Acts of Desperation (21 page)

“It never happened,” I said, raising my brows. “You got me?”

After a few seconds, she said, “Ok,” and nodded her head.

“We took care of it and that’s all you need to know,” I added.

“Got ya,” she said.

We sat quietly for a while listening only to the sounds of Anders’s shallow breathing and the machine’s beeping in the room.

She looked at me. “Where would I be without you? You never believed him. You defended me and protected me. Thank you.”

“You always stuck up for me when we were little. This was the least I could do. So, don’t mention it. Really,” I said with a wink.

Sarah stared at Anders. “We should go,” she said.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes.”

We stood up, and I move our chairs back over to the window. When I turned back to Sarah, she was leaning over his body.

“Rot in hell, you son of a bitch,” she said into his ear.

Anders opened his eyes and smirked, and then with a slight shrug of his shoulders, he turned his head away and closed his eyes again.

When we walked out into the hallway and past the nurse’s station, the nurse asked, “You guys taking a little break? It’s a very hard process to go through, don’t feel bad. Everyone needs a break from time to time.” She smiled compassionately.

“A break? No,” said Sarah with a laugh. “More like a new beginning.”

“I’m sorry?” the nurse said, but Sarah and I continued our walk down the hall and out the doors, never looking back.

Later that night, Anders died completely alone.

After the death certificate was signed, Sarah donated Anders’s
body to science.

About three years later…

“Ok everyone.” Liz clapped. “Time to take your places. It’s show time.”

As soon as Liz’s staff heard her, they began shuffling about the room putting the finishing touches on hair and makeup, and getting everyone into position. Liz straightened the veil while I contorted my body to adjust the train. Then, Liz tugged on the microphone daggling from a wire attached to her ear piece.

“Are the groomsmen in place?” she asked. There was a delay and she nodded her head. “Great. The bridal party is on their way. Give the pianist her signal.” She turned and spoke into the center of the room. “Ladies, I need everyone to line up over here by the door, in order please.”

“Nervous?” I asked, looking at Sarah.

“Nope.” She smiled.

“Good, you shouldn’t be. He’s a great guy,” I said.

“Thanks. I think so too.”

Liz touched my arm. “Alright maid of honor, I need to steal you away. Front of the line please.”

“Yes ma’am.” I teased. I gave an excited grin to Sarah then took my position.

Liz smoothed my hair and secured a loose flower.
The stylist I’d gone to wove my hair in an intricate braid, and then pinned in sprigs of lily of the valley. “You look beautiful,” she said then flared out the ballet-slipper-pink chiffon on my dress.

“Thanks.” I sighed. “I feel like a beached whale.”

“I’m sure you do because you’re you, but you do not look like a beached whale. The A-line flatters your figure, and you’re positively glowing.” I guess she was right to some degree. The dress minimized my six month baby bump, but it didn’t make it disappear by any means. But, I was ok with it because the day wasn’t about me anyway; this day belonged to Sarah, and she deserved every bit of the happiness it would bring.

“If you say so,” I said, rubbing my belly, having just been kicked. I looked around at
the scenery as everyone took their final positions. “I should be mad at you,” I whispered. “This wedding is way prettier than mine was.” I smirked.

Liz laughed. “Nonsense dawling. T
hey are all unique and equally beautiful in different ways. To compare one to the other would be unfair.” She winked.

Then I looked back at Sarah. Our mom was making sure her tiara was secure before draping the veil over her face. Liz grabbed a bobby pin out of her pocket and placed one extra one in place to guarantee it wouldn’t shift. Sarah and I briefly made eye contact, and she raised her shoulders and smiled
her girlish smile. She was the most gorgeous bride I’d ever seen.

Sarah inhaled a deep bre
ath and let it out quickly. “Ok. I’m ready.”

Liz rubbed her arm. “You’ll do great. Your dad’s going to meet you at the door. When you hear your cue, remember to walk slowly.”

“Got it.” She nodded then we heard the processional sound and the wheels were set in motion.

As we all walked down the aisle, the smell of candle wax, roses, and lily of the valley perfumed the air, and one by one we took our positions at the altar. There was a brief pause in the music then verses of Ave Maria began echoing through the alcoves. The doors clanked opened and Sarah and my dad
waited in the center of the archway. The congregation took notice and stood with oohs and ahs.

Sarah was breathtaking as she walked down the aisle. Her strapless
white dress was hand sewn with thousands of tiny Swarovski crystals that twinkled as she walked up to the altar, reflecting the flames of the hundred candles lit throughout the church. I imagined her bouquet of pink roses matched her flushed cheeks perfectly. But the showpiece was her groom’s gift dangling from her neck—a simple five carat tear drop diamond necklace. She looked like a princess.

While all eyes were on Sarah, I turned to the groom and thought back over everything that had happened over the last two years. It was purely by chance that Jax recommended Grant when Sarah mentioned she was thinking of looking for a new home; Grant had found Jax’s brownstone when he moved into town. Grant owned a chain of real estate agencies and was the best in the city. Sarah thought her house held too many painful memories and reminders, and she wanted to put the past behind her and
to make a fresh start.

I went with Sarah when Grant showed her the first house, and I knew from the second they met that there was a special spark between them.
He was tall and athletic with sandy brown hair and positively adorable dimples that only showed when he smiled. And when he did smile, his crystal blue eyes sparkled like the sun shining on the Caribbean Sea.

He hinted around for a couple of
months that they should meet up for coffee or lunch sometime, but he never actually asked her out. Finally, one day when he got that she wasn’t biting on his subtle suggestions, he directly asked her on an official date. He didn’t choose any old place to take her either. He rented out an entire restaurant for the night. Her every wish was personally catered to as the chef and wait staff waited on them hand and foot. Then he took her to the ballet, one of her favorite things to do, to top off their evening.

Grant had
been married before but had lost his wife to breast cancer four years prior. He’d been hesitant to start dating again, Jax told me one night. He and his wife had always wanted children, but her disease had robbed them of their wishes. So, when Sarah introduced Grant to Sam and Will, it was all over; he instantly fell in love. The more time they spent together the more anyone could see they complimented and completed one another.

Now as Sarah walked closer to us, I watched Grant wipe tears from his eyes with a white handkerchief fo
lded discretely in his palm. I could feel his love for her. He looked at me for a second and smiled before turning back to watch Sarah. I returned the gesture and looked out into the pews and found my Jax staring at me, sitting next to my nephews, the ring bearers. I swear there have never been two cuter boys seen in mini tuxedoes than those two. My cup runneth over.

The entire ceremony was breathtaking, and when the happy couple kissed, bells rang and the congregation broke into applause. After a long round of pictures, the bridal party rode over to the reception hall together where there were introductions, speeches, and dinner.

We ate a delicious meal that started with cocktails and appetizers. There were prosciutto wrapped shrimp on skewers, sweet figs, and an assortment of olives. Then we had antipasti follow by an Italian wedding soup. Finally, the main course of marinated beef tenderloin was accompanied with tender bites of creamy gnocchi. Each course was more delicious than the next, and it was finished off with cake.

Sarah and Grant had chosen five different Italian wedding cakes. They were stacked artfully in cascading tiers. Each masterpiece was decorated with edible pink roses and brushed with pearl dust that made each layer
glimmer like freshly fallen snow.

Every bit of the meal was handmade by the Bellamy’s.
It happened to be where Grant had taken Sarah on their first date. I’d been able to save them from filling bankruptcy with the help of Liz. Liz had signed them as one of her top caterers, and their little Italian restaurant had grown into one of the most sought after caterers in the city. And the rest is history.

Sarah sliced into a white sponge cake filled with Chantilly crème. It was iced in a rich whipped cream, and there was no cheesy cake smashing. Grant and Sarah very sweetly fed each other a tiny bite and followed it with a kiss. When the music kicked on and the applause died down,
they had their first dance. A short time later, I stole a moment with Sarah.

I leaned into her ear. “Did he tell you where you’re going yet?”

She grinned from ear to ear. “His place in Hawaii. He just told me he’s flying Mom and Dad and the kids out our second week. I feel like this is all a dream and I’m going to wake up any second. It’s too good to be true.”

“Nope. It’s the real deal and you deserve it,” I said then I
smelled him and felt his warm touch on my shoulders.

“Congratulations Sarah. You’re
stunning,” Jax said as I looked up at him. Sarah thanked him then he spoke into my ear. “Is she full?” he asked, rubbing my belly.

“I think both of us are for the time being. How are you?” I asked as Etta James’s, “At Last,” began to play—our wedding song.

“I’d be better if I could dance with my wife.” He grinned.

I laughed. “Did you request this?”

He raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Maybe.” Then he extended his hand. “May I have this dance?”

“Of course.”
With butterflies in my belly, I grabbed his hand, and my family walked out onto the dance floor. Never in my life could I have imagined such happiness.

He slowly spun me ar
ound, put one hand on the small of my back, and held my hand with his other. He put his cheek to mine and whispered in my ear, “I love you, Bobba.”

I pulled my head back and smirked. “Jax…” But then he kissed me b
efore I could say anything else, and I felt him smiling against my lips. I stayed wrapped in his arms as we danced the night away.

The End. 

Author’s Note

The novel you’ve just read was inspired by events that took place within my family. My sister was the inspiration for “Sarah”, and I was represented as “Sember”. Many of the experiences shared by the two characters, my sister and I lived through with the exception of one. In one scene, Sarah recounts to Sember that Anders came into her home in the middle of the night. That was fabricated. The other experiences and interactions between Sarah, Sember, and the children with Anders all happened in some capacity, though were slightly sensationalized for the purpose of plot development in this work of fiction.

I am not a lawyer and sadly my Jax does not exist, but I truly fell in love with him. I can specifically remember the day where I wrote the scene where he surprised Sember with dinner at his brownstone. I was left feeling all warm and gooey inside just like the way you feel at the end of a really great first date. I miss him and he may have to make an appearance in my next novel.

“Anders” did not come down with pancreatic cancer, and he lives on and is well physically. His end in this book was my therapy. I’ve witnessed so much hurt and destruction at his doing that I needed an outlet to channel my frustration and to lead me down the path of my own emotional healing. I also wanted to show that we are no fools, despite what he must think, and though there is no hard evidence for what he did with the money, I know in my heart that what I wrote is pretty close to the truth.

In the book Anders has Narcissistic Personality Disorder, or NPD. My sister is not alone in divorcing a man who bears these qualities. Whether her ex-husband has been formally diagnosed by a doctor, we do not know. We desperately sought answers and explanations when we first learned of his infidelity and lies; we needed answers. Several sources: doctors, therapists, a social worker, and two separate members of the clergy, have explained that my sister’s ex-husband’s behaviors throughout her marriage fit the NPD profile to a T. Now understanding the realities of NPD, we have been able to educate ourselves as to how we can safely deal with an individual with this disorder; to process what he says and does and to prepare ourselves for the future.

NPD is very real. It wreaks havoc in the lives of so many women and their families. Unfortunately, given the insidious nature of the disorder, as well as the charismatic features of these individuals, many women find themselves without the strength and support to leave. My sister is one of a lucky few. I encourage you to learn more about it on the web as we have. Essentially—and this is a very brief and simple explanation because I am not a doctor—people afflicted with the disorder are diabolical and emotionally destructive. They see themselves as perfect and unflawed in every respect. Everything that they do is done only to validate their own feelings of self-worth. They are grandiose and crave attention. My sister's life with her ex-husband involved pathological lies from a very convincing man; after all he fooled my entire family for fifteen years and to say we were blindsided would be an understatement. Unfortunately, there is no “cure” for the disorder; the individual would have to admit there is something wrong with themselves which goes against the very nature of the disorder. They cannot admit to be being flawed because the perceive themselves as perfect.

The money/legal issues between Sarah and Anders were also based off of events that occurred
during my sister's divorce. Her first lawyer did make a big error initially in the financial documents that lead to the financial hearing described in the book. Sarah’s outcome mirrored my sister’s and she had to “make a deal.” Her second lawyer, in a way represented by Jax, did say many of the same things that Jax told Sarah, and I was present at all of those meetings. I sat outside of court hearings and gave my emotional support and was never inside the actual courtroom. I imagine, even though the divorce has now been finalized, money issues will continue to remain a constant point of contention and we will remain in contact with my sister’s second lawyer for years.

And now on to Grant.
We have not found him yet, but we are looking. I know there is a great man out there for my sister and he will treat her and her children the way they deserve. I have my eyes peeled for him and I’m prepared to tackle him if I have to.

If you are interested in reading a few more details about my story, there is more information on my blog at emersonshaw.com. Look for my posting titled “Inspiration”.

Acknowledgements

Special thanks to my team of editors: Teresa, Megan O’Leary, Kimberly Parr, and Theresa Johnson. I am forever indebted to each and every one of you. Without your insights and corrections, my book would not be what it has become. And specifically to my sister Teresa, who has read this book countless times while I’ve toiled and obsessed over each and every word. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being my biggest cheerleader while always reassuring me that “I don’t suck.”

To David
Ralph Johnson, thank you for your help in designing my cover. I appreciate at all of your efforts and patience more than you can ever know. If you are interested in looking at David’s own unique photography please visit
www.starprairiegallery.com
.

To Megan O’Leary, who was my inspiration for Liz’s character, I would be nowhere without your comic relief. You truly are one of the funniest people I will ever meet in this lifetime. Some friends have come and gone, but I know there will always be you. I’m so glad that we met twenty-one years ago.

And to you
, my reader, you’ve just finished reading my baby. Thank you for taking a chance on an unknown author and for reading my book. I hold this story close to my heart, and I hope that it has touched yours in some way.