I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2) (32 page)

This last is said dismissively and with disdain, like the idea of Will having a girlfriend is ridiculous. I imagine Abby rolling her eyes. She still thinks of my brother as a little tiny kid. That’s part of the problem, even I can see that. From talking to Will these past few weeks it’s become obvious part of his bad behavior, part of his acting out, is due to our mother. She treats my brother like a little boy, but yet she’s severely lax on setting boundaries, if she even bothers at all. Like the sleeping over thing, she probably doesn’t suspect for a minute that my brother and his girl are having sex. After all, she so willingly assumes that Cassie’s-mother is home when those two are together. She’s so out of touch. Maybe Mom has this attitude because Will used to be so clumsy and awkward. I don’t know. But what I do know is her acting as if Will is still a small child is only bound to make things worse. And not acknowledging that he’s dating a girl who is very important to him will definitely backfire on Abby.

I try to rectify this now, before it becomes a much bigger problem, as it inevitably will. “Mom,” I begin carefully, “her name is Cassie.”

“Who?” Mom sounds all clueless and distracted, but I know her avoidance game.

This woman exasperates me, but I somehow stay calm. “His girlfriend, Mom. Her name is Cassie. Jesus, don’t you pay attention to anything?”

“Hey,” my mother warns.

Okay, that last was maybe a little harsh, but come on.

“I don’t need shit from you too, Chase,” she continues. “Why don’t
you
try dealing with Will for a while? You think it’s so easy, don’t you?”

I stay quiet and just let Mom vent. She’s really angry at Will, but it’s better if she takes it out on me. What she just said gives me an idea though. Maybe Will can visit me here in Ohio, get away from Vegas for a while. Not for the whole summer, Mom’s not getting away with that shit, but a few days stay would be nice. Will’s been saying he’d like to visit soon. He’s even expressed interest in meeting Kay. I told him she liked his comic book drawings, and he said she sounded “cool.”

I throw my suggestion out to my mother and she says, “I don’t know, Chase. Wouldn’t letting him go on vacation be more like a reward? The kid’s supposed to be grounded.”

“Aw, come on. Don’t you really just want him away from his friends for a few days? If he’s here in Ohio he won’t be sneaking out to go be with them. Plus, I really want to see him. We’ve been getting along great lately.”

Surprisingly, with no additional fuss, Mom agrees to let Will come to Ohio. I think her capitulation is partly because she’s truly happy her boys are back on speaking terms, but I also know part of her hopes I’ll talk to my brother about the weed. I plan to, I’ll set him straight before he moves on to something harder, which—with our genetics—he inevitably will.

Mom asks me to hold on while she goes to get Will. In no time the kid is on the phone. He tries to play it cool, but I can tell he’s excited to visit. While we talk about shit we can do when he gets here, Mom checks flights. She finds one from Vegas to Pittsburgh (the closest major airport) for this Friday.

“Book it,” both Will and I say together as he puts me on speaker.

We hang up, and I am elated. Two more days and I will see my baby brother again. Kay will get to meet him too.

I put together a quick plan, one that will require me to leave work early on Friday to get to Pittsburgh in time to pick Will up. His flight comes in at seven, and I need time to drive to the airport and park. Unfortunately, if I leave early, Kay won’t be able to come with me. But maybe it’s better if I spend the ride back alone with my brother. It will give us time to discuss him scamming me for money, and then using what I gave him to buy drugs. Art supplies, yeah right, I knew that sounded suspect. But I am not going to worry about any of that bullshit until I have Will face-to-face.

I run my hands through my hair and scan the living room. There’s so much I have to do, like get one of the upstairs bedrooms ready for my brother. But first things first, I want to tell my girl about my brother’s impending visit. I can’t wait to hear her reaction, so, without further ado, I head next door.

As I’m walking up the steps to the apartment above the garage, I think about how I thought things were good earlier. Well, shit just got a whole lot better.

My brother, my girl—the two most important people in my life—will be here with me, all three of us together, in just two more days.

Could life get any fucking better?

Chapter Eighteen

Kay

I go into work a little later than usual on Friday morning. Truth be told, I am still catching up on much-needed extra rest. See, Chase came over Wednesday evening to tell me about his brother coming into town. My boy was so happy he couldn’t quit hugging me, even while I was fixing dinner. All that hugging led to kissing, and kissing led to touching, and since it seems we can never get enough of one another, dinner went onto the back burner, literally. We didn’t get to my homemade chili till hours later. And then yesterday evening I was over at Chase’s. We never even got to dinner. We spent the entire evening in bed.

Love, it sure makes you silly…and kind of horny
, I think as I settle in at my desk, yawning.

I suppress an out and out laugh, but my lips remain curved up in a ridiculous grin as Father Maridale walks in. When I see his serious expression though, my smile falters.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Kay, I don’t know if anyone has told you yet, but Mrs. Wilson was in a fairly serious car accident yesterday evening.”

“Oh, no! Doug’s mother?” I am not sure I heard correctly, but Father nods in confirmation.

I may not like my ex-boyfriend all that much—in fact, I kind of despise him—but I wish no harm to his mother. She may have been a bit meddling in the past, but she was always kind to me.

“That’s terrible,” I say. “Will she be all right? Is there anything we can do?”

“I don’t know if she’ll be okay,” Father answers sadly, “but I know she could use our prayers.”

“Of course.”

The Wilsons aren’t part of the Holy Trinity congregation—they belong to another parish—but that doesn’t mean Doug’s mother won’t be in all of our prayers these next several days. My heart goes out to their family, and I feel bad for all of them, even Doug to a degree. But I still send up a selfish prayer that I don’t run into my ex-boyfriend. Surely, he’s in town, probably over at the hospital right now with his mother.

My stomach twists at the thought of coming face-to-face with Doug Wilson. He’s a walking reminder of the poor choices I made the night Sarah died. Not to mention he’s the entire reason why I even found myself in that position to begin with. Worst of all, I’ll never forget that he left, he ran off as Sarah lay lifeless in my arms.

Father Maridale gets a call and leaves, which is just as well since my hands have begun shaking. I squeeze them together. There, that’s better…for now.

It’s no mystery why all of this is hitting me so hard. It’s because of what day it is. Today is an anniversary of sorts, but not the happy kind. Quite the contrary—Sarah’s horrible accident occurred four years ago today.

I think most people have forgotten the exact date, no one has said a word as of yet. But
I
will never forget—July nineteenth is burned in my brain, seared into my soul. I know Chase would want to know the significance of today—and I should have told him—but I couldn’t bring myself to burden him with the information that the day his brother is coming into town is the four-year anniversary of Sarah’s death. So, while Chase is picking his brother up at the airport this evening, I’ll be at the cemetery, spending time with Sarah. And my guy has no idea.

I had originally planned to ask Chase to come with me tonight, especially since he’s the one who’s been helping me come to terms with the fact that not everything that happened the night Sarah died was in my control. But when Chase came over the other night, so hyped up about his brother’s impending visit, I couldn’t ruin his happiness.

I try to work on a few things to get my mind off of today’s significance—like getting started on organizing next month’s activities calendar—but I can’t concentrate at all. I can only think of Sarah.

My little sister would have turned ten this year, but she’ll forever remain six. Sarah will forever be a child, a child who never was given a chance to grow up. She’ll never someday find love like the kind I’ve found with Chase. Usually I can accept a sad fact such as this, but today it just makes me feel guilty.

I try to distract myself from these morbid ruminations with more work. I spend over an hour updating the bulletin, then keep busy finding other mundane tasks to occupy my time. But the guilt doesn’t fade completely; it only recedes from the forefront of my mind.

When I hear someone come into the office, I glance up from my seat at the desk to find my blue-eyed boy. “Hey.” I check the time. “It’s only eleven. Aren’t you a little early for lunch?”

When I look into Chase’s eyes, I know immediately that Father Maridale has told him about Doug’s mother’s accident. That means he is well aware that Doug is in town.

Chase walks over to my desk and kneels down next to my chair. “You okay?” he asks.

I nod, but my observant boy doesn’t miss my hard swallow.

“Hey…” He pivots my chair so we’re eye level. Cupping my chin, he rubs my cheek with his thumb. “Why don’t you come with me to pick up Will? No one will care if you leave a little early today.”

Clearly, Chase doesn’t want me running into Doug while he’s gone. But I have to stay put; I have to spend time with Sarah this evening. I wish I could just tell my guy why I need to stay, but he has an obligation too—picking up his brother—and I don’t want him driving to the airport and worrying about me anymore than he already will be.

So I say, “I’ll be fine, Chase. I’ll stay here on the church grounds, and then go straight back to the apartment.”

He frowns, and I snatch up his hand. I hold it close. “I know you’re worried about me running into Doug, but I’m sure he’s staying at the hospital. Pick up Will, okay? Everything will be fine.” I squeeze his hand. “I’ll be waiting for you and Will back at the house. I can’t wait to meet him.”

This brings a smile to my boy’s face. I try to lighten things up from there by talking about all the things he and I can do with Will over the next few days. I don’t know what fifteen year-old boys like, but I suggest we take his brother to see one of the summer’s big action-adventure movies. It’s based on a comic book, so that’s sure to be a plus.

Chase agrees. “That’s a great idea. My brother will love it.”

Everything is good for now, back to normal. Well, as normal as things can be under the circumstances.

Chase and I go to lunch, and afterward, on the walk back, my boy teases me a little. He’s trying to get me to smile bigger than he is at the moment. He’s so happy today, anticipating seeing his brother. I wish I could share more fully in his enthusiasm, but my heart feels burdened. Even so, my boy gets me to smile a little here and there.

When we reach the church office there’s nobody around. Chase pulls me to him and kisses me, far dirtier than he should on church property. Still, I love every second. I love it even more when my incorrigible boy whispers all the filthy things he’s planning to do to me later tonight. “You’re brother will be at the house,” I remind him.

He runs his hand down my back, cups my ass, and moves me to where I can feel he’s getting hard. “He won’t be over in your apartment, baby,” he whispers huskily into my ear.

Good point.

We kiss and grind shamelessly for the next several minutes, but then we hear a noise and stop. It turns out to be nothing, just the air conditioning coming on, but in the interest of “better safe than sorry,” we separate, but not before promising one another this
will
continue later.

Chase leaves and I actually feel much better, definitely distracted. As usual, my boy has done a good job of making me forget the worries of the day. But, as time passes, one by one, the worries plaguing me earlier seep back into my consciousness.

How can I forget Doug Wilson is in town, or that his mother is in the hospital and in serious condition? But what brings a lump to my throat is the thought that it’s almost time to go to the cemetery behind the church and visit with my dead little sister, the little girl who died four years ago today.

Work ends and I start my journey. I leave my purse behind in the rectory. I don’t bring Peetie either. Today it’s just me, for better or worse. The sun burns low in the sky as I walk past the iron gate and make my way to the back of the graveyard.

But when Sarah’s grave comes into view, I falter. There’s someone standing there—a woman—right in front of her marker.

I creep closer. This lady doesn’t hear my approach. Her head is down, and her hair, the color of mine, shields her face.

Oh, my God.

I know this woman. I don’t need to see her face. I’m not even close enough for her to hear a word I say, but my mouth opens of its own accord and one word tumbles forth, “Mom?”

I don’t know how she hears me—maybe there’s some unbreakable mother-daughter bond that is still there, alerting her to my presence—but my mother turns to me and our eyes meet, caramel-on-caramel. I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and sway unsteadily on my feet.

My body is torn. Do I run to this woman or crumple to the ground. I kind of do both, I take a few steps in my mother’s direction, and then pitch forward. I land on my bare knees, the skirt of my dress puddling around me as my fingers dig into the cool blades of grass.

My mother turns and comes to me, and for the first time in a very long time I see compassion in her eyes.

“Kay,” she whispers when she reaches me. “I had a feeling I’d find you here tonight.”

This woman… This woman, who has rejected me for four years, has apparently sought me out. But why? Why tonight? Why this anniversary and none of the others? Are four years of no communication sufficient penance in her eyes?

Tears blur my vision and I rock back on my heels. I look away. But my mother is not deterred—she kneels down right beside me. She says my name again and reaches for my hand. I don’t want her to touch me, so I resist. But I ultimately let her wrap her cool fingers around my hand. She’s always had this hold over me. I am powerless around her.

My mind wars with itself to take some sort of a stand, one way or the other. Part of me fears this woman, and that part urges me to twist my hand from hers and run away, fast as I can. But another part of me is drawn to this person who gave me life. And that part wants nothing more than for my mother to grab me up, hold me, and tell me I am forgiven.

I can’t make up my mind; I don’t know what to do. Hell, I can’t even move. But I don’t have to decide anything as my mother pulls me into her arms.

I resist a little, out of fear she’ll end up re-breaking my just-now-mending heart. But there’s something in me—some bond forged by shared DNA, perhaps—that’s stronger than reason or emotion. Deep in my heart I long for what we all desire, I want my mother to accept me, love me, for who I am. And that need for acceptance, that craving to feel loved, makes me relax into this woman whose arms I’ve not felt around me for almost half a decade.

She holds me and I am transported back in time. In her arms, I sob like a child, “Mom, Mom…Mommy.”

I am no longer a woman of twenty-three—I’m a little girl who wants her mother. My cheek presses to her bosom, my body shakes. I am wracked with grief.

My mom grips me tighter, but I am inconsolable. “Kay, oh, honey, what have I done? God forgive me. I am so sorry. I’ve missed you every single day, I have. I denied it to myself for so long, and why?” She pauses, choking up. “I was wrong about so many things. I’ve spent years believing something I found out today isn’t even true. Can you ever forgive me, Kay?”

I pull away and swipe and swipe at tears that keep coming and coming. I stare at my mother. I don’t understand what she’s talking about. Is she asking me to forgive her for disowning me? Does she seek absolution for not speaking to me for four years? Has she finally realized what Chase has been helping me to believe is true—that it doesn’t matter I left Sarah alone? That if anyone carries a modicum of blame, then that person is Doug? And what did she find out today that changed her thinking? I am so confused.

My mother touches my cheek. Her eyes assess mine. She must see my uncertainty, as she takes a deep breath and begins her explanation.

She tells me she came into town early this morning, after she found out about Doug’s mother’s accident. I should have considered my mother might show up in Harmony Creek; she and Mrs. Wilson are still great friends, after all.

“Doug was at the hospital,” she says, and I tense at the mention of his name. “Kay, he told me the truth. He told me what really happened that night.”

I scoot back. “What are you talking about?” I ask, more confused than ever. “I told you the whole story after Sarah’s funeral. You know everything.”

My mother’s face fills with guilt. “That’s not what happened. Well, not exactly. There was a detail you were unaware of. We all were. That’s the blank Doug filled in this morning.”

My mouth is agape, I am unsettled and lost. I stare at my mother. I can’t shake this feeling that my world is shifting on its axis. “What did he say happened?” I nervously ask.

What does Doug Wilson know that I don’t? What has he been keeping a secret for all these years? Obviously it’s something big if it’s enough to have turned my hard-line mother around. I close my eyes and wait to hear what she has to say.

“Kay, Doug’s broken up about his mother…I think that’s why he told me. He wants to make things right. He said he can’t bear the guilt of keeping his role in Sarah’s death silent any longer.”

His role?
He already bears some responsibility, but is there more? I open my eyes and stare at where my knee is touching my mother’s. Mine is bare, my mother’s is clad in expensive linen.

“What did he tell you?” I prod.

She takes a breath. “Kay, Doug was the one who unlocked the patio door.”
What?
“He said he went outside to put something in the recycle bin out near the pool.”
His empty beer can
. “He said he forgot to relock the door when he went back inside.”

Yeah, forgot because he was too busy hurrying to get to the stairs, to trap me there, to back me into my bedroom.
Fucking asshole.
He’s kept this secret for all these years. If he’d only come clean right away, this rift between me and my mother might never have taken hold.