Chapter 28
July 11, 1936
I have lost him. I have been locked in my room for a week. Samuel is gone and I am now here all alone. I had been so close…
“What are you doing?”
Breath froze in my lungs. I’d just made it to the top of the stairs after retrieving the money from Papa’s study when he exited Lila’s room, a wild expression on his face and his clothes ruffled.
Papa glanced down and saw the jar in my hand and snatched it away. He began to shout again, so loud, I was certain he would wake the out of town visitors.
“You stealing from me?”
“No.” I shook my head, my body tensing all over. I knew I couldn’t get out of this. Not easily. I prayed for a miracle. God, please. Please help me.
“What do you plan to do with this? Huh?” He shook the bottle in my face.
I cringed back, not answering him. How could I? I had no idea what to say. If I’d told Papa about Samuel, he might have hurt him, and I couldn’t allow that.
My silence only infuriated Papa more.
“Answer me, you bitch. What do you plan to do with this money?”
I said the first thing I could think of. “Give it to Lila. As a wedding present.”
My answer startled him a bit; he pulled his head back, staring at me. “Give it to Lila, huh?” His tone had softened, not one of niceness, but more of curiosity.
This startled me. I’d never heard Papa use inflection in his voice after he got mad. My heart pounded harder. Maybe, I could talk my way out of this? “Yes, sir.” My voice still shook, and I kept my head down as I chose my next words wisely. “I didn’t have anything to give her, so I thought…”
“You thought you would just steal from me.” He took a step forward, his voice raised again.
“No.” I shot my head up, tears forming in my eyes. Terror engulfed my lungs as I saw the crazed gleam of his again. “I just wanted to borrow it. I planned to replace it.”
“Replace it.” He shook the bottle at me again. “How? You don’t work? You don’t do anything. Don’t you think I would make sure my favorite daughter was taken care of? Huh? Don’t you?”
His words didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the bottle against my head. The glisten of glass sparkled in the moonlight through the upstairs window as Papa brought the bottle high in the air, and then swung. The impact of the jug against my face was numbing, my reactions too slow for my hands to provide much defense.
When I came to, the weight of something soft and warm snugged my body.
Samuel.
I’d made it, yet I couldn’t remember much. I took in a deep breath, ready to smell him, the scent of charcoal, the scent of the lavender soap I brought him…but instead I smelled rubbing alcohol.
I opened my eyes, blinded by a light, a harsh stream of white that sailed through my bedroom window.
My bedroom? No. Not again. Please, God. No. This nightmare couldn’t be happening again.
Frantic, I struggled to sit up. “What day is it?” I choked out to Belle.
My throat burned, scratchy and irritated from not using it in what felt like a while, and my bottom lip throbbed, swollen, made talking difficult. My tongue slid through a hole where a tooth had been, and my head…my head spun like a sailboat in a hurricane.
“Shh. Rest child. Don’t worry about anything.” She pushed me back down as she wiped a cloth over my head.
More discomfort and pain wracked my body. I pulled the cover back with my left hand and glanced down. My other arm, wrapped tight in plaster was pressed firmly against my bed, and my foot elevated on a pillow. “Wh-what happened? Where’s Samuel?”
“That boy’s gone.”
“Gone?” I asked confused. “What do you mean?”
“Jo says he left on the night train.”
“No.” Frantic, I tried to shake my head, but dizziness consumed me. “No. We were supposed to go together. He was going to wait on me.”
I never told Jo of our plans. The pre-wedding activities kept us both so busy; there wasn’t a moment I could slip away in private.
Tears burned my eyes. Not only did I lose Samuel, but I also missed my sister’s wedding. I’d been unconscious through the entire thing.
A pain harder than any of Papa’s blows fell onto my chest, making it hard to breath. My lungs heaved as I tried to pull in air. “He…left.”
“Calms down, child.” Belle wrapped a firm hand around my arm, and helped me to a seated position, her other rough hand gently rubbing my back. “Yours body has been through a lot.”
“I have to get to him,” I huffed. “I must.” The world spun around me as I threw the blanket completely off. Bloodstains covered the sheets between my legs. “What’s this?”
“Yous don’t know?” Belle asked.
“No.”
My caretaker sighed. “Dr. Barnwell, he cames and oversaw to yous. I’m sorry, Angel, but yous lost yous baby. When yours Papa hit you, yous…well yous…fell down the stairs.”
“Stairs? Baby?” I clutched my stomach. “I was…” I’d been pregnant with Samuel’s baby?
“Yes’um.” Belle patted her own stomach.
I gripped the sheets between my fingers. Hatred coursed through my veins, and my body trembled, in sorrow, in fury, all the lines had begun to cross.
“Does Papa know about the…baby?” I choked out the word.
“No.” Belle shook her head. “The doctor is keeping yours secret.”
That wasn’t the first time Dr. Barnwell had come and examined me before. He knew if he were to say a word about the baby, Papa would’ve seen to it that I never would have woken at all. I’d have been labeled a disgrace, nothing more than his little whore of a daughter. I owed Dr. Barnwell.
“Thank you, Belle.” Numb, I lay back in my bed and pulled the covers over me. “I think I’m going to rest now.”
Belle stared long and deep. “Are you okay, Miss? I don’t mind staying.”
“No.” I turned to face the window. I could see the field in the distance, past the stables. “I’d rather be alone. Thank you for your help.”
“I’ll be by to check on yous later.” She kissed my head before she left the room.
The only family left in this house is Papa and I, and my sadness of losing Samuel has been overtaken with sheer hatred.
I hate the man who has taken so much from me.
And I hate myself…because the hatred I have for him makes me more like Papa than I ever thought possible.
****
I’m such a jackass.
John lay in bed tossing and turning. He glanced at his alarm clock. Ten-thirty. He should get up. Watch some T.V. Try to do anything to get his mind off Lesley.
Immediately, he’d regretted turning her away. His stubborn pride got in his way from accepting her apology. He loved her, and he should have told her so. Instead, he let his fear control him. Fear of really loving again. Fear of losing again.
The rain had made everything wet and muddy; he’d seen her bike sliding as she made it to the end of the street. That was another reason why he still lay awake. He worried about her. He should have run after her, called Milton, done something, anything to stop her. Instead, he’d just stood there like a prick, pride rooting his feet as he watched the love of his life fight her way home in a storm.
I really am an ass.
Reaching for his phone, he dialed her number. Four rings before her voicemail kicked in.
Figures. What did I expect? For her to actually take his call? Ha! That was rich.
He tossed the phone on the bed beside him and stared at his nightstand. A picture of Sandra holding Rachel and Matthew stared back at him. Her gray eyes sparkled every time she played with the kids. She’d loved their children, and she’d loved him unconditionally. The same way he had loved her.
John reached for the picture and brushed a finger over her face. Lesley was nothing like Sandra, but his heart swelled for her just the same as it had for his wife.
And everyone was right. Sandra was never coming back.
The buzzing of his phone caused him to jerk. He placed the picture inside the drawer of his nightstand and glanced at his mobile. Lesley’s picture stared back at him.
His heart bounced at the chance to apologize, make it right.
He clicked the answer button. “Lesley?”
“John, it’s Pastor Parks.”
His mind raced as he shot upright. Why did Parks have her phone?
“I’ve got some bad news.” The pastor’s words were garbled by noises behind him. Sirens maybe?
“What’s wrong?” He pressed the phone closer to his ear to hear over the background noise.
“It’s Lesley. I found her phone on the ground and used it to call you. I figured you’d want to know. She’s been airlifted to Mercy South.”
Panic ripped through his system. “What? What do you mean?” He threw the covers back and reached for his pants on the floor. Hopping on one foot, he held the phone with his chin and shoulder as he slid in one leg then the other.
“When bad weather strikes, I try to check on a couple of shut-in patrons, make sure they are okay. I was on my way home and was stopped by a fallen log. When I got out to inspect, I saw Lesley. She’d fallen off her bike, John. Slammed her head into the tree. She’s unconscious—”
“I’m on my way.” He scrambled for a shirt out of his drawer and then his shoes.
“I’ve already called your uncle. He’s heading to your house now to watch the kids.”
He let out a breath. “Thank you, Pastor.”
John’s heart pounded. Lesley.
Not again. He couldn’t lose another love again. Damn it, hadn’t he suffered enough?
Worse, it was all his fault. His damn fault.
“I’ll be praying for you, John. The whole church will. Have faith. God’s in control.”
His grip tightened on the phone. What the hell kind of logic was that? If God were so in control, this wouldn’t have happened.
He clicked the off button, and ran to the kitchen to shove his billfold and keys in his pocket. Mercy South was in Atlanta. It’d take him an hour at most to get there.
He plugged in the address to his phone’s GPS when Milton walked through the back door.
“I got here as fast as I could.” His uncle shook the rain off his jacket. “Go. Don’t worry about the kids or anything here. Emma and I’ll take care of it.” Milton came and wrapped him in a hug.
A few tears escaped John’s eyes as he embraced his uncle. “Not again, Milt, not again.”
The man squeezed him tighter. “Stop talking like that. There are good doctors in Atlanta. They’ll fix her.”
He pulled back and wiped a hand down his face. “Kiss the kids for me. I’ll call when I know something.”
“Go. Be careful.” His uncle pushed him out the door.
John turned back. “Her cat. Someone should go by and feed Angel. And Bea and Leo. They will want to know she’s hurt. They’re—”
“At the retirement center. I know. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it,” he promised.
“Good. Okay.”
John raced for his truck, shoved the keys into the slot, and turned. The engine rumbled to life.
Lesley.
She was supposed to be in her bed, in those ugly Christmas pajamas she loved so much, sleeping. Not being airlifted to some hospital.
He pulled out of his driveway and pointed his truck in the direction of the manor. He’d make a quick detour, get her a few things she enjoyed, including those ugly Christmas pajamas she couldn’t live without. He wanted her to be as comfortable as possible.
And when she survived this ordeal, he would never let her out of his sight again.