Whatever It Takes: A Highland Springs Romance (Whatever Series Book 4)

by Leigh Fleming

  “What about a hummingbird?”

  “That’s Meghan. Clara said the hummingbird is sick, very sick.”

  Jason’s heart dropped to his knees. If this psychic lady was any good, she just confirmed his worst fears. Deep in his gut, he thought Meghan’s condition was worse than her doctor had let on.

  “She said that? That she’s very sick?”

  “She did.” Silence hung between them a moment. “When is her appointment with the specialist?”

  “Thursday. Do you think you could—”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Darla had said the words he was hoping for. Meghan would want her there, but he needed her there.

  “I’d like to come out this weekend, too. It’s time I tell Meghan everything.”

  FOURTEEN

  “I’ll have a burger, well done, with fried onions and pickles and a chocolate shake.” Meghan handed her menu to the waitress, but pulled it back quick. “And a stack of rings.” She leaned across the table to Darla. “Do you like onion rings?”

  “Love them.”

  “Make that two stacks.” Finally satisfied with her order, Meghan relinquished the menu and took a big gulp from her water glass. She tucked her leg under her bottom and leaned her elbows on the table.

  “Thanks for taking me out. You really didn’t have to do that.”

  “I wanted to. I figured you’d like to get out of the house.” She wanted to get Meghan in a public place where she couldn’t make a scene by throwing her milkshake on her or calling her horrible names. The story of her conception was best whispered in the privacy of their wooden booth. “We really didn’t get to talk much in the hospital. I’m sure you’ve got lots of questions, so now you can ask me.”

  “Cool.” Meghan bobbed in her seat, flipping her ponytail behind her. “Dad said you’d tell me everything when you’re ready. I guess you’re ready.” She rubbed her hands together with a playfully evil look in her eye. “Time to pick your brain. Where to begin?”

  Meghan was delightful—full of energy and not an ounce of shyness. Darla had been like that before Clyde Fletcher got a hold of her. All the teenage spark had faded after that. Her daughter was happy and curious. No one could guess she was sick.

  “Okay, let’s play would you rather.”

  “How do we play?”

  “I ask you questions, like would you rather go snow skiing or scuba diving, and you answer…” Meghan waved her hand at Darla, signaling for an answer.

  “Neither.”

  “No, you have to pick one. That’s how you play the game.”

  “Fine. Snow skiing because you get hot chocolate afterward.”

  “Okay, good, but you don’t have to explain why.” Meghan scooted to the edge of her seat and flattened her hands on the table. “Ready? I’ll try to ask twenty questions in under a minute.” She glanced at her big wristwatch until the second hand was to her liking and bobbed her head. “Go. Would you rather eat pizza or hot dogs?”

  “Hot dogs. I like all the toppings.”

  “Just answer. Would you rather buy a house or an airplane?”

  “A house, of course.”

  “Would you rather ride a horse or cuddle a puppy?”

  “Cuddle a puppy.”

  “Would you rather be famous while you’re alive or famous after you die?”

  “That’s a strange question. What if I didn’t want to be famous at all?”

  “Darla!” Meghan slapped the table and fell against the booth in laughter. “You’re really bad at this.”

  The waitress arrived with two towering piles of deep-fried onion rings, setting them between them. Taking a break from the game, Meghan ripped into the pile, stuffing her mouth full. She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, letting out a little hum. She was thinking of another question. After wiping her greasy lips on a napkin, she held up a finger and took a drink of water.

  “Okay, I have another question. Would you rather go to jail for something you didn’t do, or get away with something horrible you did but always live in fear of being caught?”

  The onion ring Darla had been chewing lodged in her throat. Meghan’s innocent little game hit too close to home. Obviously, having a baby out of wedlock wasn’t a crime, but she’d always lived in fear someone would find out. Her secret sat across from her, dipping an onion ring in ketchup.

  “Well?”

  “Why don’t we just talk? Let’s skip the game. Don’t you have more specific questions for me?”

  “A million, but I’m afraid you won’t tell me.”

  “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

  “Okay.” Meghan pushed the semi-demolished onion ring tower aside and rested her elbows on the table. “Tell me about my biological father. His name, where he lives, what happened between the two of you? Why was I put up for adoption?”

  The time had come to confess the awful story of Meghan’s conception. Jason assured her Meghan was ready. Clara had prophesied the “hummingbird” needed to know the truth. Darla desperately wanted to rid herself of the shame and humiliation and try to make her daughter understand, but her tongue suddenly glued to the roof of her mouth.

  “You can tell me, Darla. I’m not a child. I know all about the birds and the bees.” Did she have to mention birds? “Whatever happened between the two of you, it’s okay. I’m not mad. I’ve never been mad at you for giving me up.”

  “You haven’t?”

  “Not at all. I have a great life. I’ve got the best dad and lots of friends. I just want to know where I came from. That’s all.”

  She could do this. She could tell her very understanding, mature daughter all about her biological father, and it would be okay. Darla took a deep breath, fortifying her courage, and dove in.

  “Your biological father’s name is Clyde Fletcher and he was my boss.”

  “Clyde Fletcher. Where have I heard that name before?”

  “He’s the governor of West Virginia.”

  “Holy crap!” The bustling restaurant went silent as everyone turned toward Meghan’s outburst. “Shit,” she whispered, leaning across the table. “My bio dad is the governor? How did that happen? Were you his intern?” She reached across the table and grabbed Darla’s wrist. “Was it a Bill Clinton, Monica Lewinsky kind of thing?”

  “How do you know about that? You weren’t even born when Clinton was president.”

  “I saw it on a CNN special.” She shook Darla’s wrist, impatient to hear the story. “Well? Was it?”

  “No, nothing as glamourous as that.”

  “Come on, spill it.” Meghan sat back in her seat and stuffed an onion ring in her mouth as if she were about to watch a blockbuster on the big screen.

  “Years before he ran for office, I used to work at his car dealership on weekends, cleaning.”

  “You were the cleaning lady?”

  “Cleaning girl. I was thirteen when I started there. My dad was a mechanic at the dealership, and he got me the job cleaning the offices on Saturday mornings.”

  “How old was Clyde?”

  “He was…I think about forty when he…when we…”

  “What the—? You had an affair with a forty-year-old man?”

  The waitress chose that awkward moment to arrive with their burgers and Meghan’s shake. The waitress’s judgmental glare stung, and Darla fought the urge to explain to the waitress that she did not have an affair with an older man. The server may have been disgusted, but Meghan was intrigued.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered as she lifted the greasy burger. “What was that like? You know, dating such an old guy?”

  “We didn’t date.”

  “Just fooled around?” Her eyes were big as saucers as she took a bite of her burger. She seemed to enjoy the idea of a May-September romance. What happened between her and Clyde was far from it.

  “I didn’t fool around with Clyde Fletcher. That man was an animal, a sick, perverted.”

  Meghan lowered the burger to her plate
, wiping her greasy fingers on her napkin. “I’m sorry. I just thought—”

  “You thought what everyone would’ve thought if they had known.” Her appetite gone, Darla shoved her plate aside and pressed her hand to her stomach. “I kept my pregnancy a secret because I didn’t want anyone to think I actually wanted that man to touch me. They’d call me a whore and a slut, which maybe I deserved.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Darla leaned across the table, sparing a glance to make sure no one was listening. She whispered, “Clyde Fletcher raped me and blackmailed me to stay silent. He threatened to fire my dad if I didn’t give in to him.”

  “Oh my God.” Meghan fell back against the booth. “How long did it go on?”

  “For a couple of months. It would’ve continued if my brother hadn’t died in a motorcycle accident. Dad didn’t make me go to work because of it, and then I moved to Ohio with Patsy.”

  “What did your parents say?”

  “They never knew. No one did. Only Patsy, until your dad found me.”

  “Whoa.” The burger and onion rings forgotten, Meghan picked up the frosty milkshake and squeezed the straw between her lips. Darla could practically see the wheels turning in her mind. Emotion played on her face, her brows creased and arched, her eyes narrowed and flared. What was she thinking? What was she feeling? Could she forgive her for what she’d done? Did she accept that Darla had no choice but to keep going back to the dealership each Saturday? Why wasn’t she saying anything?

  “Meghan, tell me what you’re thinking. Ask me a question—anything, please.”

  She set her milkshake back on the table. “So you’re telling me the governor of West Virginia, your baby daddy, has no idea I exist?”

  “I never told him.”

  “And you had to leave your home, hide your baby from your friends and family while he went on to be a big man in government?”

  “It was for the best.”

  “For him, maybe, but not for you. You had a baby at fifteen.” She leaned across the table, eyes flaring. “Fifteen! I can’t imagine having a baby now, let alone at fifteen, especially if I didn’t want to do it in the first place.”

  “It’s okay. Just keep your voice down.”

  “And you let him get away with it?”

  A semi-truck slamming into her couldn’t have hurt more at that moment. Just like she feared, Meghan blamed her. It was Darla’s fault this happened. She bore the burden of giving birth and putting her up for adoption alone instead of holding him accountable. If only she’d been stronger, brave enough to tell the police or a guidance counselor—anyone who would help her with the situation.

  “I was born because a child molester raped you? That’s what you’re telling me?”

  “I’m sorry. I really am. But don’t think for one minute I didn’t love you. It was because of my love I gave you up.”

  “How could you?”

  “I was young, unable to raise you on my own.”

  “I mean, how could you have loved me? I doubt I could love a baby conceived that way.”

  What a horrible thought. To believe you were never wanted, never loved. As strange as it seemed, she did love her baby.

  “It’s hard to explain. Feeling you inside me, kicking me, and squirming around. I don’t know how, but I came to love you. Giving you up was harder than I ever thought it would be.”

  Meghan was quiet for several minutes, chewing her hamburger and drinking her shake, all the while emotions playing on her face. Maybe she needed some time to absorb it all. Darla would give anything to write a different story.

  After a few minutes, Meghan slammed down her glass, splashing her milkshake onto the table. “He’s not going to get away with this.”

  “What do you mean? He already did.”

  “He has to run for reelection sometime, doesn’t he? I think the world needs to know what a creep he is.”

  “Oh, no.” Darla gripped Meghan’s arm and squeezed a little too tightly. “No, this stays between you, me, and your father. No one is to know about this, especially Clyde Fletcher.”

  “That’s bogus.” Meghan ripped her arm out of Darla’s grasp. “He’s a dirty old man who has more money than God. I’ve seen him on TV. He’s always spouting his clean-cut, family-man rhetoric on the news. What do you think they’d say if they knew he raped a teenager?”

  “Please, Meghan, no. You have to keep this to yourself. I know it’s not the story you were hoping for, but you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it might hurt him for a moment, but it will haunt you forever. When your friends learn about how you were conceived, they’ll never look at you the same. It will always be on their minds. It will be humiliating for you.”

  “I’m not afraid to stand up to him.”

  Aunt Clara had said the two of them should face the beast, but Darla wasn’t ready. She needed time. “Please, don’t.”

  “Oh my God.” Meghan fell back against the booth and folded her arms across her chest. “You’re a coward.”

  “How can you say such a thing?” Because it’s true.

  “You won’t go see him, won’t confront him. He needs to know I exist.”

  “Why? He’ll never do anything to help you.”

  “I don’t want his help.”

  “Then why would you put yourself through this?”

  “Ever heard of the Me Too movement? Women aren’t putting up with this shit anymore. You need to stand up for yourself, Darla. It’s never too late.”

  It was too late. Darla had moved on, made a life for herself with a successful career. No good would come of it. What would her friends back in Highland Springs say? She’d lose their respect and admiration. She was just named Citizen of the Year, for goodness sake. What would they think if they found out about her past?

  “I…I can’t,” Darla muttered.

  “I always wondered about my biological mother and was happy when it was you. You’re smart and pretty and have an awesome career.” Meghan’s compliments ended there. She leaned across the table and glared at Darla. “I just never thought you’d be a freaking wimp.”

  FIFTEEN

  She was a coward. Weak. Chickenshit. Where were her guts? Her bravado? She’d never let another agent or client roll over her in a real estate deal, so why was she afraid to face the man who raped her?

  Darla cupped her face in her hands and leaned her head against the warm, wet tiles of her shower. Water trickled down her back as her body shook, convulsed. She’d come home yesterday after having lunch with Meghan, not bothering to say good-bye to Jason, and curled into a ball on her bed. The night had crept along, and she was unable to sleep because of the memories that stormed through her mind—lying flat on the office floor with that horrible man pummeling inside her. She couldn’t confront Clyde Fletcher. After eighteen years, she’d found her footing, steeled her self-esteem. If she met with him now, all of her confidence would crumble.

  Who was she kidding? Her outward swagger was a façade. She wasn’t any stronger than the day he first raped her. It took her own daughter to call her out.

  She shut off the water and reached for a towel, moving very, very slowly. Lack of sleep and the realization that her daughter was lost to her once again made even the simplest task a chore. She rubbed the terry cloth over her damp skin, scrubbing and buffing until her arms and legs were raw. What was the matter with her? Why couldn’t she do what her daughter asked of her?

  Her cell phone jangled, startling her out of her self-recrimination.

  “This is Darla,” she answered, without looking at the screen.

  “You left pretty quickly after you dropped off Meghan.” Jason’s deep voice made guilt sear in her chest. She’d disappointed Meghan and Jason.

  “I had to get back.”

  “Without saying good-bye?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Did something happen at lunch?”

  Surpri
sed that Meghan hadn’t told him what a coward her mother was, Darla struggled with how much to tell him.

  “Well…”

  “Meghan went right up to her room. Didn’t even come down for dinner.”

  “She had a big lunch.”

  “That’s never stopped her before. She wouldn’t talk to me.” Jason blew out a frustrated breath. “What happened yesterday?”

  Wrapping the damp towel around her body, Darla trudged into her bedroom and dropped to the bed. She might not be brave enough to face Clyde Fletcher, but she should at least muster the strength to tell Jason what a disappointment she was to Meghan.

  “I told her about her biological father. She now knows who he is.”

  “That’s what upset her?”

  “Not exactly, but I have a feeling they may be on the opposite ends of the political spectrum.”

  “To say the least.” Jason’s chuckle helped relax Darla’s nerves. “So what was it?”

  She ran her hand through her wet, tangled hair and steeled her spine to her admission.

  “She discovered her biological mother is a fraud.”

  “What?” This time he laughed so loudly, she jumped. “How are you a fraud?”

  “I have the image of a confident, successful businesswoman, but in reality, I’m a wuss. Not the best role model for a young, ambitious girl.”

  “Just because you were manipulated by a pedophile?”

  “She thinks I should confront him. Tell the world what a creep he is before he runs for reelection.”

  Jason didn’t come back with a sympathetic comment or even another laugh. The silence was so deep, she looked to her phone screen to confirm they were still connected. He must be thinking the same as Meghan. If Darla was any kind of modern woman, she’d stand up for herself.

  “Jason? Are you still there?”

  “I’m here. I just…why haven’t you spoken up?”

  Like a knife, the question cut her to her core. Why indeed?

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he continued. “I know how hard it would be for you, but considering the climate we’re living in with women stepping forward, I just wondered.”