I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2) (33 page)

Doug confesses his secret now because his mother’s been in an accident? Does he think he can bargain with God? He’s so arrogant he probably does.

I am seething. All the rage I’ve kept bottled up for four years—rage at myself, rage at my mother for abandoning me, rage at God for taking Sarah—it all redirects to Doug Wilson. He better hope he doesn’t run into me.

I swear and my mother frowns. “What?” I hiss, scooting farther away. “So, you think everything is okay now?”

She shakes her head. “No, no, I don’t. I know it will take time for us to heal. I know I reacted too harshly—”

“Harshly?” I interrupt, not wanting to hear her excuses.

I yell, “Fucking Doug kept what he did a secret for four years.” My mom winces but stays quiet. “He allowed me to believe it was my fault, he allowed
you
to believe it was my fault. I’ve thought for so long that I was the one who neglected to lock that door, and all this time…”

One desperate sob escapes me.

“Doug is a fucking bastard,” I whisper.

I try to stand, but I can’t. My strength has abandoned me, I have no more fight. The truth should be setting me free, yet I feel no lighter.

I start to cry, and my mother closes the gap between us and enfolds me in her arms. “It’s nobody’s fault, Kay. It’s taken me a long time to accept this, but Sarah’s drowning was an accident.”

I cry harder as I cling to the back of her blouse. “You hated me for four years, Mom. How could you do that? You missed my graduation. You missed my first day as a teacher. I’m good at what I do, but you wouldn’t even know that—you know nothing of my life.”

“I never hated you, Kay—”

“Liar,” I weep. I try to pull away, but she’s so much stronger.

My mother expects me to be angry with her, she tells me this. But she also says she’s tired of holding on to her own anger, anger she’s taken out on me for far too long. I ask her if she plans to excommunicate Doug Wilson like she did to me, but she just shrugs her shoulders. And it’s then that I notice how much older my mother appears.

There’s gray streaked through her hair and deep lines on her face. Maybe being apart from me has hurt her too. She may be stubborn and hard, but I am bound to her. I don’t want to do the same thing to her that she did to me. I’ve tasted revenge, and it’s not always sweet. The time we have on this planet is too short for playing games. Anything can happen, at any time. I think of how suddenly I lost Sarah, how suddenly Chase lost his dad. Death makes permanent decisions without our consent all the time, why hasten the inevitable?

Besides, I’m tired of not being on speaking terms with my mother. Maybe she and I can start anew. Things will never be as they should—there’s too much water under the bridge—but surely we can scrape together something to make up for all this wasted time.

So I stay where I am.

I sit with my mother for a while, right there on the evening-dew-coated grass. I talk with her in a way we haven’t spoken in years. And she actually listens. I even tell her a little about Chase. My mom smiles and says he sounds like a special guy. She has no idea of what an understatement that is.

Eventually, my mom and I stand to stretch our legs. She gives me a look, a sad smile, and I know what she’s thinking. She wants us to go over to Sarah’s grave, together.

I nod, and we walk arm in arm to my sister’s granite marker. My mother and I kneel in the shadow of the old oak and hold tightly to one another as we reminisce about a little girl we both loved and lost.

My mother does most of the talking, and that’s fine with me. I listen as she shares some of her earliest memories of my sister—Sarah being born, her holding her new child for the first time, her handing Sarah to me so I could hold a baby sister for the first time.

“Remember that day at the hospital?” my mother asks, tears in her eyes.

How could I forget? I think of how tiny and pink my baby sister was. “I loved her already, then,” I croak out.

Mom squeezes me near. “I did, too,” she whispers as she kisses the top of my head. “I did, too.”

I share one memory of my own—that autumn day in the apple orchard—but I keep the rest to myself. I also don’t mention the journals I write in, nor do I share how I recite three precious memories to Sarah every week right here at this grave. These are pieces of my life I share with only one person, the man I love and trust—Chase.

I’ll give my mother a chance, sure. I mean, I can’t deny I still love her. But forgiving her completely for what she’s done to me may take a little longer.

My mother grabs up my hand and our eyes meet. She smiles at me, in a way I used to see her smile only at Sarah. Maybe she really does love me. I squeeze her hand a little, and it seems we reach an unspoken understanding, to take things one day at a time.

We’ve got a long haul ahead, but this is a start, a new beginning.

My mother leaves the cemetery before I do. I stay at Sarah’s grave, kneeling in the grass.

Ten minute pass, then fifteen. I think about leaving, heading home, but I can’t seem to move quite yet. Now that I’m alone, I am overwhelmed with emotion.

Tears stream down my cheeks. Out of sorrow, out of relief—I don’t know which. My guilt over Sarah’s death began to diminish when Chase heard my admission and didn’t turn away, but finding out it was Doug Wilson who unlocked that door—not that I had forgotten to lock it in the first place—has allowed the last remnants of guilt to lift and leave me forever. I feel freer than I ever felt before. However, I can’t stop crying.

Losing my guilt doesn’t make grief disappear. In some ways it heightens my sorrow, since sorrow is all I have left. I will always miss my Sarah—this is a fact—and nothing will ever lessen the ache that resides in the deepest recesses of my heart.

I lie down and place my cheek against the grass. It’s cool to the touch and smells of life. I inhale deeply, and eventually the tears begin to slow.

Life…

I think about how I have been living lately, really living. Mostly due to one man, my blue-eyed boy, the one person in this world who teaches me more about life and living on a daily basis than anyone ever has in the past.

Chase.
Finding him has made all this loss so much more bearable.

I sit up and brush myself off. It’s almost dark. Chase should be on his way back with his brother by now. I long to hear his voice, and I want to tell him all that has happened this evening. Also, I can’t wait to meet this brother he loves so dearly.

When I get to the car I call Chase’s cell, but it goes directly to voicemail. I find it odd he’s not answering, but I don’t think too heavily on it. Even as I leave the church parking lot and turn right. I don’t dwell on why my boy may have shut off his phone.

But something in the back of my mind tells me perhaps I should.

Chapter Nineteen

Chase

I am supposed to pick my brother up in the baggage claim area, but when I get there Will is nowhere to be found. It’s after seven. I check the monitors, the flight from Vegas landed fifteen minutes ago. My brother should be here by now.

I watch a few bags go by on the carousel, then read a couple of the tags. Yep, definitely luggage from the Vegas-to-Pittsburgh flight.

Stepping back, I watch passengers from Will’s flight retrieve their belongings. Soon, the bags and people are all gone, but still there’s no sign of my brother.

What the fuck?

I call Will, but there’s no answer. Next I dial Mom. She answers and when I tell her Will wasn’t on the flight, she—of course—panics.

“What? I dropped him off at the airport, Chase. He had his bag, his boarding pass, he was ready to go.” She sucks in a breath. “Oh my God, do you think something happened? Maybe he’s been kidnapped. Oh, Chase.” Mom’s voice has progressed from worried to shrill, and now she’s just flat-out crying.

I calm my mother as best as I can, I tell her Will probably just missed his flight. But the truth is I’m worried too.
Shit, this fucking sucks.

Just as I am about to panic myself, someone beeps through. I pull the phone away from my ear and check the screen. It’s Will.
Thank God.

Mom breathes out an audible sigh of relief when I inform her that her youngest son is alive and apparently well. Before I switch over to my brother’s call she asks me to have Will call her as soon as he and I are done talking.

“Will do,” I say in what I hope is a comforting tone.

Then, when I switch over to Will, I become all, “Where the fuck are you? The flight you were supposed to be on came in half an hour ago. Mom’s about ready to have a heart attack, you know.”

Will kind of groans, “Dude, I’m sorry, but something came up, my plans changed.” He pauses, sighs. “Did you really have to call Mom
,
though?”

“Yes, Will, I really did,” I snap back.

Truth be told, I am trying to keep my anger in check, but this kid is getting on my last fucking nerve.

“She is your mother,” I continue, “and when you didn’t show up what did you expect me to do? Just go home? We thought something happened to you. What the fuck went wrong anyway? Where are you?”

Will is quiet for a beat and then he says softly, “I’m still in Vegas. I’m with Cassie. Something happened at her house and she needed me.”

I sense this probably has something to do with her pervert stepdad, but I don’t press. My little brother’s compassionate heart does serve to lessen my anger though.

“Will, isn’t this something her mother should handle?” I say with care.

Will huffs, “She’s never around, Chase. She works all the time. She left unexpectedly today for some work thing.” Exasperation shades my brother’s tone. “I couldn’t leave Cassie alone all weekend, not with that dick. The things he says to her… Chase, you’d fucking kill him. At least I keep my temper under control.”

I let that one pass, Will does have a point.

“Anyway, this time he really scared Cassie with the fucked up shit he was spewing. She had to lock herself in her room. She called me just as the flight was boarding and told me what was going on. I told you her stepdad leaves her alone when I’m there, so I really had no choice, bro. I took a cab from the airport to her house. I’m sorry, Chase, I…” Will trails off and sniffles.

He’s been acting all tough, but I know my brother and I can tell he’s crying a little now.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s okay, Will, I get it. But you have to call Mom. She needs to know where you are and everything that happened.”

Will promises to do so, but then throws me for a loop when he blurts out, “Hey, maybe I can still come out to Ohio. My ticket is one of those types you can change, so it’s still good. Cassie could come too. She has lots of money in her savings. She can buy her own ticket and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I interrupt. “You can’t bring your sixteen-year-old girlfriend with you. What the hell do you think her mother would say?”

Will is quiet, but then offers, “What if Cassie gets permission? Would you care, then?”

I’m thinking my brother will say anything to get me to say yes to Cassie coming to Ohio with him. I can’t fully trust the kid—he’s already duped me with the borrowed money—so I say as gently as I can, “I don’t know about that, Will. You’re welcome to still fly out, but I think Cassie needs to stay in Nevada.”

“What about her stepdad?” Will asks frantically. “Am I just supposed to trust he’ll leave her alone while I’m across the country?”

“Will,” I begin, “your girlfriend really needs to talk to her mother about this guy.”

This is met with silence. I switch the phone to my other ear. “So, are you coming to Ohio, or staying there?”

“This is so fucked up,” Will spits. “You wouldn’t leave
your
girl if she needed you. I know you wouldn’t.”

“That’s different.”

“The fuck,” my brother explodes. “This is such bullshit. You’re as much of a hypocrite as Mom.”

The fist at my side clenches, and the hand holding the phone tightens. “That’s not fucking true,” I grind out.

Will throws back, “Whatever, dude. All I know is every fucking time I need someone they’re never there…including you. This is so typical. You may as well just be back in prison. You’re such a fucking ass.”

My brother disconnects before I can respond. I know he’s just frustrated, but his words still fuck with my mind. “Fuck this shit,” I mumble as I turn off my phone and stomp out of the baggage claim area and out to my truck.

All I really want to do is see my girl and tell her what has happened. She’ll make everything right, she settles me. But I’m too full of anger and venom to put this on sweet Kay. She has her own shit to deal with—she’s finally accepting that the night Sarah died was truly just an awful accident. She sure doesn’t need my family drama shit piled on top of that.

I leave the airport and hit the highway. It’s starting to get dark, but it doesn’t matter. The ride back to Ohio becomes a blur. My frustration, my stress, my anxiety, they all escalate with every fucking mile I log. By the time I hit Harmony Creek all I want to do is stop these feelings, especially the one nagging at me, telling me I’ve once again fucked things up with my brother. Not that the little shit should have even put me in that position.
I may as well be back in prison
…what a dick-thing to say. But the thing eating at me the most is what Will said about me being like our mother. Fuck that. I don’t treat my brother like a child, I don’t let him get away with shit, and I sure as fuck don’t disappoint him.
Shit.
Or do I?

It hits me that maybe Will isn’t entirely off base. Maybe I am like Mom, in more ways than I care to admit. We’ve both battled addictions—gambling for her, drugs for me. And we’re both too easy on Will. Am I doomed no matter what I do? Is my path set?

Well, if that’s the case, then why bother? Why try so hard to be different?

I hit the gas, but I don’t head home, to my house, to where Kay and forgiveness await. Nope, I don’t deserve forgiveness tonight. In fact, all I crave is fucking escape. So I drive straight to where I know oblivion can always be found. I head to a place where I’ll never be questioned for the mistakes I make, not by myself, or by others.

I drive to Kyle Tanner’s house.

One thing about Kyle’s place, in the past, there was a party every night. And it seems nothing has changed as I drive past the line of cars parked along the rutted side of the long gravel drive leading to the Tanner house of sin.

I find an empty spot up close to Kyle’s ramshackle house and park. In front of me is a car with steamed-up windows, rocking to and fro. I get out of my truck and chuckle as I walk past. Music is blaring from the dilapidated structure as I close in. A few guys are out in the yard, drinking, getting high. It’s just another night of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll at the Tanner abode.

I get a few “hey man” nods as I step up to the propped-open door. The greetings aren’t from anyone I know, but I nod back nonetheless before I step into the house. Inside, the air is thick and hot, reeking of dope and sweat. People are dancing to the raucous music, pressed together on the tiny living room floor.

It’s steaming hot out tonight, but it’s absolutely stifling in here. Some of the girls have stripped down to just bras and panties. This isn’t the junkie crowd that hangs out in the parking lot at Kay’s old apartment. No, these people are younger, some even underage. This is the youth of Harmony Creek, here to get wild and have a good time. For some this will be remembered as a blurred-out summer of rebellion, but for others this will mark their entry into a dead-end lifestyle. I know the outcome of the latter all too well. I’ve walked this path myself. But even the sick sense of déjà-vu that washes over me can’t make me turn around and leave. Instead, I ask a blonde walking by where I can find Kyle.

This girl is skinny, young. She has spiky hair, and she’s wearing short shorts and a distressed tank top. Her dilated eyes take me in as she slurs, “He’s in the kitchen, gorgeous.”

I start to walk away but she grabs my arm. “Hey, don’t go.” She tries to pull me to her, but I don’t budge. “Let’s dance,” she whines.

This girl is so fucking spun that I feel a little high just looking at her.

She starts to take off her tank top and when I see she has nothing on underneath I walk away. Girl-so-spun has nothing I desire. On my way to the kitchen someone hands me a full bottle of vodka, unopened. What the hell, I crack the seal and take a long pull. I take another drink, then another, and another. By the time I walk into the kitchen, half the bottle is gone and I’m officially buzzed.

Kyle is seated at the table, dirty jean-clad legs kicked out in front of him. He’s smoking a blunt with another guy and a kind-of-pretty girl.

He laughs when he sees me. “Fucking Chase Gartner, I knew you’d come a-calling sooner or later.”

“Whatever,” I murmur before I take another long pull from the bottle in my hand.

“Welcome back, man,” Kyle says as he nods to the kind-of-pretty girl.

She passes me the blunt, and I don’t hesitate. I take a hit, hold, and then exhale slowly. And so it continues, we pass and smoke. It’s been so fucking long that the weed hits me fast. I hand the blunt back to the girl and take another swig from the bottle.

I feel myself stumble.

Not literally, but I’m at the precipice in my mind, looking down, to where everything is black and empty, like I’m about to be.

The four of us sit around the table, talking about nothing, stupid shit that I forget a second later. I drink the rest of the vodka. Or maybe we shared it, like the blunt. I am not sure at the moment. All I know is that when I sit the empty bottle back on the table, Kyle stands up. He gestures for me to follow him. Without hesitation, I do.

Kyle and I go into the living room. It’s as crowded and hot as earlier, maybe more so now. We push and elbow our way through the throng of dancing bodies. When I sway to the right I notice there are two people fucking on the couch. No one else pays them any heed. I watch for a minute, just for the fuck of it. Kyle waits for me, laughing at my side.

“You want a turn?” he asks me.

The girl riding the guy glances over her shoulder at us. She winks at me, then turns back. Shit, it’s the spiky-haired blonde I talked to when I first came in. The guy whose dick she’s riding would have been me four years ago, but it won’t be me tonight. I tell Kyle as much and push him so he’ll move. He does.

We continue through the crowd until we reach a narrow staircase in the corner. I follow Kyle up the steps. We turn right at the top and go into a cramped bathroom I’ve been in so many times before. And the same scene from back then plays out now.

Sitting on the edge of the tub, Kyle chops up a rock of coke he’s taken from his pocket.

“This is new stuff, Gartner…pure, clean.” On a handheld mirror, he cuts lines. “You’re gonna love this shit, man.”

I have no doubt I will. Kyle rolls up a twenty and hands it to me, then places the mirror with the fat lines of coke on the countertop right the fuck in front of me.

I hold the rolled-up bill in my fingers and stare down at my old vice. The white powder beckons, spread out and waiting for me like my own personal whore. I lean down over a line and place the rolled-up bill to my nostril. I close my eyes—

—and just then someone knocks.

I open my eyes, lower the bill, and straighten.

“Fucking occupied,” Kyle yells to whoever is knocking on the door.

The person leaves, but I don’t resume what I was doing. It hits me hard and fast that I don’t want to snort this line. I don’t need this shit anymore. Stress, anger, and frustration have led me here, because old habits are that fucking easy to slide back into.

Shit, look at me. I am already drunk and high. But this is where it stops.

The hole in my heart that used to press me to use with abandon isn’t so open and gaping anymore. It’s not fixed, but it’s healing. The fissures and cracks have been filling with love from my girl. And she’s really all I need. It was a mistake to think she can’t handle me, she’s seen me more troubled than this. Case in point, the night she was accosted in the parking lot.

Fuck.
I have to get out of here. I can’t be here a minute more. I want to go home, home to Kay.

I drop the twenty on to the grimy floor and walk away. Kyle yells out something, but I put my hand up, like I’m saying, “Shut the fuck up and leave me alone.” And, actually, that’s exactly what I am saying.

Kyle doesn’t follow, not that I expect him to. He fears me, as he should.

When I get to my truck, I drop the keys on the ground. When I bend to pick them up everything spins. I am entirely too fucked up to drive, it’s obvious to me, even in the state I’m in.

I turn on my phone, but hesitate to call my girl. I don’t want her anywhere near the debauchery down here. I figure it’s a hike, but I can walk to the church. Kay can pick me up there. That’ll give me time to calm down some too, maybe sober up a little. Right now I feel really high-strung, despite the booze and weed.