Late Sunday night, Paige sat in front of the television, still alone, but less lonely than she’d been in a long time. The phone rang. “Hello.”
“Hey, Paige. How are you doing?” Rachelle’s voice was so low and so flat, Paige barely recognized it.
“You sound tired. What, has Steve been keeping you out too late?”
“I’m not tired.” In all the years Paige had known Shell, she’d never heard this tone.
“What’s wrong, then?”
“Unfortunately, I’ve got some rather dismal news. You remember I told you that David Brown’s investigator was investigating your investigator?”
“Yes. You can rest easy, you don’t even have to tell me. I already know it was Clarissa who hired him. She already confronted me about what she found out.”
A commercial for oxygenated dish soap came from the TV, the air-conditioner hummed from the next room, but no sounds came through the phone line. “Shell? You still there?”
“Oh, Paige, honey . . .”
“Rachelle, it’s okay. She knows everything, but she’s keeping it to herself.” As long as Paige kept her mouth shut, anyway.
“She may know everything, but she isn’t the one who hired the investigator.”
“If she’s not, then who is?”
“Tony Richardson.”
“I . . . I . . .” The words died before they could even form in her mind. What could she say? “Are you sure?”
“I made them double-check everything before I broke the news to you. After the way you talked about him during my visit, I didn’t want to tell you this. You’ve been through so much, but I thought you should know.”
“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll call you in a day or two.”
“You know where to find me.”
Paige walked over to the window and looked out into the night. She saw the very place where she and Tony had stood just last night. He had been so charming, so unexpected.
And he had been using her all this time.
Why would he do that? How could he do that?
She thought of the way he’d held her just last night, the words he’d said. The words she’d believed. Pain gave way to fury. She wanted answers, and now would be the time to get them. While her anger still cloaked her like a suit of armor. Nothing would hurt her now.
She dialed the number that she’d had stored in her book for weeks now, but never had the courage to use. Tony answered on the third ring.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Well, well. It’s about time you called me. I’ve been sitting and waiting all this time.” He sounded so upbeat, so happy. She pictured his grin on the other end of the line. Was it all an act?
“Why have you been seeing me?”
“Uh . . . well . . .” He let out a half laugh. “I would think that answer would be obvious. You’re beautiful, sweet, and single. I’m handsome, sweet, and single. It’s a perfect match. See?”
“I’m not joking.”
“Well . . . umm . . .” The silence of indecision lasted only a second. “I’m not joking, either. Well, not the part about you anyway. We all know I’m not that sweet, and maybe handsome is an overstatement, but that would go back to your reason for wanting to see me, right? Maybe I’m the one who should be asking you this question.”
Time to get to the point. “You’ve been doing nothing but helping Clarissa try to get rid of me all this time.”
“What are you talking about?” The shock in his reply sounded so real. But so had everything he’d said last night. “Clarissa’s not trying to get rid of you, and you know I’m not trying to get rid of you. Like I said yesterday, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”
The words had meant so much then. But not now. “I got an interesting call from a friend in Atlanta.”
“Atlanta?” The rise in his voice told her this change in direction of the conversation confused him. Good. It would keep him off balance and make it more difficult for him to think up an explanation.
“Yes. Atlanta. She told me there was an investigator there, asking all sorts of questions about me. Turns out, this investigator was hired by . . . you.” She stopped speaking and let the silence fall between them like heavy stones.
When he said nothing, she unleashed the next round of ammunition. “Clarissa’s been keeping a file of complaints and out-and-out lies about me at work. Why? Why would either of you do this?”
“There obviously is some misunderstanding. Clarissa wouldn’t do that.”
“All I want is to be a good pharmacist—to make people feel better—to have a job so I can help my parents out during this terrible time in their lives. What would make two people go so far out of their way to hurt someone like me—someone you’d never even met when you started all this.”
The seconds ticked past. Paige said nothing. Intended to say nothing. Her father had always taught her to let silence work to her advantage in a case like this. If you remained quiet long enough, the other person would fill the silence.
Finally, Tony sighed. “Okay, I guess I did know at one point there was an investigator, but I’d forgotten all about it. I didn’t hire him, and it’s not what you think.”
“Not what I think? Until a few hours ago, what I thought this was, was an early dating relationship. One I enjoyed. One you enjoyed. Obviously, nothing is what I think.”
“Paige, listen to me. We talked about hiring that guy before I even met you. I gave his name to Clarissa, never dreaming she would actually call him. I just wanted to calm her down, she’s so certain everyone is out to get her. I haven’t thought another thing about it.”
Tony went quiet and waited—for what? Was he hoping she would say something here to absolve him of his part in this? Tell him she didn’t want to know anymore, that it was all okay?
He groaned. “You know what? I’ll tell you the whole truth. That first day I came to Shoal Creek? I was supposed to come in and check you out. You know, evaluate the situation, then leave. Of course, after I met you, my plans changed and I stayed for dinner.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet. You decided it would be easy to control me if you led me to believe that you were interested in me.”
“Wrong. Within two seconds of meeting you, I knew enough to know you weren’t after Clarissa’s job, but I sure wanted to get to know you. In fact, I’d forgotten we even talked about hiring an investigator until just now. I haven’t thought about it since, and Clarissa hasn’t mentioned it either. Most likely, she’s let the whole idea go, or realized there’s nothing but good things to find.”
Oh, but there were plenty of things to find, and Clarissa had already found them. “You can take your investigator and your smooth talk and shove it someplace else. I don’t believe a word of it.”
“Paige, I—”
Paige pushed the button on the phone, slammed it onto the table, and was amazed that there were more tears left to spill.
Clarissa sat on her living room floor, paper work spread all around her. A satisfaction came from deep within as she began to believe she was actually going to make this all work—in spite of the obstacles that would have stopped most people from even attempting to move forward. Finally, there was a light somewhere in this whole dark mess.
The phone rang and she planned to let it go to voice mail, until she heard the caller ID voice announce, “Call from Richardson, Tony.” She stood and hurried over to the receiver. “Hi, Tony.”
“Hey, Sweet Pea.” His voice was so quiet she barely heard him.
“You okay? My old uncle working too hard these days, or what?”
“I need to ask a favor.”
“Sure. What do you need?”
“I want you to talk to Paige for me.”
“Do what?”
“Talk to her. She thinks I hired that investigator guy. Tell her that it was something you did on impulse at the beginning, just trying to cover our bases. Tell her that I haven’t been setting her up.”
“I’ll do no such thing. We didn’t just cover our bases, I found out the truth about her. She’s not at all the perfect little angel Granddad thinks she is—and apparently you’ve come to that conclusion yourself, although I’d always thought you were the one person on my side.”
“I am on your side. But she’s on your side, too. Don’t you get it? She’s not out for anything other than a job. She’s not trying to do anything to hurt you, or Dad, or anyone else for that matter. She’s trying to help people, that’s all she’s trying to do.”
“Help people? Ha!”
“When she told me that you were out to get her, I said, ‘No way, Clarissa is not like that.’ Hearing you talk right now, I wonder if I was wrong.”
“I’ve had it. No one in this family can see the big picture except me. I’m not going to talk about it anymore.” Clarissa set the phone back up on the table. They were all so blind.
Dawn waited until after midnight before she left the house. Only now, when darkness cloaked her movement, would pride allow her to do this.
Her back was still sore, so she leaned forward away from the seat, trying to forget the way Jack’s fist felt against her skin. At least he’d saved her the humiliation of leaving bruises where they showed. She supposed he’d expect her to be grateful.
She drove across town with the radio off. Noise of any kind would ruin this for her. All of her senses needed to be heightened; she needed to remember every sight, sound, and smell. It would be all she had to carry with her when she drove away.
Once on Reginald Street, she doused the headlights and pulled to the side of the road, just one house away from her parents’. The houses all sat dark—as she’d known they would. Peace and quiet. It had been one of the things she hated most about this place growing up. Now, how she longed for that tranquility.
When she turned off the engine, the car’s usual sputtering seemed so much louder tonight. She looked around at the darkened windows, hoping the sound didn’t wake the neighborhood. No lights came on. After a moment of holding her breath, she finally relaxed and allowed herself to do what she’d come here for. She looked around. And remembered.
The front porch had begun to sag badly, and the bottom step had fallen through altogether. Her father’s rusty old truck sat in the driveway while her mother’s petunias still offered the one bit of beauty from the small patch of dirt that fronted the house. And in the distance, the gentle pattering of the creek filled the quiet of the night. How many times had that very sound sung her to sleep through her open bedroom window? The smell of oil and machinery always overpowered even the thickest summer blooms. She took a deep breath and almost cried with the joy of it.
All the years she’d spent here—hating the dullness of it all, hating the constant drain of hard work, hating her parents for being poor—what she wouldn’t give to have it all back now. She’d given it all up for what she believed was a better life.
She wanted to go knock on the door right this very minute, tell her parents how wrong she’d been, tell especially her mother how sorry she was. But the choice was not hers. Her father had kicked her out, and she couldn’t come crawling back now. Her pride was all that she had left—and there was little enough of that.
Memories floated through her mind of her mother’s face, celebrating yet another straight-A report card. A heady expression would fall across her face, especially when the teachers started sending notes home about this scholarship or the other. “Oh, to think of you in college. It was a dream that was out of my reach— but for you, sweet girl, everything is possible.” Maybe at the time she’d been right. Not anymore. Now nothing seemed possible.
Dawn didn’t want to stay with Jack, but how could she get out? He spent her paycheck almost as fast as she brought it home. If she started holding money back, he’d know it, and the retribution would be horrible.
No, she was stuck. She turned on the ignition and drove home, thankful that Jack had recently switched to the night shift. Between that and his newfound “time with his family,” it at least kept him out of the house and away from her. Most of the time. And right now she needed even the smallest of victories.