Finding Kylie (10 page)

Chapter 12

             
Frustrated, Timothy Banks hit the end button on his cell, after leaving his third message for Chastity Wayne. 

             
“Most people call back when there’s money involved,” he grumbled, and waved to his paralegal on his way to his office.  “Good Morning, Janie.”

             
“Good Morning, Tim.  Have you made any progress reaching Ms. Wayne?” 

             
He looked at her and raised his eyebrow. “Who do you think I was just trying to reach ... again?  Do me a favor.  I don’t have the time to chase her down.”  He put the Wayne file on her desk. “Please keep calling until you get a response, and set up a meeting.  No, scratch that ... If I’m here when she calls back or answers, transfer her to me.  If I’m not, then set up a meeting.”

             
“Will do ... I’ll keep you posted.”  She watched him walk into his office, closed her eyes and breathed in. “Why does he have to smell so good?”

             
After running three blocks, Chastity turned around and

sucked wind
all the way back home.  She slowed to a walk,

vowing to never take up running again. 
Originally, she had good

intentions, and thought a run would burn
off some nervous energy.                           

             
It worked for Anne.  Her friend was in great shape and was

always bugging her to join her at the gym, but Chastity had a high

metabolism and so it made for a good excuse.  In the back of

her mind, she knew that she should get some sort of physical

activity, at least to eliminate stress. 

             
Just not running!
She slowly stretched her legs out to

prevent
her already soar muscles from crying out in protest

tomorrow.

              As she reached for her towel, she heard her answering machine from inside.  She bolted through the door to catch the call. 

             
“Coming!” She picked up the phone, causing a loud screech. The feedback kept her from hearing anything on the other end. 

             
“Hold on. Hold on!” She encouraged the caller, as she turned the machine off. 

             
“You know you really should get call notes.” Cheryl laughed from the other end. 

             
Chastity smiled at the sound of her voice.  “When this thing kicks it in, I will.  You calling to check up on me?” 

             
Her eyes darted down to the glaring red light on her machine, which was blinking.  She was tired of listening to the multitudes of condolences left on her voicemail.

             
  “Of course I am.  I just want to see how you’re doing ... and,” Cheryl breathed in, “I thought I’d extend an open invitation.  You’ve not been here before and I think it’s time.”  

             
Chastity’s heart leapt.  She more than agreed.  “How ‘bout this?  I will make reservations for the end of the month.  That will give me time to have my exhibit, and then fly out for at least a weekend.  Maybe more ... we’ll see.” 

             
After discussing her options with Cheryl, she hung up in a decent mood.  She knew the idea of going to Oklahoma should be overwhelming to her, but it gave her some hope.  Maybe it was time to find out more about her family, and what better way than to do it up close. 

             
Not personal, but at least up close.
 

             
Her short-lived jog and visit with Cheryl rejuvenated her enough to read more about Kylie’s past.  She grabbed the stack of journals, from her desk, and headed for her beanbag chair. She quickly flipped past the inflammatory words, to the next entry.

             
“Don’t you want me to go with you?” Cheryl pleaded.  “I really don’t think you should go up there by yourself.”

             
Kylie gave her a look that told her she’d be okay, and shook her head. 

             
“No, I have to do this alone.  Besides, you’re parked in the driveway with a view to the front door.  If I need help, you’ll know.” 

             
Kylie breathed in her nose and exhaled out of her mouth.  She felt like she was going to throw up.  The stress had made her sick for days.

             
Last night, she confided to Cheryl of her suspicions, and since then prayed she wasn’t pregnant. 

             
I am not. I am not ... I can’t be pregnant
, she repeated in her head, although she already knew she was. 

             
First thing this morning, Cheryl brought her a pregnancy test, and made her take it.  It confirmed her worst fear, and Kylie knew that the only way she was going stop being scared was if she confronted her attacker. 

             
Cheryl insisted on driving her to the Mikale’s for moral support, and as she sat there she was silently thanking her friend for her wisdom.  She knew she was going to need all the support she could when she’d finished here today.

             
“Good luck.  Yell if you need me.  I have one foot out the door, ready to run up there.”  Cheryl put her hand on the handle.

             
“Thanks...” She left the car, and slowly walked up the driveway.  She fought from flashing back to that night, as she passed by the gate to the pool. 

             
The closer she got to their front door, the queasier she became.  Once at the porch steps, she almost bolted back to the car for safety.

             
“I have to do this ... I’ll never feel better if I don’t.”

             
The heavy brass doorknocker was shaped like the head of a roaring lion. It looked like it might take a bite out of her unsteady hand at any second.  Kylie hesitated, but finally mustered up enough courage to grab it.  It came down with a loud bang, which she was sure could be heard throughout the house.  She waited a few minutes and tried again.

             
As the door opened, she felt like she was going to jump out of her skin.  Her hands were wet, and her whole body felt like it was on fire.  She didn’t want to see him. 

             
Please don’t let it be him.  Please don’t let it be him
. 

             
She got her wish when John’s dad, Jackson, pulled open the heavy door and gave her an annoying stare.

             
“Yes, can I help you?”  He looked down his nose at her. 

             
Jackson was in the middle of a good book, and was irritated that he was forced to answer the door.  His housekeeper was in the back yard, and obviously didn’t hear a thing. 

             
After a few minutes he got up from his comfy chair in his study, to answer it. 

             
“Sir, I was ...” Chastity tried to speak, but was not prepared.

             
Jackson watched, as the young waif of a girl stammered and looked at her feet.  He thought she looked like she was going to be sick. 

             
Maybe she’s on something
, he thought to himself. 

             
Chastity tried once more.  “I was wondering if your son was here.” 

             
She couldn’t make herself say his name. 

             
“Which one?  Jesse?” His patience was running thin.

             
She shook her head no. 

             
“John?” Jackson tried pulling any information out he could from this girl.

             
She closed her eyes and nodded. 

             
Ah, another admirer
, Jackson thought. John sure had his share. 

             
He gave her his usual reply, “Well, he’s out with friends.  You’ll have to come back.” 

             
Jackson wanted to shut the door as quickly as he could.  Something about this girl was off, which made him very uncomfortable.  He didn’t want to extend the conversation any longer than possible.

             
Kylie saw Mr. Mikale’s hand reach for the door to push it shut.  Relieved, she consoled herself.

             
Okay, I tried to confront him.  That's a step
. 

             
She knew she should feel some closure, except the nausea still plagued her.  Before she could turn to walk away, the urge to throw up couldn’t be held it back. 

             
The next thing Mr. Mikale saw was vomit splattering onto his marble entryway, and all over his house shoes. 

             
You’ve got to be kidding me!
  He thought, as he backed away. 

             
“Ms. Adams,” he yelled through his house. “Ms. Adams!”

             
Cheryl ran up the driveway to support Kylie, as she continued to get rid of her pent up emotions all over Mr. Mikale’s floor. 

             
“Girls, if you will kindly go back to your car so I can get your mess cleaned up!” Jackson was fuming. 

             
Cheryl gently sat Kylie on the bottom step, and then proceeded to march up the rest of them on a mission.

             
“Excuse me, but if your son hadn’t messed up in the first place, my friend wouldn’t be in this position!  Don’t you dare talk down to us!  Your precious son, John, raped her!” Cheryl pointed to Kylie, who wanted to sink into a hole. “And he ‘messed’ her up for good!”  Cheryl’s fiery eyes held contempt. 

             
“Cheryl.”  Kylie’s soft voice came from below.

             
“Don’t try to stop me.”  She warned Kylie.  As it was, she was already holding back the urge to push Mr. Mikale down into her friend’s fresh stomach contents.

Chapter 13

              Jackson Mikale used to be a tolerant man, until his wife passed.  When Marilyn died, everything inside him did too.  He knew his boys had suffered from his stern ways, but never knew how much until this moment. 

             
He wanted to deny everything this brash girl had told him, but deep down he knew it was true.  His youngest son, John, was never blessed to know his mother, and Jackson failed him by not sharing his memories of her.  This attributed to John’s lack of respect for women. 

             
Jackson shook his head when thinking that his youngest son had inherited his controlling behavior, but there was no denying it now.  Part of him broke on that porch when he heard what his son was being accused of.  Although he knew he should concede, he still had to deny it and clean up his boy’s mess, which was far more encompassing the vomit on his shoes.

             
“I’m sorry - what is your name?” He stared down to the mouthy girl, with steely eyes.

             
“I’m Cheryl, and this is Kylie,” she said slowly. 

             
In his usual superior attitude Jackson ordered them in.

             
“Both of you … this way.  We need to a talk.” 

             
He opened the second of the double doors, allowing them a way in that wouldn’t have them tracking in vomit through the rest of his house.

             
Kylie noticed his house cleaner approaching with a mop and bucket, and gave her an apologetic smile. 

             
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Her voice trailed off, as Cheryl pulled her along.

             
“This way - to the study please.”

             
He nodded for them to start down the hall.  He wanted to keep their conversation as private as he could.  He turned to his house cleaner, and briskly nodded.