by Loretta Lost
Rising to my feet carefully, I step forward to grasp and shake her hand. She is a bit taller than me, and I can’t help noticing that her body is slender and toned. She is in perfect shape, while I’m carrying an extra twenty-five pounds of pregnancy weight. I never feel intimidated by other women, but I do right now. “It’s great to meet you,” I tell her with a friendly smile.
“I’m so sorry about your husband,” she says gently. “It’s horrible. So horrible.”
“Ah, yes. Well, if you’d like to meet him, he’s right over there!” I say in a feeble attempt at humor, gesturing toward my husband’s urn which is sitting on their kitchen table.
“Is that… oh my goodness,” Caroline says in surprise and slight discomfort. “I didn’t even notice he was here. Not a very chatty fellow, I suppose.”
Caroline and I stare at each other with forced smiles for a few seconds before we both turn to look at Owen expectantly. I am positive that the looks on both our faces demand that he do or say something to put a stop to this unbelievably awkward situation.
“Well,” Owen says, slapping both of his hands down on his thighs. He rises to his feet and grins at us. “Carmen and I had better get going. I need to drive her to the airport so that she can take her husband’s ashes to his family in Detroit.”
“Detroit?” Caroline asks. “Be careful. I’ve heard unpleasant things.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” I inform her with a small frown. “Actually, Owen? Maybe I should take a cab. I was thinking that maybe I should pop by my house first to grab my suitcase. I don’t know how many days I’ll end up staying there, and it might be more convenient since I have to take the breast pump and everything.”
“I don’t mind driving you,” Owen tells me. “I’m on call at work in a few hours, but they might not need me until way later. I should have enough time to get you to your house and then to the airport.”
“Are you sure?” I say with worry, glancing at Caroline. “I really don’t mind taking a cab. You should probably get some rest before work, Owen.”
“Please,” Caroline says, opening her arms in a gesture of encouragement. “I insist that you let Owen drive you. Cabbies are cold and professional, but Owen will make you smile. This is a difficult time for you, Carmen, and you could probably use a few laughs.” Moving over to Owen, Caroline places a lusty kiss on his mouth. She stays lip-locked with him for a few seconds longer than is appropriate, and I’m pretty sure she’s using tongue.
I’m not sure why my stomach is flip-flopping in discomfort, but I feel a little sick.
When she is done, she smiles at me as if she has just marked her territory. She puts an arm around Owen possessively as she winks at me. “I don’t mind you borrowing my man for a few hours, Carmen. Just make sure that when you return him, he’s all in one piece.”
“Like a library book!” Owen says brightly, but I can see that he is a little irritated. “Alrighty, then. Let’s get going, Carm. I’ll grab your husband.”
“Sure,” I say softly, trying to maintain the fake smile on my face.
Chapter Fifteen
“Liam says that it’s a little slice of heaven,” Owen tells me as he drives the last mile to my house. “He’s been bugging me to drive out there and spend a weekend with them. Would you like to go with me in a few weeks, to hang out with the happy couple? I think it could be good for us.”
“Definitely,” I say at once. “I really want to see my sister, but I’d also enjoy taking another road trip with you.”
Owen turns to look at me with a smile. “That sounds like… shit!” Owen slams his foot on the brakes. “You can’t go into that house, Carm. That’s his car. I remember because he nearly ran me over with it.”
“It’s okay,” I say firmly, reaching out to place my hand on Owen’s leg. “I’m not afraid of him. In fact, I think I’d like to confront him.”
“Do you have a death wish or something?” Owen asks me incredulously. “Seriously, are you turned on by freaks? Do you have freak-o-philia?”
“It’s called hybristophilia,” I explain to him with a smile. “To be attracted to someone who commits outrages and criminal acts against other people. And no, Owen, I don’t have it! I’m turned on by normal good guys too. Like you.” I wink at him before briskly exiting the vehicle.
Owen was startled into being frozen for a moment after my comment, but he quickly reaches out to grab my wrist to keep me from exiting the car. “Please, Carmen. Don’t go in there. He’s dangerous! If you do this, I’m coming with you.”
“No,” I tell him with determination. “I won’t let him know that I’m going to Detroit. I’ll grab a backpack of my things and make up some excuse. I can buy some real luggage at the airport. I’ll be inconspicuous.”
“What if he noticed that the urn was missing? He’ll know that it was you. Who else would steal Grayson’s funeral urn? He could be onto us. He could be waiting in there with rope to tie you up and take you to his sex dungeon where he’ll do unspeakable things to you. I saw it in a documentary once.”
“You saw it in a porno once,” I tell him teasingly as I pull my wrist away. “Don’t worry, Owen. I’m a big girl. I’ve got this.”
“Call me in ten minutes!” Owen insists. “If you’re not back, or if you don’t call me in ten minutes, I’m coming in there. But not before calling the cops, and demanding that they send a SWAT team!”
Owen’s overprotective nature is adorable, and I can’t help sending him a little smile. I am seized by the urge to climb back into the car and give him a kiss, but I quickly remember that Caroline just slobbered all over him. She really does know how to mark her territory; that image will surely be burned into my memory for a while. Anyway, I have more pressing concerns.
“Twenty minutes,” I tell him, closing the car door and turning away, I rearrange my clothing and walk toward my house. My high heels echo on the cobblestones, and I feel completely in control. I am not afraid of Brad in the least. No—I am curious about what he’s up to, and why. I am reaching into my purse for my key when the door opens. Brad is standing there with a worried look on his face.
“Carmen? Where were you?” he asks with concern, reaching out to gather me close for a hug.
I let him, and I’m surprised by how nice he smells considering the abominable odor of his apartment. Maybe he lives somewhere else? Maybe the apartment belonged to Grayson? I have no clue, but I can’t jump to conclusions.
“I came home early to surprise you with lunch,” Brad is saying as he leads me into the house, “but you were gone. I tried calling, but you didn’t answer.”
Standing on my tiptoes, I place a kiss on Brad’s cheek. “I was feeling restless and sick of being in the house,” I explain. “So I went to see a movie. While I was at the theatre, my breasts started hurting. The pain was unbelievable, so I called my doctor friend.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Brad asks with worry.
“I knew you were at work,” I tell him with a smile. “I didn’t want to bother you. Anyway, I decided to deal with the situation by donating to a milk bank, so I just came home for a fresh change of clothes and to grab a few things. My breasts have leaked a little out onto my clothing and it’s really gross and uncomfortable.”
“I’m so sorry,” Brad says, reaching out to gently cup my breasts in the palm of his hands. “I didn’t know you were in so much pain. Why didn’t you tell me? I saw you holding your breasts when we were sleeping the other night, but I didn’t realize why. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him softly. I am a little surprised by the tenderness of his touch and genuine consideration in his tone. It makes me feel guilty for everything. For breaking and entering, stealing, mistrusting him, and going behind his back. He must care about me in some small degree, and I am actually being quite horrible to him.
“I wish I knew more about this stuff,” Brad says with regret. “Sadly, I spend my days dealing wit
h intellectual property and copyright law. I can’t compete with your doctor friends when it comes to helping your pregnancy-related issues. I really wish I could, Carm.”
“I’m going to be fine, Brad. I just really need to change and head out to this appointment. If I don’t rush, I’ll be late, so I should probably head upstairs.” Pulling away from him, I move toward the staircase and climb a few steps. Then I pause. Looking back at him, I fix Brad with an earnest and pleading look. “I told you that I couldn’t deal with any more lies, Brad. You’ve already hurt me with the flowers, and with keeping my daughter from me. Is there anything else you want to tell me? Anything at all?”
“What do you mean?” he asks me softly. “I—I’m not very good at opening up, Carmen.”
“Just… is there anything about you that I don’t know?” I ask him. “Anything that would bother me?”
“I will admit that I have a lot of secrets. There are a lot of horrifying events in my past that I can’t even stand to think about. I’ve had to do some obscene things to get by in life, Carmen. I’ve told you this. Grayson and I—we fought so hard to get out of the gutter. And that’s not a metaphor. I have literally slept in the gutter. You can’t begin to know what that’s like.”
“Try me,” I encourage him. “I’m willing to listen. I’m willing to forgive, if you’ll only come clean with me.”
“Maybe in time,” he tells me quietly. “But there’s no way I’m ready now. If I told you certain things about me, I’d lose you on the spot, Carmen. You’d kick me out of your life, out of your heart, and I’d feel like I was right there in the gutter again. I can’t deal with that right now. You’re the only good thing in my life. Grayson was my only friend, and now you’re all I have.”
A lump of emotion is gathering in my throat as I stare at him. It is hard to be strong when faced with his vulnerability.
“Please,” he begs me softly. “Don’t force me to unlock the iron-bolted doors of my closet. Don’t make me dig up the revolting skeletons that are in there. The only way I can keep going, and live each day as a productive member of society, is to keep the past buried deep in the past. I can’t deal with it, Carmen. I can’t.” He moves to the bottom of the stairs and looks up at me with mournful eyes. “If I stop for a moment to take a good look at what I’ve done—I’ll be convinced that I’m still that person, and there’s no hope for me. I won’t be able to live with myself. I’ve fought so hard to move past everything I’ve been through, but I still can’t help seeing the worst in myself every time I look in the mirror. I see a demon staring back at me. I couldn’t bear you seeing that too, when you look at me. I just wanted you to see the best in me.”
My heart aches for him. I can’t help it. Moving down the stairs, I stand on the one above him, and wrap my arms around his shoulders. I place a gentle kiss on his temple. “Okay, Brad,” I say softly. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I trust you.”
“Thank you,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding me tightly. “That means the world to me. Do you want me to come with you to your appointment?”
“No,” I tell him lightly. “I was thinking of doing some therapy-shopping after and maybe hitting the spa for a massage and a facial. Super girly stuff, and I don’t want to bore you.”
“Okay,” he says, with a loving smile. “I’ve got some work to do anyway, later this evening. Text me when you’re free. I’ll drop everything and come to you whenever you need me.”
“Sure thing,” I say lightly, turning around and marching up the stairs. The conversation with Brad has raised more doubts and confusion in my mind, but it has also piqued my curiosity even further. I have some light packing and heavy investigating to do.
Chapter Sixteen
Waiting in line for airport security, I remove my high heels and stand barefoot. I am only traveling with my purse and my new carry-on luggage, which is mostly empty. I am not expecting much of a hassle, and I impatiently strum my fingers against my arm.
“Right this way, ma’am,” says a female officer, gesturing for me to walk through the scanner. I step forward and she nods to indicate that I may proceed. As I walk toward the person scanning my bag, I am surprised to see that he is holding up a hand to stop me.
“What’s in the bag, miss?” he asks sternly.
Annoyed, I stare at him directly in the eyes. “My husband.”
“Your husband?”
“And a few pairs of shoes.”
He doesn’t seem to appreciate my flippant manner. Moving forward gruffly, he reaches out to unzip my carry-on with an angry look on his face. But when he sees the urn, his face immediately softens. “Oh. My apologies, miss.”
“It’s quite alright,” I tell him with a shrug as I gather up my purse. “I realize that not many women travel with such a fine collection of shoes surrounding their dead husbands.” Giving him a dazzling smile, I slip my own pumps back on and collect my suitcase as I head through the terminal. I think I handled that rather smoothly. As I move through the airport toward my gate, I worry that I might be running late. I pick up the pace a little, and I am pleased to see that my body can easily handle the brisk walk.
I am definitely getting better.
By the time I reach my gate, we are already boarding. It looks like I’m just on time. In fact, the last person to board is just ahead of me.
“Carmen Winters?” the person at the gate says as they check the computer.
“That’s right,” I say, holding out my boarding pass.
“Great. You’re in first class.”
“Of course,” I say with a smile, walking through the narrow corridor that leads to the plane.
A flight attendant greets me pleasantly. “Just this way,” she says, guiding me to my seat. “We should be arriving in Detroit in under two hours. Would you like my help putting your luggage away?”
“Yes, please,” I tell her, handing her my suitcase and taking my seat. I watch her lift the bag containing Grayson’s ashes, and I smile at how oblivious she is to the fact that the bag contains a dead body. It’s definitely the strangest carry-on luggage I’ve ever had. Opening up my purse, I grab my phone. Owen suggested that I use the plane trip to type up a new blog entry instead of stressing over the situation with Brad. I feel like that was excellent advice, and that I should spend more time writing in my blog.
Last time I tried, something good immediately happened. And then something terrible—but nonetheless, I won’t let that stop me. I think I’ll write about traveling in style, and how certain wardrobe essentials can make the stress of plane travel far more pleasant and comfortable.
I have barely written a single sentence when my phone rings. I am startled by having my blank page ripped away from me, but intrigued when I see Lauren’s name showing up. Knowing that the plane will be taking off soon and that I won’t be able to take any phone calls, I quickly answer.
“Hey, Laurie! What’s up?”
“Oh my god, Carmen,” she says softly. “Who is this guy?”
“You mean Brad?”
“I’ve had an investigator following him, and he’s incredibly hard to track. But I finally got some photos of him carrying out some kind of shady back-alley deal with some people in a black Escalade. I’m not sure who this guy is, but even though he’s incredibly hot, you need to stay away from him.”
“I don’t know, Lauren. He said some things to me about his troubled past. I don’t trust him, and I know he’s definitely up to something—but I think I like him.”
“Look, doll,” Lauren says with a sigh. “I know he’s a hunk. I know he’s been really sweet, and he paid your medical bills. Just make sure you know what you’re getting into first. This guy is bad news.”
“Can you keep following him for me?” I ask her. The flight attendants begin checking up and down the aisle to make sure that our bags are put away, and that we’re all off our phones. “I’ve got to go now, Laurie. I’m doing some investigating of my own. But please keep me pos
ted?”
“Of course, doll. Now you’ve gotten me all interested!”
Hanging up and tucking the phone under my arm, I gaze out of the window thoughtfully for a few minutes. The plane has already begun moving before I remember that I have my blog post to work on.
As I begin writing, I lose myself in the task of choosing the perfect words. I find that it is very therapeutic and refreshing, and the hours seem to fly by. I am surprised to hear the announcement of arrival, just as I type my final few sentences. I sigh as I turn to gaze out the window to try and get a glimpse of the foreign city. A bit of anxiety immediately begins clawing at me. I haven’t often traveled alone, and especially not to a place like this. But as the streets and buildings come into view, my trepidation is replaced by my curiosity about the people here. It can’t be as bad as the rumors, can it? I am determined to find out, and get to know the place where my husband grew up.
Chapter Seventeen
This is insane. Since the plane landed in Detroit, I have become aware that I am now in a completely different world. I managed to get a cab, and told the driver my destination, but the car ride through the various dilapidated neighborhoods has been nothing short of horrifying. The city is a train wreck. That’s not even metaphorical; some of the houses literally look like they’ve been wrecked by a train.
It feels like God began testing out his plan for the apocalypse, and he started with Detroit.
I can see why Brad wanted to keep me away from this place, but I am not deterred. Just because things look like death warmed over doesn’t actually mean that people aren’t happy. Looks can be deceiving, and I am excited to find out what’s beneath the surface of this tired city. It’s been a while since I’ve traveled, and over a decade since I’ve been in Michigan. My family used to own a winery not far from here, and I remember the people being incredibly sweet and kind.
