Stubborn Love (20 page)

The sun peeked through the curtains as the smell of coffee filled the apartment. Slowly, I reached up, rubbing the sleep that had crystalized at the corner of my eyes during the night. My eyes were tender and my throat raw from all of the tears.

Colin spent most of the night trying to reassure me. He told me how it was impossible for me to be held responsible for Ashton’s death, and that Mr. Stirling was merely trying to lash out in any way he could. I was an easy target. It didn’t matter if Colin was right or wrong. I was tired of feeling guilty; maybe it was time I was held accountable.

“Morning, beautiful,” Colin said, walking into my room carrying a tray. Sitting up I feigned a smile.

“I’m sure I look ravishing.”

“You do to me.” He placed the tray across the end of the bed. Coffee, toast, eggs, slightly burnt turkey bacon, and a mix of fruit overflowed from a plate. “Apparently you girls don’t believe in real bacon?”

“I do, but Paige won’t allow it. She already isn’t happy I bring actual bread into the house,” I explained, rolling my eyes to express my disapproval of the restrictions.

“This from the same girl I have seen put away a cheeseburger and an entire plate of french fries?” Colin laughed.

I shrugged. “I didn’t say she made sense.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy this. I did the best I could,” he said, leaning over and kissing my forehead. I watched as he walked around, taking a seat next to me.

“Thanks, it looks great,” I said, pulling the tray closer and picking at the contents.

“Are you feeling better today?” I could feel his eyes staring at me as I attempted to eat a few scraps.

“Not really.”

“I’m sorry last night was so hard on you, baby. That wasn’t fair of him to put all of that on you.” I felt Colin’s broad hand settle on my back, sweeping from side to side.

“I don’t see how you can say it’s not fair.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused.

“You wouldn’t understand,” I dismissed, only able to muster a whisper as I spoke.

“I’m here because I want to understand, so help me, please. How is anything that happened last night fair to you? It was total bullshit in my opinion.” Colin stopped rubbing my back and stared at me, waiting for me to give him a hint of what was going through my mind.

“He’s right,” I answered, hoping he would take that as enough of an answer and leave me in peace to continue wallowing in my self-pity. Which was something I had become quite an expert at over the years.

“Who?” Colin questioned, and when he saw I had no intention of answering him he continued, “You can’t be serious? Let me see if I’ve got this straight—you’re telling me that you think your dead husband’s father coming here, years later, and threatening you is somehow justified? Em, he’s an asshole, and he had no right to put you through all of that again.”

I wanted him to leave. More than anything, I knew he was trying to make things better, but I didn’t want them to be better. I wanted to hate myself; I wished he could see how much I deserved everyone’s loathing. Sitting up, I looked into his eyes. “His son is dead because of me. I think he has every right.”

“His son is dead because he shot himself. You need to stop blaming yourself,” Colin argued I could see he wanted to reach out and touch me, but was hesitant.

“I told him to do it!” I cried, struggling to not come completely unraveled.

When he could no longer keep his distance, Colin reached out and took my hand into his, squeezing it tight. I stared into his eyes. “I don’t care what you said to him, this was not your fault. For someone to take their own life, they were in a place that can’t be the fault of any one person. You told me about how he mistreated you. I think if a man believes there is something acceptable about that behavior, there is inherently something wrong with him. Based on the way his father treated you, I am guessing the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.”

“His son is dead, you shouldn’t say—”

Colin didn’t wait for me to finish, “I shouldn’t speak the truth? He hit you! He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”

“I guess we’ll see. He said he was going to report this to the police. If I’m guilty, I’m sure it won’t take them long to come knocking,” I noted.

Colin laughed at the notion. “There is absolutely no way anyone is going to even listen to him. When you made that statement to Ashton, you didn’t believe he had any intention of actually hurting himself. He had a history of abuse with you, there was no weapon in his hand when you left, and he was not in a state of mind that made you feel safe. Mr. Stirling is hurting, so he’s trying to blame someone because it’s easier than thinking his son was in some way defective. Any cop will see that.”

I didn’t speak at first—I knew Colin was right. I knew legally I hadn’t done anything wrong. I couldn’t shake the feeling, though, that it wasn’t fair for me to be happy. Ashton would never be able to be happy again. Anything other than a life of misery felt like I was being selfish. I wanted to be with Colin, but I didn’t know how to set things right. If I can’t give him all of me, it isn’t fair to let him throw his heart away.

And then I made a decision. “I’m going to Ohio.”

“What?” Colin nearly choked on the word.

“I need to go and talk to his mother. She deserves to know everything that happened that night… from me,” I explained, staring at a blank space on the wall in order to avoid his eyes, even though I could feel them burning through my cheek.

“That’s not a good idea,” he quickly added.

“I need to do it,” I stated flatly.

“Em! That won’t change anything. You’re not going,” he insisted.

This was not something Colin was going to be able to talk me out of. I had made up my mind. Turning my head to meet his eyes so there would be no mistaking me, I replied, “I’m going to Ohio. You don’t need to understand; in fact, it doesn’t even fully make sense to me, but I know I need to go, as much for us as for them.

I could see the fear in his eyes. The loss of control of something he found precious, slipping out of his fingertips. Then he surprised me, “Fine, I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not, I need to do this on my own,” I argued.

“Mr. Stirling hit you last night. There is no way in hell I am letting you go back there without me.” Colin’s tone was stern.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, attempting to reassure him.

“I’m going, or you’re not,” he instructed, standing and leaving the room, removing all option for argument. I guess he was going.

At every turn there was a memory. Pulling up to the vast driveway, I remembered the strolls we would take outside of his parents’ property. I also remembered an argument Ashton and I had in the car, just before a Sunday family dinner, during which I thought I might have to flee from his fury.

Climbing the stone steps, I recalled an image of the teenage Clementine, perched over Ashton’s shoulder, watching him as he worked on his English paper. Just being in the same space as Ashton used to be enough to fill me up.

As I paused at the top of the stairs, I recalled a moment when Ashton’s cousins were skipping across the oversized porch, leaping onto our laps on the hanging wooden swing. Ashton was always great with kids; I suppose it was a small blessing we never had any.

“You don’t have to do this,” Colin reminded me. Now that he had flown all this way with me, I was actually quite glad to have him by my side. The anxiety had begun to overwhelm me on the flight here. I didn’t call ahead to let the Stirlings know I was coming, for fear I might lose my nerve. I hadn’t even told my mother of my plans, who I knew, like Colin, would not approve.

“I know I don’t have to,” I said with a smile, and then glanced in the direction of the rental car. “Can you wait for me at the car?”

He hesitated before answering, “Em, what if something happens? I would feel better if I could keep my eyes on you. I need to know you’re safe.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I replied.

“I’ll wait at the bottom of the steps, but you have to promise me if you feel at all uncomfortable, you’ll call out to me,” Colin instructed. “I’ll be in there in a heartbeat.”

“Fine, although I’m certain there won’t be any need for that.” I watched as Colin sulked down the stairs. Once at the bottom, he turned, looking up at me with wide eyes.

I took a deep breath and pressed the familiar button at the right of the doorframe, listening to the muffled chimes. When the hollow clicking noises of shoes against hardwood floors neared, my heart rate shot up, and I began to hear a popping noise in my ears. I didn’t know what to expect when the door opened. Would Maggie shut it in my face? I had been her daughter-in-law for years, but since the death of her son, I had abandoned her, no word of where I had disappeared.

As the door pulled open, I was relieved it was not Mr. Stirling who answered. I saw Ashton’s mother staring back at me. It was shocking to see how much she had changed over only a couple years. Her golden hair was consumed by grays, and the faint lines around her eyes and mouth had deepened. Her eyes appeared as if they were shining when she drank me in.

“Clementine, my dear.” Her voice was pleasant and welcoming—I was now confused. She looked over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of Colin who I can only assume was staring back. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call, Maggie, I mean, Mrs. Stirling,” I quickly corrected. I was sure she must loathe me, and my use of her first name must have made her sick.

“Nonsense, you don’t ever need to call, and I’m always Maggie to you. Do you want to come in?” she asked, stepping to one side.

“Yes, thank you.” I walked past her. The last time I had entered this home it was as their daughter-in-law, but I was surprised it felt the same.

“Your friend, would he like to come in?” Maggie asked looking down at him, a smile across her face. I was certain she was curious as to his identity.

“No,” I quickly replied, in case Colin might have heard her suggestion and accepted the offer. “He’s fine out there.”

Maggie was well put together; she had always been that way. A skirt with a dark navy floral print tickled her ankles and a cream blouse that came together with a loose bow at the neck covered her torso. A circular brooch that was covered in rhinestones complimented her navy cardigan to top off her ensemble. Ashton bought jewelry for his mother for every holiday; it had always been a thing between them, and I knew she treasured each piece.

“Mag, who was at the door?” My back stiffened as soon as I heard Mr. Stirling’s voice.

“Clementine has come for a visit dear,” Maggie answered, ushering me into the formal living room. I peered around the room; it looked as though not a single thing had been disturbed since last I saw the place. On the mantle was Ashton’s senior picture, and across from it, one from our wedding. Part of me was surprised Mr. Stirling hadn’t insisted on removing it.

I could hear him coming closer, bounding through the house with his heavy footsteps. Bursting into the room he glared at me, the bruises from the altercation between him and Colin evident now. “What are you doing here, girl?”

“Robert!” Maggie scolded.

“I won’t have this whore in my house, Maggie!” he replied sternly.

“You will be silent,” Maggie commanded. I had never heard her speak to Mr. Stirling in such a tone. I honestly didn’t think she had it in her. It was obvious there had been some changes since Ashton passed. “Clementine has come here to talk to us, and we will listen… do you understand?”

He didn’t reply, but it was clear he was not pleased with the current circumstances. We all took a seat, and I struggled with where to begin.

“Would you like anything to drink, sweetie?” Maggie offered. I didn’t dare look to Mr. Stirling, but I could feel his eyes. I wanted to do this and get out of there as quickly as possible.

“No, thank you, I’m fine,” I replied.

“Very well,” Maggie replied, crossing her hands delicately over her lap. “What brings you to our home today?”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you, Maggie,” I began.

“About what?” Mr. Stirling demanded, raising his voice slightly.

Part of me considered calling for Colin right then, but I knew I needed to get through this on my own. “What we discussed in New York, Mr. Stirling. I felt like she deserved to hear it directly from me.”

“She deserved to hear it three years ago,” he snapped.

“I agree, but—” I began, before Maggie interrupted me.

“What conversation in New York?” she questioned. My mouth fell open. How had he not told her everything that had happened? I couldn’t fathom how he might have explained the bruise on his cheek.

“Nothing,” Mr. Stirling replied quickly, hopping to his feet he began to pace like a caged animal.

“Child, you need to tell me everything,” she instructed, not looking at her husband.

“No! I’m not going to let her come in here and spin her lies. There is nothing she could say that I think either of us should listen to. She wasn’t there for our son, and when you needed her, she wasn’t here for you either,” Mr. Stirling said, stopping for the moment to talk to his wife.

“And you were? Darling,” her tone was cool, as she directed her statement at Mr. Stirling, “I’ll decide who was there for me and who wasn’t. You can either sit down and remain silent, or leave the room.”

Mr. Stirling gasped, and in a huff, exited the room, making his way through the dining area and into their kitchen, where he proceeded to slam the cabinets and make a general raucous.

“Don’t mind him. Please, continue,” she urged. I didn’t want to create any problems between Mr. and Mrs. Stirling. I could only imagine what their marriage had endured since Ashton had been taken from them. I would do my best to limit the damage.

“I came because I wanted to tell you about that night… the night Ashton—” I stopped. I couldn’t say it, at least not to his mother.

“Killed himself.” To my surprise, she did it for me.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” I offered. She nodded, motioning for me to continue. “That night, I wasn’t completely honest about everything, and the way it happened.”

“In what way?” she asked, tilting her head inquisitively. Was this it? Had the time come where I was actually going to tell his mother that I could have prevented his death? Did I have the nerve to tell her I instead encouraged him?

“Maggie, you have to believe me, I didn’t tell you a lot of this because I didn’t want to change the way you looked at your son,” I explained.

“I doubt anything you could say would change the way I look at Ashton,” she replied. I wasn’t sure if she meant that she was confident in her opinion of who he was, or that she thought of me as a liar. I decided not to dwell on the statement.

“Ashton and I had been having trouble in our marriage, almost since the beginning. We were trying—I mean, I didn’t want our marriage to be over, but it had become so hard.” From the way she was looking at me, I worried I wasn’t conveying the story properly.

“Marriage can be hard. I know Ashton’s father and I have struggled at times,” Maggie offered. I felt even more like a hopeless disappointment in that moment. I knew Mr. Stirling could be unbearable, yet somehow she had managed to make it work with the man all of these years. I gave up on her only child so quickly. I prepared myself for what was to come next—there was no way I could say this so that she would take it well. I was about to break her heart, and that’s all there was to it.

“It felt like I had been trying for so long, but things weren’t getting better. They were worse. I know I told everyone I found Ashton when I came home from the grocery store, but that’s not how it happened.” My voice began to quiver, and I thought I might not be able to go through with it.

Maggie scooted to the edge of her seat, leaning forward; she reached out and placed her hand on top of mine. Looking up at her, in those sympathetic grief filled eyes, a tear escaped, rolling down my cheek, and I heaved, struggling to control my breathing. “It’s all right, I’m right here.”

She was here, in the moment, at least she would be until I told her what a terrible person I was. She needed to know the truth, and I was about to give it to her, if I could just hold it together long enough. “I told him that night I was leaving—we were over. He begged me not to go. I should have listened to him; I never should have turned my back on him.”

“I know how hard the Stirling men can be, Clementine. I’m sure had you known what was going to happen you would have been there.”

Was there nothing I could say that would make this woman hate me? Yes, there was one thing. “He told me.”

She furrowed her brow, her hand still on mine. From the corner of my eye I could see Mr. Stirling standing in the doorway leading to the dining room, watching us. “Told you what?”

I dared not look up at Ashton’s father, and instead kept my eyes trained on Maggie. “He told me if I left him he would kill himself. I told him to do what he had to do, but I was leaving.”

“You see!” Mr. Stirling shouted, rushing over. “She’s a murderer. We let her in our lives, we loved her like she was our daughter, and she repays us by killing our son.”

There it was—that was the reaction I had expected; yet from Maggie I still got nothing. She sat there with a blank stare.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, unable to hold back the onslaught of tears, letting them flow freely down my cheeks.

“You’re sorry? She’s sorry!” Mr. Stirling shouted. “Sorry doesn’t bring Ashton back to us. What we should do is call the police right now. You should be in jail, that’s where you should be.”

I dropped my head in shame. Perhaps he was right.

“Robert,” Maggie spoke again at last, choosing her words carefully. “I won’t ask you again to be silent.”

“What? Me?” he cried, staring at his wife in disbelief.

“Yes, you! Ashton was your son through and through. Why do you think he drank so much? His father was an alcoholic. Why would he have been anything different? Our son had his problems, before he ever met Clementine, and it is not fair for you to put all of that on this poor girl,” Maggie condemned her husband.

“How dare—” he began.

“How dare nothing!” Maggie snapped. “You know the things I’m saying are true. We’ll talk about this later.”

He turned on his heel, darting up the stairs, outraged by the confrontation.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. The past few years have been particularly hard on Ashton’s father,” Maggie explained. I didn’t know if I should hug her for her kindness or shake her and ask why she wasn’t screaming at me. “I have something of my own I should have shared with you a long time ago. I suppose for not telling you, I somewhat blame myself for what happened.”

“Oh no, Mrs. Stirling—I mean, Maggie. Don’t ever say that.”

“It’s a mad world, Clementine—one that my son always had trouble wrapping his brain around. When he was thirteen he tried to kill himself. And then again at fourteen. Pills. He should have told you. I should have told you. He was so different when he met you. He was happy for a change. Looking back now, I think he hid his secret misery from us, but I can see now what he must have put you through.” Maggie’s eyes shifted to the mantle and the picture of Ashton. “It wasn’t fair to put that on you. You should have known what you were getting yourself into.”

“Maggie,” I said in a barely audible tone.

“I know. I’m so sorry, child,” she offered. I didn’t want her apologies. I didn’t know what I wanted except to put all of this behind me. I didn’t understand how the past could stop all of our lives—none of us able to move forward.

“Please don’t say you’re sorry. I was the one who should have said something that night. I’m sorry,” I repeated. “Maybe your husband is right, and I should go to jail for this. I feel like I should be punished.”