“Are you okay?” I ask just as I know I should, even if I’m hoping she says yes and keep talking.
Nodding, she says, “It’s hard sometimes, but I think this is important.”
“Okay. Take your time. I have hours since my girls are having a sleepover at one of their friend’s houses.”
She doesn’t speak for what feels like forever, but it’s probably just a few minutes. Feeling awkward, I focus on the last piece of my scone and my latte, which is no longer iced and tastes more like watered down coffee.
When she speaks again, she looks like a different person. More serious. Almost angry.
“Sorry, this always turns hard for me when I get to the part that’s more important than the rest of the night.”
I want to tell her I’m sorry because she’s clearly upset by what she wants to tell me. If I wasn’t so interested in hearing it, I’d tell her to feel free to stop, but I have a feeling the rest of the story is going to be important.
Clearing her throat, she says, “We were just kids. All we wanted to do was have a little fun. I thought the guy I was with was okay. We weren’t going to spend the rest of our lives together, but what’s one night in the woods hanging out and drinking? If only it had been just that.”
She stops and then says, “I don’t mean to drag things out. I’ve never been very good at telling this story, but I have the sense you need to hear it. So here’s the rest. He didn’t rape me or anything terrible like that. He didn’t even try much. No, the problem was he had a terrible temper, and when an old busybody man walking through the woods saw us, he told us we needed to leave the area. He wasn’t bothering us really. He was just an old man. But that night, he opened his mouth to the wrong person.”
I’m practically leaning over the table to hear her as she speaks. I can’t be sure, but I have the sense what happened next to her that night explains those horrible scars.
“He went nuts. He chased that poor old man down and beat the hell out of him. I don’t know why. I’d never seen anyone drink and get high act like that before. Then after he attacked him, he turned on me. I know you’ve noticed the scars on my face. Those are from him. So is the one on my abdomen.”
Kelsey lifts her blue shirt up just high enough for me to see a raised scar on her pale skin. “Nice, huh? Thanks to him, I can never have children.”
My mouth drops open, and I shake my head at how horrible that must have been for her. “I’m so sorry, Kelsey. He paid for what he did to you and that man, didn’t he?”
Sniffling her tears away, she answers, “No. He’s never even been questioned.”
Horrified at the injustice I’m hearing about, I ask, “Why? How could the authorities let him get away with it?”
She draws her eyebrows in toward her nose and frowns. “He beat me so savagely that night that I ended up in a coma for over a week. By the time I came out of it, I couldn’t say for sure what happened. It was only when I went home and my friend felt I could handle the truth that she told me. By that time, all Iwanted to do was forget what he did. I didn’t want to risk him coming after me again.”
I reach across the table and rest my hand on hers. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that, and he deserves to pay for what he did.”
“Thank you, Jamie. I wanted to tell you that story because I think it can help you see things about your own life a little more clearly.”
Hanging my head, I say, “I feel so stupid right now. You and other people have real issues, and here I am complaining because my oh-so-perfect life isn’t as perfect as I dreamed it would be. Thank you for helping me get some perspective.”
“Just remember this, Jamie. No matter what happens, you can go on. I did. It’s hard. Some days I didn’t want to get out of bed. I did, though, and every day things get a little easier for me.”
I really have been silly. Sure, I wish Connor would do more things with me and the girls. And yes, I wish our life had more happiness and less stress.
But the big picture is so much better than many people’s, and for that, I am thankful.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Connor
Jamieand the girls aren’t at home when I return, thank God, so I hurry upstairs to get changed and look for my damn phone. It’s not on the bed, like I thought it would be, though.
I quickly slip into my shorts and a clean T-shirt and hurry downstairs to search there. I swear if Jamie moved my phone I’m going to lose it. I tell her all the time to just let it be. Time and again, I’ve warned her not to touch my cell. Does this woman even listen when I say things to her?
Thankfully, she keeps the house spotless, which only seems right since she’s here all day while I work and the girls are at school. What else does she have to do with her time?
Tossing cushions off the sofa, I jam my hands down into the back of the piece of furniture and feel around. Nothing. I turn to the chair next, but it’s not there either.
Maybe in the kitchen.
I hurry in there and scan the room in front of me, but I don’t see it. The kitchen isn’t spotless, so that makes my search tentimes more difficult. Pushing aside bags of chips and pretzels Jamie has left on the counter, I look through every inch of the kitchen and find nothing.
