. Steve had befriended one of his key witnesses last year, the leader of a big church in Cambridge who’d been shot by a home intruder. The pastor had invited Steve to Bible studies and Sunday sermons, and then all of a sudden Justine’s husband was a walking, breathing Bible thumper.
It shouldn’t bother Justine all that much. She believed in God, and she didn’t argue when Steve wanted to take the family to church on Sundays. It was something she thought would be good for West anyway. But she couldn’t help wondering if Steve’s encouragement to visit her mom came as part of his newfound faith in this God of forgiveness, grace, and love.
Did her husband expect her to absolve a convicted murderer? There was a reason Justine’s mom had spent nearly thirty years behind bars. Alice had deprived Justine of anything resembling a normal childhood. Alice had murdered Justine’s father, robbing Justine of both her parents in one fateful blow.
In his spare time, which wasn’t much to speak of, Steve had been going over details from Alice’s case. In his mind, there was enough doubt regarding the circumstances that he thought Alice should have gotten herself a new trial. As far as Justine was concerned, there was nothing her mother deserved less.
Justine reached the gate over half an hour before her flight was scheduled to take off. There weren’t any seats near the window, but West was far more concerned with his handheld games than he was at watching planes departing down the runway.
She found a seat next to two young women, one with her hair dyed a vibrant blue. It wasn’t even noon yet, and Justine was exhausted from her day of travel.
You don’t have to do this, she told herself once more. West might be disappointed not to go on an actual airplane, but she could always buy him a new game or toy as a concession.
She pulled out her phone, contemplating what might happen if she texted her husband right now. Changed my mind. Staying home with West where we belong.
The nice thing about Steve’s newfound faith was that he yelled at her less than he had before he met that Cambridge pastor. He might be disappointed, might give her a disapproving glare or two, but in the end he’d realize that the choice was Justine’s to make and Justine’s alone.
All she had to do was stand up, take West’s hand, and explain to her son that their plans had changed. He’d be disappointed for a moment, but the promise of a trip to the water park or a gift of a new video game would melt away any permanent unhappiness.
She should go.
And yet something in her heart was telling her to stay.
Was it possible she actually did want to return to Detroit? Was it possible there was anything Alice could say or do that would change what Justine thought about her mother?
Wishful thinking. That’s all it was. The hope that once she saw her mother face to face, she’d realize that everything she’d read about the husband-killing monster was a lie. They’d hug. Embrace. Everything would be forgiven.
No, there was no possible outcome that involved the restoration of Alice and Justine’s relationship. Nothing at all.
Justine took her son by the hand. “Come on, West.”
He looked up at her. “Where are we going?”
She stood. “We’re going back to see Daddy.”
“What about the airplane?”
“Some other time,” she answered half-heartedly. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 9
You might be surprised to know that I’m a woman of faith now. I haven’t made any big announcements to the press or anything. I told you before, I’m not in this for the publicity.
But my faith is real, and it’s carried me through some of the most difficult times here during my sentence.
I hear your husband is also a Christian. I’m glad about that. God knows this life is hard enough even with his Word to cling to in times of trouble.
I don’t want to preach at you, Justine. I really don’t. But maybe one day you’ll read these words and know in your own soul that they’re true. I hope so. I pray so.
I don’t have anything else in this life to cling to, which is probably why I’ve accepted my imminent death.
You don’t want to have a relationship with me. I get that. I understand. I really do. But maybe once you’ve heard my side of the story you’ll feel a little differently.
Dennis was abusive. I’m sure you’re familiar enough with the court case to know that much at least. But it wasn’t the physical blows, Justine. That’s not what did us in.
&nbs
p; I still have nightmares about it. Did you know that? One of the guards here makes fun of me. Tells me if I’m so filled with remorse that I wake up screaming I shouldn’t have murdered my husband in the first place.
I tell her I’ll pray for her. I think that really gets under her skin.
The screams and the nightmares aren’t about the night your father died. Not at all.
The nightmares are about being trapped. Do you know what it’s like to be trapped, Justine? Stuck? I can’t move. It’s like trying to walk through cement that’s dried up all around you. You thrash and scream and try to get someone to help you out, but the only one who hears your cries is the man who poured the cement on you in the first place.
And he laughs.
Just throws his head back and laughs in your face, his breath hot, his palpable evil unbearable.
Laughing in your face.
People thought we had a perfect marriage. That’s what’s so distressing about the entire thing. If he hadn’t been a TV personality, if there hadn’t been a two-million-dollar life policy in place, if we’d been ugly or poor or from the wrong side of town, nobody would have cared when he got himself killed.
But that wasn’t the kind of couple we were.
I knew when I married a newscaster as popular as Dennis that I was subjecting myself to the public eye. I thought I knew what that meant. Thought I was ready. I was expecting some rude remarks, some comments about our differences in age or race.
I was even prepared for words like gold-digger and trophy bride getting thrown around. That’s just what happens when a young, attractive woman marries a millionaire who’s twice her age, right?
Well, Justine, I have news for you. There’s a reason a man like Dennis went through three other exes before settling on me. And there’s a reason his first wife attempted suicide (on more than one occasion) and why his second underwent a very public mental-health breakdown.
I should have seen the warning signs, but I was mesmerized. I was nothing but the intern, the minimum-wage employee whose job was to dress smartly and show up with Dennis’s coffee just the way he liked it. You probably don’t have to use your imagination all that much to picture what it was like when he paid me so much attention. Smothered me with gifts. Paid down my credit cards and set me up in one of the nicest apartment complexes in Detroit.
I was young and stupid, but that’s no excuse. I should have known better. I did know better. Right before we got engaged, I even tried to call things off. He tapped my home line. Can you believe it? He’d got it into his head that I was flirting with the weatherman, and he actually paid to get my phone tapped in order to try to prove I was cheating.
I told him we were done, and that’s when he showed me his true self. He reminded me about how much debt of mine he’d paid off. He knew lawyers, plenty of lawyers. It was either stay with him or get myself sued.
I should have let him bankrupt my savings account. Instead, I let him destroy my very soul.
Tapping my phone, it turns out, was only the beginning of Dennis’s madness. Once we were married, it only got worse. Following me to the store. Hiring his employees to track my whereabouts. He made up stories about crazy stalkers who were sending threatening letters to the news station and told me I couldn’t go anywhere without protection.
It wasn’t a bodyguard he hired for me. It was a prison guard.
A year into our marriage, I couldn’t leave the house. He told all our friends I’d had a nervous breakdown. Told my parents I’d been diagnosed as schizophrenic. Even convinced a doctor to prescribe drugs that kept me foggy, placid. Just the way he liked me.
You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Justine. When I found out I was pregnant, I felt for the first time in years like I had something to live for. A reason to exist. A reason to survive.
Dennis didn’t want children. I know it’s terrible to tell you this, but you have to know the truth. Dennis had no desire to become a dad. I had to hide the pregnancy from him. Starved myself in hopes I wouldn’t show. I couldn’t tell the doctor I was expecting, but I was terrified the pills would hurt you, so I’d take them while Dennis watched then force myself to throw them up.
You deserved so much better. You have no idea how terrible I feel when I read scientific studies that talk about prenatal health. I did what I could to take care of you. God knows I tried, but all I could do was keep your existence hidden from your father for as long as I could.
But Dennis found out anyway.
Of course he did.
And that’s when everything turned horribly wrong.
CHAPTER 10
“Why do we have to go back home?” West whined.
Justine had to practically drag her son as they made their way toward the airport escalators. “You don’t need to worry about that,” she answered. “All you need to know is we changed our plans. Sometimes that happens.” She was trying to decide whether to offer him more junk food or a trip to the video game store as a concession. Either one should be enough to settle him down and prevent a tantrum here in the airport.
At least she hoped so.
“I thought we were going to visit Grandma.” West pulled against her grip with all his strength.
“Alice is not your grandma,” Justine snapped, fully aware of the passengers staring at them both. She pulled West toward her and whispered in his ear, “Listen, I’ll explain more in the car, okay? But right now, I need you to be a big boy and do what I tell you.”
West didn’t budge. “I want to go see Grandma!” he screeched.
“Hello there, young man. Did you lose somebody?”
Justine blinked at the stranger, trying to remember why her face looked familiar.
The white-haired woman smiled at Justine. Great. The same little old lady her son had nearly plowed over in the terminal.
“Is everything all right?” the woman asked.
Justine let out her breath. No, everything was not all right, but that didn’t make it this stranger’s business.
Justine was about to pick up her son and carry him out of the airport kicking and screaming if necessary, but the old woman was rummaging through her ancient-looking purse.
“Does your son have any allergies?” she asked Justine. “I have some farm-fresh goat-milk chocolate here and would be happy to share if that’s all right with you.”
West’s eyes had already widened at the promise of candy. There was no way Justine could deny him now. “That’d be fine,” she replied with a resigned sigh.
She hoped the woman would catch from the tone of her voice that she didn’t feel like a long, drawn-out conversation.
“I’m Grandma Lucy.” The woman shook West’s hand then extended hers to Justine.
“Nice to meet you.” Justine made a show of glancing at the clock above them. “West, say thank you for the candy, and then we’ve got to go.”
“Where are you flying to today?” Grandma Lucy asked.
West stuck out his lower lip, and Justine knew he was preparing to give this stranger his best impression of a sob story. “We were gonna see my grandma,” he began, his voice trembling slightly, “but now my mama says we can’t.”
Grandma Lucy frowned. “How disappointing.” She turned to Justine. “Was your flight cancelled? That snow’s really coming down, isn’t it?”
So far, Justine hadn’t been able to come up with a compelling reason to give West why they were leaving the airport, but she figured the weather was a as good an excuse as any. “Yeah,” she responded quickly. “It’s really too bad.”
“Where does your grandma live?” the old woman asked, bending down to address West as if Justine weren’t even there.
“In Detroit,” he answered, and Grandma Lucy’s face lit up.
“Really? Well, that’s where I’m headed too. In fact, they’ve been calling standbys on my flight for the past half an hour. I bet we can get you on board if you really wanted to.”
> West’s face brightened, and Justine was convinced he would have taken Grandma Lucy’s hand right there and gotten onto the plane whether his mother followed them or not. She really had to have more in-depth discussions with him on stranger danger.
“Come on, Mama.” He grabbed Justine’s sleeve. “Let’s go see if they have room for us.”
Justine didn’t move. She didn’t want to give in to her son, didn’t want to reward him for throwing a tantrum. She thought about how disappointed her husband would be if she took West home right now, then she looked at Grandma Lucy. There was something calming about her presence. The woman’s confidence and familiarity unnerved her, annoyed her to no end, and yet Justine felt somehow drawn toward her.
“Come on, Mama.” West wrapped his arms around Justine’s waist. “Let’s go to our airplane. Please?”
Justine let out her breath. There was something inexplicable about this stranger’s presence that felt both inviting and unwelcome. As her eyes moved from Grandma Lucy to West, Justine knew as certainly as she knew that it was snowing outside or that she loved her son more than anything else in this world that she was meant to get on that airplane. Call it destiny, call it whatever you want, but she knew in that instant as this little white-haired lady smiled at her warmly that she and West were supposed to fly to Detroit, and no amount of nerves or fear or protests could get her to change her mind.
CHAPTER 11
After keeping my secret for nearly the entire pregnancy, Dennis had finally figured it out. You have no idea how hard your father’s lawyers had to fight to keep the jury from hearing this part of the story.
I’ll spare you the details. Suffice it to say, your father reacted as deplorably as I thought he would, and about an hour later, I was in the ER getting ready for surgery. I was hemorrhaging. They weren’t just worried about your health. You and I both were close to death that night.
You were delivered by emergency C-section. Your father couldn’t come in the room, and the OB who delivered you begged me to call the police.
