Wrecked and Yours Trilogy: A Second Chance Love Story

by CeeCee James

  The girl opened the gate in the white picket fence and skipped up the walkway to the front door.

  “No way…. What the—?” Miranda’s mouth dropped open. The van backed out of the driveway. It carefully passed her, the back windows showing her glimpses of more laughing ballerina girls, before it turned the corner and sped off.

  Air rushed out of her as though she’d been punched in the gut.

  “What do I do?” An irrational thought of running to the door to rescue the girl flashed through her mind. “What is she doing there?” Miranda’s body zinged with the sense of danger. She grabbed her phone. “Who do I even call?” Miranda glanced back at the house, but the little girl had disappeared inside.

  She…lives there? With him? With a monster? How can they not know?

  You can’t do anything. Leave now, before someone calls the police on you. She put the Jeep in gear and slowly moved forward.

  I need to find someplace to park, someplace I can think.

  At the stop sign she dialed her sister. She set it on speaker then turned the corner.

  The phone rang a few times. “Pick up. Pick up. Pick up,” Miranda muttered.

  “Hello?” Cassie’s cheerful voice answered.

  “Cassie! Oh, thank goodness you’re home.”

  “Did you find him?” Cassie’s voice went ice-cold with fear.

  “Yes!”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Cassie, some little girl is staying with Uncle Vince!”

  “What?”

  “Yes, I’m serious!”

  The line went silent. Miranda shivered inside. “Talk to me.”

  “Okay, calm down. We’re going to deal with this.”

  “How?”

  “Go check in at the Best Western, I’m coming down tomorrow.”

  “Cassie, I feel like throwing-up.”

  “Yeah, I bet you do. I’m sure just seeing that girl triggered some memories or feelings. Hang in there, Sis.”

  “How can we fix this?”

  “I don’t know, but we’ll figure out a way. Maybe its not too late to press charges.”

  Miranda felt her stomach roll over at the thought of what her sister was suggesting. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “I’ll be with you. You’re strong.”

  “I’m about as strong as a wet paper bag right about now.” Miranda started shaking at the thought. “I’m chickening out. I just want to leave this place and go on a long hike. I hear Bridal Falls is beautiful this time of year.” She gave a nervous laugh.

  “Okay, breathe. Relax. You’re not going anywhere except for the hotel. Call me when you check in. We’re going to fix this, and get him before he hurts anyone else.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes after Miranda checked into the Best Western, a stab of loneliness hit in her core. All she wanted was Jason’s arms around her, telling her it was going to be okay. “I don’t even recognize my life any more.” She sighed and walked over to the window, yanking open the curtains. The light hardly made the room cheerier. Dark bedspreads covered the two double beds. A nondescript painting hung between them; something with a lot of blue—maybe the ocean. The scent of the previous occupant’s old perfume hung in the air.

  Her phone buzzed. The text was from Dylan —Hey baby, how’s it going? Miranda rolled her eyes and powered the screen off. What am I even doing with him?

  She flopped back on the bed with her arms behind her head and stared at the ceiling. Nothing to do but wait. And remember.

  Miranda bit her lip and tried not to feel cheated. What would life have been like if Mom had lived? I’m so sick of it, sick that he even gets to affect my life any more. He doesn’t get to win!

  Unconsciously, her gaze traced along a stain in the ceiling in the shape of the state of Florida. She counted the curtain rod hooks, then the flying birds in the painting; anything to distract herself from the memories now falling like boulders from the past. I will not be crushed by this. I’m stronger. I’m not a victim. I’m not a victim.

  “Why, God? Why did you let that happen?” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. When does it get better? She buried her face in a pillow, letting out a scream of helplessness. Sitting up, she pounded it with her fist. “I wish this was his face,” she muttered. After hitting it a few more times Miranda threw it off the bed and walked to the bathroom. The mirror reflected streaks of mascara and red blotches. Seeing herself cry stirred her anger again. “Don’t you do it. Don’t you cry over him. Ever. Again. You are strong. You are going to get through this.”

  She splashed cold water over her cheeks and used a tissue to wipe under her eyes. “You’re doing this for her. For that little girl. Strength is standing even when you are afraid.”

  Taking a deep breath, she held it for a few seconds before releasing it slowly. She repeated this a few times, and reached for the TV remote. “Time to just chill.” Miranda found a movie, then grabbed the hotel folder by the phone. Flipping through it, she located the number to a pizza place.

  “I want a large chicken artichoke. Loaded.” A commercial came on for some guy in a three-piece suit. He stared into the camera and said, “Beauty for ashes.” Miranda sucked in a deep breath at those words. She’d heard them before, somewhere.

  Twenty minutes later, the pizza arrived. Miranda quickly paid and took the box to the bed. Rifling through the drawers, she found a notepad emblazoned with the hotel’s name. She sat on the bed with a pen and the pad and bit into a slice of pizza.

  The first line she wrote was; It wasn’t my fault. I don’t care if I believe it’s true or not. Truth is true whether it feels like it or not. She underlined the first four words twice.

  Then under that she wrote. Beauty for ashes.

  Miranda reached for the phone, wishing she could call Jason, but rang Cassie instead.

  Her sister answered on the first ring. “He ain’t getting away with it this time. I’m dropping the hammer on him.”

  “Cassie, you’re five-foot-two. What kind of hammer can you drop?”

  “Oh, you just wait and see.” Her sister gave a dark laugh.

  19

  Autumn

  Miranda stood on the steps of the police station. No doors had ever seemed more intimidating than those in front of her now. I wish Jason were here. I need him so much. Instead, Cassie stood next to her. Her hand hovered near Miranda’s elbow, as if she were not quite sure whether she should touch her or not.

  “You okay?” Cassie tipped her head sympathetically.

  Miranda said, “I’m so not okay. This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever even though about doing.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I feel like a little girl, waiting to find some adult to take care of this for me.”

  “When this is all said and done, I’ll hike to Bridal Falls with you.”

  Miranda’s vision got a bit blurry at her words. “You’d do that for me?”

  “I’d do anything for you.”

  “You are a gift from God, I swear.” Miranda hugged her, then yanked open the door. “Let’s get it done.”

  The doors of the police station opened to a large foyer. Their shoes clattered against the white speckled linoleum, stained from years of traffic. A domed metal detector arched ahead of them. An old police officer, looking just days from retirement, sat up straighter as they approached. Miranda and Cassie set their purses on the table and walked through the detector. After scanning their purses with a wand, the police officer handed them back.

  “Thank you.” Cassie said. Miranda’s heart beat in her throat. Suddenly this seemed like a horrible idea. “Where do we go if we want to report something?” Cassie continued.

  “Report what?”

  “This is a bad idea.” Miranda was sweating but she felt ice-cold. “Let’s go.”

  “Hang on, Sis.” Cassie rested her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “An assault.”

  “Detective Ramsey over there. He can help you.” The old police officer pointed to
a desk at the far end of the room.

  Miranda swallowed. He can help me? She was going to have to share this with a man? “Excuse me,” she asked. “Do you have any female detectives?”

  He shook his head. “Not on duty today. But Ramsey’s a good guy. He’ll help you.”

  They walked into the busy room, immediately hit with the smell of burnt coffee. The desks were cordoned off with flimsy half wall partitions covered in a patchworks of family photos and faded cartoon strips. Eventually they made their way to Detective Ramsey’s desk.

  He was in his forties, balding on the top of his head. “So,” he barely glanced at them as he shuffled stacks of papers around. His desk was a cluttered mess of steno pads, a laptop, dirty coffee cups, and a computer monitor. The phone blinked steadily with two red lights. “How can I help you?”

  Miranda swallowed. “I think we’ve come at a bad time,” she said and began to back away.

  Her tone made him look up at her. “Sit.” He indicated the chair with his pencil. Swiveling his chair, he reached for another behind him and dragged it over for Cassie. “Now, what can I do for you ladies?”

  Miranda’s heart beat in her ears. “I—” I can’t do this!

  “We’re here to report a crime,” Cassie started, then nudged her sister to continue. Miranda’s mouth was as dry as the pine shavings under a skill saw. Nothing was coming out. Frozen with fear, she couldn’t even nod her head. Every area of her body screamed, THIS is a mistake!

  “Okay.” He grabbed his steno pad. “What do you have to report?”

  Miranda shook her head no.

  “Think of the little girl.” Cassie gripped Miranda’s arm tight. Miranda felt her sister’s fingernails through her sweater.

  Sweat sprung out on Miranda’s forehead and upper lip. “I want to report something that happened to me. It was a long time ago.”

  A look passed over the officer’s face. He took a deep breath and nodded. “This isn’t the first time I’ve taken these reports. You’d be surprised. Just take it slow and tell me what happened.”

  Miranda’s mind blanked at his words. He stared at her expectantly. Time seemed to slow. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  And remember how her uncle reeked of Listerine. He’d touched her cheek, told her how pretty she was.

  The words flowed from her in a way that had seemed impossible just the night before.

  An hour had passed when she finally finished speaking. She blinked her eyes, startled at the passage of time.

  The police officer continued to write, his pencil scratching across the pad. His use of a pencil suddenly struck her as funny, and she stifled a hysterical laugh. She really was losing it.

  “You did good. I have this recorded.” He tapped the pencil lightly against the pad, hesitated for a moment, then continued. “I wish we could go after this scumbag, but unfortunately this state has one of the worst statutes of limitations on prosecuting criminal molestation.” He studied her from under furrowed eyebrows. “It’s something I’d like to see changed in my career.”

  “So, you’re saying there’s nothing we can do?” Miranda whispered, fearing her voice would crack.

  Detective Ramsey’s chest expanded as he took in a deep breath. Slowly, he let it out. “I want to see you get justice. You deserve it. This guy should be locked up behind bars. But, unfortunately, the law hasn’t been developed that way.”

  “What else can we do?”

  “You can try a civil lawsuit. This was definitely a crime. He should pay.”

  “What if he’s done it again? There’s a little girl that lives with him.”

  The detective ran a ham-sized hand over his fleshy face. He shook his head. “Unfortunately, we have to wait for him to strike again. And hope the victim is brave enough and has enough support to tell.”

  Miranda’s eyes flickered with pain. Her stomach ached. All of this, for nothing.

  “We have to wait for him to commit another crime?” Cassie asked.

  “Yes, unfortunately. But if statistics prove one thing, it’s that these sicko’s do strike again.”

  “Well,” Cassie began. “There is one more thing.”

  20

  Autumn

  Cassie rolled the Subaru to a stop in front of Uncle Vince’s house. It had been two weeks since their visit to the police station. Two weeks of Cassie spending every free minute on her computer. Last night Cassie had received a phone call from Detective Ramsey. Hanging up, she’d announced to Miranda that today was the day.

  How’d she get to be so capable? Miranda looked at her sister in the driver’s seat. My rock.

  A car drove past them, with a flurry of leaves spinning up in the car’s wake. Miranda glanced at the house and rubbed her arms.

  “You’re going to be okay,” Cassie said, watching her sister. “We’ll get through this. This scumbag is going down.” She jerked up the emergency break and reached for her sister’s knee to squeeze it. “You’re braver than you than you think.’”

  Miranda’s palms were sweaty as she opened the door. She wiped her hands on her pants, her stomach flip-flopping. Straightening her shoulders, she tossed her hair back and met her sister on the front walk.

  Cassie winked at her and grabbed her hand. “Let's go kick some butt.” They marched up the stairs to the front door.

  Stabbing the doorbell, Cassie’s face fell into a serious expression. Miranda shifted and Cassie gripped her hand more firmly. The wait seemed to last forever, but finally light steps approached the door. It swung open to reveal a slight woman in a striped shirt and cream poplin shorts, her dark hair pulled back in a soccer-mom style,.

  “Yes?” She asked, her forehead creased.

  “Mrs. Temple?” Cassie began.

  The woman shifted her gaze between the two sisters. Her grip on the door tightened. “Yes, I’m her.”

  “We’d like to talk to you for a minute.”

  “What’s this about?” She pulled back from the opening, her eyes dark and wary.

  Miranda held her breath. Cassie continued calmly. “This is about your husband, our uncle.”

  “Your uncle?” Mrs. Temple shook her head, confused. “Are you sure you have the right house? My husband doesn’t have any living family.”

  “Yes, he actually does. We are them.” Cassie tightened her mouth.

  “Maybe come back later when he’s home,” Mrs. Temple said, and started to close the door.

  Cassie blocked it with her foot. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Temple. This is about the safety of your daughter.”

  The door froze for a second. Her face peeked out. “Charlotte?”

  “We’ve just come from the police station,” Cassie continued. “We’d like to share what we told them.”

  Mrs. Temple’s eyes fluttered. She took a deep breath. “Go around through the gate to the back yard. I’ll meet you there.”

  Miranda shot a questioning look at Cassie and nodded. They followed the fence to the gate and entered the back yard.

  It was cool and green back there, smelling like freshly mowed grass. The stone patio held a fire pit and several lawn chairs. Mrs. Temple exited the rear door, nervously wringing her hands.

  “Sit,” she said, gesturing to the lawn chairs.

  Miranda perched on the edge of her chair while Cassie sat next to her.

  Mrs. Temple hesitated a moment before sitting across from them. “Well, what’s this about?”

  Miranda’s heart pounded. She clenched her hands, her fingernails digging crescents into her palms. “Nearly ten years ago, my father died. He was Uncle Vince’s brother.”

  Mrs. Temple nodded. “Phillip. Yes, I’ve heard about him.”

  Miranda’s eyes watered at the sound of her father’s name. She swallowed. “Yes, Phillip. He died in a car accident. He was on his way to confront Uncle Vince.”

  Across the neighborhood a dog barked, breaking the silence that followed. Finally, Mrs. Temple responded, “Confront him about what?”

/>   “He molested my sister.” Cassie blurted out.

  Mrs. Temple lurched back as if trying to physically reject Cassie’s words. She stared out into the yard, her face draining of color.

  After a moment, she whispered, “Are you going to press charges?”

  “I wish I could,” Miranda said.

  Narrowing her eyes, Mrs. Temple crossed her arms. “I don’t believe you. Tell me the real reason you’re here. Money?”

  A laugh nearly bubbled out of Miranda’s throat at the absurdity of the question. Was she crazy? “Yeah right! Like I’d drive my butt all the way down here and pour out my heart for money. I’m trying to save you heartache! Save your daughter’s innocence.” Fury started to rise in her and she scooted to the edge of her seat. “I can’t even believe you’d say that! If you think we’d come all this way for no reason, you’re crazy.”

  Cassie glanced at her sister. “Calm down, Miranda.”

  “Well, you just can’t think I’m going to believe such a horrible story about my husband?” Mrs. Temple continued.

  “There’s more, so much more,” Cassie began.

  Mrs. Temple stood and paced around the fire pit. She rubbed her temple then stared with red-rimmed eyes at Miranda. “What am I supposed to do now? Just take your word for it?”

  “We know this is shocking. But we aren’t making it up. We’re telling you so that you can keep your daughter safe. That’s my only motive,” Miranda said.

  Mrs. Temple paused in her pacing and sat back in her chair. Her pale hand gripped her thin leg. “Charlotte just returned from her Dad’s. Vince and I have only been married a month. What am I going to do?” she said, half to herself.

  A car pulled into the driveway. Mrs. Temple jerked her head up at the sound. “He’s home,” she said.

  Miranda felt fear like ice water flood through her veins. Suddenly she was dizzy.

  Cassie reached over and grabbed the corner of her shirt, giving it a tug. “Do your weird relax-breathing thing,” she advised. “You’re okay. I’m right here with you.”