Redesigned

by Denise Grover Swank

  “When did you find out?”

  “Before your date with Brandon.”

  I feel sick. He must think I’m a fool, worrying about my past when he knew all about it. “You’ve known all this time, and you never said anything? Why?”

  He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Because I wanted you to trust me enough to tell me yourself.”

  “So you hired a private investigator to dig up my past,” I joke.

  He sighs. “It didn’t take a private investigator.”

  I sit upright. “Wait. You investigated me?”

  A scowl covers his face. “Come on, Caroline. Are you telling me that you didn’t look me up online?”

  “No.” Although I’ve been tempted.

  His mouth opens then he swallows. “Why not?”

  “I wanted to trust you.”

  He has the grace to look guilty.

  If we’re going to commit to this relationship, I need to tell him everything. I need to confess my insecurities and worries, then I need him to tell me his past. “Reed, I have to tell you something important.”

  Panic covers his face. “Wait. I don’t want to have this conversation in the car,” he says, turning into the apartment parking lot.

  “It’s not—”

  “Caroline,” he pleads. “Just wait.”

  I’m not sure what he thinks I’m going to say, but his panic scares me.

  My car is sitting directly under a street lamp. I wonder when I’ll have the money to fix it. Now that the fashion show is almost over, I can get another part-time job to replace the one I had before the beginning of this crazy semester. With the Christmas shopping season just around the corner, I’m sure I can get a retail job.

  Reed leads me upstairs to his apartment, but tonight is different than the night before. When we get in his apartment, he takes my coat. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want one?”

  “Um, sure. What are you having?”

  “Whiskey.” He pulls a bottle out of his kitchen cabinet.

  Now he’s freaking me out. I’ve only seen him drink twice and both times were at a bar.

  He pours a glass and looks up at me.

  “No.” I shake my head. “Reed, I need you to listen to me.”

  He takes a sip and waits.

  “The reason I’ve dated guys who met certain criteria—the things I told you the night I met you—was because after living the childhood I did, I swore I’d never live like that again. That I’d sure never put my kids through that. That’s why I didn’t want to get attached to you. I didn’t think you’d make very much money on a college professor’s salary.”

  “It’s very rare to find a college professor so underpaid they’re forced into homelessness, Caroline.”

  I shake my head, embarrassed. “I know. It’s just the fear is so inbred in me, that the thought of even coming close to living like that again, sends me into a full-fledged panic. It’s irrational, I know that, but knowing it and accepting it are two different things. I’m still working on it, so I need you to be patient with me.”

  “Okay,” he says, but he’s acting weird.

  “So in an appeal to your patience, I need to know how much you owe in student loans.”

  He looks at me like I’ve asked him to speak Japanese.

  “Your student loans from Harvard.”

  He sags against the counter. He looks sick. “That’s why you were asking about Harvard and scholarships a few nights ago.”

  “When you asked me if there was anyone else, I knew that I didn’t want anyone else. I only want you. But you have that massive debt. It took me a few minutes to calm down and figure it out. But you never came back, and then you never returned my calls.”

  “Figure what out?”

  “That I love you enough not to care if you have a mountain of debt. As long as I have you, I have everything I need. I’m still worried about kids, but after seeing how protective you are of Lexi and me, I know you’d never let your children suffer like I did.”

  “Oh, Caroline.” He puts his drink down and loops his arms around my waist. “Do you have any idea how much it means that you trust me this much?”

  I lift my face and kiss him, glad I’ve told him. Relieved he knows my fears.

  He grabs my face and leans my head back. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” But my stomach knots at the worry on his face. Why does he look so scared?

  “Caroline, I don’t have any student loans.”

  I shake my head. “But you told me you didn’t have scholarships.”

  His face hardens. “I didn’t.”

  “Reed, I don’t understand. If you went to Harvard….” My voice trails off.

  I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. That’s all he shares.

  My anger flares. “Are you serious? You tell me that you didn’t need loans to go to Harvard, and you don’t volunteer anything else?”

  “Caroline….”

  “So you’re not going to tell me?”

  He heaves a breath. “I will, but I want to wait until Lexi comes home. We should tell you together.”

  “I tell you about my past, and you give me a flippant I already know—”

  “I would hardly call it flippant—”

  “And then when I ask about your past, you still blow me off?”

  “Caroline, I’m only asking you to wait.”

  The hell with waiting. “Where’s your laptop?”

  “What?”

  “Give me your fucking laptop. If you’re not going to tell me I’ll just do an Internet search. You were surprised I hadn’t done one. You obviously expected me to, so why don’t I take care of that right now?”

  He looks like he’s about to protest, but he takes the computer out of his bag and sets it on the kitchen counter, entering his password on the startup screen.

  When it boots up I search Reed Pendergraft.

  The search results turn up a few posts about Reed at Harvard and Reed at Southern. There are no images. Nothing from his past. Just enough to give him a web presence but not enough to answer any questions.

  I search Lexi Pendergraft and I get less on her. Just her page at Southern, nothing about the other college she attended or about her high school. It’s as though she were dropped here at Southern with no past at all.

  Look how well that worked for me.

  Reed pours more whiskey.

  How bad is this?

  What are they hiding? My imagination runs wild. Are they criminals? Right. Criminals who go to college and live in a nice apartment?

  Maybe they’re in the witness protection program.

  Then I latch on to another idea.

  Reed doesn’t have student loans. He lives in a nice apartment.

  Reed is a representative of the Monroe Foundation.

  I type Reed Monroe into the search box.

  The page fills with multiple results for Reed Monroe, images even. Reed’s face appears on the screen.

  The top result says: “Reed Monroe, heir to Monroe Industries, was seen at the Monroe Foundation Annual Fundraiser Ball with socialite Amelia Mitchell.” When I click, I see Reed in a tux standing next to a gorgeous woman, who is wearing a formal gown that had to cost thousands upon thousands of dollars.

  Half the images are photos of Reed with Amelia.

  He’s the heir to Monroe Industries, yet he’s here at Southern pretending to be someone else. He’s used to dating rich, beautiful socialites. So why is he with me?

  But most importantly, he says he loves me, but he’s never made one attempt to tell me. He’s known about my past, but waited for me to trust him enough to tell him on my own.

  Reed doesn’t trust me.

  Or he had no intention of ever telling me.

  I’m going to be sick.

  I get off the barstool and head for the bathroom, Reed following behind. But I shut and lock the door, sitting on the side of the bathtub next to the toilet.

  “Caroline,
are you okay?”

  “Go away!”

  I want to cry, but I won’t give him the satisfaction.

  I sit on the side of the tub, trying to sort through the mess in my head. “Is she your girlfriend?” I call out.

  “Who?” Reed answers from the other side of the door.

  “Amelia.”

  “Oh, Caroline.” I hear the defeat in his voice, and my heart plummets.

  “So she is?” My voice breaks.

  “Can we please have this conversation without a door between us?”

  My nausea has passed so I get up and open the door.

  Reed stands on the other side, looking like he’s about to cry.

  I run my hand over my head. “So many questions are racing through my head, I don’t even know where to start.”

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

  “Was this a game? Fool Caroline? Are there points involved? Do you score more for screwing me in the storeroom the first time?”

  “Stop right now!” He shouts. “Don’t take what we have and—”

  “And what? What we have? What do we have? I understand that you didn’t tell me at first because you thought I was a gold-digger. But you said you knew better.” My voice breaks, tears streaming down my face. “You said you loved me. But how can you love me and not tell me who you really are? Doesn’t it make it all a lie?”

  He reaches for me, but I back away. “I wanted to, Caroline. I did. But it’s more complicated than it seems. It’s not my secret to tell.”

  I take a deep breath. “Is it Lexi’s? Because funny, she told me this afternoon that it was up to you to tell.”

  His eyes are wild. “When Lexi gets home, we’ll both tell you everything. I promise. Please, just wait.”

  I release a bitter laugh. “Then you’ll be waiting a long time. Lexi won’t be home until late.”

  His face changes. “What are you talking about? Where is she?”

  “She’s on a date.”

  His face contorts into rage. “On a date? Who the hell is she on a date with?”

  “Brandon McKenzie, not that it’s any of your business.”

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  “She’s eighteen years old, Reed. She should be dating.”

  Reed goes to his computer and enters an Internet address. After he enters more information, he releases a heavy breath. “Thank God, she has her cell phone on. It looks like they’re at Belvedere’s, the club we….”

  I let his reference go, latching onto a bigger issue. “Did you really just track her cell phone?”

  He grabs his coat. “Yes. Now I have to go get her.”

  “You are not going to go get her!”

  His face reddens with fury. “If anything happens to her, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

  I shake my head in disbelief. “She’s on a date!”

  He points his finger at me. “This isn’t any of your business, Caroline! I told you to stay out of Lexi’s life!”

  “I suppose I’m not good enough to be friends with your sister?”

  “God damn it, Caroline, that’s not what I said!” His voice vibrates the walls. “We’ll finish this discussion when I get back with Lexi.” He’s out the door and slamming it closed before I can answer.

  With Reed gone, my anger remains, but it lowers to a simmer. How can I think I’ve found everything I’m looking for only to find it’s all a lie?

  My phone rings and I consider not answering it. I don’t want to argue with Reed right now. But when I look at the number, I see it’s not Reed.

  “Hello?” I answer, scared of what’s on the other line.

  “Carol Ann,” my father’s voice whispers in my ear. “It’s your mother.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  No, please don’t let it be too late.

  “She’s in the hospital. In the ICU. The doctors say she doesn’t have much longer. Maybe a day. Maybe less.”

  I try to catch my breath.

  “She’s asking for ya, girly.”

  I start crying when my father uses my nickname.

  “Will you come see her?”

  “Yes,” I sniff and try to get myself together. “I’ll be there in a few hours.”

  “Carol Ann.” My father’s voice breaks. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” I hang up, crying.

  How am I going to get there?

  My car’s in the parking lot, but Reed still has my keys, I move into the kitchen, pulling out drawers and doors. When I don’t find them, I go back to his room, remembering sleeping with him the night before.

  Before I found out it was all a lie.

  I don’t have time to think about Reed. I can only handle one life crisis at a time.

  I pull open his dresser drawers, cringing at the invasion of privacy, even more so since I know he was hiding so much from me. The keys are in his sock drawer. I grab them and my jacket and bag, racing down the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.

  My car isn’t parked where I left it, and sure enough, when I stop at the edge of the parking lot, I can tell the brakes are new. Part of me is furious he replaced them after I told him not to. The other part of me is grateful it’s one less thing I have to worry about.

  I grab my phone out of my purse and call Scarlett.

  “Ready for your big day tomorrow?” she asks, her voice bright with excitement.

  “Scarlett, I’m not going to the fashion show.”

  “What are you talking about? You’ve worked your ass off for over a month. Why wouldn’t you go?”

  “My dad called. Mom’s in the hospital. They don’t think she’ll make it another day.”

  “Oh, Caroline, I’m so sorry.”

  I take several hiccupped breaths, trying to hold back my tears. “I’m on my way now.”

  “Is Reed with you?”

  “No. We had a fight.”

  “I thought you two made up.”

  “We did.” I hiccup again. “But it was all a lie.”

  “What are you talking about? What was a lie?” I hear the alarm in her voice.

  “His name isn’t Reed Pendergraft. He’s not who he says he is.”

  “Who the hell is he?”

  As weird as it seems, Reed wants to keep his and Lexi’s identity a secret, and I won’t be the one to betray them. “He’s just not....” I swallow the lump in my throat as new tears stream down my face. “I think it’s over.” I cry for several seconds.

  “Oh, Caroline, I’m so sorry.”

  “I can’t worry about Reed right now. I have to get to my mom.”

  “Let me go with you.”

  “I’m already headed out of town.”

  “I don’t want you driving by yourself. At least take my car. Your brakes are bad.”

  “Not anymore. Reed fixed them.”

  “Why would he fix your brakes if everything between you two was a lie?”

  “I don’t know, Scarlett.” My chest heaves with several sobs. “But I’m not over-exaggerating. His name isn’t Reed Pendergraft. He’s not who he said he was. He lied to me.”

  “Okay, Caroline, you’re too upset to drive. Come back and let me take you.”

  “No.” I take a deep breath, trying to get control. “I need you to help me.”

  “Anything.”

  “If I’m not there at the show, those ten kids won’t get to be in the show. They’re looking forward to it and I can’t let them down. Can you—”

  “Anything but that.”

  “Scarlett, listen to me. The hard work is already done. Just make sure they get the right outfits. Their names are on them. There’ll be some hair and makeup people there. Tell them I just want a natural look. Except for Brittany. Tell them to make her more dramatic.”

  “I can’t do this, Caroline. I don’t know anything about fashion shows. I’m going to screw it up.”

  “No you won’t. You’ll be fine. Besides, even if you screw something up, it’s bet
ter than not doing it at all. I promised those kids. I can’t let them down. I just can’t.”

  “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  “Thank you.” My tears break loose again. “Listen, my phone is going to die sometime in the next hour or two. I haven’t charged it all day, and I don’t have my charger. So if you don’t hear from me for a while, you know why.”

  “Be careful. You’re driving those back roads at night. You know some of those curves—”

  “I’ll be careful. I love you, Scarlett.”

  “I love you too.”

  I hang up and cry soul-wrenching sobs for several minutes, but when I think I’m cried out, more tears find their way to the surface.

  How could my world fall apart so entirely in one night?

  Thirty minutes after I leave, my phone rings. Reed’s name comes up on the caller ID, but I press ignore. I can’t deal with him right now.

  But Reed’s a persistent guy, calling at least ten times over the course of an hour. I’m almost grateful when my phone finally dies, at least I would be, if I weren’t traveling over one hundred miles on two-lane highways in the backwoods of Tennessee in the middle of the night.

  I arrive at the hospital well after midnight. The main entrance is closed, so I go through the emergency entrance and ask directions to the ICU.

  My stomach is a mess—a combination of butterflies at seeing my parents after so long and nausea over the reason I’m here.

  When I approach the waiting room, I spot my father sitting hunched over in a chair. His hands are clasped, and his foot taps at a rapid staccato.

  He’s nervous.

  “Dad?”

  He looks up, and I restrain a gasp. I’ve been gone only three years, but he looks at least ten years older. His once brown hair has turned mostly gray, and his face is covered in wrinkles. Dad was never a strong man, but now he looks completely broken.

  I thought I was cried out, but seeing him so distraught starts another round.

  “Carol Ann.” He reaches for me, pulling me into a hug and burying his face into my shoulder. “You came.” He sobs chest-heaving cries that drench my shirt.

  We stand holding each other for several minutes. I remember Dad holding me when I was devastated after my brother cut my doll’s hair off. Dad cradled me on his lap in his recliner, his arms holding me in a loving embrace. My mother told him I was nine years old, too old to be sitting in my daddy’s lap. Daddy usually caved to my mother’s demands, but that one day he held me firm. “My girly’s never too big for her daddy to hug her.”