"Miss who, Gideon?" Lex asked.
But I couldn't answer him. My throat was too clogged with emotion. I knew my silence would bother Lex, so I tried to find some words, any words, to reassure him that I wasn't ignoring him. But then, to my surprise, Lex stood up. He worked one of his hands between both of mine and linked our fingers together. "Come lie down with me for a while," he murmured and then he was tugging on my hand. I couldn't say no and I didn't really want to, either.
I got up and followed Lex. He had little trouble maneuvering through my living room and toward my bedroom. It was slow going, of course, but something about following him instead of leading him was what I needed in that moment. I could feel the tears pricking the backs of my eyes as old memories began to assail me one by one. By the time we reached my room, I was shaking uncontrollably. The need to flee was strong, but the need to hang on to Lex was stronger.
Lex led me to my bed and then he was working the covers back. He moved in close to me and whispered a soft command for me to lie down. There was nothing sexual in the request or in the way he held my arm as I moved to do his bidding. I slid to the far side of the bed by the wall and lay on my side so I was facing it. The mattress dipped as Lex got in behind me. But it wasn't until he aligned his front with my back and wrapped an arm around my middle so his hand was resting over my heart that the first crack in my armor appeared.
"It's okay, Gideon," Lex whispered in my ear. He said the words over and over, and each time the fissures in the wall I'd built around my heart grew and grew. I was afraid of what would happen next. I wanted to stop it. But instead, my hand was reaching up to cover Lex's where it was pressed against my chest. In addition to telling me it was okay, Lex started to say other things like, "Let go, sweetheart" and "I'm right here, Gideon. I'm right here."
My vision blurred as the tears filled my eyes. The tears I hadn’t shed even once in the past three years. There was no hope of controlling them as they spilled over my lids and slipped down my cheeks.
Hot and wet and endless.
But still, I held out.
And then Lex was leaning over me, his lips skimming my temple and then moving farther down to kiss away the tears that fell. They didn't stop, of course, but that didn't seem to deter Lex. Instead, he pressed his lips to the corner of my mouth. "Let go, Gideon. I'll bring you back."
I did everything I could to stop it. I shook my head violently. I gripped Lex's hand hard enough that it had to hurt. I squeezed my eyes shut as if that would somehow stop everything. I cursed God to hell and back in my head. But nothing worked. Nothing kept the hole inside of me from breaking wide open. I turned in Lex's arms and wrapped myself around him.
And then I did exactly what he’d told me to.
I let go.
Chapter Seventeen
Lex
I could still hear his screams in my head even a week later.
I understood suffering. The kids my brothers and I helped every day had suffered. They'd endured the most horrifying of experiences, but many of them did exactly what Gideon had done.
They held it in. They walled off their pain in a place deep inside of themselves in the hopes that it would never again see the light of day.
Many of them never came back from trying to live like that. They found other ways to dull their pain. And sadly, those who couldn’t bury or dull it often resorted to the ultimate escape.
I had no doubt that whatever had caused Gideon's agony was something he'd buried long ago. There was no other explanation for the anguish he'd allowed me to witness. My gut was telling me that his pain had to be tied to the child he'd lost. I still wasn't sure how his daughter had died or what the circumstances were surrounding his other child, but it didn't really matter. All that mattered was that Gideon was suffering, and I didn't know if I'd helped or hurt because Gideon hadn’t spoken to me about any of it.
It had been a week since I'd woken up alone in Gideon's bed, the front of my shirt still damp with his tears. When I’d gone in search of him, I’d found him in the kitchen cleaning up the dishes we'd left after our impromptu food fight. As soon as I'd greeted him, I'd known that things had once again shifted between us. I’d understood the embarrassment he’d probably been feeling, but I'd hoped that it was something we could work past.
We hadn't.
What we had managed was to go back to the relationship we’d had when I’d first arrived. One where he was the caretaker and I was the tenant.
After taking me home that evening, he'd made sure I was safe inside the cabin before he’d left. He’d returned the next day but only to restock the woodpile. It had been the same each day after that. The only conversation we’d had was when he'd asked me if I needed anything else. The formality had stung like a son of a bitch, but I’d understood it.
I'd spent my time in the cabin working on finding my way around. I'd started including the upstairs in my routine and after a week of learning all the various counts, I could now easily find my way from one room to another. The temptation to call my brothers had been strong, but I knew I wasn't ready. Surprisingly, it was now more about the vulnerability I felt about Gideon rather than the loss of my sight that kept me from reaching out to King or any of my other brothers. I'd vowed to myself that I wouldn't develop feelings for Gideon, but apparently my heart wasn't big on vows at the moment.
I'd sent Gideon a few texts here and there, but after the first few days, I hadn't even bothered to turn my phone back on to check them because I'd known he wouldn't respond.
I wasn't completely alone, though. Brewer had a habit of coming by every day in the afternoon. Gideon would inevitably come to pick him up, but he merely called the dog from the driveway and when I opened the door, the animal would take off for what I assumed was Gideon's waiting truck. I wasn't sure what I’d done to earn the dog’s affection, but I most certainly wished that some of it would rub off on his scarred owner.
The weather, while still cold, had been a little more consistent in the past week. There hadn't been any new snow, so I'd started taking walks around the cabin just to stretch my legs. I'd spent hours each day just figuring out the immediate perimeter around me so I wouldn't inadvertently get myself lost.
The cabin sat in a small clearing with trees on three sides. I’d started off by identifying how many windows or doors were on each side of the cabin. Once I’d established that, I'd walk straight out, counting the number of steps until I’d reached the tree line. Then it was just a matter of turning around and walking straight back. I’d probably looked like a fool doing it, but it had given me both exercise and confidence.
My next goal had been to try and tackle the driveway so I could walk up and down it each day and not risk getting turned around in the woods somewhere. I’d used Gideon's consistent plowing to my advantage. Whenever I’d felt snow above my ankles, I’d known I was straying off the driveway and I'd made a correction. I never went too far, and I always kept my phone on me, but so far, I hadn't needed to use it.
Today, I was once again reliant on someone else for assistance. Namely Andre, my driver, to take me into town so I could pick up some groceries. I'd wanted to ask Gideon to do it, but I'd suspected he would have only agreed out of obligation. His silence had made it clear that he didn't want to see me and while I tried not to take it personally, it still felt like a rejection. I missed his touch and his gruff voice. Sometimes I wished I could go back and play that afternoon over and not push him to deal with whatever had happened in his past. God knew I had plenty of things in my own past that I'd never really dealt with. My insistence on pushing Gideon to confront his pain meant I'd now become a reminder of his past rather than someone who could help him work through it.
As I sat on the porch waiting for Andre to arrive, I focused on the sounds of the birds in the trees as they welcomed spring. It was late May and relatively mild for the area. I thought about LA and how warm it would be there by now, but surprisingly, I didn't have any particular longing to return hom
e. I was scheduled to stay in Birch Cabin for a couple more weeks, but I was already thinking about reaching out to Harvey Parnell to see if the place was available for longer.
The sound of tires coming down the driveway got my attention. I stood up and went to where the stairs were but stopped when I realized something was off. The sound of the engine was too loud and rumbly to be the expensive sedan Andre drove. I knew exactly who that noisy engine belonged to.
When the vehicle turned off, I stayed where I was, trying not to give in to the need to run down the steps and greet my visitor. Butterflies danced in my belly as I waited for the distinctive sound of the vehicle’s door opening and closing.
I didn't need to wait long for confirmation that I'd been right about who it was that had come up the driveway because Brewer practically slammed into my legs when he jumped up onto the porch. I tried not to get too excited about Gideon being just a handful of feet away from me, because he was likely here just to check on the wood pile or do some other task related to the maintenance of the cabin. I heard footsteps approaching but they stopped before climbing the porch steps.
"Her name was Beth," Gideon said. His voice sounded grated and harsh, like he hadn't been using it enough recently. I suspected that was probably exactly the case. The fact that he was even talking to me should've had me over the moon, but the way he’d opened the conversation meant what I was about to hear wasn’t going to be easy and I’d be watching—or hearing, rather—Gideon suffer even more.
"But we called her Bethie."
Gideon didn't say anything for a long moment, and I didn't press him. I also didn't move from where I was. I could barely make out his shape because the sun was too bright.
"She was five. Serena and I hadn’t been planning on having more kids, so she was a surprise." Gideon paused before adding, "The best kind of surprise."
"Our first daughter, Emma, was a surprise too. I'd always wanted to be a father, but we’d had Emma when we were really young and neither of us was completely ready. But we made it work. Emma’s fifteen now."
It was a relief to know that he still had one daughter, but the fact that he'd never mentioned her before today wasn't a good sign.
"What happened to Bethie?" I asked. I took a gamble and moved down a step so I could be a little closer to him. "Was it related to her diabetes?"
"No," Gideon said. "We killed her. Serena and I."
They were the last words I’d expected to hear. I opened my mouth to tell him I didn't believe him, but then snapped it shut again. He'd come here to tell me a story and I needed to listen to it.
"By the time Bethie was born, Serena and I were done, at least as far as I was concerned. I'd asked her repeatedly for a divorce, but then she got pregnant."
"So you stayed," I suggested.
"I'd always hated growing up with divorced parents. They'd use me to play games with each other and whenever I was with one, all they’d do was complain about the other. It was like they wanted me to pick sides or something. What kid wants to pick which parent they want to be with more?" Gideon paused before saying, "I couldn't do that to my kids. I wouldn't."
As much as I wanted to respond, I knew what he needed me to do was just listen. I eased myself down another step. There were two more to go before I'd be able to reach him. I wasn't even sure if that was what he wanted. But he was here and that was all that really mattered.
"Bethie's condition put even more of a strain on my relationship with Serena. Managing Bethie’s diabetes was something we should've worked together at, but Serena was never good about following through on things like diet and monitoring blood sugar. Sometimes I was probably too good at it. I was afraid to let Bethie splurge at times. I mean, she was still a kid. If she wanted an extra piece of cake, maybe I should've just let her…"
"You did what was best for her, Gideon. I was Bethie's age when I started getting sick, but it was a long time before anyone thought to take me to a doctor. They just figured I was being difficult. I missed out on being a kid because no one cared enough to manage my disease. You did the right thing."
I hated that I couldn't see Gideon's nonverbal responses. It made it harder to know if I was saying the right thing or not. Or if I should be saying anything at all. For all I knew, I was making it worse.
"Serena and I couldn't make it work. We fought all the time and that spilled over into the relationship with our kids. A couple weeks before Emma turned twelve, I told Serena I couldn't do it anymore and that I was going through with the divorce. I moved out of the house and got a lawyer. Serena had always had a lot of problems. Mostly with depression and anxiety. She'd go on and off her medication, so it was always this roller coaster with her. I tried repeatedly to get her to go to marriage counseling with me, but she didn't see the things that I did. And the more I tried to pull away, the tighter onto me she'd hold. I should’ve… I should've…"
The hitch in Gideon's voice had me moving down another step. I put my hand out in the hopes of finding him. But Gideon came to me. Or at least his hand did, anyway. I held on to that fact as hard as I held on to his fingers as he continued.
"I should have seen it coming,” he choked out.
When he didn’t continue, I dared to ask, “What happened, Gideon?”
I waited for him to respond, but it wasn't his voice I heard. It was a woman's voice and it was clearly a recording of some kind.
Emma, I'm sorry, honey, but I can't take you shopping today. Your dad… he was just here and he…
There was some interference with the recording that I now realized was a voicemail message for Gideon's oldest daughter, presumably left by his wife. I had no clue why he was having me listen to the message, but it was clear from the way Serena was speaking that she was upset and crying. I could hear what sounded like a child crying in the background.
I tried, Em. Your daddy doesn't want to fix it. He wants to take you away from me. He says he won't let you see me anymore. He's going to take Bethie too. I can't be alone, honey. You know I can't. He—he says he doesn't love me. He doesn't love you either. He never wanted you. He just wants to take you away from me to hurt me. I just wanted us to be a family again.
I flinched at the clear attack on Gideon's character. I didn't believe for a second that he’d threatened to take the children away from their mother solely for the purpose of hurting her. Serena's voice was high-pitched, nearly hysterical. It had the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight up. The child in the background began screaming.
It's okay, Bethie. Mommy's here. Mommy's going to make it better. Em, I love you, my sweet little girl. I'm sorry, but I have to do this. I have to. I can't let him take you away from me. I can't be alone. I'm sorry.
I could hear horns honking in the background and so I assumed some of the noise I was hearing behind Serena's voice was that of an engine. I felt sick to my stomach as I realized why Gideon had played the message for me.
I shook my head even as Serena continued to say her goodbyes to her oldest child. The little girl in the car continued to cry and scream.
Mommy's here, Bethie! Mommy's here! It will be over soon! It will be over soon…
Serena kept repeating the same phrases over and over even as the sound of metal on metal nearly drowned her out. Then the engine revving masked Serena's declaration to her young daughter. Serena suddenly screamed and then the recording cut out. I shook my head in disbelief because I couldn't comprehend what I’d just heard.
Not only had Serena taken the life of her little girl as she’d ended her own, she’d left her oldest daughter a suicide note in the form of a voicemail message.
I felt like I was going to be sick. I could feel the tears stinging the backs of my eyes and I had to reach out to find the railing for the stairs to hold myself up. "Gideon," I somehow managed to breathe out, though I wasn't sure how that was possible since my throat felt completely closed off. I wanted him to take back the message… to unplay it somehow.
"Did Emma hear that
?" I choked out.
"Yes," Gideon said. "She got the message thirty minutes after her mother drove her car over a cliff on the Pacific Coast Highway in northern California. Divers found Serena's body in the car. They never found Bethie's."
"Could she be—" I began before I realized what I was even asking.
"No," Gideon said simply. "Witnesses saw her in the car before Serena drove it over the cliff."
I didn't know what to say. Telling him I was sorry meant absolutely nothing. He’d probably heard that thousands of times since he’d lost his little girl. "Gideon," I said helplessly.
"I just wanted to tell you so you'd know why I just want to be left alone." I heard Gideon's boots moving over the snow. I realized he was leaving.
"Gideon," I said as I moved down the last couple of steps. But I wasn't paying attention, so my foot slid on the lip of one of the steps. I would've gone flying if Gideon hadn't caught me by the arm.
"No, Lex!" he yelled as he righted me. "I don't want to do this!"
"Do what?" I asked in confusion. "I only want to make sure—"
"What? That I'm okay? Because I'm not fucking okay! I will never be okay! That's what I'm trying to tell you. One kid is dead, the other won't speak to me. I came back to this hole-in-the-wall town so I could be left in peace! I just need you to leave me alone!"
Gideon released my arm but placed my hand on the banister next to me so I wouldn’t lose my point of reference. His verbal attack had stunned me into silence and by the time I found my voice, Gideon was walking away, his heavy boots crunching over the snow. I heard his truck door slam shut hard and then the engine was revving to life. My knees felt weak, so I lowered myself down to the first step and listened as the truck drove off. If there hadn’t been snow on the ground, I probably would've heard the rubber tires burning along the pavement.
Foreseen: Lex (The Four Book 2) Page 17
