Austin & Beth (5 page)

"It's okay, baby. You're alright." Brief pause. "God fucking
dammit
, Dad, knock this shit off and gimme that fucking gun before you hurt someone!"

"That's the whole idea."

"Dad—"

"You have any idea how it feels to find out the love of your life is a whore?"

"Dad, stop—"

"Do you know how it feels... what it's like to discover your child isn't even yours?"

"
Shit,
Dad, I'm sorry—"

"AND do you know how it feels—to find out your own
blood
betrayed you in such a sick, twisted, fucked-up way? I pray to god you never find out. I'll make it so you never do. And I'll make sure Beth doesn't live to hurt anyone else."

"What? You can't be fucking serious." Austin stiffened his embrace.

"Everything's pointless. Living's pointless. But I won't be the
only
one exiting this shit hole of a life. Unless—"

An odd quiet ensued. My eyes snapped open. Joe leaned and handed the shotgun to Austin's eager hand. Then the beastly weapon was propped upright next to me, single barrel in Austin's fist.

"Empty the shotgun on Beth, and I'll let you live. What's it gonna be, Son?"

Austin gaped.

"Hurry up. I don't have all goddamn night," Joe said.

"You want me to
kill
your pregnant wife? Do you understand—what you're asking me to do?"

"Yes. Do it."

Numbness dulled my senses and filled me with apathy. It was a
damn good thing
considering the situation.

"Dad, I'm sorry for everything I've done to you," Austin softly said. "Truly, truly sorry. But don't make me do this. Don't... because I'd rather kill myself than hurt Beth."

Joe said nothing.

"Is that what you want me to do? Kill myself? 'Cause I'll do it. What I
won't
do, as I said, is hurt Beth."

"Then kill yourself. After that
I'll
kill Beth. Doesn't make no goddamn difference to me."

Austin blew out a sigh. "All right."

That
alerted my brain and body into action.

I hoisted to a standing position. However, Austin nodded and the expression on his face hinted,
'Trust me.
' He motioned behind. Following his prompt, I backed up to the fireplace and waited.

Then I prayed to almighty god that Austin knew what he was doing.

"I love you, Dad. I'm sorry." Austin rose to his feet, crying, holding the shotgun by its barrel. He raised it, balanced the end below his shoulder, aimed and—

I jerked my head in the opposite direction.

One blast. Second blast stung and rang in my ears.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed until I gained the courage to look, or how many minutes elapsed before my deafened ears could hear. Maybe seconds. Maybe hours. My ability to sense time ceased once Austin pulled the trigger.

When I
did
look, I kept my eyes averted from Joe's slumped body. The important thing was to get out of that tiny house of horrors.

After calling 911, Austin draped an arm behind and guided me outside. We didn't get far because we had to speak with police, of course, and explain what happened. Every gory, humiliating and sordid detail.

But we were together and—despite tragic circumstances—happy to be alive.

A
ustin's actions of self-defense—and protecting a pregnant woman—got him off the hook; a decision by local law enforcement after a brief investigation.

A small, helpful piece of evidence was found on Joe's computer. A revealing suicide note. I didn't find out about it until days later.

On January the tenth we lounged in Joe's home office, perched at his old desk. With much reluctance I read Joe's note for the first time, then cried endless tears of guilt, regret and trauma. Trauma that neither I nor Austin would forget.

Ever.

Joe's note:

12-23-12

Austin,

I'm getting ready to meet you and Beth at the cabin. Thought I'd jot this down to explain myself. Please read carefully.

I'm sorry for having to do it this way. Selfish or not, it's the only way I know how to exit this life because I can't seem to do it myself. Frankly I don't have the balls to jam the barrel under my chin and pull the trigger.

That's why I have to seek your 'help' in doing it for me. They used to call it 'suicide by cop' or something. So please understand... I have no intention of hurting either you or Beth. I know I'm taking a big gamble by trying this, and I fully realize the risks.

I prayed all afternoon/early evening that this will work without a hitch. Now I have faith in the lord that it will. Faith that I'll be the only one to die.

First I suspected Emily wasn't mine. I suspected months ago, then to realize she's YOUR baby... well that was the final nail in the coffin for me.

Literally.

Love always,

Dad

(Please forgive me, and take good care of Beth and my granddaughter.

Never mind... I know you will)

Throughout this ordeal Austin hugged and comforted me. He was suffering too, so I rose above my own tears and attempted to console him.

Major therapy was in our future. That I was sure of.

And dammit, Christmas would never be the same. It'd lost its magic for good.

Or so I thought.

* * * *

A
ustin returned to college, although he abandoned campus living to stay with me.

We inherited Joe's home, bills and responsibilities which followed. Austin worked full-time in addition to juggling studies.

One ordeal chasing another, and another and another.

However it helped tremendously to sell the horrid cabin. It wasn't worth shit but the land was. A
hundred thousand dollars
worth of land; thanks to thirteen acres of countryside real estate.

Anyhow, there's no way in hell we'd ever go back to that cabin. It was forbidden, ominous and cursed.

We wanted rid of it.

Upon receiving this massive amount of money, Austin was able to switch to a part-time job. I used some of it to pay off the mortgage on Joe's home.

Free of debt, our future was set.

Then on February the twentieth our daughter was born.

As I held this teensy, kicking bundle in my arms, I marveled at such a tiny pink face, button nose and rosebud lips. A thatch of blonde fuzz graced her scalp. She was a beauty, and she had no idea how long or how badly I'd wanted her.

She was a dream come true.

Austin looked as proud as I. He lingered at my bedside, stroking Emily's rosy, velvety cheek.

Emily brightened our lives. Her precious face cast a shining light that filled the dark void. Sometimes I saw Austin in her sweet face. Sometimes myself.

Sometimes Joe.

Yes. Emily Marie Montgomery—all seven pounds and eight ounces of her—completed us.

And she made every Christmas thereafter
pure magic
.

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