“Perfect,” said Ryan and Casey in unison.
Devlin dragged himself out from underneath the tree. Casey and the children were already searching through the boxes and boxes of Christmas decorations, taking note of the inventory at hand.
“Where’s the angel?” asked Isabel.
“The angel goes on last,” said Casey.
“Why?”
“Because it’s the best part of the tree and you always save the best things for last.” Casey pulled out the lights. “Why don’t we let your dad do the lights and we’ll start on the ornaments. How does that sound?”
And so it went. Casey chatted aimlessly on with the children and encouraged their creativity in decorating the tree. Devlin finished his part and stood back to watch her interaction with the children. He was intrigued by the fact that she was wearing a pair of slacks and a thin blouse, an outfit that looked like something Julia had probably picked out for her. But even without the expensive clothes, she still completed the picture. Her rapport with the children humbled him. He’d figured that after last night, she’d make herself even scarcer and the children would be the ones to suffer from her absence. But here she stood in the middle of his living room in clothes that he had paid for, decorating a tree purchased by the salary he had provided and treating the children as if there was nothing unusual about her presence in their life. She belonged here. It was like she had been away for the first twenty-one years of her life and now she was home where she belonged.
“Devlin?” At the sound of her voice, he snapped back to the present.
“Yes?” he asked, stunned that she was even speaking to him.
“May I have a word with you?”
He nodded and followed her from the room. She led him to the study and then closed the door behind him. “Casey, I-”
She put her hand up to cut him off. “Please, just listen.” At his nod, she moved away from him and towards the window. “When I got back to my room last night I started packing. I had every intention of leaving.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know,” she responded as she turned to face him, her voice laced with despair and confusion. As he took a couple of steps towards her she shook her head. “No, don’t. I need you to understand something. What you did to me last night-” her voice broke off. “I think I understand why you did it.” She half expected him to say something but he remained quiet. “You can’t fix me Devlin. I know you want to but you can’t. This,” she motioned to herself, “is who I am. I can accept that – why can’t you?”
“Because it’s not right. You deserve more.”
“Stop it! Stop doing that! You don’t know me Devlin. I’m not this person you’ve created in your mind!”
“Then tell me who you are.”
It was such a simple command that it caught her off guard. “What?”
“Tell me who you are.” He realized she still didn’t understand. “Tell me your dreams, your hopes, your fears. Tell me what makes you laugh, what makes you cry. Do you hope to be married someday? Have children? What did you want to be growing up? Explain to me why you don’t tell Peter Caulfield who you are.” He stopped for a moment and then softly said, “Come on Casey, just one thing. Tell me one thing about you – the real you that you think I don’t see.”
She heard the questions over and over in her mind but nothing came to her. “I can’t.”
“You can’t because you don’t want to…or you can’t because you don’t know?” he asked carefully, hoping the question would force her to see what he now saw so clearly.
Frustration overcame her. “What difference does it make?”
He ignored the question and tried a different tact. “Okay, tell me one thing about yourself that you don’t like. What are you most ashamed of?” He could see she was trembling now. Devlin knew he was pushing her way too hard but he was desperate to make her understand and he couldn’t do that until she admitted the truth to herself.
She made a last ditch effort to save herself. “I’m not doing this again with you.” As she tried to rush past him, he grabbed her upper arms.
“Tell me Casey. Tell me what you’re most ashamed of.”
“Let go.” She’d managed to replace the frustration with a mask of cool indifference but he could feel her shaking.
“Do you blame yourself for what they did to you Casey? Do you think you should have been able to prevent it?”
“Devlin, let me go!” she screamed. Her fury gave her the strength she needed to pull free but Devlin backed her against the desk.
“You let Elliot do that to your back, didn’t you? You didn’t fight back hard enough! You weren’t strong enough! Is that it? Is that why you hate yourself so much?”
“No!” She lashed out at him but he caught her wrists before her blows could make contact.
“Is that why you won’t tell your father? Because he’ll be disgusted by your weakness? Because once he finds out, he won’t want you?”
“No! That’s not it!”
“Then what is it?” he asked desperately.
Tears were streaming down her face but she was no longer struggling against him. She shook her head. He saw that she was biting hard down on her lower lip. Blood spilled freely from the damage she was inflicting upon herself. Devlin almost backed off but then realized that the pain she was causing herself on the outside couldn’t compare to the agony she was dealing with on the inside. He gentled his hold on her wrists so she’d be able to pull free if she wanted to. He lifted one hand and brushed it over her lower lip, pulling it free of the teeth that were still biting down on it.
“Tell me Casey. Please, tell me,” he said softly. The pleading in his voice was her undoing.
“I left her!” she screamed.
“Who?”
“Amanda! I just left her alone there with him – with them! She didn’t have a chance!”
“Casey, listen to me. You had no choice.”
“He always took such pleasure in it! And I left her there.” Once the words were out, it was like a dam had been unleashed. The guilt and pain and anguish that had festered inside of her for years finally spilled forth, washing away all her strength. Her knees threatened to give way but Devlin quickly wrapped his arm around her waist to support her weight.
“It was her decision to stay,” Devlin said.
“I should have made her come with me! We could have made it together. I could have taken care of her but she was just so scared!”
“Damn it Casey, listen to me! You were a child! There was nothing you could have done. Amanda made it through – she had a good life! She had a beautiful daughter who she loved more than anything else. She was happy!”
Casey shook her head in denial. When her knees finally did buckle, Devlin sank with her to the floor.
“I never got to tell her how sorry I was! She never knew. I loved her so much.” She clung to his shirt desperately.
“I know you did and I know she loved you too and she wouldn’t want this for you. She’d want you to make peace with it and go on with your life.”
“I don’t know how!” she sobbed.
He gathered her close to him and felt the combination of tears and blood quickly soak through his shirt. As her body was racked with years and years’ worth of anguished sobs, he tightened his grip. Seconds turned into minutes but her pain went on. He kept whispering softly that everything would be okay and pressed his lips to the top of her head. When she finally quieted, Devlin could hear a soft knock at the door of the study.
“Daddy?”
“Everything’s okay Ryan,” he called. He heard the door open and looked over his shoulder to see Ryan and Isabel standing hand in hand in the doorway, Isabel’s free hand hanging on to Sampson’s collar. Tears were running down Isabel’s cheeks.
“Why’s Casey crying?” the little girl asked on a hiccup.
“She’s just a little scared honey but I think she’ll feel better if we all give her a big hug.”
The kids and dog quickly sank down next to them. Isabel clung to Casey’s side but Ryan hesitated, an abject look of terror on his face. “It’s okay son,” Devlin said as he put out one of his arms and pulled Ryan into the embrace. Casey didn’t react to the children’s presence but instinct told him she knew they were there. The five of them remained that way even when Mrs. Potter arrived a few minutes later to see if anyone wanted hot chocolate. Wisely, she slipped out of the room as quietly as she had entered it.
***
Casey spent the rest of the day hiding out in her room and wondering how she had let Devlin make her admit the truth and what repercussions her admission would have. She’d never realized the hold her guilt had had on her. While she wasn’t exactly relieved to have been forced to face the truth about her actions, a part of her kept hearing Devlin’s words over and over. She had only been a child. As much as she had loved Amanda, she couldn’t have forced her sister to do something that she hadn’t been ready to do. And Devlin was right. Amanda had been happy. Being near Isabel and Ryan was proof of that fact. But still, she’d never been able to ask for Amanda’s forgiveness for abandoning her and that would stay with her forever.
The kids hadn’t let her hide herself in her room for long though since they had decided to wait until she was feeling better to finish the tree. Devlin was there when she returned to the living room the next day but he didn’t say anything; he merely nodded at her and the proceeded to help with the tinsel. An hour later, the crowning of the top of the tree with the angel was completed and the kids rushed outside to play in the snow during the remaining couple hours of daylight.
Casey tried to sneak back to her room but Devlin caught her hand gently as she moved past him. “Casey.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. The humiliation of it all still ran deep. “I want to show you something. Will you come with me?” he asked.
Being around him made her feel raw and vulnerable so she was about to say no but when she saw the beseeching in his eyes, she nodded. “All right.” He didn’t release her hand until they reached the front parlor where he pulled her jacket out of the closet and handed it to her. He put his own coat on as well. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He opened the door and motioned her outside. Instead of the usual limo, he led her to his car, a silver Mercedes sedan. She half expected him to attempt to make conversation during the trip but he didn’t. When they stopped outside of a flower shop he told her he’d be back in a minute and disappeared inside. When he returned, he held a bunch of white roses in his hand. He placed the flowers carefully on the back seat and then got in behind the wheel. Another twenty minutes of silence passed as he picked his way through the busy streets. When the car finally came to a stop, Casey looked around. All she saw was a high brick wall on the right side of the street.
Devlin got out of the car and reached into the back seat for the flowers. He went around to the side and took Casey’s hand in his free one. When he had led her past the open iron gates, she stopped at once, recognizing where they were. Headstone after headstone was all she saw. Devlin gave her a gentle tug and got her moving again. They finally came to a stop near the corner of the cemetery. In front of them was a beautiful, white marble headstone with Amanda’s name on it. The inscription read, “Beloved mother, sister and friend.”
“My parents picked out that inscription?” she asked in shock.
“Not exactly. Your sister’s remains aren’t actually buried here.”
She turned to look at him in shock. “What? Where are they buried?”
“They aren’t. Your parents kept her ashes.”
Casey closed her eyes in disgust. So even in death they wouldn’t let her go.
“Casey, I wasn’t sure if I should bring you here. I know it’s not quite the same thing but I had this headstone made and I purchased this site so that Isabel would have a place to come if she ever needed to talk to her mom. Wherever Amanda is, it isn’t under their roof – you know that.” Devlin hesitated and then placed the flowers on the ground in front of the headstone. “I just wanted you to know about this place in case you ever felt the need to come here. I’m sorry if I upset you.” He tried to take her hand to lead her away but she didn’t move.
“Can I have a few minutes with her?” she asked, her eyes on the headstone.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be over there, okay?” he said as he motioned to a bench at the end of the row. Devlin left her and sat down. He couldn’t hear her from where he sat but he could see her face. She bent down and brushed some of the snow off the top of the headstone and then dropped to her knees in front of it. She started talking and occasionally shook her head or gestured with her hands. At one point, she started to cry. Feeling like he was intruding, he averted his eyes. Nearly twenty minutes passed before she finally stood, picked up one of the flowers from the ground, placed it on top of the headstone and then made her way towards him.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he led the way back to the car. All she did was nod. The ride home was quiet but she seemed less tense now. He wondered what was going through her mind but knew she wasn’t ready to talk about it.
Pulling the car into the driveway of the townhouse, he got out and followed her to the front door. She stopped so suddenly that he nearly ran into her. She turned to face him and then looked at him as if she were debating something. Finally, she did the last thing he had expected. She hugged him. As his arms went around her, she whispered, “Thank you” into his ear and kissed him lightly on the cheek. With that, she pulled from his embrace and went into the house.
***
As the holiday drew near the Prescott household was a flurry of activity. Devlin was spending more and more time at home instead of work and Casey found herself missing him when he did leave to spend a few hours at the office or to attend a business function. Now instead of dread whenever she heard his voice as he entered the house, she felt her stomach tighten nervously and an ache took hold in her chest. She even found herself starting to worry when he was gone longer than he’d said he’d be. But most surprising was what she felt when he accidentally brushed up against her or briefly touched her in greeting. Gone was the nausea and distress and in its place was something warm and soft…something she wanted more of every day.
A couple of days before Christmas she jumped at the opportunity to spend more time with him when he asked her to spend the day shopping with him for presents for the kids. He took her to dinner afterwards which she had been thoroughly enjoying until they were unexpectedly joined by Ingrid Wells, the blonde who’d been draped all over Devlin at the hospital dinner weeks earlier, and her husband, Richard. The waiter, assuming they were all friends, offered to push tables together so they could dine together and before anyone could decline Ingrid had said yes and plopped down in the seat next to Devlin. Sitting next to Richard, Casey actually enjoyed chatting with him. At least twenty years older than his pretty wife, he was soft spoken and extremely refined. When her eyes drifted across the table to where Ingrid hung on Devlin’s every word and used every opportunity to touch his arm or slide her hand underneath the safety of tablecloth, Casey saw red and a surprise bout of jealously went through her along with pity for Richard who appeared to be none the wiser.
“So Casey, I hear you and Devlin met in Paris while you were studying art,” came Ingrid’s husky voice.
“That’s right,” Casey responded politely, wondering what was coming next.
“Tell me, where is it that you studied exactly?” she inquired, the challenge clear in her voice.
Casey saw that Devlin was prepared to jump in so she spoke before he had the chance. “The Academie des Beaux Arts des Paris.” Devlin and Ingrid both stared at her when the words flowed flawlessly from her lips. As Casey asked Ingrid a question in French, Devlin nearly choked on his wine.
“Um, I’m afraid I don’t speak French,” stammered Ingrid in response.
“Oh, what a pity. It is such a beautiful language. Of co
urse, I’ve always favored Italian myself.” In Italian, Casey directed another question at Ingrid. When the flabbergasted woman could only sit there, her husband piped in.
“She was asking if you spoke Italian and had you ever had the pleasure of visiting Italy, dear.” Richard gave Casey a smile and then began conversing with her in Italian. Ingrid fumed and drained the wine from her glass before excusing herself. Devlin stifled a smile as he politely stood and assisted Ingrid with her chair.
***
“How did you do that?” asked Devlin as they climbed into the back of the limo.
“Do what?” she asked. Still in a state of shock, he missed the irritation in her voice.
“Where the hell did you learn to speak French and Italian?”
“Jonas taught me.”
“Jonas?”
“Yeah, Jonas. His mother is French, his father Italian. Jonas knew how embarrassed I was by my lack of a high school education so he wanted me to be able to do something that not everyone can do. I’m not fluent or anything and it was nice of Richard not to point out my mistakes.”
“And the art school?”
“Jonas again. He always dreamed of attending that school – he used to talk about it all the time.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“You’ve seen how we live. We could barely scrape enough together to pay for his correspondence classes so he could get his GED.”
He was about to remind her of the money he was paying her but thought better of it. She’d never actually agreed to accept the money. “What about his parents?”
“They kicked him out when he was fourteen. He hasn’t spoken to them since.”
“Why’d they kick him out?”
“Why do you think?”
Devlin finally caught the anger in her clipped responses. “Okay, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She had her arms folded over her chest, her legs crossed and her eyes staring out the window.
Letting Go Page 17
