27. Kurt

Johnny said he was worried that I'd look at him differently because of his assault, and I promised him I wouldn't. I'm going to keep that promise, but I'll admit it's difficult. Not because of anything he did or didn't do or because I think he's weak. But because that level of betrayal has to mess with his head. No wonder he was in such a bad place. Add that to his mom's chronic illness and the unstable situation in which he grew up, and it's amazing that he"s as together as he is.

When we get back into the car, there's a slightly awkward silence. I think he might feel like he overshared.

But I feel closer to him, like he opened up this part of himself and let me see the scary things that he hides from everyone else.

He's the bravest fucking man I know. I don't blame him for any of the horrors that were inflicted on him, but they do help explain some of his behavior. The fact that he came out of that not hating all of humanity is a testament to his gentle nature. Everything I find out about him just makes me like him more.

My dominant reaction, though, is a thirst for revenge. Gary Pinkerton can't get away with this. There's Johnny's lawsuit, yes, but … a bad part of me says a financial judgment can never be enough.

I'm going to do something about it, even though I've never done anything like that before.

It makes me sick that Johnny suffered, and learning about it activated something protective inside me. Something that demands to tear down the people who hurt him. I want to keep him safe from everyone and everything.

Of course, that's not possible. No one can ever be safe from everyone and everything.

How can I at least prove to him that he matters? What can I give him to heal his soul?

I come up with an idea. Or two.

"Let's drive up and see your mom for Thanksgiving," I say. "Would you like to do that?"

Johnny swallows thickly and rubs the back of his neck. "More than anything. You really wanna go all that way, though? Shouldn't you be with your own family for the holiday?"

"You're my family now," I tell him. "And Thanksgiving was never a huge deal for the Delmonts anyway." I smile at him, and he leans over and kisses me. "Pack a bag so we can stay somewhere overnight. Or let's take the whole long weekend. Visit her and then see where else we want to go."

Johnny calls his mom to make sure that she's going to be around, and we make plans to drive up the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Before then, I have something else to take care of, and I need to do it in person.

When Johnny's at work the next day, I call Sam, who readily agrees when I ask if I can come over. I know he won't judge me. I'm just hoping he can help.

At his—Jules's, originally—secluded beach mansion, Sam gives me a hug and invites me to sit at a table outside, taking advantage of the view. "Jules is recording, or I know he'd want to see you," he says apologetically.

"That's fine. What I want to ask is … Well. The fewer people who know, the better."

He tilts his head. "Okay," he says slowly. "That sounds ominous."

"Johnny told me about the assault … the reason why you guys are suing on his behalf."

Sam draws in a quick breath. "It's fucking awful. I saw the video, and it's …" He looks ill. "Horrible."

I close my eyes, not wanting to imagine it. "What are the chances of him winning anything? Is justice going to be served?"

"No criminal charges were brought, so the only way to get anything like justice is if we get a big punitive damages award. Otherwise, it's … nothing. Nothing will happen to Pinkerton." Sam's voice is bitter.

I hit the table with my fist. "That's unacceptable." I lower my voice. "I've never asked for anything like this in my life, but is there anyone you know who would be connected enough to … make sure Pinkerton gets what's coming to him? Or at least part of it?"

Sam's first response is to shake his head. But then a light flashes in his eyes. "Okay, there is one person. And just so you know, I understand. If someone did something like that to Jules, I'd slice their dick off inch by inch and feed it to them."

"That's … vivid. And also basically what I want." I look at him expectantly, even though my stomach's churning.

"One of the lawyers in my office, Charlie, he's kind of with this guy. I mean, I guess they're dating. Who knows? They have a strange relationship." One side of Sam's mouth turns up in a smile. "Rowan is … interesting."

"How so?"

"Feral fucking gremlin. Pretty sure he met Charlie at knifepoint. I bet he'll know who to contact. Or, honestly, he might do it himself. He scares the fuck out of me."

I can't believe I'm doing this. "Sounds perfect. Do you have his number?"

"No, but I have Charlie's, and I can introduce you." He smiles. "Beware. Charlie's a bit of an asshole. But he's definitely met his match in Rowan."

"Is there any reason why he'd do me this favor?"

"Rowan? This might be sport to him. No harm in asking." Sam coughs. "No harm to you, that is."

I've never had a weirder conversation, but at the end of it, I feel like I've made progress toward getting what justice I can for Johnny.

The day before Thanksgiving, Johnny and I load up the car for our trip to Fresno. He's been antsy all week, so I head for the passenger seat and let him get behind the wheel.

"Do you want to pick the radio station this time?" Johnny's tone is teasing, and I appreciate that more than he knows. Because it signals that his mood is up.

"I'm good with country."

He looks at me in disbelief. "Really?"

"Sure. It makes you happy, and I don't mind it."

"That might be the secret to a happy marriage: giving the other person what they want when it doesn't harm you to do it."

"Exactly."

While the route out of Los Angeles is hilly and pretty, once we get into the Central Valley, it's nothing but agriculture: fruit and nut trees, row crops, cows. Johnny seems to get more tense with every mile we drive, his jaw tightening, fingers tapping on the wheel.

"You okay?" I ask. "I thought you'd be excited about this trip."

"I am excited, but I'm damn scared Mama's gonna be worse than the last time I saw her."

Silos flash by. "I suppose that's possible. We won't know until we get there. What will you do if she's gotten worse?"

"Feel like shit."

"And you kind of feel like that now, no? I mean, you're already imagining it."

He sighs. "Yeah. You're right. I'm borrowing trouble, and the interest rate on that's way too high. Okay. Maybe she's gonna be good."

"Is this more of me being an optimist and you being a pessimist?"

Johnny flashes me a quick smile. "Likely, yes."

"No matter what, it's gonna be okay. Want me to drive so you can relax?"

"Yeah, maybe," he says. "I mean, I'll try to settle myself. But maybe you can drive after the next rest stop."

He's starting to admit when he needs help, which is good. And he's not being so stoic. His rule about honesty is fucking refreshing, given that I've been around politicians all my life. Of course, he and I don't carry the baggage of having known each other—apart from our public personas—prior to Vegas, so that makes it easier.

I take over the driving after we stop for a quick lunch at a diner an hour south of Fresno, and when we get into town, he directs me to his mother's house.

We pull up to the driveway of a one-story home in what looks like a pretty nice part of town. New houses, tidy yards, new cars.

"Is this …" I ask. "Did you buy her this house?"

"I did." Johnny's chest swells with pride. "All paid up."

Ever since he was a kid, he's been working to care for his mother. I'm not sure how I feel about that. It's kind, loving, and honorable of him, of course. But part of me thinks, well, that she's an adult. Surely she could do some things for herself.

Then again, maybe I'm being an insensitive jerk. I haven't had to deal with someone I love being chronically ill. And I've certainly never had to worry about how to keep a roof over my head or food on the table. Maybe I need to just let Johnny live his life the way he wants to and stop judging things I don't understand.

We get out of the car, and he offers me his hand with a smile. "Come and meet my mama." His hand's steady, but his voice wavers slightly.

He walks up to the door, which is adorned with a fall leaf wreath, knocks, and walks in. "Mama?"

"In here, Johnny," she says, her voice a quiet drawl.

We walk into a sparkling clean living room. Does he pay for a housekeeper, too?

His mom's sitting in an upholstered chair, with another woman seated nearby.

"Mama, Denise, this is Kurt Delmont. He's my husband. Kurt, my mama, Sue Ann Haskell, and her caregiver, Denise."

His mom's tiny, with pretty pale eyes and a generous smile. She seems frail but warm and friendly. "It's so nice to meet you," she says. I go to move toward her, but Johnny stills me by setting a hand on my bicep as she stands up and comes over to me. Her steps are sure but slow.

"Likewise," I say, smiling and shaking her small hand.

That intuition I have kicks in again, and I can see why Johnny has given up everything for her. She's gentle. Kind. She's trying. You can tell by the determined set of her jaw and the way she's kept everything around her as nice as it can be. The house's furnishings aren't fancy or expensive, but they're treated with care.

It makes me understand him a lot better. It makes my heart beat faster for him, that he's this protective of her.

She's the kind of person you'd give things up for.

He's the kind of person I'd give things up for. Like the fucking election, without a moment's regret.

"Where's May Ella?" Johnny asks, after he hugs his mom and helps her back to her seat.

"She's at work, but she'll be home in a little bit. Can I get you some iced tea? Or lemonade?" Sue Ann asks.

"I'll get it," Johnny says, encouraging her to stay put while he goes into the kitchen and gets us all drinks. Denise goes with him, and I hear them chatting in low voices. I'm guessing Johnny is quizzing Denise on Sue Ann's condition.

I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe because of Johnny's description of his early life, I'd imagined us going to a depressing place, perhaps in a trailer park littered with trash and weeds. Instead, his mom is being well taken care of in a sparkling, cheerful home, while Johnny made do with the bare minimum he needed to survive. That thought hits me harder than anything, because I can see that his sacrifice to her was complete. Even though he thinks he's a failure, he isn't.

She needs a new kidney, yes. She's on dialysis, which clearly affects her life. But she's living comfortably thanks to him.

A surge of pride rushes through me at the same time I get inordinately sad. Because this has come at what cost to him?

Now that I see how much he's given her, I'm torn. Part of me wants to take him away so he doesn't have to worry about anything ever again. Part of me wants to celebrate what a giving person he is.

One thing I know: If I try to change him, it'll backfire. Johnny thinks it's wrong to keep things for himself. He's always giving—money to his mother; pleasure and support to me; amazing care to animals, based on what Bronwyn has told me.

I need to come up with a way to give Johnny something just for himself. And help him understand that he's worth treating just as well as he treats his mom.

After Johnny and I visit with his mom for a while, his sister comes home. She's pretty, like Johnny, but seems a bit beaten down. Maybe it's from being on her feet all day. She says hello, then excuses herself to go freshen up. I hear a shower turn on. I imagine managing a Taco Bell leaves you feeling pretty grimy.

She's back before long, damp hair in a braid, still looking tired but smiling. She downs a glass of water, and the four of us chat for a few minutes. Denise is always nearby, and she occasionally contributes to the conversation, but mostly she stays in the background.

"Will you play for us, May?" Johnny asks, after May Ella's had a little time to relax.

May Ella grins. "Sure." She goes out of the room and returns holding a violin. Settling it under her chin and on her shoulder, she holds the bow up, poised for a moment, and then just lets fly.

Holy shit, I get goose bumps. I've been to the symphony, of course, and it sounds to me as if May Ella's good enough to play in a major orchestra. She's got the passion and skill, and her music rips your heart to pieces and then sews it up again.

I glance at Johnny, and he's watching her, rapt, his eyes welling with tears. This is his childhood, I realize. While teenage Johnny probably did more manual jobs, this is how May Ella would get people to give them money for food. This is one of the ways that they were able to support themselves—with the art that she's creating with her instrument. It's soul-deep.

I hadn't thought that visiting Johnny's mom would be so emotional for me. I'd thought that we were taking this trip for him. But maybe that's not all there is to it. Maybe this was something that I needed to see. To help me get to know him better.

We stay the night in a hotel and come back the next day to cook Thanksgiving dinner. Johnny takes charge of the bird, and May Ella and I handle the sides. His mom tries to help, but she's just too frail, so we settle for her supervising.

Sitting around a Thanksgiving table with my husband, my new in-laws (what a concept!), and Denise, a wave of gratitude passes over me.

Gratitude that Johnny listened to me when I told him not to kill himself. Gratitude that he came home with me. That he helped his mama. That he's now getting help.

That I have a new family, even when I didn't intend it.

We wash the dishes and watch some football, and then it's time to leave for our hotel. It's been a long day, and Sue Ann's clearly tired.

After we say goodbye and promise to visit again, she takes one of our hands in each of hers and says, "It's so good to see you boys making each other happy. I love you both, and I hope this is just the first of a whole lotta holidays together."

"We love you, too," I say, and Johnny looks at me with hearts in his eyes.

As we pull out of the driveway, I tell Johnny I have a surprise for him. "Tomorrow, we're gonna go out to the coast," I say. "I know a place that I think you'll really like."