capable of.”
Could I really believe him this time?
“I was alone, Jake. I was pregnant. I had no one, and your father rescued me from living in the fucking gutter. Because you left. What’s to keep you from doing that again?”
He looked angry and hurt as he approached me. He tilted my chin to meet his gaze. He pecked me on the lips and ripped off his shirt. On the left side of his chest, just below his collarbone, was another new tattoo. It simply read Bee, the letters wrapped in vines. He pressed my hand against the other tattoo with the same design as my necklace. “And what the fuck do you think this stands for?”
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully.
He shook his head. “It stands for you.” He pressed his forehead to mine.
Fear and love and regret ran through me, all at the same time.
“I’m just so scared.” I loved him so much I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know where we went from there. “What if it all goes away?”
“You haven’t taken my necklace off in four years. Not only have I tattooed your name on my body, but I’ve killed for you—gladly—and I would do it again, even if you told me right now that you never wanted to see me again. Your bitch of a mother is on my list, too, I’ve got connections at Georgia Penn, could have her bleeding out by next week if that’s what you want.” He took a deep breath. “But, you know what made everything so fucking clear to me? The second I saw Georgia—” He wiped his eyes. “— I knew I would kill for her, too. I don’t care who fucking made her. She’s my goddamned daughter!” He was shouting now. “I thought I knew what love at first sight was, because I fell in love with you the moment I saw your face the night we met. But the way I felt when you held Georgia in your arms and she spoke about her Grandpa Frank was… it was so much more than that. It was everything.”
The strength I’d built up over the past four years fell away. “I’m still scared.”
He held me to his chest. “Me, too,” he admitted. “But, I promise to work hard every damned day to make sure our fears don’t come true.” He kissed the top of my head. I took a deep breath and shook off all the doubts I’d been drowning in for four years. “That little girl broke my heart when she called me Daddy. And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
My chest swelled. I believed him when he said he loved me and my daughter, because I knew what love looked like. I didn’t know if I should allow myself to hope that Georgia could really have a father after all. I wasn’t convinced that love would be enough.
I wondered how two people so beaten down by the dark reality of their lives could raise another living soul and not fuck it up entirely.
How could broken plus broken ever equal whole?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SORTING THROUGH WHAT I THOUGHT was the last of the boxes was not my idea of a good time, but it had to be done. I could have smacked Jake when he so thoughtfully reminded me there were still a few boxes over at the apartment. He must have known that I was about to toss the remainder of them into the canal, so he volunteered to go get them for me instead.
We were taking things slow, but I would be lying if I said that Georgia was anything other than completely head over heels in love with him. We’d been functioning like a little family for a week. It was what I’d been dreaming of since Georgia was born, though I never really thought I could have it. I still owed Jake the truth about Owen. It was something I never wanted to relive, even during my darkest days. It was certainly the last thing I wanted to do during the happy ones.
The front door opened and the screen door slammed shut. “That was quick. Just bring them in here, and stack it in the corner. I’ll sort it all out tomorrow. I’ve done so much today, my eyes are starting to cross.” I folded the cardboard from the now empty box I’d been working on. When did I get so much stuff? Jake hadn’t come into the living room yet, and he didn’t answer me. “Jake?” I called out. He didn’t answer. “Babe?”
Instead of his welcome voice answering, a much more menacing one called back. “You’ve never called me babe before. I like the way it sounds.” Owen appeared in the room, shotgun in hand that he’d aimed at my chest. I made a move to run. “Don’t fucking move.”
My mind was racing.
My first thoughts went to Georgia, napping in her bedroom. Please don’t wake up... please.
I had to focus on how to get him out of the house and away from my sleeping child.
“Okay Owen. Let’s just go outside, and we can talk about whatever you want,” I said. I was willing to go anywhere he wanted, as long as it meant getting him away from my baby.
“Not so fast, Miss Abby.” He glanced around the room. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in here. Matter of fact, last time I was here I was having a lovely conversation about you, with your Nan.”
When had he ever been in this house with Nan?
“What the fuck did you do to her?”
“Nothing. I just talked to her.” His face was troubled, like he couldn’t understand why I’d be concerned. “I came to see you that day, but you weren’t here. Your Nan was kind enough to make me some tea. She was so nice to me. She just talked and talked. And somewhere in the middle, she let it slip that the house was in foreclosure. She knew she wouldn’t have anywhere for you two to live but didn’t want to rain on your parade, what with graduation coming up so soon, so she kept it from you. She wasn’t going to be able to take care of you. I couldn’t let that happen.” He smiled, as if he thought I’d be happy to hear all of this. “I watched you every day after your Nan died, looking out for you, protecting you. I even let you stay in that junkyard so you could get a taste of how it felt to sleep among the trash before I came to your rescue. It killed me to do this, but I called social services. I needed you to see how desperate things would be for you without help. From me.”
Owen took a step toward me, his twisted concern turning to anger. “Then, Jake fucking Dunn swooped into town and played the hero. And what did you do, Abby? You jumped right into his apartment and into his fucking bed.”
Owen pressed the barrel of the gun against my chest forcing me to step back with each jab until I was pressed against the wall.
“It should have been me - not him...not fucking Junkyard Jake. We had one night...one amazing night on the beach together.” I almost threw up when he said that. My stomach twisted. “I’ve done what I was supposed to since then, what you told my mother you wanted. I’ve stayed away, no, I’ve been kept away-from you all these years against my fucking will. What happens next? That fucking white trash junkyard dog blows back into town again, right back into your life after years of not giving a shit about you. Now, he’s going to raise my fucking daughter? I don’t fucking think so, Abby.”
My head was spinning. “Why, Owen? What did I ever do to you to make you hate me so much?”
“Hate you?” Owen laughed. It sounded surprised and confused and darkly delighted. “I don’t hate you, Abby. Don’t you get it yet? I fucking love you!” I felt the growl of his voice vibrate though the shotgun barrel pushing into my chest. “I fucking love you. Me. Not him.”
He was so sick, so deranged.
Please stay asleep, Georgia. Please just stay asleep, baby. I sent my silent plea down the hall to where she slept.
Owen took a breath, gaining some composure. His voice evened out. “After all the trouble I went through to get you, you fucking owe me.”
“What trouble did you ever go to for me, Owen?” I spoke quietly, more in hopes of keeping Georgia from coming out of her room than anything. “What did you ever do for me that was truly for me?”
“Everything. I did everything.” He leaned in closer, and I saw in more detail the black circles under his eyes, how unshaven he was. He wasn’t just drunk this time. A powdery white residue clung to the underside of his nose. Owen sniffed, and his right nostril oozed blood. He wiped it on the back of his hand, smearing it onto his cheek. He didn’t flinch when he saw the red streaks of blood. His pupils were dilated, and his head restlessly shook and turned with each word. “I did everything, starting with your Nan.”
Nan...
“Meth labs explode all the time, you know. It wasn’t even that hard to get your Nan to say yes to making a last minute trip to that trailer in the woods. All I had to do was tell her the people living in there were poor and starving and in desperate need of her help. She headed right over with a basket full of shit. I watched her go. She was so determined, like she really was on her way to a rescue.” He laughed. “It was fucking pathetic. She was so goddamned gullible.”
My heart froze to hear him speak so coldly about her.
“It wasn’t even hard to make the damn trailer explode. Those meth kitchens usually wind up doing it on their own anyway. They’re like ticking time bombs. The tricky part was getting the detonator to cooperate, getting it to explode just as she knocked on the door.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “When that fucker went up, you couldn’t tell body parts from trailer parts.”
“You killed my grandmother because... because you wanted me to fucking live with you?” I spat.
“You make it sound so simple. No, I didn’t just want you to live with me. I wanted to be your hero. I wanted you to see how much I loved you, so you would love me back.”
It was too much to process, especially with Georgia sleeping only feet away from a crazed Owen with a loaded shotgun. I steadied my gaze and numbed myself. Georgia was my only priority. I had to get through this for her.
“Nobody has ever wanted that with me before. To be my hero.” I hoped I wouldn’t set him off, or raise his suspicion. “I’ll go with you now. Let’s go. It’s not too late.” I could hear my voice trembling as I spoke.
“Patience, baby,” he cooed. “We gotta wait for Jake to get back first. That bitch has a one way ticket to hell, and his flight leaves today.” Owen licked his lips. “I want to watch your face when I shoot his heart out of his chest.”
The front door opened and the screen door smacked closed. Owen put an arm around my neck and a dirty hand over my mouth. The burning sensation that used to overwhelm me came back in full force, and the pain of it clouded my vision. Owen dragged me a few steps sideways towards the living room, standing with his back against the wall.
I realized then that I didn’t really care what happened to me. I had to protect my family. I was unimportant compared to the people I loved, the people who loved me. I would die for them. My purpose had been fulfilled—I’d had my Georgia. She was the only positive contribution I’d made to the hate-filled world I occupied.
My only hope was that she wouldn’t have to suffer in life the way I had.
Owen made a rolling turn off the wall to face the living room, and I took my opportunity. I broke from his hold and jumped on his back. I tried to wrap my arms around his neck, but I was no match for Owen’s size and strength. He easily bucked me off his back. I crashed to the hard wood floor and landed on my tailbone. I heard the crunch and felt a sharp pain run up my spine.
Owen didn’t take his eyes off of me as he shot blindly into the living room. The blast from the gun shook the walls. It felt more like an explosion than a shotgun firing. I covered my ears to block out the high-pitched ringing that overtook me. I couldn’t hear anything.
“Jake!” I cried out.
When I opened my eyes again, I saw Owen staring into the living room. He let the shotgun drop to his side. It slipped from his hands onto the floor. His eyes were wide, his hands shaking.
“Jake!” I cried again. I used every bit of adrenaline I had to rush past Owen and into the living room. He didn’t try to stop me. “Jake?”
I still couldn’t hear. I didn’t know if he’d responded.
And then, I saw.
Of all the things I had been through in my life—the starvation, the beatings, abuse after abuse, losing everyone who had ever meant anything to me in one way or another—none of these things could have prepared me for the devastating sight of my daughter crumpled on the floor against the front door, with her yellow Curious George t-shirt turning a deep, wet red.
I ran to her and slipped her limp body into my arms, propping her up on my knees. I wiped the hair from her face. “Georgia!” I screamed trying to wake her up. Her eyes were closed. There was so much blood. I felt her neck for a heartbeat, but couldn’t feel anything beyond my own.
“Mama,” she said. It was weak. She was alive but barely. Help. She needed help. I couldn’t lose her.
I couldn’t let my Georgia die.
The front door opened again, and this time Jake stepped into the living room, a yellow envelope in his hands. “Bee—where the fuck are you? We need to fucking talk—now!”
He’d barely finished his sentence when his gazed dropped to where I held Georgia on the floor. He dropped the envelope, scattering black and white photos all over. In one stride, he was kneeling next to us, pulling Georgia into his arms.
“Owen,” I said, looking to the place where Owen had stood just seconds earlier. The shotgun on the floor was the only evidence he’d ever been here.
I pulled open the door and we rushed from the house. Before we got to the truck, Bethany tore into the yard in a bright white Mercedes SUV and jumped out of the driver’s side, running toward us. She had the start of a black eye, and blood was dripping from the corner of her lip. Her mouth fell open when she saw Georgia in Jake’s arms. “I... I came to warn you... I tried to stop him...”
“Open the fucking door!” Jake yelled.
Bethany swung open the passenger side, and I jumped up into her car. Jake laid Georgia over my lap carefully, so carefully. He jumped behind the wheel as Bethany fell into the back seat.
Instead of using the main roads, Jake drove through a strawberry field and the dairy queen parking lot before turning onto the dirt road that led to the back of the hospital.
“Jake, I don’t think she’s breathing!” I shouted. I couldn’t feel air coming through her nose, and I couldn’t see her chest rising.
I wished the hospital were closer.
Jake accelerated Bethany’s car to speeds his old truck could’ve never come close to. He reached out and grabbed Georgia’s hand. “We’re almost there baby, hold on, Gee.”
She wasn’t responding anymore.
“Dear God... what has he done?” Bethany cried from the back seat.
Jake managed to turn the thirty minute ride to the hospital into a little over ten minutes. They were still the longest ten minutes of my life.
The SUV was barely in park in front of the hospital when Jake hopped out and ran around to my side opening my door, removing Georgia from my lap. “Daddy’s got you, baby girl. Daddy’s got you. You’re gonna be okay, Gee.”
We ran through the sliding doors to an empty waiting room and an even emptier reception area. Jake burst through a door marked Hospital Staff Only and I followed quickly. We ran until we saw a group of nurses sitting around a vending machine. “We need help!” he roared. “Get a fucking doctor now!”
The nurses sprang to life when they laid eyes on my lifeless daughter. One wheeled out a gurney while another paged a doctor. He arrived seconds later and helped us lay her on the gurney. “She was shot. That bastard shot her,” I told them. Somehow I didn’t think it would be as obvious to them as it was to me.
They placed a mask over her face with a blue ball pump attached to it. Then they were running, the nurses wheeling her down the hallway and squeezing the pump while the doctor shouted more instructions. They disappeared behind a set of double doors.
When we tried to follow them through, another nurse stopped us. “Let them help her,” she said, halting us with her hand.
“Get out of my fucking way!” Jake yelled. The nurse held her position, even under Jake’s intimidation.
“They can’t help her with you hovering over her, sir,” she said calmly. “Please, have a seat in the waiting room. The second we know something, I will come tell you myself. I promise.” It was a fight we couldn’t win. I needed to be in there. I needed to tell her it was all going to be okay. What if it wasn’t? What if the last thing my baby girl saw was the doctor and nurses working over her? What if her last feeling in life was fear?
We relented, but only because we didn’t have any other options. The nurse led us to a small room with a worn-out pink love seat with frayed edges and a faded white wicker coffee table. Instead of magazines, there were bibles scattered on the table, in three different versions. A beige phone hung on the wall with a long tangled cord dangling beneath, and a rotary dial that had no numbers.
Bethany met us in the waiting room and started dialing on her phone, “I’m going to call Cole. He needs to find Owen and lock him up before he does anything else.”
Jake swept the bibles onto the floor and shook the table. “He needs to do more than fucking lock him up. He needs to put the motherfucker down!” Bethany flinched, nodding and running toward the entrance as she barked orders into her phone.
I sat on the couch and held my head in my hands. I couldn’t lose my baby. She was my reason for being. I loved her more than I thought was possible for anyone to love, not just myself.
“What the fuck happened?” Jake asked, pacing the room.
“It’s my fault,” I said. “I should have protected her.”
“It’s not your fault he’s fucking insane.”
“If I would have just told you the truth, if you would have known…”
“What truth?”