When they finally arrived at baggage claim, she sat down and tried to catch her breath while they waited for their luggage to arrive. “Granted, I’d always thought it would be Las Vegas we’d visit, but I guess Reno will have to do.”
“We could always drive down. We’re only six and a half to seven hours away.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” Sierra shot back as Cedrick plucked their suitcases from the revolving belt.
Cedrick missed the funeral. He wanted to be there, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that; too many old faces would have too many questions that he wasn’t prepared to answer. He was grateful that he was able to spend some quality time with Mitch before he died.
The following week after the funeral, Victoria insisted that Cedrick come to Reno for the reading of her father’s will. That didn’t make any sense to him whatsoever, but he had agreed. He’d let Victoria down once; he wasn’t going to do it again.
“I can see the wheels turning,” Sierra commented, walking alongside Cedrick to the rental car facility. “What’s on your mind?”
He glanced down at his wife. She was stylish in a white puffer coat with matching fur earmuffs. Sierra was all set to wear a tank top, jean shorts, and sandals, until Cedrick informed her that it was just as cold in Reno as it was in Chicago, maybe a tad bit colder during December.
“A lot. Right now, I’m trying to figure out why Mitch would leave me anything?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll find out soon enough,” Sierra remarked.
Cedrick halted, gently pulling Sierra to the side, allowing the people behind them to pass. “What if it’s a set-up?” he asked, searching her eyes for answers. “It’s like I’m being sucked into a vortex. I had to come here. Vicki couldn’t, should I say wouldn’t give me any information over the phone.” He stroked his beard. “She insisted as if I didn’t have a choice.”
“Baby, it’s too late to second guess this,” Sierra said, laying her hand on his chest. “We’re already here, besides we’re going to Mitch’s house. It’s only going to be us, Lennox, the attorney, and anyone else that Mitch had named in his will. It’s not like the whole town’s going to be there like at the funeral.”
“I don’t know,” Cedrick expressed in a whisper. “Too much is at stake.”
“Mitch was good to you, right?”
“Always,” Cedrick replied. “He was more of a father to me than my dad ever was. You saw for yourself how warm and caring Mitch was. He’d been that way my whole life.”
“Then there’s a strong possibility that he did leave something for you,” Sierra prodded, sliding her hand in his, tugging him forward. “But even if he didn’t, Victoria needs her best friend close by, someone, who really knew her dad. And besides, your mother keeps saying that you don’t have anything to worry about.” She squeezed Cedrick’s hand. “Maybe it’s time you believed her. She came to the funeral and made it back home unscathed.”
“I can’t believe you’re okay with this,” he said, shaking his head at his amazing wife.
“Don’t fool yourself. I had reservations, but once we discussed everything and after Thanksgiving, I’m cool. I know Victoria’s not a threat to our family.”
An hour later, they arrived at Victoria’s childhood home, parking directly in front of Cedrick’s house of horrors next door. He glared out the window; his jaw tightened just taking in his old home. He closed his eyes and tried to control his runaway heartbeat.
“Babe, are you okay?”
Opening his eyes, Cedrick glared upon the time capsule. The same gravel and reddish mulch adorned the front yard. The white aluminum screen door with the mesh torn in the bottom corner had rusted by the handle, and the crescent moon and star wind chime that hung over the side-drive garage door, dangled by a thread.
“There’s still no love here,” Cedrick mumbled, putting on his hat and getting out of the car. “It looks exactly the same.”
“Nothing in there can hurt you anymore,” Sierra reminded him, clasping the handles of her purse.
“I know,” he replied, scanning the area. “Still, I never thought I’d have to see this house again.”
An orange convertible BMW Roadster pulled into Victoria’s drive-way. A man exited the vehicle with a spiked crew-cut fade, wearing khaki cargo pants and a puffer vest over a black sweater, carrying two bags of ice.
“Lennox,” Sierra called out.
“Hi, Sierra,” he responded, walking toward them. “I haven’t seen you since we interned for my father the summer before I got married.”
“This is my husband, Cedrick.”
The men exchanged handshakes.
“Sorry I couldn’t make it for Thanksgiving. The friendly skies aren’t so friendly to the people who work for them,” Lennox snickered. “It’s nice to put a face with the name finally. I’ve been hearing about you and Tori’s middle school adventures for years.”
“I bet,” Cedrick replied, glancing at Sierra who stood off to the side with a somber look on her face.
“Let’s go inside; it’s cold out here.” Lennox stepped aside, allowing them to walk the pathway to the front door. “It’s open.”
Cedrick squeezed Sierra’s shoulders from behind. He leaned over and asked, “You good?”
She nodded, walking into the front room.
Flowers, cards, and photo albums were stacked on the floor and coffee table. The casket flag lay, folded atop the fireplace mantle with various awards.
Everything Mitch Weiss represented––– Security. Warmth. Love. Laughter was in that room. That familiarity enveloped Cedrick. He hated himself for not attending Mitch’s funeral.
“In the kitchen,” a voice yelled from the rear of the house.
Cedrick grabbed one of the bags of ice from Lennox as they made their way into the moderately sized kitchen.
“Heyyyy,” Victoria greeted with a smile, hugging Cedrick and then Sierra. “I’m glad you both made it.” She walked over to the table and removed several boxes from the chairs. “Please excuse the mess, so much has been going on over the past couple of weeks. Housework is the last thing on my mind,” Victoria admitted handing a couple of boxes to Lennox. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“The updated kitchen is nice,” Cedrick commented, admiring the stainless-steel appliances and granite countertops.
“Thank you,” Victoria replied, adding ice to the crystal beverage dispenser. “It only took a leaky ceiling and mold for daddy to get it done. I’d been asking him to modernize it for years.”
“It’s beautiful,” Sierra chimed in, placing her purse on the back of the chair.
Lennox returned, and everyone moved into the adjoining enclosed heated deck and enjoyed fresh squeezed lemonade, fruit, and party sandwiches. Victoria and Cedrick reminisced about the good ole’ days of playing the dozens, secret crushes that weren’t so secret, and old acquaintances from middle school.
The proximity of being next door to his childhood home escaped Cedrick as he relished the connection with his best friend, wife, and her husband. He wished that they could have lived near each other in their adult life. He envisioned double dates, days at the gym hooping, or shooting pool at the local tavern, and going on a couple’s retreat and other joint vacations. It pained him how things had turned out, how fate was sealed for him based on the heat of one moment in time.
An hour later, Lennox excused himself. He and a few pilot friends were spending the weekend in Las Vegas for their annual boy’s trip. Victoria walked him out and returned with a previously sealed envelope with Uwezo Omari written across the front.
“I have a confession to make,” Victoria said, curling her legs to the side as she sat on the loveseat across from Cedrick and Sierra. “There’s no reading of the will.”
Cedrick leaned forward. A myriad of emotions crossing his face before he said, “Vicki, what’s this about?”
“I do have something for you, but––– I thought it was best to wait until Lennox was gone,” V
ictoria said, handing an envelope to Cedrick. “As much as I hate keeping secrets from my husband, this wasn’t my secret to tell and––– I’m sure you didn’t want anyone to know this.”
“You read it?” Sierra gasped, examining the torn seal.
“I found this in daddy’s file while searching for his life insurance papers,” Victoria admitted, shifting in the seat. “I didn’t know what it was. Curiosity got the better of me.” Victoria covered her mouth. For a moment, she was overcome with sadness. Eventually, she said, “I’m sorry … about everything.”
Cedrick glanced at Sierra, and she looped her arm in his, laying her head on his bicep. He gazed at Victoria, the sorrow in her eyes mirrored his in an unspoken language of their own.
What’s in this letter?
Several minutes passed. Cedrick read the letter three times before he’d allow himself to believe the words printed on the paper. His eyes welled with tears, his heart burned with rage, and his brain overloaded with confusion.
“My father’s alive.”
Chapter 14
“How’s this possible?” Cedrick blurted, blinking away the moisture pooling in his eyes. “He couldn’t have survived …”
Sierra took the letter from his twitching fingers and read it. Glancing at Victoria, she asked, “When did you find out about this?”
“A couple of weeks ago while going through my father’s things. I didn’t know any of this.” She sipped her lemonade nervously. “… it explains your disappearance.”
He took the letter from Sierra and reread it, flashing back to that horrid afternoon.
* * *
Cedrick raided the refrigerator after school, hoping there was some leftover spaghetti. Much to his liking, there was. He slurped the noodles and checked his MySpace account while listening to music through oversized headphones that tuned out the rest of the world.
Priscilla nudged him, whizzing by with her hijab in hand. “You could’ve got the door. I’m expecting a package.”
“Ma.” Cedrick removed the headphones, after devouring another forkful of spaghetti. “I got it.”
“I’m here now,” she yelled, huffing.
Cedrick put the headphones back on and cranked up the volume.
One minute later, his father stormed pass with the Quran tucked under his arm, heading toward the front room. Cedrick didn’t think anything of the swift movement. He was just happy that the object of his dad’s annoyance wasn’t him. It wasn’t until the Lil Wayne track switched, causing a three-second gap of silence between songs that Cedrick heard his mother’s curdling screams.
Cedrick snatched the headphones off and grabbed the closest weapon. Sprinting to the front room, he froze at the sight of his father stomping his mother in the face as he accused her of disrespecting him. Many times, Cedrick had been beaten by that madman, but he’d never laid a hand on his mother. Never.
“Get off her,” Cedrick shrieked with tears flowing down his cheeks, clutching the fork in his fist.
“Oh, so this gets a rise out of you,” Haashim growled. “It’s your fault that she went to the door without her hijab in the first place,” he spat. “Too busy listening to that hippity-hoppity music.”
Cedrick’s chest heaved in short spurts. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he was having an asthma attack. He wasn’t asthmatic.
“You should be studying this,” Hasshim shouted, pointing to the Quran. “Instead of–––” Hasshim’s face contorted into a form Cedrick hadn’t seen before, then he kicked Priscilla in the stomach, then reared back to drive his fist into her face, but he caught a fork to the neck instead.
For years, his dad had been itching for a response from Cedrick; a wail, a cry; anything that showed Hasshim’s dominance over his son. Well, he got a response. Not the one he’d been seeking, but the one he deserved.
* * *
Cedrick shuttered out of the dreadful memory. Bolting off the couch, he announced, “I have to call my mom.” He dug the car keys out of his pocket and took determined strides out of the room.
“Where are you going?” Sierra questioned, scurrying behind him with Victoria on her heels.
“I can’t be here,” Cedrick shouted with aggression.
“Baby,” Sierra said softly, trying to grab his hand, but Cedrick pulled away. “Where are you going?” she repeated. “I’m worried about you.”
“I just need some air,” he replied, opening the door.
“Cedrick–––” Sierra pleaded, “Please be careful.”
“Let him go,” Victoria said, clasping Sierra’s upper arms. “He’ll be alright. He needs a minute to digest this.”
* * *
The noise in Cedrick’s mind kept up enough raucous of its own, so he drove in silence, forty-five minutes out of Reno on the open road along the Burner Byway, making his first stop at Pyramid Lake.
Crisp air swirled around Cedrick’s face and filled his lungs as he breathed in the tranquility. The panoramic view of snow-covered pyramids appeared as if they floated over the blue glacier water, unbothered. This was where he needed to be to face his new reality––– a place where peace outweighed the chaos of life.
The devil was alive, and he couldn’t help but think his father had survived for no other reason than to spite him. Cedrick understood why Mitch went to such lengths––– protecting him the way a real father should, making sure Cedrick couldn’t be labeled as a murderer, making sure he didn’t have a felony hanging over his head for the rest of his life, giving him a chance at normalcy, and never having the opportunity to seek closure from the man who helped create him. If only he’d told him.
Mitch knew the whole time that Cedrick was being abused. Cedrick wasn’t sure how to feel about that shocking piece of information, even though Mitch explained why. Priscilla begged Mitch not to arrest his dad. How could he know and not do anything to stop it, regardless of her request? Deep down he knew Mitch did what he felt was right, and Cedrick appreciated Mitch looking out for him the best way he knew how, but his mother knew all along that his father was alive. Why on earth didn’t she tell him?
Walking along the iced-over shoreline, Cedrick dialed his mother.
“Hey, son,” Priscilla answered in a cheerful tone. “How’s–––”
“My dad’s alive.” Cedrick paused, pulling the skullcap over his ears. “And you didn’t tell me.”
The silence on the other end of the phone was the loudest confirmation.
“Mom.”
“Yes,” she said in a raspy tone, clearing her throat.
“Why would you keep that from me?” Cedrick asked, rocking back and forth.
“How’d you find out?”
“Really? That’s the best you can do by way of confirmation?” Cedrick snapped.
He blew out a harsh breath, watching it dance in the frigid air.
“Cedrick, please tell me,” his mother implored.
“Mitch left a note, detailing how he helped you cover-up what actually happened to dad and my involvement.” He hesitated, dragging his boots along the crunchy ice. “Mitch said he patched dad up, then dropped him off across state lines in Sierra County, California at the hospital as a John Doe.”
“I wanted you to have a clean start,” Priscilla admitted. “With Haashim around, you never would’ve blossomed into the man you are today. I went to Mitch for help after I dropped you off at Aunt Makayla’s house. I didn’t know what to do––– I couldn’t physically move him,” she cried. “Mitch insisted on getting him medical attention. He promised that we would be safe. I couldn’t chance the truth coming out, so I packed you up, and we left. Simple as that.”
That was a finality phrase that Priscilla used when she was done with a conversation. Cedrick typically respected it, but there were too many unanswered questions that only his mother could answer.
“Only that wasn’t the end of the story, was it, mom? Why didn’t you tell me as you promised in the letter when I turned twenty-one? Is this what y
ou and Mitch were whispering about on Thanksgiving?”
“Yes,” Priscilla confessed. “He was shocked that you didn’t know. I didn’t want him to say anything because I knew Victoria didn’t know anything about it and it would’ve confused Carrington who’d always thought her other grandfather was dead.”
“So, did her father,” he shot back. “But that doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me the truth.”
“There wasn’t a need at first,” Priscilla explained. “Your father wasn’t doing well, and I thought he might succumb to his injuries.”
“Wait,” Cedrick said, standing as still as the rock formations. “You were checking in on him?”
“No, Mitch was,” Priscilla explained. “He kept me abreast of everything.”
“Oh, this keeps getting better and better,” he said dryly.
“Now, let me finish,” she said, annoyance clear in her tone. “As Hasshim improved, Mitch made living arrangements for him in Sierra County, paying his rent for one year. He made him promise never to contact us again, return to Nevada, or speak of what happened that afternoon. If he did, Mitch would have him arrested for domestic assault and battery. He’d lose his freedom and be shunned in the Muslim community forever.”
Silence hung in the air.
In a softer voice, Priscilla further explained, “You had just completed culinary school and met Sierra. Son, you were so happy––– I couldn’t drag a never-ending rain cloud over your sunshine.”
“But that’s just what I had,” he said hotly. “All these years, you let me believe I killed him. We …” Cedrick mumbled, digging his shoes in the snow. “I’ve been living in fear my entire life since that incident, and you had the power to make it stop, yet you didn’t.”
“I told you there wasn’t anything to worry about.”
“That’s your excuse for the nightmare I’ve been living? That doesn’t begin to explain everything. You telling me not to worry about it were just hollow words without the facts to back them up,” Cedrick shot back, louder than he would normally address his mother. He felt bad, but his anger had been let out of its cage now, and it was hard getting it back under control. “Can’t you see this nightmare I’ve been living in has redirected my whole life?”
Betrayal of Trust Page 9
