The Forgotten Child (15 page)

So how’d he manage to allow a woman like Crystal to cuckold him, use his son, his one weakness, against him?
And for what purpose
? Since she’d shown up, he’d been unable to find out what she really wanted. He didn’t believe her passionate plea that she wanted to be his wife, a mother to Trevor, she’d had a change of heart and she loved him and needed him. Bullshit.

He’d allowed her to get away with far too much, including allowing her access to his bank account, their joint account. But this was only one in a long line up of many truly monstrous fuckups. But he’d been a desperate man, drowning in the care of his child. A child, he now knew wasn’t quite right.

When Trevor was born, she’d never looked after him. She’d fretted through her entire pregnancy of the baby ruining her body. She was amazing in bed, but she’d never truly been his wife.

Now after years of being gone, she still avoided Trevor, wouldn’t touch him, look at him or talk to him. Nothing. So why was she really here?

Well she was up to something. Their big blow up revealed a few things. She knew way too much of his personal business, his current offers to buy more land, his pending development permit to build a big show ring for the horses he was breeding. How’d she find out? Well, once Brad found that leak, he’d plug it and find a way to be rid of her.

As for Emily, just thinking of her sweet innocence and what this must be doing to her pounded the nausea in his stomach. He knew she cared for him and Trevor. She wore her heart on her sleeve, her passion for life and her angelic love for children. She was so beautiful. Her inner radiance reached out to touch whoever was around. Brad leaned against the worn cedar siding on the barn. He squeezed his fists and slapped his hat against his leg. He wanted to hit something. Emily, Katy and Trevor deserved better. Brad slid open the barn door and climbed the ladder into the loft. It was completely dark as he sank down against the wall.

He’d never expected Crystal to return. When she first walked out, he tracked her down in Hawaii. He jumped on the next plane; arrived at the all-inclusive resort where she’d rented a suite. He’d convinced the hotel manager to let him into her suite and he waited for two hours for Crystal to show. Time healed some wounds, but not that. He’d watched as his wife burst through her hotel room door, giggling, wearing a skimpy green string bikini with some blonde buff young surfer draped and drooling over her. The arrogant prick left after Brad threatened to kick his ass if he touched his wife, and even then, he had to shove the guy a couple times before he stood down. Crystal stared right through Brad, like a cold heartless bitch. She poured herself a glass of red wine. When Brad yanked her suitcase from the closet and started jamming in her clothes, she’d clawed his arms and face, threatening to call security if he didn’t leave. She screamed and cried; she never wanted to be a mother and shouted Brad was no fun anymore.

Until then, Brad couldn’t see her for what she really was. But she successfully ripped off his tattered blinders. He left, slept in a chair at the airport and hopped on the first plane home. He never tried to find her again. Crystal stayed away. She never called. And Brad did nothing but care for his son, and struggle to get through each day. And that mistake was what Emily and the children paid for now.

Once he was a fool. Never again. This sudden change of heart, Crystal now wanting a marriage, even expecting Brad to return to the bedroom and feigning a deep frantic concern for a child she didn’t know—what did she want?

At one time, Brad would have done anything to have her, to keep her. As a young arrogant player, he’d obsessed with having her. Now the only feelings he could summon were contempt and a bone chilling fear when she’d threatened to take Trevor, the first day, during their first of many fights.

Emily filled his dreams at night. She was the type of woman he’d never looked twice at. But now, every part of her small rounded bottom, curvy bust and innocent soft eyes, filled and occupied his every waking moment. He dreamed of running his fingers through her heaps of rich brown hair, with its gentle waves that bounced over her shoulder. Every time he closed his eyes, he’d picture her silky warm and naked, lying under him, her brown eyes shimmering with open desire, an honest love given with no expectations.

When he walked upstairs into his bedroom the afternoon Crystal arrived home, he was bowled over by her brash and bold arrogance. She’d hung all her clothes in his closet, as if she’d never left. She’d raced over to him and threw her arms around his neck, pressing her full breasts against him, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Brad couldn’t believe how good she looked, even as he pried her arms away. Her smile turned bitter. She crossed her arms and coldness filled her pale blue eyes. She accused him of sleeping with Emily, said she was his paid whore. She twisted his feelings, the goodness Emily brought here and tainted it with her own poison.

Crystal knew Brad was attempting to get Trevor diagnosed with autism, that Emily was doing therapy with Trevor.

He still remembered how he grabbed her suitcases, now stored in the back of the closet, and opened them on the bed. He said nothing, but seized her neatly hung clothes and shoved them in her fancy bags. She was a dirty fighter; she clawed at his arm, and then had the nerve to say, “I know you’re trying to steal Mary Haske’s property. Right out from under her.”

Someone had been talking, but not the truth. Brad would never do that to Mary, but he’d be first to buy when she put it on the market. He also knew by Crystal’s smile she’d hurt Mary with her lies, twisting the story into something it wasn’t. Because Brad hadn’t been completely honest with Mary, he’d never told her he was buying up the land around her, he wanted hers, and that his realtor was now watching and waiting for hers to be listed.

“
I want a divorce. And I want you out of my house.” Brad fisted his hands and had to remind himself no matter what, don’t hit her. Keep your hands down.

She laughed a deep seductive, throaty laugh and raised her palms up as if showing him something. “If you try to divorce me, or throw me out of this house, my lawyer will proceed with action to take Trevor away from you with full custody of the boy. I’ll take half of this ranch that’s been in your family for two generations.”

Crystal now paced around him; a woman with a plan.

“
Then I’ll subdivide this property, breaking it up and sell it piece by piece.”

Brad wondered if the chest pains he was experiencing were just a warning or a heart attack. Because he knew she was right. She’d done her homework. She also knew Brad would pay her to go away, but the ranch was a part of him, taking this prime land and breaking it up would hurt him. But it was the threat of taking Trevor away that would kill him. That threat, she knew, would be enough to keep him in line.

Crystal yanked open the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out her black channel bag. She dug inside and handed him a letter from her lawyer.

Brad hesitated he shoved his hands in his pocket. His chest tightened; he struggled to breath. But he gave in and ripped the papers from her hand. As he read the legalese, a cold sweat beaded his spine. She’d placed Trevor on a list for an institution in California for autistic children. Her lawyer had already begun the paperwork and Trevor hadn’t even been diagnosed, citing a long waiting list.

Brad was positive the room took on a slow sick spin, and the floor softened beneath him. He ground his teeth so hard and then roared. Throwing his arms in the air, he backed Crystal into a corner and rammed his fist through the wall above her head. Crystal screamed and ducked. Brad backed away and the papers fell to floor. His knuckles were scraped and bleeding. He stared at her scrawny neck and pictured his hands wrapped around it, squeezing the life out of this cold heartless bitch. She screamed, and must have seen the threat of murder in his eyes. He blinked then grabbed the crumpled letter at his feet ran down the stairs. Brad flicked open his cell phone and dialed his old friend, and lawyer, Keith Rainer, as he climbed in his truck.

“
I need to talk to Keith, this is Brad Friessen.”

“
I’m sorry Mr. Friessen, Keith’s at home sick today. Can I take a message?”

“
No, I’ll call him at home.” He hung up on Keith’s secretary and dialed Keith’s home number. Brad had grown up with Keith, went to school together, chased girls and, as teenagers, were a nuisance, causing all kinds of typical teenage trouble together.

The phone rang six times before the poor bugger answered. He could barely talk and he sounded like he was so congested. He coughed so hard, Brad would swear he choked up a lung. When Brad told him what happened, he urged him to come over. Thank goodness, he was close. Keith owned a small acreage not far from Brad.

Keith looked like hell, his dark hair sticking up in clumps, a two-day beard, pale with a bright red nose. Jenny, Keith’s high school sweetheart, and now his plump, short wife, frowned from the kitchen when Keith led Brad into his home office with a box of Kleenex tucked under his arm. He zipped up his dark blue hoodie and sank down in a brown leather chair, scooting closer to the desk. Brad sat across from him and handed him the letter from Crystal’s lawyer. Keith plucked out a few tissues, blew his nose and dumped the wet tissues in a pile on his desk. When he adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his blood shot eyes appeared to wither before Brad. “I’m sick; my head’s pounding so let’s not mince words. You fucked up, Brad. You should have filed for legal separation and full custody of Trevor when Crystal walked out. I told you then.”

Keith waved the letter in the air. “I’ve heard of this guy, Sandy; he’s slimy and underhanded. They’ve created quite the tale. You forced Crystal out of the house when Trevor was a baby, while she struggled in a bottomless pit of sorrow with postpartum depression.” Keith flicked the letter with this finger. “This part’s my favorite. You hid her child from her and kept her from seeing Trevor. You told her she had no rights and she had to do everything you said, when you said it. Now with Trevor being diagnosed with autism, her only interest is to make sure Trevor’s respected for who he is. He was born this way and should be left this way; it’s who he is. Also she’ll not allow you to experiment with her child, engaging him in a therapy that is cruel, abusive and isolates him.”

“
Is there a possibility she can win?

“
Absolutely.” Keith tossed down the letter, grabbed a wad of Kleenex, and blew his stuffed up nose. “So what happened to your hand?

Brad glanced down at the dried blood on his knuckle. He squeezed his fist and winced. “I lost my temper and put my fist threw the wall above the bitch’s head.”

Keith didn’t move, but his bloodshot eyes took on that stern parents look. The one you get when you screwed up big time.

“
I know it was stupid, but fuck, look what the conniving bitch is doing.”

“
You better pull your head out of your ass. I guarantee you right now; if she didn’t call the cops, she’s taking pictures for her lawyer. And she’ll play this up. You’re building her case for her.”

“
She’s dragged Emily into this, saying if there is any inappropriate behavior with Emily and she’ll take action against me. How does she even know about Emily?”

Keith coughed and leaned back in his seat. He held up the flat of his hand. “Are you involved with this woman?”

Brad’s face colored. He fidgeted in the straight back chair. “I hired her to look after Trevor and to cook. But I got to tell you this woman’s amazing. She helped me see there was something wrong with Trevor. She researched autism, contacted a parents group and helped me to see his symptoms. She helped me connect with the right people to get him diagnosed and to start intervention. She helped me understand my kid. She fought for Trevor, who’s not her kid, and she’s taught me not to give up, to advocate, to help Trevor. She showed me the potential and chance my kid has for a bright future. And she has so much love and passion flowing through her veins; I think she’s the most beautiful, selfless woman out there.” Brad knew he was shouting.

“
So you’re in love with her. And she works for you. Kind of like the servant and master. You sleeping with her?”

Brad nearly came out of his chair but instead, he slammed his fist down knocking over the pencil holder on the exceptionally neat desk.

Keith calmly picked up the dark green plastic holder, pushed aside a stack of bills, clearing the desk so the only thing on it was his box of tissue. Keith rested his arms on his desktop then glanced at the open door. Frowning, he casually glanced back at Brad. “You always were a player with the ladies all through high school. I watched you when you chased around Crystal, your head shoved so far up your ass you couldn’t see how she’d lead you around by the nose hairs. Just so you could have some hot filly hanging off your arm. To you it was just looks, always going for the same type, a blonde bimbo whose only interest was your bank account and their own pretty ass. What the fuck are you doing?”

It was as if a light bulb blinked on and Brad was ashamed. He’d allowed his feeling for Emily to lead him. He’d pushed aside the little voice warning him to leave her alone. But he wanted her and the sparks between them were off the charts. But not in a got-to-get-you-into-bed, purely physical way, like it had been with Crystal. With Emily, it was deeper. Something he’d never experienced, nor thought possible. He wanted something real with her, and right now, he saw it being snatched away. “I don’t know anymore.”