Chapter 4

Priscilla

Two Weeks Later

I can’t believe that I’ve been cut off, abruptly and permanently from support by my deceased husband’s father. After suffering for ten long years with this man, I don’t get any kind of support whatsoever. The worst part is, there is nothing I can do about it, though truthfully, we are better cut off from that family. Conrad and his father had known all along that Mia wasn’t their blood. I couldn’t tell them the truth, that she was their blood, because then I would have to reveal what had happened with Ashton. The fact that once I was married to Conrad he backed off, was enough. So I allowed them to believe that the baby was Ray’s, I was forced to sign a prenup acknowledging that I came to him four months pregnant by another man. At the time, they told me not to worry, that Conrad would treat her like his own daughter and the family would welcome her with open arms. They kept their word about being good to Mia. It was me his family had a problem with. The bottom line is, there will be no child support forthcoming. And there are no marital assets because nothing of value was in Conrad’s name. I should have paid more attention to our finances but anytime I asked questions, Conrad always told me not to worry, that it was being taken care of.

That means it’s up to me to recover fast and step up to provide for my daughter. Sitting here with my discharge instructions in hand, I feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. I need to suck it up and get my ass in gear because my daughter needs me. I can’t let her see me as weak and depressed. Therefore, I muscle fears for our future down and lock my worries away in a little box in the back of my mind. Waiting to leave is the hardest part because it’s hard not to start worrying again.

When Raymond and Mia show up, they’re all smiles, rainbows, and sunshine. It lifts my spirits a little. When Mia moves in for a hug, I gaze over her shoulder at Ray. He was seriously hot when we dated in high school. Now that he’s fully grown, he’s even more attractive. He’s always had broad shoulders, but now he’s packed on the muscle. I’m still having trouble believing he’s back after thinking he was dead for so long. If he was alive all along, then why didn’t he contact me? I haven’t broached the subject with him even though I have a million questions. It’s like we’re tiptoeing over the past.

“What’s the plan today, Prissy?”

It stabs at my heart that he still calls me by the nickname he tagged me with all those years ago. I hold up my discharge paperwork, “I’ve officially been discharged but I need to pick up a few medications.”

“Are you up for getting a bite to eat,” Ray asks.

I give him a quick smile. “Only always. I’ve been craving a burger and some fries after this healthy hospital food.”

He grins down at me. “You should have said. I’d have brought you that.”

I shrug, “Fries are only good for a few minutes. They’re always crappy take out and never warm up very well.”

He replies chipperly, “You are not wrong about that. Let’s get you packed up and outta this miserable excuse for a rejuvenating spa resort.”

I smile at his enthusiasm and Mia giggles. She likes his sense of humor, and I just like him full stop. If I’m honest, those old feelings never died. They always say if the person you love dies then the love never does, it just changes. That happened over the years, but now he’s here again I feel the old pull. But as he’s been nothing but friendly with me, I lock my heart down and slap a smile on my face, because this man does not deserve my angst. He’s the one doing us a gigantic favor by taking us in until I can get back on my feet.

When the nurse comes to take me down in a wheelchair, she calls Raymond a different name, Rage. And she flirts shamelessly with him. Although he doesn’t encourage her by any stretch of the imagination, he doesn’t shut her down either. That shouldn’t bother me, that this gorgeous single man has women chasing after him, but it does. It bothers me a lot. That feeling I’m experiencing is jealousy. I quickly realize that I’m experiencing a lot of big emotions where this man is concerned, where there used to be only grief.

Once I’m settled in his truck he closes the door. The window is cracked open, and I can hear every word they’re saying.

She says, “The last time I texted you, I didn’t get an answer.”

He runs his hand through his hair before answering her. “I’ve been busy, Mariam. I have a lot on my plate right now.”

“So, you had no time in the last six weeks to get back to me?”

“Look,” he replies. “I know you’re looking for a relationship.”

“What’s wrong with that? We were good together,” she says and places her hand on his shoulder.

He shifts away, “We spent the weekend together. It’d be weird to make long term plans off one weekend together.”

“I’m not suggesting that we get engaged. I just think you should give me a chance. I’m a nice person. It could lead to something wonderful.”

“I’m not looking for anything wonderful, with you or anybody else. I’ve had enough heartbreak to realize that relationships never work out the way you think they’re going to. Marriage and babies are not for me.”

“Then what they say is true, that you never see the same woman twice.”

Raymond’s voice turns exasperated. “I wouldn’t go that far. You got a whole weekend. I’m not looking to get tied down, not now, not ever.”

“Is that it or are you catching feelings for this one?”

“Hell no,” he responds hotly. “I’m absolutely not having a relationship with Priscilla. Don’t even go there.”

“We both know you’re nursing a huge hero complex. She’s the one you saved from her crazy husband, right?”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be talking about your patient that way, Mariam.”

“God, I’m not talking about her medical issues, only what everybody already knows from watching the news.”

I cringe on the inside because my daughter has been listening to this whole conversation as well.

When Ray jumps into the truck and starts the ignition, it’s like the conversation outside never happened. He’s talking about taking us to best restaurant in town. Mia asks excitedly, “The one with Barley?”

“Yes. That’s the place. I think your mom is going to like it far more than a hamburger.”

They’re both positive and upbeat as they talk back and forth.

Me? I’m still digesting what I heard. If I thought there was a chance that Ray and I could pick up where we left off then I was mistaken. He’s not the settling down type. Not only that, but he’s got beautiful women throwing themselves at him, he doesn’t need me. And he’s nice to Mia because she’s not his.

His words reverberate through my head, Hell no … I’m absolutely not having a relationship with Priscilla. Don’t even go there.

He seemed almost insulted that she would think he could be romantically interested in the woman I’ve become. It hurt to think he was being nice to me because he felt sorry for me, but that’s the reality of my situation. The old Ray is gone, we’re like strangers now and I need to stop thinking we can reignite what we once had. I need to work on getting better so I can stop relying on his charity.

I do want to understand what happened all those years ago, though. Why did my parents tell me he was dead? I know they didn’t like him, but lying about his death was a bridge to far. Though I saw his gravestone with my own eyes, why would he have one if he wasn’t dead? Maybe my parents honestly thought he had died?

I want to take a trip to that cemetery and visit the grave site. At the time I was too distraught to pay close attention to his headstone, I want to see if I missed some small detail that would have alerted me it was fake. I want to see if it’s actually there or if it’s something I imagined in my grief. I was a mess back then, not just about Ray, but with what happened with Ashton just before Ray died. If I had to choose a point where my life fell apart, then it would be that night. Looking into the rear-view mirror, I watch Mia all happy and content, playing on the new phone that Ray—or Rage as that nurse called him—got for her. I’m going to ask him about the name thing. I’m curious why he would have gotten tagged with such an unpleasant nickname.

As Ray’s vehicle bounces along, he reaches over to turn on some country music. As Johnny Cash’s voice came out the speakers, I smile. While so much has happened over the last eleven years, some things never changed.

***

After hearing the conversation Ray had with the nurse, part of me just wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and sleep. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically, but he seemed really excited about taking me to this place, so I shook off the blues. I’d had two weeks laying on my back to rest, so I sat back and enjoyed the ride. We were headed to the coast, and as soon as I glimpsed the ocean, I could feel my mood lift. There’s something about the calming water that always makes me happy.

He turns onto a winding road, and we end up pulling into the parking lot of a super-sweet little restaurant. It’s surrounded by trees and flowers. There’s something so quaint and old world about it. The Serpent’s Den , the sign over the door reads. It seems a funny name for a place like this, but I smile none the less. The moment we pull in, a small woman with long, light brown hair and a floral dress comes running out with a huge smile on her face, and she’s followed by a large sandy-colored dog. This lovely woman is so nice and well put together that I feel like a swamp creature by comparison. I haven’t been able to do my hair properly or put make-up on since the day of the shooting, the day I lost my whole life. Granted it wasn’t a life I really wanted or enjoyed but it was the one I was living. Having it all ripped away had only one saving grace, Conrad was no longer there to harass us morning, noon and night and I was no longer under the control of his family. That in and of itself was a godsend.

“Hello, I’m Meli, you must be Priscilla,” she says. Her voice is musical, and her French accent makes anything she says sound like poetry.

I reach out to shake her hand, “Nice to meet you,” I say politely.

“I am sure you would prefer to be in bed, but Rage always insists he knows best,” she says lightly, flashing a look in Ray’s direction. Or Rage, I guess if even his semi-adoptive mother calls him that, then it must be the name he uses now.

“She’s been stuck in a hospital bed for days, I thought she needed some fresh air,” he says.

“Hey, she is sitting right here and can speak for herself,” I say. I’m not really angry, but I do want to get out of the truck. It’s embarrassing to realize, but I’m going to need some help.

“ Bof , Rage, help the lady now,” Meli orders.

Rage obediently opens my door and helps me out. Once I’m standing, I take a better look around, it’s like a fairytale cottage. Mia jumps out behind me with amazing agility and runs off to greet the dog she talks about constantly. She happily follows along behind us and plops down at the only open spot at a four top table once we’ve all sat down. Meli yells something in French and out comes a server with a tray full of drinks. They’re all little glass bottles with hinged tops in an oval bucket of ice. The liquid inside is all pretty pastel colors. Mia takes a clear one with bubbles. When I hesitate, Meli explains, “They’re all different kinds of fruit juice.”

Mia holds up hers. “Honeydew melon, carbonated. It’s the best one. You should try it.”

I lean over to take a bottle, the movement pulls at my stitches and I wince. Ray quickly plucks one out and hands it to me, our fingers brushing for a moment.

I don’t know why but I blush as I take it from him. I look away, hoping he doesn’t notice. I find myself face-to-face with Meli and boy does she notice everything. First a ghost of a smile jumps onto her face, then Mia says something that draws her notice and when she looks from Mia to Ray, she freezes. I catch her looking from one to the other and realize that although Ray may be oblivious, this woman is not. She sees what I saw when I saw them together for the first time. But it can’t be true. She pulls out her napkin and whispers, “ Oh mon Dieu .”

“Meli, are you okay?”

She nods without looking up.

He reaches out to touch her arm. “Are you sure. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No ghost. Excuse me, I will be back in one moment.” My heart sinks when she jumps to her feet and darts away through a doorway marked toilettes .

Ray looks at me and says, “There must be something going around, are you okay? You’re a little pale.”

I unhinge the lid and take a long refreshing drink of the melon spritzer trying to distract myself from Meli’s sudden disappearance. I find that it’s totally the most delicious drink I’ve ever tasted. Wonderful enough so that I want to drink it on the regular. Placing the bottle back on the table I look around, Meli is still in the restroom. I need to talk to her, I’m not sure what she’s thinking but she’s wrong. No matter how much I want it to be right.

Ray and Mia talk about their favorite dishes and draw me into their conversation as they look at the menu. I have no clue what they’re talking about, so I tell Mia to pick something for me. While she’s happily perusing the menu, I realize that Ray is staring at me. It’s the perfect time to ask him about the name thing.

“Do you mind if I ask why that nurse at the hospital called you Rage.”

Of course, Mia answers the question for him. “Ray joined and MC and his club name is Rage.”

I’m a little taken aback. I remember him loving to ride motorcycles but never took him for the type of man to join a gang. Again, it’s none of my business, so I don’t ask. But I can’t let it go in my mind and speculate that he must have been filled with rage at some point to have taken that nickname. I don’t know enough about this man’s life to understand what he would have been enraged about.

My mind begins to fill with scenarios to explain the name, things that might have happened in the years since we were together. Maybe he lost someone close to him, like a wife. Or he was injured and lost some bodily movement. If that’s the case he’s recovered nicely. Oh God, I hope he didn’t lose a child. That would be horrific.

Ray comments, “I wonder what’s taking Meli so long?”

Mia starts to get up. “I can check on her.”

I reach out and touch her arm. “No, I’ll check on her. I have to go to the restroom anyway.”

Ray takes another drink of his juice and responds, “Yeah, Mia. Let your mom go. You might have to help me wrangle the dog out of the restaurant again. You know how he is.”

My daughter’s voice turns serious. “It’s because people feed him scraps. And that dog has a name. Calling him dog is disrespectful. It’s like calling you guy or man.”

Ray just shrugs. “I’ll answer to anything but an obscenity.”

It’s both heartwarming and heartbreaking to see the easy interaction they have with each other. Heartbreaking, because I know once I’m healed then we’ll probably not see one another again. I get to my feet and head back to the restroom. I find Meli standing in front of the mirror with both hands resting on the sink.

I don’t really know how to start the conversation, so I ask, “Is everything okay?”

Her head slowly lifts, and she looks over at me. Her expression is something approaching tragic. “It’s all you. You’re the reason he is called Rage.”

I step back and lean against the doorframe shaking my head. “What do you mean?”

“You were the one who broke his heart. He was so angry for so long, always raging about how unfair the world was. This was your doing.”

I just keep shaking my head. She can’t be right. There is no way. “No, you’ve got it all wrong.”

“I do not think I so.” Pointing at her eye, she says, “I have eyes that see. That sweet daughter of yours looks like Rage. The thick brown hair, the green eyes. They are the same.”

My mind flails wildly, groping to come up with something to explain this situation. She’s mistaken, I know what she sees, but it’s not true. “No, that’s not true. She looks like her father…” I stop suddenly as an image of her father crosses my mind. His face contorted with anger. “If you think she looks like Rage you need to know it’s just a coincidence.”

Taking a step closer to me, she searches my face. Whatever she’s looking for, she doesn’t find it. “You lie, I think,” she says suspiciously, then adds, “Either to Rage or to yourself.”

I start to break down. “We were childhood sweethearts. He didn’t want me all those years ago and he doesn’t want me now.”

“How could you know this? You cannot read his mind.”

“I know he doesn’t want me because he said it out loud today. He’s not the settling down type and doesn’t want to be trapped by a wife or children.”

She still looks doubtful.

Exasperated, I tell her, “I can’t make him want me. Forcing him will just make him hate us.”

“Yet, you are with him now.”

“I have no place to go, and Rage is a nice man, who’s taking us in. I only accepted because of my daughter. I’m going to get on my feet fast and get a job. We’ll be out long before we wear out our welcome.”

“Very well, ma petite . I will have my eyes on you. You will not break his heart again. Am I clear?”

“Yes, of course,” I stammer. “I’ll be gone before you know it.”

“We shall see if all you say comes to pass,” she says as she splashes water on her face. She looks up and our eyes meet in the mirror, “And that little girl? I see, even if you don’t.”

I shake my head sadly. She’s mistaken.