Ripples (24 page)

“Before Mercedes was even born, I got canned. Work was hard to find—learned I’d been black-balled. Kept being told I was overqualified for minimum wage jobs, and daycare ate up almost every dime I made. Besides, I deserved better; I deserved to be accepted by my own flesh and blood. It wasn’t my mother’s fault she fell in love. Wasn’t my fault either.

“I struggled for a couple of years, living hand-to-mouth, before reaching out to Bryce. He came up with a plan to kidnap Jesse’s daughter and use her as leverage to force you to acknowledge Mercedes and me. We took the girl, but Bryce got greedy, demanded a ransom, and
you refused to deal. I crumbled, spiraled into depression. The only bright spot I could hang onto was believing that Jesse was suffering just as bad as me. When the trust cut back and Bryce got laid off, he moved us out to a shack at the lake—it was on the trust’s surplus property list. No one ever used it.

“After he brought us out here, he changed—everything had to be on his terms. He got more and more controlling. I was afraid of what he’d do if we didn’t play his game. Besides, where would we go? Certainly not to the cops. They’d throw me in prison and things would be worse, not better.

“He didn’t touch the girls in the beginning—not until they started to develop. By then I was in too deep. I tried to make myself believe it wasn’t happening. After a couple of months of him abusing Mercedes, I got her out of there.”

“I’m sorry Jesse didn’t tell me about you.”

She looks up, her jaw set. “Would it have made any difference?”

“You’ve got a point. Guess I was a real ass back then.”

“How’s now any different?”

I tap my chest. “Twelve years of heartbreak.”

She nods. “Okay. Want to hear what thirty years was like?”

“I’m truly sorry.”

Her voice is icy. “Too little—too late.”

“The DNA tests prove you’re my daughter—and Mercedes is yours.”

“So?”

“So, Mercedes is taken care of for the rest of her life, exactly the same as her cousin, Celine—that is Amy.”

Her chin quivers. “Then from where I sit, it was all worth it.”

“Worth it?” I slam my fists on the narrow desk. “How the hell can you say what you put those girls through was worth it?”

“I said, I got Mercedes out of there the first chance I had.”

“What about Celine? You stood by ….”

She hangs her head. “She was the cause of all my problems.”

I sit back in my chair. Stare at the top of her head. “No. She was just an innocent child. She never did anything to hurt you. I’m the selfish bastard you should have come after in the first place. I used your mother and didn’t give her a second thought. She tried to contact me after our fling. I just laughed it off. Told the receptionist to park her on hold until she went away. Eventually, your mother quit calling. I was a colossal ass in those days.”

She looks up, tears welling up in her eyes. “All I could see back then was getting revenge on Jesse for rejecting his own sister. I took away the thing that caused him to turn his back on his own sister. I didn’t give you or your wife a second thought, except as a way of getting what was due me. As you used to say back at the firm when we stepped on a few little guys to squeeze the last ounce of profit out of a juicy deal—you were ‘collateral damage.’”

“But think about what you’ve done to yourself. You were the brightest, could have been the best. Now you’re never going to see the light of day—kidnapping—child abuse—murder.” A lump forms in my throat. “You don’t know how much I regret not showing your mother the respect she deserved.”

She rubs her eyes. “I know it now. Wish I’d known it a long time ago. You’ll take good care of the girls?”

“The best.”

“Does Mercedes know about the DNA? I mean proof that I’m … or does she hate me too much to care?”

“She’s confused.”

Teresa combs her fingers through her hair. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why didn’t you pay the ransom? You could have saved us all a lot of grief.”

My chest tightens. “Back then I thought I was God. There was nothing I couldn’t control. I had the stupid idea Celine’s ransom was negotiable, just like any other deal I’d squeezed the last dime out of. I don’t know—I was like a shark when it smells blood. I showed up at that lake with my silver tongue, thinking I could pull off a bluff. All I got was a glimpse of her. My cell phone rang. I checked the caller ID. What can I say; it was just force of habit. She screamed. I looked up. She was gone. ”

I swallow a lump in my throat. “Years of nightmares and a tidal wave of broken hearts later, here I am. Jesse said it in his suicide note, ‘I gambled with her life and lost.’ Every time I hear sirens or see emergency lights, my shame doubles. My mind reels with a constant loop of instant replays of that day—FBI agents and police swarming to the scene on learning the kidnappers had fled with Celine, me botching their plan.”

Teresa screws up her face. “Being part of a family is all I ever wanted. Mom’s loneliness taught me that.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I’d shown your mother the respect she deserved. Sounds like she was a special woman.”

Teresa brushes away tears. “She was … the best.”

“Tell me about her.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. Was she a good mother?”

“She was beautiful, funny, strong, the smartest person I ever knew—my best friend. Always there for me, telling me I was beautiful, I could do anything I set my mind to, boosting me up when life got overwhelming. But deep down, she was sad. She’d cry at night after I went to bed. Some mornings her eyes would be red and swollen. I asked her why she never married—she didn’t even date. She told me she was in love once, and it didn’t work out. I could tell there was more to it than she would let on. When I learned about you, I knew for sure you were the reason she was so miserable.”

I sit up straight. “I know I can’t undo the past, but I’d like to do right by her. Do what she’d do if she was still around. Stand with you through what lies ahead. Will you let me help? I can line up the best criminal attorneys—”

“That’s not right. I did terrible things. I need to face up to what’s due me.”

I lean forward in my chair. “Teresa, they don’t have Bryce’s body. For all we know, he’s still alive. At worst, killing Roy was an accident—he might have lived if it hadn’t been for that bastard Bryce. And as for that homeless guy who Bryce sent up to the shack to kill you—the cops weren’t able to lift any fingerprints off the shotgun. It was too charred.”

She looks up at me, her eyes red, etched with pain. “That’s not the point. I’m fully responsible for my actions. You may deserve for me to loathe you, but those poor girls didn’t deserve what I let happen to them ... what I did to them.”

I massage my temples, trying to stifle a headache that’s growing more intense. “If there’s any way I can help …. This time I’m not leaving my only daughter out there twisting in the wind.”

“Hearing you acknowledge I’m your daughter means the world to me. That’s something no jury can take away.”

Celine

It’s been a couple weeks since I found out my real name is Celine, and my family did come for me after all. Only, by the time someone got there, Grandpa Jake was all that was left. I get sad, wondering what it would be like to have a mom and dad, a grandma. It’s not that I don’t love Grandpa Jake. It’s just that …. Anyway, the counselor he’s been taking me helps. And the nightmares that wouldn’t go away aren’t as bad as they used to be, and they don’t come as often.

Grandpa has taken Mercedes and me up to the lake to show us his plans for our new home. I’m not crazy about coming back to the lake, especially the idea of living here, but he says we don’t get stronger by running away from our pain. We have to become bigger than our fears. I don’t know. Whenever I think of Bryce, I want to crawl in a hole.

We stand on the foundation and look across at where Bryce and Tess’s shack used to be. Without the trees blocking it, the spot where it stood is in plain sight.

I take Jake’s hand, then Mercedes’. “Do they know what happened to RJ, yet?”

Jake rubs his forehead. “I guess there’s no good time for bad news. The body they found up on the ridge was his. I’m afraid RJ didn’t make it out.”

Me and Mercedes wrap our arms around Jake and start bawling. He cradles my head and holds me close to his chest. I hear his heart beating—slow as if telling us about RJ has made him tired.

“I’m so sorry,” he says.

I pull away. “Does missing people you love always hurt this bad?”

He brushes a tear from his cheek. “The hurt’s always there … but eventually it gets easier to bear. At least we have each other to lean on, to help us be strong.”

Mercedes still clutches on to him. “Do we know what happened to Bryce?”

My heart races. All the colors are brighter for a second … then everything turns grey. “Oh God! He’s coming back … I know it.”

Grandpa Jake grabs my shoulders and pulls me close. “If he comes back on my watch—it’ll be the biggest mistake of his miserable life.”

He digs into his pocket and hands each of us a cinnamon candy, wrapped in bright red, crinkly wrappers.

Mercedes whispers, “Even if he’s dead, he’ll be with us—forever.”

Grandpa puts an arm around each of us and kisses the tops of our heads. “We have to move ahead, not backward. Sure, we’ve got some horrible memories, but together we’ll build new ones—good ones. When bad memories sneak up on us, we’ll remind each other the difference between what’s real in the present and what’s only in the past. To know what to let go of and what to hold onto. None of us can handle the future alone. We’re in this together—so don’t be ashamed to ask for help.”

I lean back and look up at him. “Maybe we can have a funeral for RJ. In the end, we’re the only real family he had.”

Jake nods. “I’ll talk to the sheriff and see what we can do about that.”

I am deeply grateful to my wife, Judi, for giving me space to do what brings me joy and satisfaction. Without her encouragement, none of my stories would ever come to life.

My editor, Cheryl Feeney, is another jewel. She makes me work hard, which she says builds character and characters. Her perspective never fails to make the story stronger. She also designed the book cover.

Annmarie Huppert is a key inspiration behind Ripples. Her insights into the emotions imprinted by trauma and the process of healing from those wounds have been invaluable. Her wife, Rebecca Cooper, also made key contributions, including the prism through which Amy views her world—crinkly, red candy wrappers.

Finally, with deepest respect, I thank my critique partners (all extraordinary writers) who don’t let a single weak word, phrase, or idea make it into print; Michael Smith, Brett Gadbois, Barbara Winther, Jan Walker, Cheryl Feeney, and Richard Heller.

Bestselling author DL Fowler
gets inside people’s heads and invites readers along for the ride. He spent much of his youth backpacking through the San Gorgonio Wilderness Area and Sierra Mountains, and earned a bachelor’s degree in Humanities/English from the University of Southern California. His MBA studies at California State University-San Bernardino focused on human behavior. A career in financial counseling gave him ample opportunity to gain a deep understanding of how various people operate in stressful situations.