by Nicole Young
The words hurt. I scrunched my face as a shield against them, but they crawled under my skin anyway and made a home somewhere a little right of my heart. The pain stole my breath.
I gasped and choked for air, trying to keep myself from melting into a pile of unwanted cells right at the foot of Brad’s bed.
“You’re all I thought about. You’re all that kept me going in Del Gloria. And you just want me to walk out of here like we had nothing?”
He gave a wild look. His neck and shoulders moved slightly as if he were trying to sit. His head flopped back to the pillow and he closed his eyes, catching his breath.
From the other room came the sound of a key being inserted into the lock.
27
I controlled my sobbing long enough to know I’d better be out of sight when Austin entered the room. “Please…,” I whispered, followed by a hiccup, “don’t tell him I was here.”
I pulled back a curtain from the window, the sudden light blinding me. My hands scoured the panes for a locking mechanism.
In the living room, the door opened and Austin’s voice filtered in as he conversed with a male visitor.
“I’ll see if he’s up for company. Just a minute.”
My fingers fumbled, but the window wouldn’t budge. I searched the room in a panic, my eyes darting to the closet. I grabbed my wig and sunglasses on the way past and stepped inside the tight square, sliding the louvered door closed and feeling ridiculous as I did so. What prevented Brad from telling Austin I was hanging with the shirts?
Inside, my cheek rubbed against fabric, fascinating my nose with the Brad-scent that had always messed with my hormones.
By some miracle, I held my breathing quiet and steady when Austin entered the room.
“Hey, Mr. Walters,” Austin greeted. “I barely made it out of the building when I came across a friend of yours. Are you up for a visitor?”
Brad must have made some sign to the negative.
“He’s come a long way to see you. It’s Mr. Braddock. Says it’s an emergency.”
My jaw clenched. What if Denton was here to track me down? Once he figured out I’d flown the coop, he’d probably made some inquiries, then headed this way.
A sigh from Brad. “Go ahead and send him in.”
At least Brad hadn’t told on me.
Footsteps, a door opening. Then Denton’s voice as he entered the room.
“Hey! How are you feeling?” Denton sounded more exuberant than usual, as if trying to compensate for something.
Brad remained silent.
A pause. “Everything okay?”
“You lied to me.”
A longer pause. “What’s this all about?” Denton asked.
“I saw her. I saw Tish. She isn’t dead. She said she’s been in Del Gloria. I assume that means she’s been staying with you.”
No answer.
Brad’s voice again. “How could you? Do you know what you did to me? And now it’s too late. Too late.”
Denton went on the defensive. “You asked me to keep her safe. I did what I had to. Besides, you find strength in God. You find strength in hope. You don’t obsess over flesh and blood. She’s not the reason to wake up in the morning and do your therapy and move on with your life. You do it for God. And God alone.”
Brad took in a seething breath. “I hate God.”
I cringed at the words, stuffing a shirtsleeve against my mouth to keep from crying out as my heart ached for the man who’d introduced me to God’s love.
“And I hate you,” Brad told Denton. “Is that why you left Mom? You actually had to pay attention to something besides God in your life?” Brad emphasized each word. “You couldn’t hack being a husband and father. That’s the truth. It had nothing to do with God.”
I pressed close to the louvers, reeling in the accusation. Denton Braddock was Brad’s father? Brad… Braddock. Duh. It should have been obvious, but I’d been focused on surnames-and Brad’s “mentor” baloney, not to mention he’d always implied Samuel Walters was his real dad.
Denton sighed. “I… barely knew your mother. What was I supposed to do, drop out of life because I’d slept with the banquet waitress?”
A choking sound. “Don’t demean her. She was the finest woman who ever lived.”
I strained for a peek at the two men, but could only see Denton’s feet through the louvers. His dark slacks draped gracefully over salt-stained shoes.
The professor gave a deep sigh. “I know my shortcomings, my flaws. I admit I sometimes let things get between me and God. But I don’t blame him for any of it. I just keep thanking him for the good that has come from my twisted mess of a life. How can I be sorry to have founded Del Gloria College-a safe haven and retraining ground for those whose compass hasn’t always pointed true north? Don’t hate a God that can take pain and turn it to love.”
Brad’s breathing sounded strained.
“Son-”
“Don’t call me that. When I agreed to have a relationship with you-what’s it been, twenty years now?-it was as a teacher and a student. Sam Walters was my father. The only man with the right to call me son.”
“Brad, then.” Denton’s voice became intense. “Listen to me… I was wrong. Your Patricia… she was more than I thought. She was everything you said. So many times I wanted to send her to you, let her come to you and help snap you out of this self-destructive mind-set. But… how could I risk her life? I’d made a promise to you. I’m only sorry now that I wasn’t able to keep it.”
Through the louvers, I watched Denton’s feet pace the room.
“I can’t have you for my son. I know that. You’ve made me pay over and over for the mistakes of my past. But Patricia-she’s like a daughter now. She loves me, she’s grateful to me. It’s in her eyes, on her face, in her smile when we’re having coffee or talking about the day.”
I bit my lip. Is that really how Denton felt? He’d been so good at staying distant. Perhaps he’d been afraid to show his affections, knowing I would leave him the moment I could find my way back to Brad.
The feet stopped at the head of the bed.
“You said Patricia had been here? She probably took one look at you, said something polite, and left, never to return. How could she choose you, lying in a bed wasting away? At least I can take care of her.”
Puh-lease. Denton knew I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I was about as low maintenance as a woman could get.
“You’re pathetic.” Brad nearly spit the words. “You stole my wife and turned her into your child? And you have the gall to justify your actions?”
I snuck in a breath. There was that word… wife. Denton’s voice took on a cutting edge. “I thought you’d understand, since you’ve given up on life anyway. What do you need a wife for now? A few more months and she’d be your widow. The doctors tell me your kidneys are on the verge of shutting down, your staph infection is out of control, and you might as well forget about ever walking again. Your nerves and muscles don’t even know your legs exist. Once you’re gone, Patricia will be my heir.”
Brad growled low in his throat. “You’re nothing but a scheming, conniving-”
Denton interrupted, his voice sharp. “I’m not here to argue with you or explain myself. That’s entirely unnecessary. I’m here because Paticia’s life is in danger and I intend to make sure she returns to Del Gloria with me where I can keep her safe. There are others there who need her as well.”
“I’m sure if she wants to go with you, she will.” Silence hung in the air as if Brad was giving me a chance to come out of hiding.
I stayed put, my loyalty to Brad inflamed by Denton’s harassment of the injured man.
Denton’s voice broke the silence. “Now that she’s seen your condition, I have no doubt she’ll be ready to come back with me. If she stays, it will only be out of pity.”
My jaw set as I fought the urge to blaze through the doors and knock Denton on his backside.
“Get out of here,” Brad snarle
d. “Don’t ever come back. I’m sorry I let you back in my life. I’m sorry I sent her to you.”
The hurt behind his words stung my own heart. Brad blamed himself for so much, and none of it was his fault. He was a victim, imprisoned for life in his own failing body. None of Brad’s misfortune had been of his own making. I had brought it all upon him. My own negligence had put Brad in the path of Candice LeJeune’s bullet, sending him to the depths of his own dungeon. Worse, Brad couldn’t even lift a finger in the name of justice-or vengeance.
I watched from the closet as Denton’s wingtips exited the room. The slam of the main door, then Austin came in, white tennis shoes under blue jeans.
“I couldn’t help but overhear, Mr. Walters,” the young man said. “Anything I can do?”
“Yes. There’s a woman hiding in the closet. Please escort her out of here.”
I drew in a breath of surprise. He’d turned me in.
With a push, I opened the doors and stepped into the room. “Brad… I’m going to stay. We’re going to work through this together. I’m not giving you up again.” I skirted the waiting Austin and walked to the bed, touching Brad’s hand. A gentle pulse beat beneath my fingers.
“Tish.” He said it slow, soft, like a guy might say, “I love you.” He gave a lingering blink of his eyes in lieu of a squeeze with his hand. “We had something special, didn’t we?”
I held on to him, afraid of his past tense.
He shook his head. “We were something.” A tear escaped his eye. He couldn’t wipe it away even if he wanted to.
My face collapsed at the sight and I threw myself over him, clinging to his chest and neck. Tears streamed down my face.
Brad heaved a sigh. “If only I would have known… I’d have asked you to marry me that first night I saw you. Things could have been so different for us.”
I touched a fist to his heart, praying that he’d stop the torture, but my mind heard only the thump of Brad’s fist against the hood of my Explorer that day in Rawlings. The day I’d left him to return to Port Silvan, the home of my childhood summers. Had finding out about my deceased mother really been more important than being with Brad? I’d put the car in reverse and backed up. Then Brad pounded on the hood. I’d shifted into park and he came around to my window. Wait out the storm, Tish. The weather will be better tomorrow, he’d said. Then he kissed me. My brain must have been suffering from electric shock, because when he stepped away, I put the car in drive. I don’t even remember looking back.
Talk about defining moments. Talk about turning points. That was one moment in time I’d give anything to have a second shot at. Knowing what I knew today, would I have done it differently? I’d like to think so. The moment Brad’s fist hit the hood, I would have slammed the car into park, leaped out, and tackled him to the ground, smothering him in passionate kisses. I would have gladly thrown my past to the wind and been ignorant of my heritage if I’d known how much every second counted, how little time there was to waste. Then, even if the same tragedy had happened to Brad in the line of duty back in Rawlings, perhaps he’d have had a child to smile him back to life, if smiles from me couldn’t do the trick.
Instead, I’d driven away. And I’d lost everything.
28
In the glum bedroom, I cried a puddle all over Brad’s chest. “It’s not too late. It’s not too late. There can still be us. We’re together again, you’ll be back on your feet in no time.” I clung to him. We were together. God gave us back to each other. God would give him back his health.
“Austin,” Brad said, his voice rumbling beneath my ear. “Please.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hands grabbed my arms, gently at first, then rough as I resisted.
“Time to go,” Austin said, his voice straining with effort.
“Let go of me. I’m not leaving.” I took Brad’s cheeks in my hands. “I’m not leaving.”
He closed his eyes and turned his head away.
“Brad. No. Don’t do this.”
Austin grabbed my wrists and wrenched them behind my back.
He lifted me off Brad’s body and pointed me toward the door. We stumbled through to the living room, his arms locked around my struggling wrists. He let go of one hand to open the main door. As soon as he did, I snapped my arm around and pushed against the doorframe. But I was no match for Austin’s strong upper body, and in seconds I was headed out the door. I flipped my legs up on the way through, barring passage. With a mighty backward shove, I landed on top of Austin in the middle of the floor. As he recovered, I jumped to my feet and ran back to Brad’s side. Behind me, I heard the tones of Austin dialing the phone.
“Brad. Look at me. Brad. Please.”
But he kept his eyes closed tight and his head turned. Safe from Austin as he spoke on the phone, I walked to the window and pulled the curtains back. Daylight flooded the room.
“Gosh, it’s stuffy in here.” I studied the window and found the latch that would have meant my safe escape earlier. I twisted it and pushed the window wide.
Frigid air blew in, bringing the bright scent of the holidays with it.
“That reminds me. Christmas Day, Sam’s dishing up a buffet. I’ll stop and get us a couple takeouts. If Austin’s going to be here, I can bring some for him too.”
Brad’s bedside table was covered with an assortment of over-the-counter meds, prescription bottles, and boxes of sterile pads. The trash bin next to the bed held a fresh liner. I scooped out the plastic sack, held it close to the table’s edge, and swiped the whole contents into it.
That got Brad’s attention.
“What are you doing?” His voice was panic-filled.
“Cleaning up. What a mess. Too many bottles.” I gave the top of the bag a twist and tucked the whole thing into the top dresser drawer. “That’s better,” I said, dusting the newly revealed wood with my sleeve. “Not quite so dreary in here anymore.”
A stiff knock sounded on the outer apartment door.
“She’s in the bedroom,” I heard Austin say.
I maneuvered to Brad’s side, not sure who would be walking through the door.
A man in uniform entered.
“Mike. How are you?” I asked, greeting Officer Segerstrom, Brad’s state cop buddy from his training camp days. I clung more tightly to Brad’s hand as if that would somehow keep me from being hauled off.
The officer sighed and looked between Brad and me. “Samantha filled me in with the details. Heard there’s a problem.”
“No problem here.” With my free hand, I pulled the light cotton blanket to Brad’s chin, folded it back, and smoothed the wrinkles.
Brad wouldn’t look at Mike, just kept staring at some point in the corner.
Mike cleared his throat. “It’s pretty tough to get in here for a visit. Tried a couple times myself.”
Brad stayed quiet.
I met Mike’s gaze. He looked as torn up as I felt. I hoped he’d have the courage to defy Austin and Brad and let me stay.
“How are things going for you, Mike?” I asked, buying time.
“Good. The baby’s a couple months old now. Sure is cute. Don’t know if you heard-his name is Brad Walter Segerstrom. Strong as an ox.”
A funny sound came out of Brad’s throat.
I looked at him. A tear ran down his cheek.
“Congratulations,” Brad said finally.
Unable to bear the sight, my eyes flew back to Mike. “That’s great news. We’re so happy for you and your wife.”
The officer nodded once in reply.
The room was silent for a moment. Then Austin spoke up from his place at the door. “How about it, Mr. Walters?”
Brad nodded his head.
“No.” I grabbed on to Brad again, covering the top of his body with mine.
“Tish. Miss Amble.” Officer Segerstrom spoke the words softly.
Still clinging to Brad, I glanced up at him.
He gave a gentle shake of his head and a shrug, as if to
say “What’s the use?” and reached a hand toward me.
I held back, burying my face in Brad’s blanket, smelling him, hearing him, feeling his skin, his breathing, his heat.
“Tish. Go.”
Brad’s words crushed my heart. The sobbing started again, along with a headache that made me weaken my grip.
Officer Segerstrom’s gentle touch nudged me away from Brad. I resisted. How could I do otherwise?
“Brad. Don’t make me go. There’s no reason. How can it be bad for us to be together?”
“Not bad for us,” came his answer. “Bad for you. Go on. Get out of here. Live for both of us.”
“This is stupid. I’m not leaving.”
“Get out of my life. I don’t want you here. Don’t ever come here again.” Brad’s voice sounded ominous. “Get her out of here, Mike, and leave me alone. I just want to be left alone.”
“I don’t believe you,” I whispered.
His answer was a roar. “Get her away from me! Get her out of here. Get her out of here!”
I jumped back in fright. As soon as I let go of Brad, Officer Segerstrom locked me in an embrace. In moments we were out of the bedroom and through the living room. Once in the hallway, he dropped one arm, still guiding me by the shoulders toward the parking lot. Mrs. Callahan’s door was open and from the corner of my eye, I saw her watching my removal.
“Thanks, Mrs. C.,” I called on the way past. “It was worth a try.” My voice hitched.
By the time we got to the front door, Officer Segerstrom’s hold had loosened to a mere hand in the center of my back. He knew I wouldn’t run back in there to see Brad. I’d be an idiot not to take such a bold hint. The guy didn’t want me around. That was that. It was over between us. When he’d given up on life, he’d given up on us.
Officer Segerstrom must have recognized Puppa’s truck and led me that direction. At the driver’s side door, he put his hands on my shoulders, sympathetic.
“I’d heard he was doing bad, but I had no idea how far things had gone. Nobody gets past his doorman.” The officer gave a shrug. “I gave up trying awhile back.”
