Torque

by Shauna Allen

  Not a minute later, as I was starting my car and setting my GPS, my phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “You cannot say something like that in a text and leave me hanging.”

  I grinned at Delilah’s sleep-coated voice and the baby cooing in the background with Blake’s deep, rumbly voice baby-talking back. “Sorry.” I backed up and started driving. “Just wanted someone to know what was going on. You know, just in case I broke down on the side of the road, was kidnapped and murdered or something.”

  “That is not funny, Rach.”

  “Sorry,” I apologized again.

  “Start with Jesse. What the hell? Blake didn’t know anything.”

  “No, I’d imagine they’re not letting him call anyone right now.” I quickly explained the run in with Joel and the supposed protective order violation, though I was beginning to have my doubts about it since Jesse had never mentioned one, and by law, he would’ve had to have been notified. Not that he couldn’t have kept something like that from me, but it still smelled fishy. There was also the matter of it not being listed in the courthouse database when I’d looked the night he was arrested. Protective orders are public record, so it should’ve been there unless it was recently filed. But I would not put it past Joel Mackie to lie to a cop’s face just to get Jesse thrown back in prison.

  “God. What happens now?”

  “I’m representing him. I’ll figure it out once I can get with the DA on Monday. For now, though, there’s not much we can do but wait.”

  “Hold on a sec.” Delilah moved away from the phone and I heard her give her husband the quick and dirty version. “Okay, I’m back. Now, you still haven’t told me where you’re going and what’s this secret you’re talking about?”

  I stopped at the neighborhood stop sign and glanced around. The sun was rising high in the clear sky, promising a beautiful day. My neighbor was out mowing his lawn, the whine of the mower muted outside my window, but the scent of freshly cut grass sneaking in my vents. I was suddenly filled with hope. No matter what I found at my destination, it would be all right.

  “My dad had another daughter.”

  I let that bomb drop for a second as I drove on, headed for the highway north. Finally, Delilah sputtered, “What? What do you mean ‘another daughter?’ How is that possible?”

  I explained the package my brother sent and all I’d found inside. Strangely, saying it all out loud cleared my head a bit and lifted some weight from my shoulders. I knew my dad. He wouldn’t have kept secrets unless it was to protect his children. He loved us, of that I had no doubt. Even this girl I had never met.

  “So where are you going? To find her?”

  “Yeah. I need to lay eyes on her for my own peace of mind. Then there’s also the matter of money.”

  “Wouldn’t child support stop now that he’s dead?”

  “Yes.” I swallowed. “But she’s only fifteen. A kid. I know he’d want me and West to do the right thing by her if we can.”

  “Wow. Good luck. Call me on your way home and tell me how it went.”

  “I will.”

  We hung up and I continued to drive out of town, following my GPS map. After a couple of turnarounds thanks to construction, I found myself at a quaint little brick house with a weathered blue mailbox and large oak tree. I parked by the curb and double-checked the address. This was it. But now that I was here, I was having vicious doubts. Was this the worst idea on the planet?

  My hand hovered over the gear shift to get the hell out of there when the garage door started sliding open, revealing a burgundy sedan. My heart began to pound so hard I thought I might vomit. I watched, spellbound, as a woman in shorts and a T-shirt stepped out with a bag of trash, followed by a young girl, who hightailed it to the other side of the two-car garage and a workbench full of tools.

  I could only stare, thunderstruck.

  Long red hair, curlier than mine, was pulled back into a high ponytail, and long, jean-clad legs tapped in time to an unheard beat. It was like traveling back in time and there was no denying it. She was most definitely my sister.

  Undecided, I sat frozen, watching them both, wondering what else I didn’t know about my father. Hurt and hope warred in my chest.

  The woman spoke to the girl then proceeded down the driveway with her bag of garbage. She dumped it in the can and closed the lid just as she glanced my way. She paused, her eyes locked on mine. My throat convulsed as a hand flew to her mouth.

  She must’ve made a noise because the girl glanced over to her mother, then to me, then back to her mom. I didn’t know what else to do, so I opened my door with a shaky hand and stepped out.

  “Oh, my God,” the woman gasped. “Rachel?”

  “Yes.” I moved her way as she took me in from head to toe. “You know my name?”

  Tears were flowing down her face freely now. “Of course I do. Richard loved you very much.” She glanced toward her daughter, who was watching us both warily. “He talked about you and your brother all the time.”

  I simply didn’t know how to feel. “How . . . ?”

  Her face crumpled in sympathy and she reached out to touch my arm, but apparently thought better of it and drew her hand back quickly. “I read about Richard’s accident in the paper. I’m so very sorry. For all of us.” She tilted her head toward the house. “I’m sure you have lots of questions. Why don’t you come meet Aubrey and we can talk.”

  She waited for me to decide, and when I slowly started her way, she smiled warmly. “I’ve been praying for this day,” she confided, her voice low and emotional.

  I snapped my head toward her. “You have?”

  Her smile grew. “Of course. I loved your father, and even though I’d never met you or Weston, I love you, too. We’re family.”

  Family.

  The word rumbled through my brain, giving me a strange sense of hope. Daddy had been the glue of our family, and after he died, we’d pretty much fallen apart. Sure, I loved my brother, but we’d grown distant. My mother had been off the radar since she walked away from us when I was fourteen and I hadn’t heard from her in years. We had no real extended family to speak of, emotional or physical distance separating us all. Family love was a novel concept for me.

  We made our way to the garage and Aubrey was staring at me openly now, a furrow of confusion marring her brow.

  “Aubrey,” her mother said. “I’d like you to meet Rachel.” She paused and glanced my way. “Your sister.”

  Well, she looked about as shocked as I had been, so I knew I wasn’t alone there. Taking the lead, I stepped to her and offered my hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

  Her big, brown eyes, so much like mine, stared at me as tears began to fill them. Then, in a move that shocked me, she launched herself into my arms and held on for dear life.

  After a moment of hesitation, I hugged her back as I felt my own tears begin to pool.

  She eventually drew back. “Hi.”

  I laughed. “Hi.”

  She reached up and touched my hair. “You look like me.”

  “No. You look like me. I’m older.”

  A sweet, girly giggle erupted from her. “I guess.”

  “Shall we go inside? Catch up?” her mom asked.

  Aubrey glanced to her mother then back. “Will you come in?”

  “Sure.”

  By the time I left to go home late that night, I had all the answers I’d been seeking and then some. Barbara and my dad had apparently been high school sweethearts and very much in love, but they lost touch when she went off to college and my dad met my mother. They reconnected years later, and Barbara admitted that she knew their affair was wrong, but they still loved each other so much and my parents’ marriage was crumbling.

  I did some quick calculations and realized that she must’ve gotten pregnant with Aubrey right before my parents divorced. Had my mom found out? Was that why she left?

  Did it really matter?

  An affair an
d divorce were one thing, but to up and abandon your children . . . I’d never understand that.

  Barbara also said that Dad was thrilled about another child, but he was also very protective of me and my brother, and did not want to shatter our lives any more. I’d forgotten how emotionally volatile those first months were after Mom left, and as much as I hated the secrecy, I understood it. I could even be thankful for it. Barbara was an amazing woman to be so understanding; to continue loving my father from afar.

  “Was he ever going to tell us?” I asked over coffee at their dining room table near the end of the evening.

  Barbara’s eyes softened. “I’m sure he would’ve eventually, but I know he struggled with the right words and he worried how you and your brother would take it after he’d hidden it so long. He didn’t want to lose you.”

  “He wouldn’t have lost me.” But, even as I said the words, I knew I couldn’t really know that. There was no telling how I would’ve reacted if he’d told me he cheated on my mom and fathered a child. Things looked totally different now that he was gone.

  I stood to make my way home, but Aubrey wouldn’t let me leave without a private girl talk. Barbara nodded, her eyes smiling, at her daughter’s request.

  Alone in her room, Aubrey faced me. “So, do you have a boyfriend?”

  I glanced up from examining her colorful room, full of boy band posters and book quotes posted everywhere. “Uh . . .” Was Jesse my boyfriend anymore? “Sort of.”

  “Sort of? You either do or you don’t.”

  “It’s complicated.” I picked up a car repair manual and smiled quizzically at her in question.

  She flushed a little. “I like to work on cars.”

  I grinned as a mix of camaraderie and admiration filled me. “Of course you do.” At her look, I relented and told her about Jesse, my mechanic extraordinaire man.

  We giggled and talked until it was time for me to go, but she made me promise to call and visit again. “Of course,” I said, really meaning it. Now that I’d met the girl who not only looked like my mini me, but shared many of the same tastes, there was no way I’d let her go.

  As I drove home in the black Texas night, I contemplated this turn in my life. I had some new family that were kind and wonderful and accepted me with open arms. For a split second, I thought of calling Jesse before I realized I couldn’t. The one person in the world who I wanted to share this with was lost to me and that was absolutely crushing.

  Jesse

  Saturday morning, they let me have a phone call. I contemplated just calling Blake, but I knew my family would be hurt if I didn’t let them know what was going on and that I might be going back to prison.

  I ignored the hollering of the other guys in lockup and the smell of sweaty despair and held my breath as I waited for the operator to connect my collect call.

  “Hello?” came my mother’s soft voice.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Jesse?” I heard the surprise in her voice that I was calling so early. “Is everything all right, sweetie?”

  I dropped my head. “No. Not really.”

  “What’s wrong?” Now she sounded frightened and I felt about two inches tall for putting my family through this again.

  “I was arrested last night.”

  Pause. “Arrested? What on earth for?”

  I bit the bullet and told her about my altercation with Joel.

  “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. That boy has been nothing but trouble since y’all were in school. What can we do to help?”

  My heart warmed that she didn’t question my innocence or chastise me for losing my temper. Just like she’d done the first time when I’d nearly killed him. “Well . . . nothing, I guess. Rachel is going to look into things legally on Monday, see if I have a leg to stand on.” I swallowed against the lump in my throat, silently terrified of losing my second shot at life.

  We talked a few more minutes until the guard pointed at his watch to indicate my phone privilege time was up. “I’ve gotta go, Mom. Will you let everyone know what’s going on? Blake, too?”

  “Of course I will. You take care of yourself. I’m sure Rachel will be able to help you, she’s a good girl.”

  “She is.”

  “I love you, sweetheart. Bye.”

  “Love you, too.”

  We hung up and I was led back to my cell. I slumped down on my lumpy bed and let the despair come.

  How had my life ended up like this? Had I done something horrid in another life, or perpetrated some unforgiveable sin that I couldn’t name? Why did it feel like I was being punished for being soiled by a predator; the horror of that moment in time staining me forever?

  By late Monday morning, I was a raving lunatic.

  I needed out of this fucking cell and I needed to see Rachel. I had to know I hadn’t run her off for good with my angry mouth.

  I paced and ignored breakfast, my body running on exhausted fumes. I’d been literally in a bubble all weekend, cut off from the rest of the world, not knowing what was happening, what people were thinking.

  Did I still have a job?

  Did Rachel hate my damn guts? She had every right.

  When I was finally led to a small meeting room to see her around ten, I knew immediately something was different. It was as if she’d armored herself with indifference and one of her expensive power suits, this one the same deep, deep blue of a stormy sea. Her hair was swept up and contained tightly in a twisty bun, no-nonsense librarian glasses perched on her nose.

  “Good morning,” she said, her voice cool.

  “Hey.” I sat, stifling the embarrassment at the clink of the handcuffs.

  She glanced down at my bound wrists, a crack in her shell visible for a split second. “Is that really necessary.”

  I tilted my head toward the door. “They seem to think so.”

  She raised a brow but didn’t comment further. Lifting a small leather messenger bag to the table, she whipped out a manila folder and flopped it open. “Well . . .” She met my gaze. “The good news is Joel Mackie is a lying jackass.”

  My mouth popped open. “What?”

  A ghost of a smile whispered across her lips before she tucked it away. “State law states you have to be notified of any restraining or protective orders filed against you and the parameters—”

  “I wasn’t,” I insisted.

  She tilted her head down and peered at me from the top of her glasses. “I know. I was getting to that.”

  I shut my mouth and nodded for her to continue.

  “So, as I was saying . . .” Her eyes darted to the handcuffs again then back up. “I went on the assumption you hadn’t been notified of any protective order since you never mentioned one and didn’t seem fazed to be in the same building as him, a clear violation of any kind of order like that. That led me to wonder if he was making it all up just to get you arrested. Again.”

  I froze. Could I have been locked up, my life thrown into disarray, based on the lie of that motherfucker? Was he that spiteful?

  When I didn’t speak, she continued. “So, the obvious thing to do was to check the public records.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. He’s a liar.”

  Anger and shock rippled through me and I clenched my fists on the table. “So what happens now?”

  “Well, I spoke with the DA this morning and presented him with the information. All charges will be dropped and you’ll be free to go in the next couple of hours. You’ll be home by lunchtime.”

  “What about Mackie?” I spat out.

  She slipped off her glasses, her expression serious. “I’ve got the paperwork here to file charges against him for obstruction of justice for lying to the police and defamation of character if you’d like to proceed with that. I’d also recommend filing for a restraining order against him. If he’s this vindictive, he could truly do some damage if it’s even conceived you’re violating your parole. But of course the choice is yours. We can do nothing.”
>
  Fuck him. “Throw the book at him.”

  She nodded, seemingly pleased with my answer. “I was hoping you’d say that. I have all the papers ready for you to sign then I’ll file them with the court.”

  I picked up the pen then glanced over at her. She lifted her eyes from the papers to mine. “How much is this going to cost me?” I asked.

  Her gaze sharpened. She’d better not tell me it was free . . . “We can ask the judge to make Joel pay. If that doesn’t work, I’ll send you a bill for my standard hourly fee times the two hours I worked up all of this.”

  Satisfied, I scribbled my signature where she’d indicated.

  She collected the papers and neatly placed them back into the folder, her eyes never meeting mine. Standing, she picked up her bag, her body language screaming she was holding back whatever she wanted to say to me. “Well,” she finally said, “everything should be in order and they’ll get you processed out soon. Call me if you have any problems and I’ll keep you posted on our case.”

  I watched her walk, ramrod stiff, to the door. She paused with her hand on the knob.

  “Rachel?”

  She peered at me over her shoulder, her gaze vulnerable.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She slid out before I had the chance to address the chasm between us.

  Rachel

  As soon as I left Jesse in that small, dank, sorry excuse for a conference room at the jail, I drove straight to the courthouse and filed his papers against Joel Mackie.

  My heart might be hurting because of the crap that had come between us, but the attorney in me wanted justice for him. I didn’t want him to suffer anymore. That was not fair.

  Angelo had let me know in no uncertain terms what he thought of my helping Jesse when I dropped by the office that morning, and I couldn’t quite let it roll off my back like I usually did. Not with this. Not with Jesse.

  Really, Rachel, why are you lowering yourself to represent him? He’s nothing . . . a criminal on parole. This firm has much bigger fish to fry.