Rewriting Yesterday

by Wright, Candice

  Angry doesn’t even begin to cover how I am feeling right now. It was just like my father to screw me over. There is something about this situation that just doesn't fit. Perhaps it is because I can’t read Frankie and therefore I can’t tell if she is being genuine or if she is just a good actress, like my mother. It pisses me off that my cock doesn’t seem to care. As a kid growing up, everything had been about my parents' money and status. Then my dad started dicking around and my parents got divorced. I vowed then that I would never give my parents that kind of power over me again, and yet here I am, reeling from my father's latest dirty indiscretion. What a joke! Seventeen years old is still a child. If that news got out, it was bound to affect the company shares. Fuck, I guess that doesn’t matter anymore now that it’s being sold. I can’t get my head around the fact that he made a stipulation that the company that he loved more than anything, including me, was to be sold to the highest bidder, and all profits were to go to Frankie. I turn to my solicitors and dismiss them, thanking them for their time. Then it’s just Malcolm and me.

  "None of this shit makes any sense, Malcolm. What's her story anyway, and what does she know about me?"

  "She knows you are a military man and that you cut ties to your father years ago. She knows that you refused to take a dying man's phone calls, ignored his letters and refused to meet with him before he was too sick to leave his bed. She knows that if she hadn't been sitting holding his hand he would have died alone. As for her story, she only tells that to people she trusts."

  His disapproving look disappears, leaving him grinning, mirth shining in his dark eyes.

  "Good luck with getting her to trust you. She pushes your buttons, I get that, but let's not forget that she can give you a piece of your dad that you never knew. The choice is ultimately up to you." He shakes my hand before grabbing his briefcase, and heads for the door.

  "I think it's best if you stay away from Frankie until you can get a better handle on your emotions, but I'm not stupid. I've seen the way you look at her. She is a good person, with the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met—but Caleb, if you hurt her, you will spend the rest of your life breathing through a tube.” He walks out without looking back and I’m left wondering what she has done to earn that kind of loyalty.

  Turning to the windows, I watch as Malcolm makes his way over to a new model black Ford Ranger. Frankie, who is leaning against the driver's door, straightens up when Malcolm approaches to give him a hug. I watch them talk for a while before Malcolm kisses her cheek and heads towards his own car. She obviously has more than a solicitor-client relationship with him, but how much more? Is she manipulating him or are they sleeping together? Friends? No. Malcolm and my dad didn't have female friends unless they came with benefits. Picking up my phone, I ring one of my best friends, Sam, who is handy with a computer.

  "Caleb, how did it go?" he answers, his deep voice seeming overly loud in the now quiet room.

  "Hey, Sam. I need you to run a background check on a Francesca Taylor. I will text you the details."

  "Shit. That good, huh? Who is she?"

  "That's what I plan to find out."

  Chapter Two

  FRANKIE

  Using my truck's Bluetooth, I phone my friend Steve at the rehabilitation centre. Joe and I opened the centre about four years ago. It primarily focuses on rehabilitation and recovery for physically and mentally wounded soldiers who have been discharged from the armed forces. Steve had been living on the streets after he had lost his left arm when a road-side bomb exploded whilst he served in Afghanistan, killing the rest of his unit. He is now the centre's go-to guy. The soldiers can relate to him, and it gives him a purpose.

  "Hey, Frankie. How did it go?" Steve's gravelly voice fills the interior of my truck, providing me with the comfort I really need right now.

  "Worse than I expected, and to be honest, I expected the worst. He was so angry with me… which I can understand to an extent, but first impressions say that this guy is a tool."

  Steve growls. "Do you need me to knock him on his ass?

  I laugh; I can't help it. "I think I've got it covered. He will have a shiner tomorrow, that's for sure."

  At that Steve roars with laughter. "Good for you, girl. Good for you. Now, what can I do for you, honey?"

  “I just wanted to check in and invite you over for dinner on Sunday. Mal is coming, too. It’s kind of a low-key welcome to the family officially sort of thing for Jacob.”

  "Consider it done."

  "Thanks, Steve. I'm off to pick him up from the rec centre now. I will see you on Sunday. Oh, and thanks for covering for me today."

  "I can hear the nerves in your voice, sweetheart. You have got nothing to worry about. Jacob adores you. You have passed every test and jumped through every hoop the agency asked you to. It will all be fine. And congrats, by the way. You guys are going to make a good team. And quit thanking me. You know I would do anything for you, Frankie."

  He hangs up in typical Steve fashion before I can say anything else.

  Heading towards the children's recreational centre where I volunteer, I think about tonight and how Jacob will react to my news. I met him three years ago when I started helping out there. He was living with foster family number two then, and came to the rec centre to give his foster parents and himself a break. He was a sullen and withdrawn twelve-year-old with good reason. He had been sexually abused by his father from the age of seven. This came to a head when his father flew into a rage and killed Jacob's mother in front of him. A neighbour had heard the screaming and called the police, and the guy was arrested, which resulted in Jacob being taken into care. His father was given a life sentence but, in many ways, Jacob was, too. After having so many of his basic rights stripped away from him, he struggled with how to interact with others, and he was incredibly wary around men. Add in the fact that he woke most nights screaming from his nightmares, and he found himself being returned to the children’s residential home time and time again. After his fourth set of foster parents returned him, he had given up hope of having a family again. We connected after I shared my story with him during a group therapy session, and as a result we grew close, often going out for pizza and to the movies. That had progressed to me having temporary guardianship of Jacob and him living with me and Joe until Joe died. Since then, it had just been Jacob and me. That had been a year ago, and today I had finally been given the green light. Jacob was mine. It didn’t stop me from being nervous about his reaction.

  I pull up to the centre where he has just finished today's therapy session to find him already waiting outside. As he climbs in and puts his belt on, I observe him. He is tall for his age, already over half a foot taller than me, and lean, with dirty blond hair and denim blue eyes. He has twin dimples that appear when he smiles, and an infectious laugh that masks the horrors he has endured. He is a good-looking kid that would have the ladies pining for him in a few years.

  "Hey, kiddo. How was your day?" I ask him with a smirk, because I know he hates it but secretly loves it when I call him that.

  "Why do you call me that when you aren't that much older than me?" he huffs at my responding shrug but answers anyway. "It was good, I guess. I got a B on my Maths test today, and I'm thinking of trying out for the track team. I like the idea of playing sports. I'm just not good with people, you know?"

  "Well, I think that's awesome." A year ago, it was hard just to get him to leave his room.

  We pull up outside Carlo's pizza parlour and park the car before heading in.

  "So, what do you fancy? I'm going for a large pepperoni with sweetcorn, onion and pineapple. I'm so hungry I could eat my own arm." I laugh as I nudge his shoulder. "I haven't eaten since lunch."

  He looks at me and rolls his eyes. "I seriously don't know where you put it. You are tiny, yet you eat nearly as much as me.” He deliberates for a second. “I'm going to have the meat feast if that's cool.”

  I have been bringing him here once a month for almost a
year and a half. In the beginning, he was uncomfortable with me paying but he is getting better.

  "Anything you want," I tell him like I do every time.

  We place our order and make small talk whilst we wait for our pizzas to arrive. When we get them, we eat in silence for a few minutes until I clear my throat and decide to just get on with it.

  "Okay, Jacob," I start as I wipe my now sticky fingers. "How long have we known each other, three years?" He nods. "I know we have talked about it before and you have been living with me for a while… Well, I've been thinking that if you are cool with it I would like you to continue to stay with me permanently."

  I recognise the look in his eyes, hope followed by weariness.

  "I love being with you, Frankie, but it will get to be too much at some point. It always does. Just promise me that when you take me back we can still be friends.”

  "Honey, I know you have struggled to believe me—and that’s okay; I have no problem showing you over and over until it sinks in—but this time it’s different. If you agree to stay with me, it will be your home for as long as you like. I already know about the nightmares, the fear and feeling isolated, and not knowing how to go about changing your circumstances. That was me… sometimes it still is. But Jacob, I care about you. Screw anything else, you matter to me. If you get scared, I will help you fight your demons. If you get lonely, I will sit with you and hold your hand. I am now and always will be your friend. I am not trying to take the place of your mum, but I always fancied being a big sister. What do you say?"

  His smile is tentative before it turns into a genuine grin.

  "I take it you mean big sister figuratively, given how dinky you are."

  I throw my napkin at him.

  “How rude. I'm pocket-sized, don't you know?" I wink at him.

  "I would like to stay with you, Frankie. Thank you." His voice is barely above a whisper but so full of emotion that I feel my eyes sting.

  "Well, that’s good news, because the adoption officially went through. You are mine, and I’m keeping you—but just a warning, none of this ‘it's just until I turn eighteen bullshit.’ Family for life, got it?" I swallow back my tears and hold out my pinkie finger.

  "Pinkie promise?" He throws his head back and laughs. I really love that sound. He links his pinkie with mine. "You are such a goof," he laughs at me, but he shakes anyway. “You are really keeping me?”

  “You are stuck with me, Jacob. I’m never giving you back.” I throw him a wink and he smiles at me in wonder.

  "Right. Ice-cream first, and then I will drop you back off at the centre because Jan has a little surprise for you… but don’t tell her I told you. Some of the kids from the home are going to be there, and she has arranged a sleepover-movie night kind of thing. Take your time and say your goodbyes, and I will pick you up in the morning.”

  He looks at me a little wearily, the night terrors making it hard for him to feel comfortable, which is why I told him, so it wasn’t sprung on him later.

  “You need me or want me to pick you up at any point, I don’t care if it's three o'clock in the morning, I’m there. You just have to call me. Honestly, I doubt any of you will get any sleep with the amount of sweets and soft drinks Jan has got for you unless you count slipping into a sugar coma.”

  He laughs at that, his body relaxing, safe in the knowledge that I’ve got his back if he needs me.

  We finish and head to the door discussing paint options for his room that he has been reluctant to personalise before, in case it was snatched away. I stop dead when suddenly Caleb appears in front of me, still dressed in his shirt and trousers from before.

  What are the freaking odds? I have never met him before today and now I'm running into him? Does he live here now?

  "Frankie," he sneers. I step protectively in front of Jacob. I can take anything he dishes out but if he says one thing out of line to Jacob I will punch him in the throat. I see surprise briefly cross his features as he takes in my stance. His eyes flash to Jacob. He holds out his hand for him to shake but Jacob doesn't like to be touched by other men unless he trusts them, so he doesn't return the gesture. This doesn't seem to faze Caleb, who drops his hand but continues to introduce himself.

  "I'm Caleb Taylor." His voice does funny things to my insides, but I ignore it.

  "I know who you are," Jacob states quietly. I watch Caleb tilt his head in confusion and then realisation.

  "You knew my father." It's a statement, not a question. Caleb, after all, looks just like Joe did. It's not difficult to tell who he is.

  "Yes, he was a good man," Jacob whispers from behind me.

  "Right... Well, I shall leave you to it. I shall see you soon, Frankie."

  His voice sounds like it's been dipped in honey. If he wasn't such a dick I would have swooned. Okay, so maybe I swooned a little. Stupid traitorous body.

  I don't react to men, ever, so why do I suddenly want to climb him like a monkey? I’m not naïve, I don’t assume all men are going to treat me like my mother's boyfriend did. I don’t recoil from them, and I’m not fearful of their touch like Jacob, but I had thought that something inside of me had broken when I never found myself attracted to anyone over the years that followed my abuse. I would never have cheated on Joe anyway. It was irrelevant to me that our marriage was in name only, it was about respect. So why now? Why out of everyone did I have to find myself attracted to the one person that seems to hate me?

  Chapter Three

  CALEB

  I’m standing looking out of the window in the living room of my new penthouse apartment. I swirl the ice in what remains of my whisky, thinking about the information that I had received earlier from Sam, which in its entirety was a big fuck-all. It doesn’t matter how I approach it, a lot of the pieces just don’t seem to fit together.

  There isn’t a great deal of information on Frankie before the age of seventeen—or Francesca Edwards, which was what she went by then—but then that isn’t unusual, given that at the time she was a minor. The trouble is, it seems as if her life has been wiped clean, leaving just the bare basics.

  Her father died in a car accident when she was nine. Her mother, Eleanor Edwards, was a stay-at-home mum and continued to be one, living on her deceased husband's life insurance. She married Robert James, coincidently two months after my dad married Frankie. It seemed she has had no contact with anyone from her former life… well, at least nothing that raised any red flags, but why? Did my father stop her from seeing her family? He could be controlling but that seems extreme even for him. Maybe he was protecting his assets. After all, Eleanor Edwards had signed away her rights to Frankie and received a cash deposit of five hundred thousand pounds. Clearly this woman had no qualms about selling her daughter, so maybe he thought she would come back for more when the cash ran out. Whatever the reasons were, Frankie has made a life for herself that on the surface, at least, looks pretty good. Whether it is an act or not remains to be seen.

  In-between nursing my father through his failing health, she has obtained a bachelor's degree in psychology, which she puts to use offering her services for free at the children’s centre in town. She also volunteers at a facility for wounded soldiers. She makes regular donations, as well as organising fundraisers to encourage local businesses and the public to donate to both facilities. In fact, there is one coming up at the end of the month for the children’s centre.

  She still lives in the same house she has lived in with my father, a five-bedroom detached property in a sought-after location on the lake. She has just been granted permanent guardianship of Jacob Mills, a fifteen-year-old ward of the state.

  I met him briefly tonight when I turned up at Carlo's. I knew she would be there, but I still wasn't sure what possessed me to just turn up there out of the blue, like a stalker. Regardless, I noticed straight away how protective she was of the kid. I am filing that away for future reference.

  Jacob was nervous, so I went easy on her. It isn't the kid's fault she�
�s a gold digger. I was thrown a bit when I realised he had known my dad, but then I figured he must have been living with them both for a while for the adoption to have gone through. He didn't say anything, but I got the distinct impression that he was disappointed in me somehow. In fact, the whole scene left me feeling agitated, hence the whisky. It hasn't helped that I haven't been to Carlo's in years. It was where my dad used to take me when I was a kid whenever we travelled to London.

  I drain the rest of my glass in one gulp. This whole thing is messing with my head. I need to find a way to get rid of her before she brings everything tumbling down but just thinking about her has my traitorous dick at half-mast. I hear a thumping at the door and sigh in exasperation. That must be Ryan. He is the only idiot I know that feels the need to hammer on the door like I'm getting raided by the police.

  I swing the door open and come face to face with my other douche of a best friend. He is the same height as me but where I’m dark-haired, he is fair. He throws off a chilled-out, laid-back vibe but only an idiot would ever underestimate him.

  "Seriously? Ryan, you have a fucking key. Use it or I will take it back."

  "Don't be a dick, Caleb. My hands are full. Now move your ass and take this beer before the pizza gives me second-degree burns."

  I take the two six-packs and place them on the sleek marble counter, taking two and opening them before offering one to Ryan. He places the pizza down on the counter before taking it.

  "So how did it go? Wait. Don't tell me yet. Sam should be here any minute. I know he ran a check for you earlier, but you know he hates to miss anything."

  I watch him as he takes in the still unpacked boxes on the floor by the huge stainless-steel fridge, the sink full of dishes and the still unopened mail on the counter. The kitchen itself is a chef's wet dream, sleek and modern, with top-of-the-range appliances, tastefully decorated in grey and red… however, it looks like shit now, with all my crap everywhere.