by Darcy, A. J.
Behind her mother, Henry stood frozen. She recognized the look on his face; he was calculating and she began to sense where she was supposed to be standing was in Henry’s arms, but George’s arms held her firmly in place.
“It wasn’t easy finding you, Victoria, but I finally did.” George’s breath smelt bitter, rancid. It was obvious that he had been drinking for days if not weeks or months. “I just happened to stumble across a newspaper article about Olivia’s success on stage and made my way here.” Stumbled and intentional internet search meant the same thing in his addled brain.
George fumbled in his coat pocket for a moment, removing the knife but leaving an arm clamped around Olivia’s waist. “Where is it?”
“Other pocket,” Olivia couldn’t help but mumble. “It’s supposed to be in your other pocket.”
George glared, “I don’t know how you do that,” he growled, dropping the knife on the floor where it was supposed fall. If only she could back away. “You are always doing that; stop telling me where things are and where they belong.” He then turned to face her mother. “You’ve been a very bad girl, Victoria,” he mumbled, grabbing the bottle, thank goodness it was a bottle, from his pocket that he had just dug around in. “How far along are you now?”
“Eight months,” she whispered, aware that Henry had moved while George was fumbling with his coat pockets. The either brave or stupid boy was now a foot or two closer than where he had started.
“Girl or boy?”
“Boy.”
“Good. I knew you wouldn’t do something as foolish as give me a girl. There isn’t much I can do with little girls that are related to me.” He paused, his sour breath just a little too close for comfort. “Big girls are another story.” Taking an unhealthy swig from his bottle, “Are you eighteen yet, Olivia?”
“No,” she squeaked.
“Pity,” he mumbled, unaware that Henry had growled his disapproval at George’s comment. “Soon through, soon,” the drunken man whispered, turning his head back to Victoria. “Too bad your mother is an ugly, fat cow at the moment. I don’t know if I can wait another month and I’m not about to fuck this up.”
“I’m barely seventeen,” she whispered.
Glancing over at Henry, “Does this make you mad, little boy?” George laughed, if the harsh, foul sound could be considered laughter. “You need to toughen up. I bet you haven’t even had a chance at this pretty little number.” He sniffed Olivia’s neck, cruelly laughing as everybody tensed up.
Olivia did not know where to look. If she looked at her mom she would notice the disgust and guilt that Victoria wore on her face. She felt guilty that she had unknowingly brought this man into their lives. Olivia wanted to protest that her mom could not have known that this would have happened. Nobody saw these signs and no warning visions had ever appeared, probably because George rarely knew what he was going to do next.
“Many years ago you lied and claimed that you cheated on Weston with me. When I tried to argue with his bitch of a mother she had my scholarships pulled. I needed those to get out of the hell that was my whore mother and drunken father! All you had to do was resist that bitch!”
“She threatened me with the same thing.”
“How original,” George slurred. “I searched for you for years and each time I was about to make my move you either moved or found another poor sap to manipulate. It wasn’t until Olivia turned sixteen that I knew what I was going to do. I’m going to ruin your daughter the way you ruined my life.”
Victoria struggled to remain standing at his admission.
“I’m going to get her pregnant and there is nothing you can do about it. Even if her kid isn’t mine then his kid will do,” George grinned as he pointed at Henry.
If Olivia looked at Henry right then she would probably recognize the protective glare that he had often directed at Michael or Jonathan. There was no telling what thoughts would be flicking through his features. It was not safe to look at anybody.
Instead, she focused on the mirror on the bookcase that was reflecting the base of the staircase. Hopefully she was the only person to notice the cell phone sitting on the bottom step. Instinct told her that Grandfather was against the wall and she hoped that the phone was picking up everything George was saying. Grandfather and the cell phone were exactly where they were supposed to be located.
To make matters worse, George had gotten quiet after he revealed his master plan. She knew what it meant when George gets quiet. With the way his conversation had been moving there was little mystery to the perverted distances and ideas his mind was now going.
“Mom needs to sit down. Nobody wants something to happen to little George,” Olivia bravely whispered. “The doctors told her that she needs to be sitting down most of the day. That standing up for long periods of time would be harmful to the baby.” She lied, hoping that her mother would catch on and that George did not know the difference. She also used the moment to try to distract him from the thought that was clearly flashing wickedly from his eyes.
Shaking his head for a moment, “Yes. Right. Go sit in that chair over there, Victoria. Where you can face us.” Looking back at Henry, “Come over here, boy,” he commanded.
“Mom can’t experience any stress either,” Olivia blurted out. “It isn’t good for little George.” Stalling for time, “See, she missed you. She even decided to name the baby after you. The only reason we didn’t come back was because Grandfather is still sick. In fact, that’s why he is upstairs. He has the flu and is weak. The doctors aren’t expecting him to make it, especially after the heart attack he had this summer.”
Olivia told as many lies as she could think of while acting the submissive while trying to get George to forget his train of thought. She knew where they would be going, even if Henry did not have it figured out. She could only hope that he was so far gone in the bottle that he did not notice her blinking too much. Lying was not acting.
“Henry,” George stared, “take that chair over to Victoria.”
Henry dutifully did as he was told, managing to get a glance out of the window as he did. What he saw caused him to relax. Several of the town’s police cars were parked outside along with a few other cars from surrounding towns and districts.
“Come back over here, boy!” George commanded, barely giving Henry enough time to get the chair in position. It was one more thing that was now where was supposed to be.
On the way back, Henry managed to kick the knife further away to where it slid under a table where it belonged. George was too busy looking at Olivia with lecherous eyes to notice. The look repulsed her. “Honey, I always wondered what your sweet, little daughter would taste like. Sadly, she’s still seventeen, but I’d bet that this boy is too.”
‘Lie, Henry,’ Olivia mentally pleaded, wishing that she had the ability to project thoughts into others heads. ‘Please, if you know what is good for you, lie.’
“I’m eighteen. I was held back in kindergarten,” he lied, looking right at Olivia instead of at George as he did so. “And what you want me to do is still illegal. People cannot be forced to have sex without their consent and neither of us are consenting.”
“You will do as I tell you,” George slurred as he tried to tower over Henry, failing once he realized that Henry was taller than him.
“Where is that knife? You will have sex with Olivia if I have to threaten Victoria.” He started to ramble. “She is far enough along that I can cut little George out of her stomach and he can still survive. Are you willing to have that on your conscience? Watching the mother of you girlfriend slowly bleed out because the two of you refused to do what I told you to do?” Pausing, “Where is my knife?”
Right then there was a knock on the door. Figuring that they had enough recorded evidence against him the police department decided it was time to move in before George’s latest threat became a dangerous reality. A few officers were stationed around the back door, at the garage, and beside the downstairs windows ju
st in case George decided to run.
“I’ll answer that and I don’t want to hear a single word from any of you.”
Olivia sensed that her grandfather was moving higher up the staircase thanks to the phone in his hands. She quickly glanced at her cell phone and hoped that it was hidden enough or that drunken George simply thought that somebody had left it on the stairs. “While I’m answering the door I want the two of you to think about what I just said.”
As he moved towards the door he shoved Henry towards Olivia and Olivia sank into the safety of Henry’s arms. Things still were not quite right. “Where’s the knife,” she whispered, hearing George’s, “Coming.”
“Under the table,” Henry whispered back. “The police are at the door.”
“I know. I sense them. There is only one officer not where he is supposed to be at, but it won’t matter.” Looking at her mom, “Mom, stay there,” she directed as she moved closer to the bookcases, tugging Henry along. “Okay. Stay right here.”
A second later, George stumbled through the room as he tried to escape out the back door. An officer was trailing close behind him while another stopped in the room to check on them. “An ambulance is outside waiting. I believe your father wants you checked out.” Looking up, “Where is the cell phone somebody called from?” Olivia pointed at the staircase. “Is everything recorded? Yes, thank you.” Hitting the end call button, “And the knife?”
Henry pointed to the table.
From the backyard they heard a popping sound that made Olivia jump. Reaching for her, Henry allowed her to cry on his shoulder as the tension and stress began to leave the room and her body.
“I’ll need to take your statements even though the 911 operator was able to record all of it. Ma’am, an officer will take yours on route to the hospital. I think I’ll start with Martin Whitmore. Where is he?”
“Right here. Can we make this fast so I can go with my daughter. Henry can drive Olivia.”
Victoria looked back at the teenagers. Henry had pulled Olivia as closely to him as he was physically capable and let her cry. She did not expect that this would be the event to bring them back together.
Chapter Twenty-One
For the past couple of days Olivia had been withdrawn. She blamed herself for George finding them even though everybody protested against that idea. All she kept thinking was that it had been the newspaper article that had tipped him off and his anger that fueled him.
“Would you have?” she asked Henry, hearing him joining her on the porch.
“No,” Henry answered, taking her hand. “That wasn’t how your first time should be like. That wasn’t how my first time should be like.”
“But you…Winnie…Everybody said that…” She paused, “I know you did date.”
“I told you this before. We lied. We dated when we were fifteen, but all I talked about was you and all she talked about was Michael. It was mutually beneficial to both of us, even if it was also unhealthy.” Henry played with her fingers, the twisting ring on her hand, while refusing to look up at her. “She thought that it would get his attention, get Savannah to leave me alone, and then she started the rumor before I realized it. Winnie doesn’t think about how her plans affect others before she acts on them. She just thought that it would be beneficial to both of us.”
“Good to know,” Officer Weston commented before joining them on the porch. “Hello, Olivia, Henry.”
“Hello,” Olivia paused, “Dad.”
Henry remained silent.
“Where is your mom?”
“Upstairs. The doctors want her on bed rest for the rest of the week to make sure that the stress from George’s stunt doesn’t affect the baby.” Smiling, Olivia pointed to the kitchen door, “You can go right on up. She told me to send you straight on up if you ever arrived.” Pausing as if she was just remembering something, “How’s your arm?”
“Better,” Weston answered. “George never was a very good shot.”
“I wonder why he didn’t use the gun in the house,” Henry asked. “He was always so focused on where his knife was at all times.”
“It was an escape plan,” Olivia answered. “If people heard the gunshot then they would have called the cops. He wasn’t planning on somebody inside the house calling the cops. He thought that we were all where he wanted us and he believed me when I lied about Grandfather.” Shaking her head, “He was drunk and not thinking.”
Weston left the teenagers on the porch holding hands. They seemed to be quiet, escaping into their own memories of that day. There were things that they needed to wrap up on their own.
Entering Victoria’s bedroom, he looked around. Not a lot of it had changed over the years and that was mostly because she had rarely been in the house until recently. “It still looks like when you were a teenager,” he idly commented. “Except that the tree is gone now.”
“Father cut it down after he found out that I was pregnant and you had left. He didn’t think about it as closing the barn door after the horses had escaped, more as a way to purge his anger. He couldn’t hurt you but he certainly could cut down that tree.” Looking out the window, “What are Olivia and Henry doing?”
“Talking.”
“Is Henry wearing his blue shirt?”
“Yes.”
“Olivia in her white dress with a red sweater?”
“Yes.”
“Holding hands, at least is Henry playing with Olivia’s hand?”
“Yes,” he smiled, finally figuring out what Victoria was trying to figure out. “Henry was clearing up that rumor that had made Olivia mad. Turns out my niece is quite the schemer.”
“Was she trying to keep them apart?”
“No, when they were fifteen apparently she had a crush on Henry’s brother and was trying to make him jealous.” Weston laughed, looking over into the Hayes’s backyard. He could see Michael and a girl that was decidedly not Winnie. “I think it backfired. If Michael is like Henry then Michael has some morals and wouldn’t have sex with somebody that his brother had sex with, even if it was a lie.”
“Weston,” Victoria interrupted, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Olivia.”
“I didn’t make it easy on you. By the time you had figured out what to do about my mother and her plans we had already broken up and I was pushed into dating Beverly.” Weston sat down and reached for her hand.
“I could have still told you.”
“What’s done is done,” Weston wisely ended the conversation. “I know now,” he stated before placing a hand over her stomach. “At least this kid won’t think that George is his father.”
“George is his father.”
“I managed to get George to sign over his rights. It was easy. I told him that when you were being checked out in the hospital they did an ultrasound and determined that the child was actually a girl.”
“He always wanted a boy. Girls that were related to him were useless.”
Victoria’s eyes blanked out. Henry knew what that meant; Victoria was having a vision. “Next week is fine with me. We don’t have to do anything formal and then the baby can have the last name Greene.”
Weston looked up before sighing. “I wanted to wait and take you out to dinner first.”
“Weston, how long have you been carrying that ring in your jacket?”
He leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Since we were eighteen and you let me climb a tree to get into your room when your father was asleep.” He pulled back, “I just couldn’t get rid of it. I tried selling it online and nobody bid for it. I tried to take it to Frank’s Pawn Shop several times but couldn’t make it past the door. Beverly found it once and tried to make me sell it. My refusal was what set off the chain of events that led to the divorce.”
Weston pulled back some more and walked over to the chair. “I knew that someday I would see you again and would be able to give you this, even if it wasn’t for what it was bought for.”
“It’s not a diamond,” Victoria
commented, surprised. “It’s an amethyst.”
“Your favorite,” Weston chuckled, “and I was a high school student with only a part-time job. I thought the money would be better suited for an apartment.”
Even though Victoria knew that he was going to ask before he did, even though she had said yes before he had even asked, Weston still got down on one knee and formally asked Victoria to marry him.
On the porch Olivia let out a sigh. The ring that had been missing from her mother’s finger for years was finally where it was supposed to be.
“What?” Henry asked, looking at Olivia funny.
“My Dad just asked my Mom to marry him. She said yes.”
“How do you know,” Henry started to ask. “Oh, the ring is exactly where it should be.”
“And it’s no longer in his coat pocket.”
Henry looked at Olivia, wondering if she knew. “Is the legend true?”
“The legend that the Mason women know who their daughter’s father will be?”
“Yes, that one.”
“That’s inaccurate. Mom explained my misconceptions the other day. I thought that myself because Mom wasn’t with my father. Mason witches know who they are supposed to be with young. Most by the time they are eighteen. The problem, until fairly recently, was that no mama wanted their son to marry a Mason witch. Instead, there was a long string of illegitimate daughters. Grandfather was willing to buck the tradition and marry Grandmother regardless. It doesn’t change the fact that regardless most Mason witches had their children before they turned twenty, before their beloved was married off to another. The records that my ancestors kept were perfect. I knew that Mom would eventually tell me who my father was. They always did.”
“When did they know?”
“Most of them knew at eighteen, but a few knew younger than that. Mom did not make eye contact with any boys from the age of fifteen until she was eighteen and Fate intervened with my father.” Olivia looked at Henry and smiled. “I wouldn’t lead you on, Henry. Not on purpose.”
