Chapter Nine
Clove
The dream I had last night has me feeling relaxed and satisfied, knowing that I was once passionately loved by Turner Calloway, the father of this beautiful baby girl I am holding tightly to my chest.
I dreamed about the way he worshipped my body, telling me our love was like a circle; no beginning and no end. He held my hands above my head as he entered me slowly. That was the night before he left on his trip. In my heart, I know this was when Journey was conceived.
“Your daddy was such a wonderful man,” I tell her, carefully placing her on my lap so I can observe her facial expressions while I talk to her.
“Let me tell you all about your daddy. Would you like that?”
Her hands reach up to grab a chunk of my hair.
“When I first met your dad, I was a shy girl. He was irresistible, though. At the time, I was so into getting my education that I didn’t have time for a boyfriend. He was pushy though, and never gave up. The best decision in my life was finally saying yes to him. Over the years, we got lost in each other. The day we got married was perfect, sweetheart.”
I snap my head up sharply at the sound of the door opening. My mother is standing there in the doorway with an unyielding look.
“Sorry to interrupt your precious mother - daughter time.”
Stay strong, Clove. Do not provoke the crazy bitch.
“What can I do for you, Mother?”
“You can get dressed, pack up everything you need for you and that baby, and have your ass downstairs in half an hour.”
I shoot straight up out of my chair, clinging to Journey with everything I have.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
So much for not provoking her. I have no fucking idea what game she is playing at now, but I will go nowhere with her. She will have to kill me first.
“Oh, yes you are, you filthy slut. I don’t have time for your bullshit. Plans have changed. We are leaving.”
I ice up in fear.
“TRENT!” I scream with panic.
“Shut the hell up. Trent isn’t going to save you. When are you going to learn? He’s playing you just like he’s been playing me. Playing us both. He doesn’t give two shits about you. All he cares about is the money. Money you fucked it up for him to get. I honestly thought you were a smart girl, but I have to tell you, you are so goddamn naive.”
“My God, what kind of person are you? Did you get kicked in the head, fall down, and have someone stomp on your heart? A bad childhood perhaps, or such a lousy time the older you got that you have no empathy, no feelings for anyone at all? I don’t understand how you can sleep at night,” I seethe, not thinking about the harm my words may cause me.
“How do you look at yourself in the mirror and like the person you see? Haven’t you done enough to me, to my father, to my brother, and especially to this little girl here who will never know who her father is because you were behind his murder? I may be a lot of things, Mother, but one thing I am not is naïve. I know what you want. The only way you are going to get her is by killing me, and you’re too weak to do it yourself. I’m over playing nice. I’m not afraid of you.” I turn my back on her to lay the baby in her crib, ready for a fight if need be. That’s when I hear it. The clicking sound of a gun being hammered back, ready to fire. I steady my feet, laying my angel down. I bend at the waist and place my hand over her heart.
“I will always love you, sweet girl,” I whisper, wiping away the tear that falls.
“Are you going to shoot me in the back mother?” I ask, never taking my eyes off of my baby. “You don’t have the guts to look me in the eye when you pull the trigger?”
“Turn around and find out.”
“No.” I simply say, no emotion whatsoever attached to my single word.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her inching her way closer to me with the gun pointed in my direction. I have no choice but to spin on my heels and step away from the crib.
She’s agitated; unhinged. Her beady eyes appear dead.
“You.”
She shakes the gun all over the place. My first instinct is to get back in front of the baby, guard her, and protect her.
“Okay, put the gun down. I’ll pack. We can go wherever you want. Just put the gun down,” I soothe, inching my way back to safeguard my now crying angel.
“Wow, I must say I am impressed. Just a little bit of waving a gun around like the crazy woman you think I am has you agreeing to do everything I say.”
She points the gun right at my chest, then slowly back toward the crib, then back at me again.
My pulse is beating out of my ears, my sight centering on the gun flashing back and forth.
“You now have twenty minutes, Clove. No longer. Or I will show you I am not afraid to put a bullet through that pretty little head of yours,” she adds before sweeping from the room.
The moment she is gone, I pick Journey up and wrap her snugly in a lightweight blanket. She stops crying instantly. Now it’s my turn. The floodgates open and my tears don’t let up as I hysterically scour the room grabbing everything I need for Journey.
My mind is weighed down with distressful thoughts. What is going on? Where is Trent? What if she caught onto him coming in here and killed him? This is too much.
My brain won’t shut down. Did someone finally find us? Is she taking Journey away from me now? God, what if this is it? Is she really going to kill me?
No. I have come too far and fought too hard for this to happen. I have to stay strong. I will not let her see me cry. My earlier plan has gone all to shit.
“Five minutes,” I say to myself when I look at the clock. I have five minutes to come up with a new plan. Think, Clove.
If someone has somehow found us, then they have got to be on their way here. I need to stall her, waste time.
I sit in the rocking chair, watching the last few minutes tick by. When I hear her scream my name, I undo my shirt and bra. I close my eyes and do something I never thought I would ever do. I pray that Trent is still alive.
“Journey, sweetheart. I love you so much. Never forget that,” I croon as I swaddle her to my breast.
Tina storms back into the room.
“I thought I told you . . . oh, for God’s sake! The little brat has to eat now?”
“Yes, Mother, she does. Please keep your voice down or you’ll have a crying baby on your hands,” I state calmly.
“You can feed her in the car.”
“That would be awfully hard to do, because I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You know what? I have had just about enough of you.”
“Really? Let me tell you something, you’re about to get a hell of a lot more of me. No, wait. It’s not me you’re going to get a lot more of, is it?”
My words seem to strike a nerve as her eyes grow wide.
“Why, Mother, your skin is paling.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Her hand flies out, grabbing a fistful of my hair.
“It’s Zack, isn’t it? He knows, doesn’t he? And he’s coming for you.”
I grit my teeth as she yanks harder.
“Where’s Trent?” I scream.
“Get up you fucking bitch! Either you get up now or I’m taking her.”
Letting go of my hair, her other hand swings around, pointing the damn gun to my head.
She keeps the hand with the gun steady while tilting back and snatching the bag up off of the bed.
“Move!” she commands. I stand and fix my clothes, all the while clinging onto my baby.
“You won’t get away with this. Zack will never give up. No matter what you do to me, my brother will never give up.” My voice is unstable now as we descend the stairs, the gun jabbing me in the back.
She doesn’t say anything, not one word as she opens the front door. My vision is blinded by the bright sun. I come to a halt as I lift my face to the sky, inhaling the warm summer air.
“Get in the back of the car.” She prods my back with the gun.
I take the two steps down, then the few steps leading to the car.
“Tina!” a suppressed voice calls out from behind us.
We turn around and I gasp at the sight of Trent holding his stomach, blood covering his hands and soaking his shirt. He’s pale as he tries to hold himself upright, leaning on the doorframe for support.
“Trent. Oh, dear God, what the hell have you done, Mother?”
What happens next seems to happen in slow motion. The gun goes off and Trent’s body slumps forward. I scream. Journey starts crying. The last thing I remember before I feel a blow to the side of my head is Trent calling out to me.
“Clove! He’s alive... Turner is alive.”