Some Day Somebody (57 page)

“Mr. Broussard, are you okay?”

He nodded then pushed himself up from the wheelchair to stand over the body of his wife, a woman he’d assumed the heavy burden of caring for. The fact that she’d made the last thirteen of their fifteen year marriage a living hell for him, had long ago removed the love.

Jackson knew everyone thought he’d been crazy for staying with a woman who generated unhappiness from her temper tantrums, violent mood swings, and overall nasty character. He also knew her real unhappiness stemmed from not being able to conceive the child they both wanted so badly. He’d seen what she considered to be her failure, eat at her for years. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with her, she’d said. He’d had all the necessary tests run, and his count was fine, his swimmers weren’t lazy.

Friends had urged him to leave her, find someone who wouldn’t torment him with false accusations, public displays of temper, and affairs she’d never admitted to, and he couldn’t prove. He’d stayed in hopes that the baby they’d one day have would change her back to the woman he’d fallen in love with so many years ago.

Jackson’s nod accompanied the solitary sigh of a man faced with the difficult task of closing the door on a part of his life. “It’s my wife. Chloe
Stansfield
Broussard.”

After filling out the necessary forms and releases, he gave them the name of a funeral home to contact.
 
The nurse wheeled him back to his room where he called Chloe’s mother in California.
 
He’d just ended the call when the doctor came in to discuss his x-rays, and subsequently, release him.

Jackson made his way back to Giselle’s room, and stood over her bed, watching her brow crease even in her drugged sleep. Remembering her cries from earlier, he knew, even as his own personal hell had just come to a dramatic end, hers was about to begin.
 
He reached out to touch the bandaged cut on her forehead, a minor injury compared to what could have happened to her.
 
Her right hand was in a splint, but that, too, was minor.
 
He stared at her perfectly symmetrical features, marred only by a light spattering of freckles along the bridge of her delicate nose and a tiny scar above one eyebrow.

A light touch on his arm disrupted his thoughts and observations. He turned to meet Carrie’s worried gaze.

“Jackson...I’m so sorry.”
 
Teary eyed, she hugged him tightly.
 
“I thought you would be here, so I brought someone up with me.”

Jackson caught the movement at the doorway and turned as his uncle walked in, Stetson in hand, looking unsure of what to say to him. He stepped toward the man who’d raised and loved him for over thirty years. “Uncle Bill.”

“Are you okay, Jackson?”
 

“A few bruises and a sore knee...nothing.”
 
He embraced his uncle then shrugged. “It could have been a lot worse, obviously.”

“I guess Chloe wasn’t wearing her seat belt,” Carrie said.

“She’d be alive if she had.”
 

“Have you called her mother yet?” Bill said.
 

Jackson snorted and shook his head.
 
“Oh, yeah.
She said she was sorry for
my
loss but couldn’t make it to the funeral.”

“Lord, it’s no wonder she was disturbed,” Carrie added.
 
“Are you all right?
 
I know how bad it was for you at home.”

Jackson shook his head slowly.
 
“I don’t know how I feel yet.
 
Chloe was difficult to live with, but to have her die like that.”
 
He lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut.
 
“God, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forget that.
 
I wouldn’t have known it was her if I hadn’t recognized her clothing,” he said, his voice suddenly breaking.

“I’m sorry, Jack.” Carrie hugged him again.

Jackson held on to her, fighting back the tears that threatened.
 
Besides his Uncle Bill, Carrie was the closest thing he had to family.
 
At forty-eight years old, twelve years older than himself, she was more like an older sister to him than co-worker of ten years.
 
She was his right hand at the office, and he’d vented to her often when life with Chloe seemed unbearable.

Carrie had also been his buffer zone when Giselle had declared him the enemy four years earlier.
 
One careless moment of stupidity on his part and she still called him ‘Satan’ behind his back.

Her reaction to him walking away from an accident when Toby hadn’t...No way
would
that be good.
 

Carrie’s next statement jolted him to attention.
 

“Jackson, I’ve seen you miserable because of Chloe for so many years.
 
I can’t help but feel that you’re free now, even if I do feel guilty about it.”
 

He stared down at the woman who’d always been so supportive of him, even when he was a wet-behind-the-ear engineer, brand new to road design.
 
“Have I ever told you how much I appreciate you?”

“Yes, but it’s been awhile.”
 
She sniffed and wiped her eyes.
“Seriously, Jackson.
I’d love to see you happy.”

“Thanks, Carrie.”
 
He turned to stare down at Giselle, sedated and sleeping. “I wish I hadn’t been here when the doctor told her about Toby.”

Carrie’s jaw dropped. “You were here?”

“I volunteered, but if I could do it over, I wouldn’t.
 
I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.
 
Hell, I wasn’t thinking.”

He walked out of the room, over to a window at the end of the hallway and stared blankly out at the parking lot below.
 
“The doctor wanted someone present that she knew. She thought it might be a comfort, but I should have known better. I know she despises me.”

Carrie put her hand on his arm.
 
“What happened when the doctor told her?”

“They had to sedate her.”
 
He told them what Giselle said before receiving the shot to calm her.

“She didn’t mean that, and I doubt seriously if she’ll remember saying it,” Carrie insisted.
 
“Toby’s poor girls...it makes you wonder what God could have been thinking, doesn’t it?”

Bill, who’d been quiet up to now, stepped up suddenly.
 
“Wait a minute.
 
Is
that
the wife of your friend, Toby?”

Jackson nodded slowly.
 
“He died in the accident.”

Bill’s head fell forward.
 
“I’m sorry, Son.
 
I didn’t realize.
 
Isn’t she the one you pissed off at work a few years back?”

“That’s her,” Jackson said, giving his uncle another nod.
 
“She already didn’t like me.
 
After walking away from an accident that took Toby’s life, she may never forgive me.”

“She wouldn’t hold that against you,” Carrie told him.

He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t hear her.” He shook his head and pushed away from the window. “She was right about one thing, though.
 
I was envious of their marriage.”

“Come on, Jack.
 
Everyone was envious of those two.
 
They were the perfect couple,” Carrie said.
 
“Now, you need to go home, take a couple of aspirin, and go to bed.”

“I need to get to the Chevy dealership for a new truck.
 
I’m not driving Chloe’s
Vette
around.
 
I can’t get comfortable in that thing.
 
Are you ready, Uncle Bill?”

“Are you released yet, Son?”

 
Will you be here all night, Carrie?”
  

“I’ll be here until they release her.” She reached up to touch a bruise on his face. “I’m worried about you, Jack. You call me if you need to talk.”

He leaned over to hug her.
 
“If you need anything while you’re here, let me know, and I’ll get it to you.”

“I’ve got your number.
 
Get your new truck then go straight home.
 
Bill, maybe you ought to stay with him tonight.”

“I don’t need a damn baby sitter,” Jackson grumbled.
 
He rose from the seat quickly and winced at the pain in his knee.

“Go ahead and sass me again, smart ass. Good luck, Bill.”

“Call
me
at home if you need anything,
hon
,” Bill replied.

The two men walked into the elevator. “So that’s Giselle Granger,” Bill said as Jackson nodded and pushed the first floor button.
 
“Any children?”

Jackson had to swallow hard to keep his voice from shaking.
“Two beautiful little girls...six and four.”

Jackson didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded again.
 
If
anyone
knew what those girls would have to endure in the coming months...years...decades...he knew.
 
He still missed his own parents after thirty-one years.

They drove in silence as Jackson attempted to deal with the multitude of emotions bombarding him.
 
He closed his eyes and saw Chloe’s broken body, then pressed the palms of both hands up against his sockets, trying to block it out.
 

He let his head fall back on the dusty seat of his uncle’s old truck as a sudden wave of sadness washed over him.
 
He would have given anything to have a marriage like Toby and Giselle’s, but Chloe had been difficult to live with, so imbalanced, that any attempt to relax around her turned futile.
 
In the best of times, he felt pity for his wife. In the worst, he had prayed to be free of her, but
never this way.
 
Swamped with guilt, he ran his hands brusquely through his hair. He winced as his fingers snagged the strands, still blood-caked and stiff.

He
had
loved Chloe once.
 
The first year had been good until she began developing symptoms of what became constantly changing diagnoses. Manic depression, chemical imbalance, schizophrenia, bi-polar disorder...one quack had even suggested she was an exceptional actress. Whatever her condition was, it had made his life a living hell. Her threats to kill herself if he left had seemed real enough to make him stay. He couldn’t have lived with himself if she followed through. Jackson lifted his head as his uncle grunted and cleared his throat.

“So, that was Giselle Granger. Tell me again what it was you did to piss that little lady off so bad.”
 

Glad, for once, to be talking about his major foot in mouth episode, he took a deep breath. “I uh...accused her of being incapable of following directions during a plan in hand meeting.”
 
He puffed out his cheeks as Bill gave a low whistle. “I know...in a room full of engineers and consultants.”

“What happened after that?”