Love, Alabama (Alabama Series Book 2)

by Susan Sands

  *

  “Howard, what in the world do you think went on with Mayor Tad last night?” Maureen was buttering her toast after a rousing night of married sex with her handsome, new husband.

  Howard set down the coffee pot and carried the two cups over to the table. “Well, darlin,’ sounds like you’re gonna have to fill me in on some past before I can give my opinion about this.”

  Maureen smiled softly at Howard and nodded. “Emma dated Tad through high school and through most of their college years. They were a golden couple, if you ever saw one. He was captain of the football team and she was a pageant queen and a cheerleader. But they were nice people, you know. Or, Emma was. I’m not so sure about Tad after what happened in college.”

  Howard nodded for her to continue.

  “Emma won the Miss Alabama pageant her junior year and was preparing for the Miss America pageant when Tad broke up with her and she stepped down from her title. It happened over Iron Bowl weekend one year. Everything was great, so far as we knew, then, poof.” Maureen spread her fingers as if things had blown to bits, because they had.

  “What happened?”

  “That’s just it—we never got the whole story from Emma. She said they had a fight and broke up that night, and that she was so upset and distraught and she felt like she wasn’t going to be able to focus on finishing school. She said she’d completely lost her enthusiasm for Miss America and knew the first runner-up wanted it more than she did. She… just stepped down.” Maureen shook her head, sadly. “After all the hard work and preparation, she just gave it all up. Why? Because Tad Beaumont broke her heart? We all believed she was tougher than that. But she clammed up and refused to discuss it until we finally stopped asking. I mean, you can’t force someone to be in the Miss America pageant or to talk about something they don’t want to discuss.”

  “I’m sure y’all felt pretty helpless. Sounds like something pretty awful went down that weekend,” Howard said, rubbing his chin.

  “It’s been a long time now, and for some reason, I think a lot more happened than just a fight and a breakup. After what happened last night, I think it’s time to figure this thing out. I haven’t seen Emma that upset in years. It’s like Tad brought it all back. And this tiger momma isn’t going to stand for it.”

  “Well, darlin’, the good news is that you’re not alone anymore. You’ve got support now, and I’ll do whatever it takes to help you help Emma find her way back to normal.”

  “I don’t want her back to normal, I want her better than normal. I want whatever happened all those years ago to be purged and healed, because I don’t believe the truth has ever come out and been dealt with. And I think Tad was the culprit at the bottom of this.”

  “Go, tiger momma.” Howard’s eyes crinkled in the corners, making Maureen’s heart spill over with gratitude at how lucky she was to find him again after all these years.

  “I’m going to have to pull the others in on this.” Making reference to Emma’s siblings.

  “We’ll need to be careful in case Emma is in a fragile state.” Howard warned.

  “Yes. That’s my concern, too.”

  *

  Emma was in a bit of a fragile state, no doubt. Her brain had begun the process of trying to remember—pulling bits and pieces of fragmented still shots from an old movie in which the footage was dark and grainy and had nothing clear to reveal.

  She was racking her brain, trying to fill in blanks, realizing more now than ever that something out of her control happened to her that night—something she had only small bits of memory, and only Tad’s very sketchy version of an explanation. And a tiny slice of recall of the guy, who’d plucked her out of the situation, brought her to a hotel room for several hours until her roommate had called on her cell looking for her. Emma recalled a deep but unclear voice, that he’d been a large guy, and so very kind that even now, it made her want to cry. But nothing else about him. She’d begged him to get her out of there. He had.

  Her vision had been blurry and she remembered a deep fear until he’d put a jacket or blanket or something around her shoulders and she’d felt safe, somehow understanding he wouldn’t hurt her. Looking back, she realized how foolish it had been to put herself in the hands of a stranger. Of course, Emma had been so out of it, and obviously drugged, that she had only followed her most basic instincts, and, fortunately for her, the big guy had been her guardian angel.

  Her roommate had called very early that morning, concerned, and he’d answered her phone, telling her friend where to come and pick Emma up. He had helped her out to the car, explaining nothing to the girl in case she couldn’t be trusted, Emma supposed. But she still couldn’t remember what his face looked like because whatever was still in her system had distorted her vision and her memory. She remembered slurring, “Whassur name?” to which he’d either replied, Mark or Mike, she wasn’t certain.

  Emma had never wanted to know or remember, really. He’d seen her at her lowest—the worst point in her life. She had been so very grateful for his help, but the eventual outcome of that night had changed her life. So, never seeing him again and not having to relive it all was definitely best. She’d been afraid it had been her fault, that she had somehow been irresponsible or that she’d been stupid. And the worst possible thing for her to feel, especially during that part of her life, had been stupid. Because she’d often been treated like she was stupid and hated it.

  Blonde jokes, blonde bimbo remarks, and pageant princess comments had all played into the uphill battle of proving that she wasn’t just a brainless beauty, and that she’d had worth and intelligence. The more she’d fought against the image, the more pushback Emma had received. So, after that terrible night, when she’d seen Tad, he’d told her she’d been stupid and had acted like a brainless idiot by getting herself into a situation where he’d had to threaten people to keep quiet about what she’d done.

  When she’d begged to know what had happened, he’d stared at her as if she was indeed just that stupid. “You mean you don’t remember wearing your crown and letting those assholes take pictures of you with barely a stitch on? I never would have thought you of all people were such a whore. You should have seen yourself—the silly grin on your face. He had his hand on your—”

  She’d covered her ears, sobbing uncontrollably after that, begging him to stop talking. “I don’t remember any of it, Tad. Don’t you believe me? We’ve been together for five years. Five years. I thought you loved me,” she’d cried.

  He’d not appeared especially moved by her tears. “I did love you, Emma. And now you’ve ruined everything. But don’t worry. I took care of it. I have the pictures. Those guys will never breathe a word because I threatened them with expulsion from the fraternity. They’d throw their own mothers off a bridge before being excommunicated.”

  “I told you I don’t remember anything. Surely, someone must have put something in my drink or—or something,” she wanted to stomp her foot and shriek, but her head hurt too badly.

  “It doesn’t matter. I can’t take the chance that you’re behavior brings shame or embarrassment to me. I have a clear plan for my future. That future included you, Emma, but now you’ve ruined it all. And to top it all off, you went and disappeared before I could get you back to my room safe and sound. Where did you go?” He’d demanded.

  “I was confused. I remembered you getting angry and yelling; a friend took me home from the party.” That had been only partially true, of course.

  The sequence of events had pretty much escaped her. Somehow, she’d gotten away from the hubbub that had gone on upstairs and stumbled upon her gentle protector.

  “You’ll have to step down from Miss Alabama. If anyone finds out about this, they’ll strip you of the crown and you wouldn’t be able to participate in the Miss America pageant anyway.”

  The reality of the horrible unfairness had surrounded Emma then, like a black fog. “But I didn’t do anything.”

  “Yes, you did, Em
ma, whether you intended to or not. So, now we live with the consequences.”

  She’d turned on him then. “We?”

  His smile was regretful but not quite sad. “You have no idea. Now, I have to start over. Finding the perfect mate who will be a complement for my career moving forward wasn’t in the plan. I really wish it had been you. We’ve had some great times together, haven’t we?”

  She’d wondered what alien had come down and snatched the Tad Beaumont she’d shared her dreams with, the charming guy who’d professed his undying love for her when she’d given him her precious virginity. The patient, caring boyfriend she’d spent so many hours, days, and nights with over the years. This person couldn’t be him.

  But he had been. Just as soon as she’d let him down by doing—whatever it was she supposedly did, he’d dropped her to avoid any personal embarrassment.

  Emma had had lots of time since then to research true narcissism and now understood how slickly a person could be fooled by one. Narcissists, according to what she’d learned, were charming, engaging, and as long as the narcissist’s needs and desires were put first, above all else, things could go well in a relationship. Tad had groomed and manipulated her from the beginning to please him. She was pretty, dressed and behaved gracefully, which all served him. She adored him and fell into feeding his ego because he rewarded her with what had seemed like genuine affection when she’d done so. For years.

  After high school, they had both been very busy with college classes; Tad was continually swamped as president of his fraternity pledge class, and later the chapter, and Emma in own her sorority and with her preliminary pageants and helping with family events at Evangeline House whenever she could. Their time spent together was attending Greek formals, occasional dinners out together, and snatched time together for sex.

  Tad had never been a generous sexual partner. He was far more concerned with hearing that she was satisfied than actually making sure that she was. He was in it for his own personal gratification, without a doubt. But Emma hadn’t complained. Complaining to Tad had never gone well. So, she didn’t—about anything. Emma preferred peace.

  What Emma now understood these many years later was, even though she’d suffered through a confusing and hurtful time losing Tad—the person who she’d believed loved her and wanted to share his life with her—was what a true blessing in disguise it had been getting rid of his narcissistic ass. It had taken a long time to figure it out, but once she’d learned truly what he was, Emma knew she was far better off alone than with him—even if she ended up alone her entire life.

  The hard part now was still not knowing the full story. For so many years, she’d been content to turn away from the truth of things just in case she really was somehow to blame. But she’d met Matthew, and after getting a taste of what her future could potentially look like, Emma experienced a surge of strength, of empowerment that she hadn’t—ever—had. She needed to take control of what had happened, find out the whole truth of it, no matter how bad it reflected on her. She could handle it now.

  Emma hadn’t indulged herself in this kind of trip down memory lane in a very long time, and she’d certainly never emerged with an empowered outlook.

  The only person with solid information about the night in question that she knew of was Tad. She had been obviously drugged that evening, but by whom? Maybe it was time she and Tad had a real discussion about their past and put things to rest once and for all.

  *

  Matthew made the unusual decision to call Sabine Thursday and ask for a last minute appointment. She agreed to squeeze him in at the end of the day, thankfully, or he might have scrapped his plan to head to Chapman after work tomorrow for the weekend.

  “I was glad to hear from you, Matthew. What’s going on?” Sabine didn’t spend a lot of time on niceties; she got right down to business.

  “I was thinking about what you’d said—how being back here in Alabama might be the cause of my anxiety. No doubt that’s a big part of it. I’m having some real frustration in dealing with my family.”

  “Is your family nearby?” Sabine asked, her tone neutral.

  “About two hours away. My mother and sister live in Chapman, a couple hours Southeast of Ministry, but very similar in size and demographic.”

  Sabine nodded, knowingly. “I see. Small town where everyone knew everything about you and your family growing up?”

  “You got it. My stepdad was a real piece of work. My father left a little money for mine and my sister’s education. Somehow Frank, my stepdad, persuaded my mother to dip into it for his personal use. Needless to say, there wasn’t anything left when it was time to educate us.”

  “So, you’re angry with your mother as well as your stepfather, obviously. Leaving your stepfather out of things for now, because he was obviously someone who caused you a great deal of negative feelings, let’s discuss how you view your mother—what else are you angry with her about?”

  “Do you have all day?” His laugh wasn’t humorous. “She didn’t kick his sorry ass out as soon as she realized what a dick he was. Pardon my language.”

  Sabine waved his apology away.

  “I mean, what kind of parent doesn’t step in front of her child when a man raises a hand to him? Frank enjoyed manipulating my mother. And she refused to see what he was. She blamed me later when the money was gone and he finally left town with what little she had. She blamed me because Frank told her I was the reason he was going away.”

  Sabine sighed. “You know none of this was your fault, right?”

  “Yes. But my mother still blames me that she doesn’t have a deadbeat husband who stole all our money. I joined the military and nearly died so I could pay for my education because of that asshole.”

  “You’re right, he was an asshole. And judging from what you’ve said so far, I’d like to hunt him down and kick him in the balls.” Sabine looked angry.

  Her very un-therapist-like response make him laugh, a real laugh. “It’s refreshing that you understand.”

  “My dad’s an asshole, too—my real dad—so, I understand. He cheated on my mom and is a very powerful man. I truly understand your feelings of helplessness as a child. I felt very protective of my mother. She was more of a true victim, so I didn’t hold the same anger against her that you feel toward your mother, but I get it.”

  “Frank never hit my sister, but he wasn’t nice to her. He made her feel small and insecure. He really did a number on her self-esteem. He didn’t have a problem with knocking me around when my mom wasn’t at home.”

  “Sounds like a real prince. Where is Frank now?” Sabine asked.

  “I’m not sure, but my mother hopes every day he’ll come home to her.”

  “Was he physically abusive to her?”

  “Not that I know of. He pretty much schmoozed her out of her life savings. It’s amazing how an intelligent woman could be taken in and believe whatever a man like that told her as opposed to what her children tried to so she wouldn’t be without a man in the house.”

  “Maybe she thought having Frank there stabilized the home or that providing a poor father figure was better than not having one available.”

  “All I know was that he didn’t contribute financially, he was a constant irritant to me and my sister, and kept her at odds with her own children. There wasn’t a single benefit to his being in our lives that I can see except for appearances sake.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She liked having a man by her side, even to our detriment. It was a source of pride for her. She spoke unkindly about women in the community who couldn’t keep a man and of single mothers.”

  “Do you know why that was?”

  “I think she hated being alone and didn’t want to be pitied.”

  “That makes sense. What happened to you father?”

  Matthew took a deep breath. He hated discussing his father. “He died. But he left us before he died. I was ten.”

  Sabine’s expressio
n was sympathetic. “Help me understand what happened.”

  “He left because he was dying and wanted to spare us the trauma of watching him suffer through what the cancer would do to his body. But he kept us from spending time with him during the time he had left. My mother never forgave him and blamed us for his decision. She wanted to be with him but had to take care of us.”

  Sabine closed her eyes as she imagined the scenario. “That had to have been a rough situation for everyone. Did you maintain contact with your father during his decline?” She asked.

  “My mom found out where he was just days before he died. He’d checked in to some kind of veteran’s hospice facility. He must have been pretty sick when he was diagnosed, because he died about six months later. Dad was the love of Mom’s life, and she was inconsolable for a long time, as you might imagine. She never really got over his death, until she met Frank.”

  “She may have tried to recreate what she’d had with your father when she met Frank and refused to believe it wouldn’t work. Or maybe, she would rather go through anything than loneliness again.”

  “She was a really good mother until Dad left. Then, she just lost it. She’s never been the same.” He shook his head.

  “The little boy you were at ten years old misses his mom,” Sabine said softly.

  “I miss her,” he said, as his eyes filled up. “I miss them both.”

  Sabine slid over a strategic box of Kleenex on the table between them.

  “Thanks. Sorry. I’m not a kid anymore. You’d think I would have outgrown the need for my mommy.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m still so pissed at my dad I can hardly think about him without wanting to punch him in the face. Hopefully, you don’t want to punch your mother in the face,” she said.

  “No, but I often want to punch the wall when I’m talking with her because I get so frustrated. She’s started gambling her paychecks away at the slot machines on the weekends and she’s smoking.”

  “Has she always smoked?” Sabine asked.

  “No. It’s recent; so is the gambling.”