Truly, Madly, Deeply Page 7

  “Jason Holbrook, star quarterback for Alabama State, sure to be drafted in the first round, came home to visit his family the summer before his senior year. I tracked him down and beat him within an inch of his life. I took a baseball bat to his throwing arm, destroyed his elbow and his career,” he spoke matter of factly with no emotion. He paused, waiting for my reaction.

  “Why?” I asked calmly, hoping he had a really good reason and not just because he was completely insane.

  “He raped my sister,” he said flatly, his voice cold as ice.

  I gasped and sat up, “What!?”

  “When they were seniors in high school, she drank too much at their graduation party and he raped her while two of his buddies stood watch. I remember she didn’t leave her room for days. I could hear her crying. She finally told my grandma what happened.”

  “He didn’t go to jail?” I asked astonished.

  “After all those days, there was no evidence, just her word against his. Charlie Bryant had just made detective, he believed her, but the prosecutor was golf buddies with Holbrook’s dad. He passed it off to his intern,” he smirked. “Greg was just a law student then. He interviewed Janna, he believed her too, but there was nothing he could do. It wouldn’t have mattered if there was a truck load of evidence, it wasn’t going anywhere.”

  “Greg, isn’t that your brother in law’s name,” I asked, recalling the name from casual conversation.

  “Yeah, he spent weeks trying to make a case and ended up falling in love with her. They’ve been together ever since. I was only thirteen, wasn’t much I could do about it then. But when he came back here, I was bigger, tougher, angrier. I made him pay. Lucky for me, there was a new prosecutor and Greg was the assistant prosecuting attorney. I got six months in juvey, probation and months of counseling and anger management.” A chuckle escaped my lips accidentally.

  “What’s so funny,” he asked.

  “I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny. It’s just; I don’t think your anger management classes were very effective. Your sister, she’s okay?” I felt terrible laughing in the middle of such a horrific story.

  To my relief, his lips turned up in a slight grin, “You’re right, the anger management was a joke. And, yeah, Janna’s fine. Greg helped her through it. He’s really good to her.”

  “That’s good. You know, that explains a lot about you, the way you are with me.”

  “I know. And it’s not fair to you. You shouldn’t have to pay for someone else’s bullshit. But I can’t change it or who I am. I need you to understand that and know that I might not always go about it the right way, but I would do anything for you.”

  He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand and I leaned into his touch. I didn’t care, about any of it. I just wanted that touch forever.

  I jumped when the thunder crashed loud, rattling the windows. The house fell dark, except for the dim glow of a few coals in the fireplace and I threw myself into Jaron’s arms, burying my face in his chest.

  “Are you scared of storms,” he asked, laughing.

  “No, it just surprised me,” I answered, feeling foolish.

  “If you’re not too scared, wait here,” he ordered, teasing.

  “I’m not scared,” I insisted.

  He disappeared into the dark kitchen. I heard him rattling around in a drawer and in a few seconds the beam from a flash light darted around on the wall before disappearing back into the kitchen. More rattling and a few seconds later, the drawer closed and he reappeared. He placed candles around the room and lit them. The soft light was beautiful reflecting off his body as he returned to our nest of quilts and pillows. He fell to his knees beside me.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, tucking my hair behind my ear.

  “I was thinking the same thing about you,” I confessed.

  “This is for real Natalie, are you sure?”

  I rose to my knees to stand in front of him. Without words, I spent the rest of the night reassuring him.

  Chapter Five

  “Thank you for taking me riding today,” I tried to make small talk while I gathered my things and stacked them neatly on the end of the bed, preparing to pack them and load them into my truck.

  “You’re welcome,” he mumbled, noticeably sullen, sitting in the suede arm chair in the corner of the bedroom.

  “Please don’t be mad at me Jaron.”

  His knee bounced nervously, or maybe agitatedly, “I’m not mad at you. I just don’t want you to go.”

  “And I don’t want to, but school starts tomorrow. Mom lets me stay with Tiffany as much as I want during the summer, but she’ll expect me home during school,” I tried to explain.

  My mom didn’t pay a lot of attention to my comings and goings, but one thing she did keep tabs on was school. It was important to her that I go to college and escape a life of waiting tables.

  “She don’t even know where you’ve been the past six weeks. I find it hard to believe that she even gives a shit,” he sneered.

  “Don’t be mean. She does give a shit. She’s already called to remind me school starts tomorrow and make sure I was coming home.”

  He stared at the floor, his blue eyes cloudy and gray with dread, as if, once I walked out the door, I was never coming back. I wanted to climb on his lap and run my fingers through his hair, and kiss away his anxiety, but I knew where that would lead and I really needed to get home and in bed at a decent hour.

  “I’ll see you every day after school and on the weekends.” I tried to be positive, even though deep down that didn’t seem like much time at all.

  “It’s not the same as falling asleep with you and waking up with you.”

  He finally raised his eyes to look at me and they were sad, really sad. He had lived here alone since he was seventeen. I was the first person to share his space in four years and now he was going to be alone again. I bit back the tears.

  “I know. I’m sorry. Will you help me carry this stuff to the truck?” I tried to be cool, like it wasn’t the end of the world.

  My wardrobe had almost doubled recently. Jaron had insisted on taking me shopping several times. No doubt to insure that I would always be dressed in Jaron approved clothing. He stood and grabbed both stuffed duffle bags and left the room without a word. I took a deep breath and looked around the room one last time before slinging my new back pack over my shoulder and heading out the door. Jaron stood waiting, back leaned against my old Ford, arms crossed. Mutt lay at his feet. I tossed my back pack through the rolled down window and bent down to give Mutt a quick pat and kiss his soft ears.

  “See ya later boy.” I stood to face Jaron. I leaned into him, trapping him between my hips and the truck. His arms remained tense and crossed on his chest.

  “Hey, look at me,” I said, pulling on his belt loops. When he looked down, his lip was almost puckered; I couldn’t help but laugh at him. Big, tough, scary Jaron Blake, pouting like a bratty kid who didn’t get the toy they wanted at Walmart.

  “I’m glad you think it’s so funny,” he spat.

  “I don’t think it’s funny. I think you’re funny. I’ve never seen you pout before. It’s kinda cute.”

  He finally softened and wrapped his arms around me. I lay my head on his chest and thought about what it was going to be like to try and fall asleep without him.

  “This sucks,” he grumbled.

  “I know, but it’s not like I’m leaving for good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He suddenly pulled back, holding me at arms-length, his demeanor severe and dead serious, “What if Bill’s there?”

  “I’ll just ignore him Jaron. I’ve got a lot of experience ignoring my mom’s annoying boyfriends,” I said nonchalantly.

  “It’s different now Natalie.”

  “No it’s not. It’s not like she’s in love with him or anything. He’ll be gone before too long.”

  He shook his head and rolled his eyes at me. “That’s not what I mean.”

 
“Then what do you mean,” I asked clueless.

  “You’re not a little girl anymore. He’s not going to look at you as a little girl.”

  “Oh Jaron, really? When are you going to get it through your head that every guy on the planet does not want to get in my pants!” I pulled away, exasperated by the conversation. His jealousy really was out of control.

  “Yes. They. Do. When are you going to get that through your head?”

  “This is the last thing I want to do right now. It’s going to be hard enough to sleep tonight, without us arguing.” I ran my arms around his waist and squeezed him tight. He let out a ragged irritated breath and hugged me, rocking back and forth.

  “I love you dammit,” he grumbled.

  “I love you too, dammit,” I grumbled back playfully. “Now kiss me good bye,” I ordered.

  “Be careful, and call me as soon as you get home.”

  “I will, I promise. I’ll be home in fifteen, twenty minutes tops.”

  “Bye baby,” he whispered kissing my cheek.

  “Bye.”

  I tried not to look in my rear view mirror while I pulled down the long drive way, but it was impossible. I could see him leaning against the porch railing, watching me drive away. It was incredibly upsetting and confusing. I felt like a major drama queen when unwanted but uncontrollable tears streaked down my cheek. I felt like I was moving out, like instead of going home, I was leaving home.

  Instant nausea hit me when my head lights reflected off of the truck parked in front of the trailer. Bill’s truck. Mom wasn’t home from work yet, so that meant I got to spend quality time with Bill, lucky me. I sat in the truck, debating on what to do. But this was my home dammit. I wasn’t going to let some dead beat loser run me out. I grabbed my back pack and one heavy duffle bag and climbed up the steps. The door swung open just as I reached the porch.

  “Well, well. Look who it is,” Bill smirked, and leaned on the door frame blocking my entry.

  I cocked my head to the side and looked at him blankly. His gray wife beater was sweat stained and he reeked, of cigarettes and beer. I bit my lip to prevent any hatefulness from spewing out.

  “Excuse me,” I said politely, trying hard to disguise my disgust.

  “Excuse you?” he repeated sarcastically. “What excuse is there?”

  What? He made no sense. I hated stupid people and drunk, stupid people, well they were the absolute worst. Thankfully he stepped aside and let me pass. I made my way quickly to my room and shut the door. I decided I would leave my other bag until later, when mom got home.

  Locking the door behind me, I sat on the edge of my bed. I looked around my dank little bedroom. It felt foreign to me, like I didn’t even know the person who lived in that room. The nausea in my stomach grew, but not because of the unwanted house guest. Something different. Something I had never felt before. I examined my surroundings and my situation, and it hit me. I was home sick. Home sick for the smell of vanilla candles that set on the entry table and was the first thing that greeted you when you walked through the door and the smell of dinner cooking, home sick for the ever present low murmur of 80’s rock in the living room, home sick for the big soft bed that I shared with Jaron and most of all, home sick for Jaron. I sucked up the tears that threatened to fall. I didn’t want Jaron to know I was crying when I called. I reached in my pocket for my phone, but it wasn’t there.

  “Shit!” I hissed through gritted teeth. I had tossed my phone in my purse and it was still in the truck. That left me no choice, I had to trek back through the trailer and endure another uncomfortable run in with Bill.

  Frustrated, I stood, with a deep breath I opened the door and moved quickly down the hall. To my surprise, Bill was nowhere in sight. “Thank God,” I whispered to myself. I eased quietly out the door, grabbed my purse from the truck, shut the truck door as softly as possible, and went back in. Thinking I was scott free, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and crossed the small living room to the hall. My heart stuck in my throat when he stepped out of the bathroom and stood between me and my bedroom door, my safe haven.

  “So where have you been for the last month,” he asked in a low, gravelly voice.

  I wanted to say, none of your damn business, but opted for a more subtle approach.

  “I’ve been at my friend Tiffany’s,” I answered and forced a grin.

  “Whatever. Everyone knows you been running around with that Blake boy.”

  His eyes scanned me from head to toe and I began to regret my tight tank top and daisy dukes, my outfit of choice for just hanging around the house with Jaron.

  “You look different,” his eyes narrowed as if trying to figure out a puzzle.

  I swallowed hard. Could Jaron have been right about Bill? I said a silent prayer that he wasn’t. My mind raced. What to do next? Turn and run out the door, hop in my truck and drive away as fast as I could, or push through to my room and lock the door behind me. Before I decided, Bill stepped aside, to allow me to slide past him in the narrow hall, or so I thought.

  I put my head down to divert my eyes from his creepy stare and took a step toward my room. When I was within arms-length, he reached out and planted his hand on the opposite wall, blocking my way. I froze. Chills ran down my spine when I felt his breath in my hair.

  “Move please,” I demanded, still trying to remain polite.

  The last thing I wanted at this point was to pick a fight with him. He didn’t move. Instead, he placed his other hand on the wall behind me, trapping me.

  “I know what it is,” he smirked proudly, as if he had solved some ancient riddle. “He popped your cherry,” he sneered. “Yep, your all woman now, aren’t ya?” His feet shuffled closer to me, until my hip was pressed against the wall and he was just inches away.

  Bile rose in my throat and I started to tremble as panic set in. Jaron was right and now I was in trouble. My phone began to vibrate in my hand and I knew immediately it was Jaron. It had been almost half an hour since I left and I hadn’t called him yet. He was probably pissed at me but I didn’t care. I was just thankful. I quickly put the phone to my ear.

  “Jaron,” I said trembling.

  Bill reached for the phone. I used the distraction to bolt into my room. I slammed the door and locked it. Luckily, Jake had replaced the cheap trailer house door with a sturdier one and a good lock before he moved out. I guess he worried about this day too. I could hear the stress in Jaron’s voice as he called my name.

  “Natalie! Natalie answer me! What’s wrong?”

  I couldn’t hold them back. Tears poured and I gasped for air.

  “You were right Jaron!”

  “Natalie,” his voice shook, “Is he still there?”

  Just then the sound of a fist pounding on the door echoed through the room.

  “Open the door you little bitch!”

  “I’m on my way. Do not open that door until I get there.”

  I tossed the phone on the bed without responding. I knew he was already on his way. I slid my dresser in front of the door and sat on the floor in front of it with my knees hugged to my chest. The door knobbed jiggled and Bill pounded on it again. I watched the tail of my hello kitty clock tick back and forth, knowing that every second Jaron was a second closer. After a few minutes, the hall way fell silent. Within ten minutes I heard the gravel flying as Jaron slid to a stop in front of the trailer. I scrambled to move the dresser, knowing that all hell was about to break loose.

  I heard the front door sling open and muffled voices began to argue.

  “Natalie!” Jaron shouted frantically.

  “Who the hell do you think you are barging in here,” Bill slurred.

  I opened the door and flew toward the living room.

  “Jaron, I’m ok,” I called, emerging from the dark hall in time to see Jaron slam Bill to the ground by the throat. “Jaron don’t,” I yelled, grabbing his arm just before he pounded Bill’s face with his fist. Jaron glared down, his eyes wild with hate and f
ury. “I’m ok, please calm down,” I begged.

  Jaron stood and turned his attention to me. My eyes were swollen from crying and I trembled all over. He pulled me close.

  “It’s ok baby. Did he touch you?” He whispered the question in my ear through gritted teeth.

  “No,” I whimpered. He cupped my face in his hands and looked me in the eye.

  “Don’t lie for him,” he pressed.

  “I’m not. He just scared me. I promise.”

  Bill grumbled and slurred profanities from the floor. Not smart enough to realize he had just barely escaped a severe beating.

  “Get your things,” Jaron ordered.

  “I can’t. My mom..” Jaron cut my sentence short.

  “I don’t give a fuck about your mom. Get all your things in the truck, now.”

  I knew there was no debating at this point. There was no way in hell Jaron would allow me to stay. I grabbed a trash bag from the kitchen and disappeared into my room. I worked quickly stuffing all my belongings into the bag. I kept the door open so I could listen for fighting. Before I was done I heard a car door shut and knew instantly it was my mom.

  “What’s going on,” she screeched from the front porch where Bill stood sulking and smoking.

  “That damn kid of yours is running away with her delinquent boyfriend,” he jawed.

  “What? Natalie Renae,” she yelled as she entered the trailer.

  I recognized the tone and knew we were about to have it out. Suprisingly, Jaron stood silently waiting for me, leaned against the kitchen counter. I met mom at the end of the hall with my back pack and purse. Jaron took the initiative to retrieve the trash bag and large duffle bag from my room. Without making eye contact with my mother, he pushed past her and loaded my things.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing,” she snapped.

  I examined her face for a second. She looked tired and older than I remembered her looking the last time I saw her. Her hair was falling half hazard from her barrette and she still had her Western Sizzlin apron on. I felt sad for her. Losing my dad left her with a big empty hole in her heart that she couldn’t fill. And Jaron was right, things were different. Her loser boyfriends no longer viewed me as an annoying kid that they could send to her room and I couldn’t be around them anymore.