Chapter Ten
“Melody. What in the hell are you doing here?”
Bitterness and betrayal drip from my voice and I can tell she senses it by the way she takes a step back.
“I- I don’t know.”
Her eyes dart around, looking everywhere except at me.
“You don’t know? For Christ’s sake, Melody. Do you have any idea whatsoever what is happening here? Did Zack not explain everything to you? If Trent sees you out here we may never find Turner. You need to leave now,” I hiss, pointing to her car and indicating for her to get back in and go.
“I’m his mother, too. Maybe, just maybe, I can talk some sense into him; find out where Turner is. Please, I just need to see him. I have lived with this nightmare for twenty-six years not knowing where my son is. I’m his mother.”
Is she shitting me right now? I stick my face inches from hers.
“Listen here, Melody. I know you’re his mother and you’re also my husband’s mother, but that man in there is a damn stranger to all of us. If you care about Turner at all, you will get back in your damn car and leave until you either hear back from Zack or me. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, but you know what? I really don’t give two flying fucks, because as far as I am concerned everything that is happening here is your fault!”
“Look, sweetheart. I know you’re upset-”
“Upset? I am way more than ‘upset.’ I have no idea if my husband is dead or alive and I am sleeping with a fucking stranger who could be a murderer as far as I know, so yeah, Melody. I am fucking upset!”
I am trying to stay as calm as I can and not raise my voice too loud to cause a scene. Part of me feels for what Melody is going through right now. I can tell by her stature and the puffiness in her eyes that she has been crying, and most likely hasn’t slept since hearing the news. But the truth is that I have no sympathy whatsoever for the woman standing in front of me.
“You haven’t talked to your brother, have you?”
I hear the rawness in her voice and I know this has to be a shock to her, but until I know exactly what is going on here and why, I need her to leave.
“Not in depth,” I say briskly, “So I have no clue what is happening. Now excuse me for being so blunt, but I don’t give a shit how you feel. The sight of you right now makes me sick, Melody. I have no clue where my husband is . . . the man you raised. He’s the one we need to be concerned about right now, not that man inside my house. Now leave, and you’d better hope like fucking hell that my Turner . . .”
My voice cracks and I start to shed unwanted tears.
“My Turner is okay, because so help me God, if he’s not there will never be an excuse good enough from you.”
She just stands there in shock while pear-shaped tears rapidly slide down her face. As I watch her climb into her car and back out of my driveway, I realize that what sucks most of all is that I couldn’t bring myself to console her in any way. I just can’t comprehend what reason a mother would have for keeping this kind of secret, but no matter why she has done it, I don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive her.
Most women would envy my relationship with my mother-in-law. She has always been the mother that I never had and I love her more than anything. Acting like a cold-hearted bitch when I was talking to her doesn’t make me feel any better at all.
When I first found out about all this, I wanted to lash out at her in more ways than one. Now, after seeing the look on her face and knowing she is hurting just as badly as I am, I feel terrible for the words I said to her. I simply can’t risk Trent finding out everything yet, not until I know Turner is safe. With her being so unstable and not having seen her other son since he was a toddler, she would most likely ruin everything, no matter what she says.
I make my way back into the house with my head down and walking at a snail’s pace, the tension and fearfulness taking over as I try and reassure myself Trent didn’t see or hear her in the driveway. When I approach the garage my eyes roam everywhere to try and find some sort of weapon to use just in case he is inside and attacks me when I enter.
Finding a wrench in a small red toolbox that Turner keeps in the far back corner of the garage, I creep slowly towards the door leading into the house and turn the handle uneasily. Once inside, I gently close it behind me and peer down the hallway toward the office, noticing the door is still closed.
Needing to make sure he is still in there, I stealthily progress down the hall until I am nearly in front of the door and stop. The sound of what appears to be an e-mail or some other sort of notification on the computer is all I hear, and then fingers fluently tapping away as if they were e-mailing back.
A sigh of relief escapes as I turn and tiptoe like a burglar back into the kitchen while wondering who the hell he is e-mailing. More than likely it’s his dickhead of a father. I could spit nails at that man. Better yet, I could blow both his and his heartless son’s fucking brains out and not give a second thought about it if it would bring Turner back to me safe and unharmed.
Becoming aware that I still have the wrench clasped tightly in my hand, I exit the kitchen and climb the stairs to the bedroom where I place the wrench underneath the mattress on my side of the bed.
Living through what I am right now has my mind drifting back to an earlier conversation with Zack. He told me Turner would not want me to feel the way I am feeling now, and that he would want me safe. I am keeping the wrench right there, and the next time Trent tries to touch me . . . I will use it.
I smooth out the comforter and sit down on the end of the bed facing the window, where the sun is shining through so brightly that the beams glisten from hitting the full-length mirror in the corner. I lift my head and stare at my wedding picture. My thoughts drift to so many memories that the two of us shared. Vacations. Walks where we would hold hands and talk about our future plans, or sometimes even just walk in silence enjoying each other’s company.
Turner and I were just in the beginning stages of talking about having children. We both wanted to wait until we had our feet solidly planted on the ground financially before we brought a child into this world. He was so adamant about me being a stay at home mom that at first we argued about it. But, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to stay home and be the best mom I could be.
Taking our children to soccer practice, swim lessons . . . it didn’t matter what they did. We wanted to be those parents whose child knew how much their mom and dad loved them, and would never feel the emptiness in their hearts of being abandoned as both Turner and I felt when we were growing up. We have both been betrayed by a parent, and now it seems that Turner is being betrayed by both.
“Clove, are you up there?” Trent hollers from the bottom of the stairs.
“Yeah. I’m changing my clothes.”
Pushing myself up from the bed, I go pull out yet another summer sundress from my closet to put on.
“I’m all done and set to go.”
His voice doesn’t sound like he suspects anything, yet I still tremble as I take my dress off and step into the other one and zip it up at the side.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” I call. “Just freshening up a little.”
I assess my appearance in the bathroom mirror. Looking at the reflection staring back at me, I barely recognize myself as I truly take myself in for the first time in a long while. I see confusion, not simplicity. I see dullness and not vibrancy in my eyes. I see a woman who doesn’t even know who she is anymore. I see a scared, bitter, and angry woman all mixed into one.
No, the woman staring back at me is not Clove Calloway, wife of Turner Calloway. The woman staring back at me is someone I don’t recognize at all. A woman who I hate just as much as I hate the man downstairs. I am a sham of a woman, an imposter just like he is, and fuck if I know if I will ever be able to get that vibrant, simplistic woman back ever again.
“Wow. You look breathtaking, babe.”
Trent’s observation of my appearance stops me dead in my tracks when I enter the kitchen. He sounds so sincere and his phrase is exactly like one Turner would use.
“Thank you, big boy,” I reply, doing my best to mask my anger.
His intangible charm does nothing for my sour mood at all. However, I feel all of the strain and pressure leave my body as he seems like he knows nothing about his mother’s short visit. I don’t know if he is playing me for a bigger fool than I already am. He could know, or at least suspect that I know, who he really is and is waiting for the right time to plan his attack and strike.
In a short while I will have to face another parent who knows absolutely nothing about what is going on. I need to think long and hard before we get to my brother’s house about how I am going to make sure it stays that way.
Unlike Melody, my dad won’t listen to a word anyone has to say if he finds out. He would come unglued and kill this bastard for what he is doing to this family.
I’m completely stressed out and about ready to hit my breaking point the closer we get to my brother’s house. I try to stay as normal as I possibly can while sitting here listening to Trent carry on a conversation, at this point with himself, as all I am doing is answering with yes, no, and maybe. He pummels me with all sorts of questions which mostly shoot right over the top of my head. All I can think about is being able to somehow get alone with my brother without Trent becoming suspicions or my father wanting to be a part of our conversation.
Pulling onto Zack and Krista’s street and seeing my dad’s car already in the driveway only makes my anxiety flare up even more. We park along the curb in front of their house at which point I plaster on a fake smile and open the car door to get out. Trent does the same on his side and when he rounds the car; I grab his hand just like I would normally do if he were Turner as we make our way up the driveway.
I can do this. I have to do this for the safety of my father. The less people who know about this, the better. Who knows what Trent or his father would do to anyone who gets in the way of whatever they want with us? If anything happened to my dad because of this, I could never forgive myself. I put everything in the back of my mind as we knock briefly then just walk inside.
“There she is!”
My dad is up and off of the couch before we even have the door closed, heading in my direction.
“Hi, Dad.”
He reaches his arms out and embraces me in his warm and safe hug. For a brief moment I feel safe and sound. It doesn’t last long as he tears himself away from me and places his arm around my shoulder while he greets his supposed son-in-law with a handshake.
Returning his attention back to me, he scowls. I scowl back.
“What?” I ask, my smile never faltering.
“You look different, somehow.”
“Different? I’m fine, Dad,” I wave him off with my hand.
“You look tired. You’re not getting enough rest, are you?” he asks, worry etched across his face.
“She had a little too much to drink last night, James,” Trent interrupts.
Dad tries to act tough and scold me.
“Girl, I told you that shit isn’t good for you.”
“Oh, is that right? Let me see; is that your glass of bourbon sitting on the table over there?” I tease as I turn and head further into the house where Zack is holding the baby.
“You sassing me, girl?” Dad jokes from behind me.
All of us laugh at that one, knowing very well that one thing you do not do is sass James Wright. Dad was never cruel to us at all when we were growing up, but he did teach us to respect others and to never ever take anything for granted. And I thought I hadn’t, until a few days ago when my life fell apart. Now, standing here looking into the innocent eyes of my nephew, I wonder if I will ever be able to tell Turner that my feelings went from ‘like’ to ‘love’ the first time he kissed me, and that he is the greatest joy in my life.
“Clove.” Zack nudges me with his shoulder. “Snap out of it before Dad really starts to suspect something.”
“Can I hold him, please?”
I’m finding it hard to speak. Even trying to hold a conversation with an adult right now is the last thing I want to do until I get my shit together. Holding and cuddling baby Nolan is exactly what I need to fill my aching heart with love.
I take him from my brother’s arms and he stretches and looks up at me. For the first time in days, my smile is as honest as it’s ever going to get.
He’s so innocent and has no idea what is happening all around him. Not a care in the world. I totally block out all the sounds around me as I stare at him intently, wondering if I will ever have the chance to be a mother.