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CHAPTERTWO
She watched as the stretch limo turned thecorner, before she began her three-block walk home. She needed towalk, to clear her head and think out a plan of action. She turnedone last time to gaze over her shoulder at Richard’s grave. Thecaretakers had already begun to remove the rich, colorful floralarrangements. She watched as one of them kicked a button with thetoe of his boot and the casket slowly began to drop below groundlevel.
“Goodbye, Richard,” she whispered softly, “ifonly you …”
A sob caught in her throat. “If only” meantnothing at this point, she thought. She had closure, and it wastime to move on and leave her past behind. She stepped forward, notlooking back and walked past the stones and soft hills of the smallparish cemetery. Rows upon rows of stately elms, with crownsadorned in vivid golds, reds, and browns painted a beautiful autumnpicture. A feeling of serene calmness came over her and she raisedher face to let the light, misty rain wet her face.
Jessica took her time walking the tree-linedavenues of Wilton, trying to make sense of what had transpired overthe past three days. In one horrific moment, she had been granted areprieve, and set free from a domestically violent marriage.
She rubbed the palm of her hand over hercheek. It was still sore and tender from the vicious beating herhusband administered before he died. She did not care anymore, whosaw the bruises. She had nothing to be ashamed of. It was over nowand time for her to move on and create a new life for herself.
Each step brought her closer to home and shebegan to feel a sense of renewed hope. There was no way she wantedto stay in Wilton. The small Maine town reeked of the corruptionand intimidation of the family, who laid claim to it. She quickenedher pace and her steps were as light as her heart. As soon as shecould, she would call her Aunt and make plans to leave. If anyonecould help her make a fresh start, Florence could. Jessica smiled,when she thought of Albany, where she had the fondest of memories,growing up as a child.
Her Aunt’s face came to mind once again. Evenafter losing her Uncle Ian, Florence had carried on his name andbecame a paramount force in Albany’s financial arena. The NewcombeDynasty was primary to revolutionizing Albany as a competitive portof commerce and strengthening its prominent stance as a leadingcapitol city on the East coast.
As she turned onto Sherman Lane, her level ofanxiety to see and work with the handsome senator from New Yorkincreased. The Cape Cod home she once shared with Richard came intoview. Jessica could not believe what a picture-perfect home itportrayed despite what happened behind its closed doors.
The yellow police taping protecting the crimescene had been removed and the diamond-glass window panes gleanedfrom the streaks of sun beginning to break through the dissipatinggrey clouds.
She entered and walked straight to thekitchen and poured herself a glass of Pinot. The sooner she talkedto her Aunt, the quicker she could leave this life behind her. Shesettled upon the settee in front of the parlor window with herhand-crocheted afghan spread upon her lap and picked up her iPhone.She needed to see her Aunt’s face, as well as hear her voice, anddialed her cell to ‘FaceTime’.
In three rings, the line was answered and herAunt’s face was visible.
“I hate that I wasn’t there for you,” herAunt remarked immediately. “You look haggard, dear. My god is thatbruising on your cheek? Jessica, what haven’t you told me?”
Jessica took a long sip, placed her glassupon the coffee table in front of her, and sighed deeply, shakingher head.
“It’s a long story, Aunt Florence. It’s over.He can’t hurt me anymore.”
Her Aunt’s look was not one of satisfaction,and when she opened her month to demand more than what Jessicawanted to offer, Jessica waved her hand to forestall her as a rushof emotion overwhelmed her.
Jessica did not know what came over her, asher reaction was immediate and all-consuming. It generated from thevery depths of her soul and made her stomach lurch. She could notcatch her breath, or stop the faucet of tears that spilled over.Absently, she wiped them away, as she chewed her lower lip, tryingto maintain some semblance of control. It did not work.
The stress, and agony, and fear, and abuse,and inability to fight back for more than a year had taken itstoll. As hard as she tried to stall sobs, she simply could not andcried a river of tears.
Her Aunt did not interrupt and let her be.Jessica noted the silent tears streaming down her Aunt’s face alongwith her. God! How she wished she were there right now just to beheld in the comfort of her arms.
It had been so very long before anyone heldher, caressed her, comforted and loved her. She hated showingweakness. She had always been a strong woman, but there was only somuch she could take day-after-day without any show of support. Ifit hadn’t been for Father Mulcahy, she would have caved in a longtime ago.
She tried to control her sobs and sucked two,long cleansing breaths in and slowly released them. She hadn’tcried, since the accident and found she still couldn’t still theemotion that she held in for months. Her shoulders shook, as theagony of the last three days seeped from her pores. She craved thephysical presence of her Aunt, needed the comfort of her embraceand her strong countenance to help her prevail.
The only solace her Aunt could offer was hersilence, to let her cry, let the torment escape, that she had keptlocked inside for so long.
“It’s been utter hell,” she managed to shareand hiccupped.
“I expected as much, dear,” her Auntinterrupted. “But, enough now. Spilling tears over that despicableyoung man and that family … well, they don’t deserve it! Do youhear me?” Her voice demanded.
Jessica sniffled and replied ever-so-softly,“Aha.”
“Good,” Florence replied. “Now … I want youto pack just a few of your things. Leave everything else. There isnothing else you need from there. It’s over. I’ll send the jet.Martin and I will meet you at the airport,” she called out for herbutler and chauffeur. “Martin … Martin! Hold on for a moment, dear,while I get Martin to help me with this.”
Jessica watched, as her Aunt placed her celldown and moved away, still calling for her butler, who was morelike family, having been of service for nearly twenty years.Jessica drew in a slow steady breath again to calm her quiveringnerves.
Florence was right. There was nothing moreshe could do, or wanted. Wilton was never her home, as much as shetried to desperately make it so. She could hear her Aunt’sfootsteps and saw her smiling face, as she picked up her cell.
“You’re all set, Jessica. The jet will arriveat Bangor Airport tomorrow at 7:45 a.m. and will fuel up rightaway. You should be in the air by 8:30. Remember, just bring a fewthings. We can buy whatever else you need once you’re here. I loveyou, dear … very much. Let me help you get back on track and startanew. Do you remember Sen. Gallagher?” Her Aunt didn’t give her achance to reply, as she continued. “Well, he remembered you, asbrief as that meeting was. He very much wants to talk to you aboutthe vacant position in his office. He desperately needs someone andright away.”
