My Heart Can't Tell You No (59 page)

“You’ll—you’ll bring them back in two weeks?”

“I don’t know. I have to think. You’ve had over eight years to think about this. Now, I need my time. But I guarantee you’ll
see
them in two weeks. This time, you’re at
my
mercy.”

“What are you going to do now?” Her voice was almost a whisper.

“For now, I’ll get some of my things that I’ll need tonight. I’ll be back sometime tomorrow for the rest of it.”

He watched her nod her head again, then, almost in a shock-like state, slide down on the mattress and pull the blankets around herself. He turned and walked into the bathroom, picking up the knife he had thrown earlier and dropping it into the wastebasket.

Maddie stared at her bedroom wall. She felt small, young and vulnerable. She was cold, shivering beneath the blankets around her. She closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly, letting everything wash over her again. It had happened after all. Everything was crumbling around her. They were gone and the man she could hear in the bathroom was leaving. She shook her head, trying to free the clouds in it, then opened her eyes again. She was totally helpless, feeling used and disgusted at what had happened between herself and Joe minutes ago. But the fact remained that if she were a
good
girl
and
listened
he would bring her sons back to her. Had he left yet? She didn’t remember hearing him walk past the bedroom door, but she hadn’t heard any noise coming from the bathroom for some minutes now. More time passed. Finally she heard slow footsteps coming toward her and the sound of him dropping in the chair across the room from her.

“You’re—pregnant.” His voice was tired, and when she looked up at him she saw his face wore a weariness that seemed to age him dramatically. There was no joy, no pride in his voice, just as there was no anger or displeasure—there was absolutely no emotion at all.

“Yes,” she said just as flatly as he. She knew he had found the same pregnancy test her mother had found earlier.

“How far?”

“I was at the doctor’s today. He thinks anywhere from three to three and a half months. I think it’s closer to three and a half.” Her voice was strained, quiet.

“Still the risk of miscarriage,” he said, not expecting an answer, then reluctantly proceeded, his comments slow and emotionally exhausted. “Jackie and Robby are spending the night at John’s. You can either go down for them tonight—or get them in the morning. It’s up to you. I’d suggest waiting until morning though, when you can try to cover your bruises. It would only scare them. If—there are any problems—due to my actions tonight—you
will
call me and let me take you to the hospital—won’t you?”

“I’ll try not to lose this baby. Just as I tried not to lose the other two before it.” Her response was just as hollow as his.

“Just one more question. How were you going to explain
this
pregnancy to me?”

“I intended to tell you when I got back from town this evening. But things didn’t work out as planned,” she said, trying to hold back the tears in her voice.

“They rarely do with us, do they?” He stood up and wearily started for the door. “I’ll get back to you sometime. I need to think. Goodbye, Maddie.”

“Goodbye, Joe.”

PART III
 

THEIR FUTURE

CHAPTER XXXII
 

October 1984

“M
addie
? Where are you?” Joe called in his dream,
s
eeing only the gray dimness that surrounded him.

“I’m here.”

There she was, standing before him with the smile he loved. Her hair was tossed over her shoulders, flowing freely down her back as she came to him, taking his hand in hers as they began walking together. There was laughter in her eyes as she looked up at him, making him pause to gather her in his arms and hug her affectionately.

“Where are we going?” he asked, willing to follow her anywhere.

“I don’t know,” she smiled as they started walking again. “But we’ll make it there together.”

The grayness slowly turned to a soft gold as he turned onto his side, a stab of pain snapping his eyes open to see his bedroom wall. Why was he down at
his
house? Was it a weekend? Were the kids out? He had to take a moment to think. Yes, it was the weekend, but no, the kids hadn’t come out this weekend. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his side mixed with a pounding in his head. Memories washed over him of the drinking he had done before Maddie returned home yesterday, and then after he came down here and continued with the bottle of bourbon. He wasn’t used to drinking like that, and his aching head was proof of it. But it wasn’t the bourbon that gave him the pain in his side. Glancing down he saw the purplish-black mark covering nearly one third of his rib cage, reminding him vividly of the baseball bat that hit him and the one who had swung it at him. Were they broken? He didn’t think so; his fingers tentatively pressed against the area. He looked at his chest with the long nasty gashes; more remnants of the evening before. Slowly getting to his feet he made his way to the bathroom and glanced in the mirror to see the stubble he hadn’t shaved since the previous morning. He looked at his bruised his face and quickly decided he would leave the stubble until the bruising faded away.

Full memory of the previous night came slowly. He knew he was angry with Maddie, but it took a few seconds before he remembered the cause. When he did, his breathing once again came hard to him. They were his sons—and—and he had another child on the way. Instead of the father of two as he had always believed—he was the father of four, soon to be five. That is, if she didn’t lose the child. What was it he had told her before he left? To call him if his actions had caused the baby injury? He felt nausea surge up in him, memories of what he had done to her, churning his stomach uncontrollably. He turned quickly to the toilet, heaving the contents of his stomach, but still he couldn’t rid himself of the sickness he felt over what he had done. He had punched her. He had slapped her. He had tied her to the damn bed and forced her to have sex with him when she was very unwilling. Once again he spilled his stomach in heaves that wouldn’t stop. The memory of her fighting back viciously did nothing to help his condition. Jesus God, what had he thought he was doing? Again and again he vomited into the toilet until eventually he was only left with tormenting dry heaves—each spasm bringing new agony to his damaged rib cage and excruciating, splitting pain to his head. Still, the images from the previous night plagued him, haunted him, sickened him and refused to let him go.

Why couldn’t he have just left quietly—waited until he had cooled down to confront her instead of coming home and drinking nearly half a bottle of bourbon before returning to her house with no sense of reasoning. He had cleaned up the files he had thrown on the floor earlier, seeing the changes her business and money had brought to her as he went through each file, then finally destroyed the simplest display of her success he could find.

No, he couldn’t forgive her for lying to him, for keeping his sons from him when she knew that if he had known he would have fought hell to marry her. And what was all the worse was that she had continued lying to him; after his divorce; after she became pregnant with Robby; after Bob died; and even now after they had lived together more than three months.

He eventually managed to reach the medicine cabinet, getting out something for his stomach and headache. When he felt steady enough he grabbed his shirt and shoes and started for the front door. He got into his truck, feeling hardly able to walk the distance in his condition. But, as he pulled out of his driveway, he glanced toward John’s home, seeing his sons playing in the yard. He stopped the truck and watched them through new eyes. They were
his
sons, and they both showed signs of
him
in them, even from this distance. Robby was his mirror image. But it was Jackie whom he watched most closely, so much like John, but with a tall leanness his uncle had never attained. Why couldn’t he see that leanness was never one of Bob Green’s traits either? Tall though he was, he had never been slim, going from a chubby toddler to a muscular adolescent and teen and then toning those muscles even further to near bulkiness when he was a man. No, Jackie showed no signs of Bob Green. He was a McNier.

Joe entered Maddie’s house quietly, hearing no sounds of movement as he slowly walked along the hallway to her bedroom. The sight of the living room and kitchen, and then the bedroom churned his stomach again, but he managed to swallow back the nausea as he walked past the shattered lamp and sliced clothing.

Maddie was still in the same position as when he had left her, covered with her thick quilt as she faced the wall, sleeping on the side he usually occupied. He reached down toward her, gentle fingertips pushing back her hair, exposing a bruise that took his breath away. He stared at her a long moment, tears burning his eyes as he looked at the swollen cheek and jaw. He turned and went to the bathroom, seeing the pregnancy test that had revealed her condition, but moving past it as he got an ice pack, then went to the kitchen for some ice.

He sat on the bed quietly, lifting the ice pack to her face as he tenderly placed it on the injury. Her moan of pain cut through him, and, when she opened her eyes, recognition settled in and filled those beautiful brown eyes with fear as she jerked away. She might as well have stabbed him in the heart.

“Your face is swollen. Put this on it. It’ll help,” he said flatly, watching as she slowly moved her hand to take the ice pack and do as he said, her eyes cautious as she watched him. “I thought you’d be awake by now. Down at John’s confiscating my sons.”

“I—I didn’t sleep well last night,” she said hoarsely.

“Then I’ll let you go back to sleep. I only came up to apologize for my . . . conduct last night.” He stood up and moved toward the bedroom door.

“Joe?” Her voice stopped him but he kept his back to her. “What are we going to do now?”

He remained still for a moment, then started out again. “I don’t know.”

It was almost five o’clock and the sun was very low as the first flurries of the season drifted through the cold air. Joe had been sitting in the dimness of the living room casting occasional glances toward the television, but mostly staring sightlessly through his large picture window. He hadn’t even taken the time or energy to get something to eat, only nibbling occasionally on wheat crackers. He had taken a lot of time to think, but somehow, no matter how many different ways he looked at it, he still couldn’t push aside the anger, resentment or mistrust he was feeling toward Maddie.
Jesus
, was it only yesterday morning that he thanked God for her? Today he had the feeling he had been cursed since the day the girl was born. How he had adored her; spent most of his life adoring no one else but that small black-haired girl. Somehow he always had known that she had the power to destroy him—he had even told her so on a few occasions. But now when the opportunity was so near, he knew he couldn’t let her succeed. For once he was going to be in control of this situation; a situation he hadn’t allowed himself to recognize until the day before. She and Bob had taken his children. Two sons were stolen without his knowledge; the oldest was turned against him even before he had a chance to meet him. Oh, how Bob must have reveled in that knowledge. Not only did he steal the girl Bob
knew
he was in love with—he had stolen his children as well. He even had the Goddamn gall to have him named the father, as if he knew all along Joe would find the certificates some day. And Maddie had played right along with the bastard! Even now, almost four years after the man’s death, she was still playing Bob’s Goddamn game! No, he wouldn’t let her destroy him. He knew he couldn’t be near her or she would—easily. But he also knew that if he wanted his children, including the one she was now carrying, he had to stay near.

He pushed himself to his feet. He had wasted enough time today, and he still hadn’t gone up to get the rest of his belongings. He might as well do it now and get it over with.

Joe was about to pull up Maddie’s driveway when he saw his sons walking down the pathway from their grandparents’ home. He let the truck idle on the blacktop while he watched them. Jackie with his tall seven and a half-year-old body held in a superior position as he walked with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He played the role of big brother well. Robby on the other hand stopped frequently, holding his head back with opened mouth to taste the falling snowflakes, then running to catch up with his brother. Joe watched as Robby called something to the older boy, making him stop to watch. Jackie’s smile showed Joe that he loved his brother as much as one boy was capable of loving another. His eyes actually seemed to sparkle as he watched Robby try to catch the flakes, then join in trying himself. But after only a few tries he tired of the game and turned back for his home, calling something over his shoulder that made the younger boy run up to join him.

Joe drove up the driveway unnoticed, pulling up to the house as the door closed behind the boys. As he walked to the door, he paused, plainly hearing the conversation from inside.

“What happened?!” Jackie spoke with stern surprise.

“Nothing. Why don’t you go start your homework?” Maddie answered.

“Who banged up the safe? And the wall? And look at your files! They look like someone pulled them all out and then dumped them back in the drawers any old way!” Jackie rushed over to the safe to see that the lock had been broken as Joe quietly opened the door, watching them. “My birth certificate! And Robby’s! Who did it?! Did
he
do it?! Does he know? Did you tell him?!”

“If you mean did
I
do it,” Joe closed the door, bringing Maddie’s and Jackie’s gaze to him immediately, “then yes, I did. And yes, I know. And no,
she
didn’t tell me.”

“You had no right to do this! This is my mother’s! You had no right to ruin it!” Jackie blurted at his father.

“Well you’re mine! And your mother had no right to ruin you either—but it was done!” Joe returned harshly.

“Jackie, maybe you’d better go to your room now.” Maddie got up from her knees in front of the couch where she had been sorting through her files, using the couch as a long table, the coffee table behind her was already covered with documents.

“And maybe he better not,” Joe said stubbornly, noticing she had covered a good portion of her bruised face with make-up and keeping the lights dim to cover the rest.

“He has his homework to finish.”