Find Me

by Tory Jane

  “Cecelia started talking. Her fiancée, Mark Collins, is bad news. Cecelia isn’t much better. They're both crystal meth users. We suspect he's a dealer.”

  “Well, that would explain how he could afford a ring the size of a half dollar and a house in Mt. Pleasant.”

  “Cecelia admitted that she told him everything the two of you discussed. They planned it together. He told her what to do, and she did it all willingly. They invited at least five friends, got high, and trashed your house. We found at least seven different sets of prints throughout the house.

  “Mark and Cecelia then went to your boutique alone. It was all fun and games until Mark decided to light the fires. She claims she tried to stop him. He beat her badly and then, um, cut off her finger to take his ring back. He took both her finger and the ring.”

  I gasp. “Oh my God. He’s a fucking psycho. Is she going to be okay?”

  Allison reaches for the ashtray and a pack of cigarettes. She offers them around the table and lights one for herself. “I've known that child her whole life. Her mother must be devastated.”

  Detective Cooke shakes his head. “Yeah, nice respectable college kids smoking meth and destroying someone’s life. I’m sorry if I don’t have a lot of sympathy for them. It’s awful what he did to her, but she set it all in motion.”

  This makes my blood run cold. “Why?”

  “Jealousy. I wish I had a better answer. It was her idea to trash your house. She planned the party with her friends. She wanted to hurt you. Then it got out of hand, and he took it further than she expected. She's been stealing from you since she started working there, both money and inventory.

  “Annabelle, she’s the one that found your baby’s box, the birth certificate. She smashed it. And ripped up the birth certificate.”

  “That fucking bitch. Did she tell you where the letters and pictures are?” I stand abruptly and pour myself a healthy shot of whiskey. I light a cigarette and pace around the kitchen. Jack observes me carefully.

  My father, Allison and Frasier look confused and upset.

  “Your baby?” my father asks.

  They don't know. I look at Jack and plead with him with my eyes.

  My mother squeezes my Daddy’s hand. I had hoped my mother told my father.

  I can only cry. “I'm sorry.”

  Jack is calm. He turns to our parents, “I need to get something. Then I’ll explain everything.”

  My instinct is to run, but there will be no more running. There is only truth telling and honesty.

  Still, I stand at the counter and chain smoke and drink whiskey, like the mother of the year.

  Jack returns and holds me. “Are you okay? I will tell them.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jack lays the sonogram picture on the kitchen table in front of our parents. My mother hasn't seen this. I hear her choke back a sob.

  “This is your first grandson, John Charles Tucker Cliff.” His voice is gentle, hushed while he shares the most traumatic months of my life.

  “This was our baby. Belle kept his ashes in a silk bag along with his birth certificate inside an enamel box by her bed. She slept beside him every night.

  “That bitch opened the box, tore the birth certificate, and then smashed the box, spilling his ashes on the floor. We were able to save him, but we know we lost parts of him.”

  Our parents are in shock. I pour them each a stiff drink and set the glasses down in front of them. I hug each of them. “I'm sorry.”

  Frasier takes a slug of his drink. He is furious.

  “Detective Cooke, what charges are the police bringing against these lowlifes? Burglary, vandalism, desecration, arson, theft, restitution…? Please tell me they will pay for the destruction they’ve wrought?”

  “We haven't apprehended Mark Collins, yet. We have arrested Miss Sharpe but she is still in the hospital recovering and going through detox. She has not given up the names of her friends, yet.”

  My father slams his hand on the table and yells, “I’ll wring her fucking neck.”

  I have never seen my father this angry. I understand. He and Mama suffered the same loss. He is imaging how painful it would be if someone did this to baby Thomas.

  I whisper, “I'm sorry, Daddy.”

  “Annabelle Leigh, for the love of god, will you please stop apologizing. You begged us to help you. We kept you apart and you suffered this loss alone. We are sorry. We've always been here for you. When will you understand that? How precious you are?

  “I've been ashamed. I felt broken. Jack left me and then our baby left me. I knew something was wrong with me. I was damaged, broken, and unlovable. I was grieving, angry, and self-destructive for far too long. I'm sorry y’all are learning about it this way. I told Mama on Christmas. Jack and I were going to tell you, but so much has happened in the last week.”

  My mother stands and holds me by the shoulders. “Your Daddy is right. You have nothing for which to apologize. You are not damaged or broken. We love you. Come back to us. Be our beautiful, twirling, mischievous sprite. Your heart is open again. I know it is.”

  She hugs me, and I cling to her and sob. “I love you, Mama. I love all of you. I know I ran, I isolated myself, and made bad choices. I swear, I'm finding my way back to all of you. I'm home. I've come home.”

  I circle the room and hug everyone. Even Detective Cooke, who looks like he may start crying. Julia and Wallace grab me up. The Cliffs kiss me and hold me. Then there is Jack.

  He picks me up and twirls me. “I love you, Bella Belle.”

  I scrub my face and collect myself. “I’m sure that Detective Cooke did not come here to listen to our family drama. Can we get back to business and talk about what’s going to happen to the assholes who destroyed my house and my business?”

  “Unfortunately, until we sift through the evidence and locate Mark Collins, I don’t have much to report. I suspect the District Attorney will offer Cecelia a plea deal if she cooperates. She must give up the names of the other kids who vandalized your home and your car.”

  “What about Sofia? Where is she? Have you been able to confirm there is a connection between Cecelia and Sofia? Is she still trying to gain custody of Charlie?”

  Frasier speaks up. “I met with Signor Rossi today. They plan to return to Florence in the next few days.”

  Jack barks, “Dad. Don’t you think you could have led with that? I’ve been worried sick. Are you telling me that we don’t need to worry about her anymore?”

  “Jack, I’m telling you now. She is not going to contest custody. Signor Rossi informed me that she is a troubled woman. I’m not sure what to believe. I suspect that Signor Rossi is not an easy man with whom to live. I tend to believe what Sofia told you, she is afraid of him. While that distresses me, it’s not my place to intervene, as long as she’s not here harassing my family.”

  “She knows where we live. There’s no guarantee that she won’t show up here again.”

  “True, but I did file an Order of Protection with the police. If she shows up here again, we can have her arrested.”

  “I do not want that woman anywhere near my son or Belle.”

  “Did we ever confirm how she knew how to find Jack?” I ask.

  Detective Cooke interjects, “It was as you suspected.” He smiles at me. “Have you considered a new career in law enforcement? Cecelia admitted to hacking into your phone, the website and changing the voice mail. She met Sofia in Florence. When Sofia came to Charleston for Spoleto business, she contacted Cecelia. Cecelia confirmed that Jack had returned and gave her all of your information.”

  “If I’m so clever, how could I have been so wrong about her? She seemed normal and sweet. I felt sorry for her. I tried to help her.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t explain it. Maybe Sofia offered her money. The girl has a serious drug problem. She’s going through detox in the hospital now while she recovers from her injuries.”

  “I hope she’s miserable,” Wallace mutters. I catc
h her eye and blow her a kiss.

  “If Sofia does happen to show up here, please contact me immediately. Until we wrap up this case, I need you all to be safe and vigilant. Please don't let that one,” he points to me, “go running off into the night alone. Until we find Mark Collins, this may not be over. Please, Annabelle. Let us take it from here. No more amateur detective, okay?”

  “I’ll behave myself, Detective, I promise.”

  Frasier adds, “Thank you, Detective. I’ll keep looking into things on my end. I have private investigators watching the family and Sofia. If the judge grants her bail, they’ll monitor Cecelia, also. Please keep us apprised of information you have.”

  I should have known that Mr. Cliff arranged for our safety. “Thank you, Frasier.”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Cliff. Thank you. Our resources are stretched thin.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” I offer. Jack rolls his eyes at me and smirks. I poke him with my elbow.

  We walk down the piazza toward the street. “Thank you for everything, Detective.” What else is there to say? I stare up into his eyes and hope he can sense everything I’m thinking and feeling.

  “Robert. Please call me Robert. It’s been my pleasure, Annabelle. I’ll be looking out for you.”

  A tear slides down my cheek and I reach up and hug him. He holds me tightly and whispers, “If you decide to get rid of that one, you know where to find me.”

  We step away from each other, grinning. “Trust me, Robert. I will. Thank you.” I kiss him on the cheek and run back into the house.

  As I enter the kitchen, everyone is bustling around preparing for supper. It’s as if nothing has happened. I grab my drink and pocketbook and sneak back outside.

  I root around for one of the only pieces of jewelry I have left. I find the small silk pouch and pull out my nose ring and a compact. It slides in easily, and it brings me comfort. I look and feel more like myself again. I also find several bracelets I'd forgotten about and push them up my arm. I shake my arm to hear the familiar jangle.

  I sit quietly and think about the last four days. From the best Christmas of my life to utter chaos. We are missing something. Maybe it’s the “why”? It all feels too random. Could it be as simple as jealousy and drugs? That much destruction and hate for shits and giggles?

  Sofia. She remains a mystery. I do not care for unpredictable women. I won't feel safe until she has left the country.

  ***

  I open the door, and Charlie greets me first. “Bella. There you are.”

  “Here I am, Superman.”

  He reaches up for me, and I kneel and scoop him up. He immediately touches my nose ring. “There it is. I like this. I want one.”

  I laugh. “You do? I think you’ll have to ask your Daddy about that. You may need to wait a few years. Also, I don’t think Superman had a nose ring.”

  “Daddy. I want.”

  Jack walks over. “What’s that, kiddo?”

  Charlie points to my nose ring. “I want.”

  “That’s Belle’s special nose ring. It gives her magical powers. No one else has one. Only Belle.”

  Charlie opens his mouth in awe. “Magical powers? I want magic.”

  I glance at Jack and smirk. Wrong thing to say, dude.

  “Charlie, it takes a long time to discover what your magical powers are.” I squeeze him and kiss him. “I don’t think you need any more magic. Your magic is love.”

  “What’s your magic, Daddy?”

  “I have a secret. Shh. Don’t tell anyone. I have three magical powers.”

  “Three? Tell me, Daddy.”

  “I have you and Belle. You two are special and give me the magic of love. I can also create things with my hands. I'll have to show you how I create things, soon.”

  “Wow. Daddy. You are magic.”

  He hops down and immediately runs to everyone in the room to tell them that Jack has magical powers and to ask if they have magical powers, too.

  He taps my nose, “I’m glad you put it back in. It’s you. Did Detective Cooke whisper sweet nothings in your ear?”

  “I’ll never tell,” I tease.

  He holds me in his arms and kisses me. “I bet he doesn’t kiss as well as I do.”

  I giggle. “No one in the world kisses as well as you do. Your mouth is another magical power you have. Mmm…I love your mouth.”

  “Only you activate its magical power.” He kisses me again to prove it.

  Charlie asks the room, “Why are Daddy and Mama always kissing?”

  The room is instantly silent.

  Well, then.

  Starting Over

  There will be no sparkly dresses tonight. No parties. No bar hopping or too much drinking. Been there, done that. New Years’ Eve is amateur night.

  My parents are hosting a cocktail party for their friends. They invited us, but we haven’t commitment to attend. Do we want to hang out with my parents' generation to ring in the New Year? Granted, I've learned in the past week that our parents are damned cool. Still, we're in our mid-thirties. We'd be the youngest people there by twenty years.

  I've been a bit whiny about it. I'm hoping Jack agrees with me and wants a quiet night in bed. Well, maybe not a quiet night.

  Julia has to attend a corporate event she planned at a downtown hotel. I can tell she's exhausted. She's been working her ass off this season and finally coming to terms with her pregnancy and the fatigue it brings. I hope that Peter will meet her at the hotel, and they can ring in the New Year with good sex. Her exhaustion and pregnancy haven't dimmed the desire between them in the least. Besides, they need a do-over. The last time they met at a hotel after a corporate event, it did not go well.

  We could take Charlie and spend the night with Wallace and Ben? Let the kids play together while the adults chill. Ben and Jack are working well together. They're both excited about their plans for designing and rehabilitating houses downtown. Wallace and I can spend time together in yoga pants and sweats. I'll check with Jack and then call Wallace.

  In the meantime, I am sitting on the piazza with my morning coffee and smokes and a notepad. Impulsive, flighty, free-spirited Annabelle is making a “to do” list. People underestimate me. I may play roles, but I am highly organized and responsible. I have no debt. I have considerable savings. I had maximum insurance coverage on everything.

  I’m starting over. What do I want to do next? I cannot be only Jack's wife and Charlie’s mother. I need my own identity. I want to rebuild Bella Boutique, but I’m considering alternatives. Artists and designers surround me. I’m playing with the idea of offering high-end home goods with luxe bedding and linens, art glass, china, funky home accessories combined with an art gallery. A place for local artists, like Peter and Jack, to highlight their work.

  I sketch out plans and take notes on the categories of products I want to offer. Upscale, but still affordable. It would have to appeal to both interior designers and millennials decorating their first homes. Funky, arty stuff that isn't available at the chain stores. Pieces from local artists. A constantly revolving selection. Maybe I could include a section for clothes and accessories. Things that you can find online, but aren't available in any of the shops in Charleston. An inviting, open shop that is warm and accessible. Maybe offer local music nights? Shopping, music and a glass of wine?

  I’m so excited that I don’t notice when Jack brings me a fresh cup of coffee.

  “Hey, Bella Belle, what are you working on? You look happy.”

  “Thank you, Jack. Join me. Kiss me.”

  He leans down and gives me a scrumptious kiss that leaves me wanting more. He sits and relaxes with his coffee.

  “Talk to me. I know you’re excited about something.”

  “This involves you, too. I’d like to take you up on your offer of helping me redesign the boutique. I’m considering an entirely new vision. If I have to start over, I want a completely fresh start.”

  I hand him my notepad with my sketches and ideas and t
ell him my idea. I study him as he reviews my concepts. What is he thinking? Am I crazy?

  He lights a cigarette and starts sketching designs.

  I smoke with him and watch him. He’s quiet as he works and so beautiful.

  Finally, he looks up, and I can see it in his eyes. He’s excited. He hands me back the notepad. He sketched an outline of the shop. “This could be tremendous. There is nothing like it in town. There are plenty of home goods stores, but nothing like this.

  He points to his design. “You have a great space. You could make the office smaller. Yes, of course, we'd keep the safe. It would open up more space. I love the idea of making it a combination of a gallery for local artists and adding in modern, contemporary home design. I'm so tired of Southern Living design in every shop. Not everyone wants florals.

  “I know the last few days have been brutal. You’re not wallowing, and you’re not hiding. You’re making plans for a new beginning. How does it feel?”

  “It feels right. I’m thrilled that you like the idea. It’s an opportunity for a fresh start. You, Charlie, and me. Building a house. Everything is new again. I’d feel better if I had clothes and makeup, but baby steps, right?

  “Speaking of fresh starts, what would you like to do to celebrate New Years' Eve? As amazing and supportive as our parents have been, is it wrong that I don't want to go to my parents' cocktail party tonight?”

  “Thank god. I was hoping you’d say that. They have been great, but I don’t want to spend the night with Charleston society, especially when they’re all in their fifties and sixties. Is that ageist? I’m not ready to wear a bow tie and bucks.”

  “I’m not ready to see you in a bow tie and bucks. I could call Wallace. The kids could play while the adults chill out. You and Ben could talk about designs for the shop. Wallace and I always have fun together. Unfortunately, Julia has to attend a corporate event she’s been planning. Peter is going to meet her at the hotel.”

  “Why didn't we think of that? Could we spend the night in a hotel? Hotel sex all night long?”

  “I’d love that. Why is hotel sex so great? I’m afraid it’s too late to book a room anywhere cool. You should plan that for another night. Soon, please!”