Chapter Nineteen
Scott
I had been surprised by the text message I received from Megan. Actually, I was surprised to hear anything from her at all. The message was brief, merely asking me to meet her on the Newport Beach Pier at one o’clock this afternoon. I was tired, but for once, the house was quiet, Kristin off somewhere with friends. I had driven all the way down to San Juan Capistrano yesterday to meet a potential client, only to have the client never show up.
Frustrated, disgruntled, and annoyed at the wasted time, I had gone home, eaten a light dinner, and then headed up to my room and shut the door. I was annoyed with myself, my predicament, my stupidity, and with my life. That old saying, “Money can’t buy happiness” was oh-so-true, wasn’t it?
I had gotten the text just at nine o’clock this morning. I’d texted her back, saying I’d be there. At twelve-thirty, I got in my car, drove down PCH a short distance, then headed south on West Balboa toward Oceanfront. The Newport Beach Pier would be crowded at this time of day, offering not only the Dory Fishing Fleet Market—always a busy place— but dozens of restaurants, great beachfront with plenty of sand, and of course, gorgeous scenery as well as fishing off the pier.
I paid for parking and walked along the stretch of sand between the parking lot and the entrance to the old wooden pier, casually gazing at the crowds, the pier standing tall in the bright midday sunshine. A fresh breeze coming off the ocean tugged at my hair. I heard the laughter, the shouts, and the hum of the activity surrounding the fish market, founded in 1891. As I began to walk along the pier, looking for Megan, I glanced north toward Huntington Beach and then the south, where I saw the stark outline of the Balboa Pier.
Swimmers played in the ocean on boogie boards, surfboards, or just screamed and laughed, some trying to dive under the waves, others trying to jump over them. Behind the pier, on the shore side of the beach, skateboarders, bike riders and more than a few babes in rollerblades enjoyed their fun in the sun, but I was focused on other things. I was cautiously optimistic, trying not to be hopeful about my upcoming meeting with Megan. What did she want? We hadn’t spoken since my last phone call. I wanted to take this opportunity to apologize for the way I had broken things off, apologize for being so wishy-washy, and that’s exactly—
“Scott?”
I turned and saw Megan, my heart giving a leap of excitement even though I told myself to not expect anything. I had hurt her. I had hurt her terribly, and I knew it. But maybe she’d find a way to forgive me for the way I treated her. Maybe.
I smiled. “Megan, I’m glad to see you,” I said, taking a step toward her.
She nodded and turned to lean against the railing, politely turning away from a hug. My heart sank, but I said nothing as she looked off into the distance, the breeze blowing her hair behind her shoulders. I had to resist the urge to touch her shoulder, to turn her to face me. She wore a buttercup yellow sundress, the skirt billowing behind her, her shoulders wide, creamy and smooth under the mid-afternoon sun.
“Megan, I want you to know—”
She turned toward me, looked up into my eyes for a moment, and then shook her head. She looked down and reached into her back pocket, extracting her iPhone. I frowned in confusion. “What’s this about?”
“I have something that you need to hear, Scott.” She paused, took a deep breath, and then continued. “I talked to your dad—”
“What?” I frowned again, confused. “When did you talk to my father? And more importantly, why would you?”
“Yesterday, Scott. I saw him yesterday.”
I was befuddled. How in the world… and then it dawned on me. “You sent me on a wild goose chase down to San Juan Capistrano?”
She nodded.
“But why?” I asked. “Megan, what’s going on?”
She held up her phone, its screen facing upward, the sun glinting off it. I stared at it, then at her, saw her expression, and knew that whatever was on the phone, I wasn’t going to like it. I steeled myself, sighed, and then I nodded. She pressed a button, held the phone up closer to my ear, and then I heard it. I heard all of it. Everything.
A myriad of feelings raced through my mind, one after the other, one pushed aside by yet another, each growing darker by the minute. Dismay followed by fury. A hollow feeling crept into my stomach when I heard my father admit to it—to actually confess knowledge of it all. Kristin had played me for a fool, had accepted money from my dad for playing the game. She was pregnant, but now I knew the baby wasn’t mine. My dad had literally blackmailed me into marrying her, and Kristin had been more than happy to play along. For several moments after the recording ended, I stood frozen. Speechless.
It had all been a lie. All of it. And just as suddenly, it dawned on me that there was nothing now standing in my way of being with Megan, the woman I truly loved. There was no doubt I was going to end everything with Kristin, kick her out on her ass, figuratively, anyway.
My father had threatened Megan, and in turn, her mother—threatened that if she said anything to me, they would pay. But I knew at this moment that I would do anything to protect not only Megan, but her mother from my father’s warped sense of justice. At that moment, I realized what I needed to do. What I had to do. I reached forward to take Megan into my arms, to show her how I truly felt, but she took a step back, looking up at me, her demeanor stiff.
I swallowed, my heart crashing to the pit of my stomach. Disappointment, sorrow, and regret filled me. “How did you know?” I choked out. “How did you dare confront my father with the accusation?”
“It didn’t take me long,” she said, her voice cool. “I had my suspicions, and I had a feeling that Kristin was capable of doing something like that.”
I nodded. “I couldn’t be sure, but without getting a paternity test—”
“You do what you feel you need to do, Scott,” she said. “I just came because I wanted you to know the truth. I’m not proud of the way I got the truth, but nevertheless, you have a right to know.”
I nodded, my gaze taking in every aspect of her face. I saw the smudge of shadows under her eyes, her face looking pale in the bright sunlight, but she was as strong as ever, lifting her face toward mine, looking me straight in the eye, making no apologies for what she had done.
How could I ever get her to trust me again? To forgive me? I had done her wrong. I swallowed. “Megan, I’m so sorry, I… I was just trying to do the right thing.”
But even as I said it, I knew that wasn’t the complete truth. I had been afraid of losing my inheritance. And that was the bottom line. In the very beginning I should’ve put my foot down, told my father to go to hell when he first broached his little scheme. But now, with Kristin’s truth exposed, and Megan standing here in front of me, I realized more than anything that money wasn’t worth a damn if I didn’t have Megan in my life. I forced myself to smile.
“What happens now, Megan? Is there any possible way that you can forgive me? That we can—”
I was surprised when she stepped forward, placed her hands on my shoulders, lifted herself upon her tiptoes, and kissed me softly on the cheek.
“Goodbye, Scott,” she said.
And that was that. She turned, and without looking back, not even once, she strode off the pier and toward the parking lot, neither looking right nor left, her shoulders back and her head held high.
I turned toward the ocean, lifted my face toward the sky, and closed my eyes. I cursed myself for being a fool, at the way I had messed up everything. I should’ve had the guts to stand up to my father years ago, and not just the guts, but a sense of self-confidence in myself and my abilities. But no, I had allowed my own self-doubt, my fear of failure, my uncertainty, to destroy the only good thing in my life, and it wasn’t money.
I had ruined everything. And I only had myself to blame for it.
I would deal with my emotions, but later. First, I had something I needed to do. I pulled my own phone from my pocket and called Kristin, told her that I knew the truth, wouldn’t let her get a word in edgewise as I told her that she had two days to clear her crap out of my house.
And then I called my dad. I confronted him with the truth and told him that if he so much as threatened or tried to follow through on his threats against Megan, he would find himself in jail.
I stood on the pier for several more minutes, allowing the feelings to surge through me, to wash over me. I would get myself a hotel room because I couldn’t even allow myself to be around Kristin, to listen to her vitriol, her tears, her threats, whatever the case may be. I needed time to think everything through, to make some decisions and some plans. As I began to walk off the pier, I lifted my phone once again and dialed.
“Craig? We need to talk.”