Sadie's Mountain (33 page)

I put my head down. What am I going to tell him?

Once we’re in the car I realize he’s not going to ask me where I was. But the tension between us, if visible, would be thick as cream. I think now’s the time to ask him, to see if he will believe Renae has been abused by his brother. To see how he reacts. It’s almost like a test. If he gets defensive, it will show me how he might react to finding out what his brother is really capable of. Also, it might soften the blow when he finds out because he’ll already know his brother is capable of such evil doings.

“I saw Renae today,” I say, and look up at him through my lashes.

“Is that who called you?” he asks, his voice shaky.

“No.”

“Why’d you go over there?”

“I think Renae...” I stop to take a breath, brace myself on the car door handle. “Renae’s being abused by Donnie.”
Oh, god. That felt good to say out loud.

“What? Why do you think that?”

“Because she told me.” I wait. I stare at him to see if his face changes. He looks impassive as he stares at the road. He puts his fist up to his mouth.

“I mean, Donnie’s just like our dad. He’s kind of a jerk to her sometimes, but,” He stops, waits. “Our dad, he hit my mom, too.”

“In front of you?”

“Yes, in front of both of us. Donnie used to stop him, when he got older. That’s why I’m surprised she would tell you that,” he says, with pain written in the creases of his forehead.

“So, you believe me? You believe Renae.”

He bites his bottom lip. Never taking his eyes off the road. “I want to, but it doesn’t make sense. He’s a cop—the Chief of Police, for Christ’s sake!”

“I know, but...,” I try.

“He didn’t tolerate it in the house once he was old enough to stop it. Why would he do the same thing to his own wife?” he says, confused

“She has no reason to lie,” I say, crossing my arms. “She trusted me enough to tell, and I believe her.” When he turns to look at me, his face is defensive. Angry. Hurt. “It takes a lot for a victim to tell,” I state, because I know so well.

“I don’t think you’ve ever really known my brother, Sadie,” he decides.

Oh really?

“What if there are things
you
don’t know about him?” I ask.

“He was always there for me, for Momma. He protected us. Dad, he used to get violent, you know, with us boys. Donnie, he used to take it so I didn’t have to. He’s a good man. He’s served his country, his town. I know he’s kinda an asshole sometimes. But... To hit his wife.  I don’t know why she would...  It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Never mind,” I say. It hurts deep in my gut. He doesn’t believe her. He doesn’t believe me. How could he be so blind?

“Just let me think about this. I need to think about what you’re saying. I’m not saying you’re lying, or she’s lying. I just need to process this. Okay?”

My phone buzzes in the cloth purse strung over my shoulder. It’s a welcome distraction.

__

Lee Howard:
You don’t have to worry about that. I will expedite thru State Crime Lab due to recent actions causing a serious threat to the victim. I just need you to turn over evidence and make statement. I will take care of everything from there. Shouldn’t be more than a few days.

__

As I read those last seven words, somewhere deep in my brain I felt a small piece of the link between Donnie and me being snapped, detached from me for good. This is happening. But how is Dillon going to feel when he finds out? Is he going to believe me? I feel for him. Really, I do.

To find out that someone you love is completely different from what you’ve always thought. To see under the façade when there’s a monster underneath. It would be devastating. I’ve been wrong to protect Dillon from the truth. His brother is no hero, and he needs to know. Everyone does.

 I just hope he can handle it when the time comes. That he’ll still love me when he knows the truth. I look up at his perfect profile as he drives. That is one of my worst fears. I’d thought it in the shed ten years ago, and it scared me enough to try and fight back. The largest scar on my neck is from that moment. I touch it through the scarf and swallow. The reality hits me so hard again right now that my stomach hurts and I feel a cold sweat forming on the back of my neck and my upper lip.

Dillon might not love me when he learns the truth. I shake my head and look out the window. I can’t even process that. I’ve been running from this long enough. I have to do this for me, for Renae. I have to. I can’t turn back now.

Chapter Twenty-Six—What Justice Will Feel Like

Sitting at the table in Dillon’s interim kitchen eating the eggs he’s made, I realize I’m starving—and tired. Oh my goodness. We haven’t slept a wink. In fact, I’m hoping I can take a nap. My muscles are sore. My body is singing with overuse—but in a good way.

“What are you smiling at?” he asks.

“I didn’t realize I was,” I say, looking up at him through my lashes.

“You are,” he says, as he takes a bite. “You’re beaming.”

“You didn’t lie,” I say, “when you said every surface in the house, you really meant it.”

He just tilts his head down and smiles a mischievous grin, reaching across the table to touch my hand. His touch, even now, even after we’ve enjoyed each other for hours, ignites me again.

“No, I need to eat,” I say, with a giggle as I take my hand away from his in an exaggerated gesture. “You’re insatiable, Dr. McGraw.”

He nods and sits back in his chair. The muscles on his chest flex, his stomach ripples. “I’ll never get my fill,” he says, making my stomach clench and my heart quicken. I take a bite. I need sustenance.

There’s no part of my body that he hasn’t explored, memorized with his hands, his tongue, his lips. I can still feel him. Everywhere he’s touched is tingling.

My brain is filled with images, memories of last night and this morning. The way his hands cupped under me as he pressed my back into the warmed tiles in the shower. How the steam billowed up all around us mirroring the way it felt deep inside my skin. I just wanted to feel him again, before he finds out the truth. To block the world out for a night. So it was only him and it was only me.

The feeling as I arched my back, lifted up to meet him from the wooden floor in our room. The sensation of the smooth, cool wall in the hallway as I leaned into it while he lifted my thighs to his in the dim light.

It all started in the tub after we came home last night when our bodies began to speak to each other on their own frequency. I was looking at him, my chin immersed in bubbles as he took my hand in his and brought me to him, easing our need to be one after our argument in the car. Then the we moved out to the couch in our room. Oh, and the stairs. The stairs were fun.

 I blush when I think of the look in his eyes, like pure devotion. The sound of his breath in my ear, how it felt like a song created just for me. The scent of his skin, the taste of his chest, his neck. The feeling of the light-colored hairs on his chest as they tickled me. How his body trembled in synch with mine. How it strengthened us. How he and I were always meant to be together. I know him now. And he knows me, in every way.

We did not bother with using protection. I’m sure that on that first night, after he’d serenaded me with the Song of Songs, he’d planted his seed deep within me. How selfish of me to want his child to develop inside me—to sprout up out of what used to be a wasteland, but now feels like fertile ground. It’s a need—a desire as early as the beginning of time.

As I take the last bite of the warm yellow eggs, I look up and see that he’s watching me. He doesn’t need to say anything. I know just by the glow of his skin, the upturn of his mouth, the gleam in his eye. He looks how I feel. Loved. Cherished. Connected on some level that never existed before right this moment. I push away the doubt. This kind of love—it lasts. It withstands. It has to.

I let my eyes speak to him and he rises to find my lips from across the table.  He opens the white shirt of his I’d thrown on and grasps me by the softest part of my hips. His hands move up into my hair as his lips and mine co-mingle, coaxing each other. Tingles everywhere.

“The table,” he says, as he takes our plates and sets them on the counter behind him. I nod in agreement as he comes around and lifts me, setting me on the casual lightwood oak. My hair reaches the table second, as he places the soft pad of my right foot on his chest so that he can run first his finger, then his lips up the inside of my leg, slowly, methodically, to drive me crazy with anticipation.

The loud bell of the telephone ringing makes me jump.

He looks at me puzzled. “Your land line?” I ask.

“That’s weird,” he says. “No one ever calls me on this phone. Don’t move,” he says, smiling and all sparkle-eyed as he trots over to the phone hanging on the wall in the kitchen.

“Hello... This is he...Oh, I see...both of us...where?...”

I sit up on my elbows. He looks formal—un-relaxed. His chest looks tight. “Can I have the address, please?”

Then I bolt upright.
What’s going on?

“That’s about an hour trip...one o’clock will work...thank you.” As he hangs up the phone he turns to me. He looks perplexed. “That was the State Police. They want us both to come down for interviews. It looks like they found something in your room and have some questions for us.”

“What?”

“We have to go, Sadie. Maybe they’ve caught him.”

“I...”
What is going on? Did Officer Howard do this?
“Okay,” I say. It’s as if I’ve jumped on a roller coaster and someone pushed start before I had my seatbelt on. “I need to go to the bathroom first,” I say.

“You can come shower with me,” he says, nervously.

“Start the water and I’ll be right there,” I say, smiling that smile I give my fans when they ask for autographs.

I’ve got to call Officer Howard
. I’m sure by that look on his face, he knows my fake smiles from my real ones. As he walks away I feel like I’m standing on a cliff. I don’t know if I have the courage to take the leap. I have no clue what’s on the other side, or if Dillon will still love me when I’m there.

Please just let this be okay.

I climb the stairs. I can hear Dillon starting the water as I walk into the bedroom. I throw on Missy’s robe, grab my cloth purse and walk down the stairs again to find the bathroom down here. This bathroom still needs remodeling. It’s not my favorite to go in. As I shut the door and find the number in my phone, my heart is racing. The phone rings in my ear in little short spurts.

“Hello,” he says. “Lee Howard.”

“Officer Howard. This is Sadie Sparks.”

“What can I do for ya, Miss Sparks?”

“Why did the State Police call and want Dillon and me to come in for an interview?”

“Did they call you?” he asks.

“Yeah. They called Dillon’s land line.”

“Okay. I should explain,” he says. “The guy from Fayetteville found a hair when he done the fingerprinting. We sent it to the State Lab. It came back as the chief’s over the weekend. We’d thought Dillon brought it in with him. Or the Chief’d been in the house socially ‘till I got the call I told you about.”

“Renae.”

“I can’t say, ma’am. Yesterday, I called ‘em with my suspicions. Talked to Sergeant Daniels about the call I done got and what you said. Guess they’re ready to proceed.”

“Why are they taking over?”

“They police the police, Miss Sparks.”

“I just don’t think I’m ready. Tomorrow’s my momma’s funeral.”

“I know the timing ain’t right, but we’re on your side. Just think what justice’ll feel like.”

What justice will feel like.
What does justice feel like? Maybe a little like having wings.

Our car ride is filled with music, some thoughtful questioning by Dillon, and some vague answers by me. It takes us nearly an hour to make it to South Charleston. I’ve taken to shaking like when I’m cold on the inside. I keep seeing a strand of hair trembling around in my peripheral vision. It’s annoying and soothing at the same time.