Forgiving Jackson (32 page)

“Thank you, Emory. You did great.”

She let out a ragged breath. “It didn’t feel great.”

“No. I don’t imagine that it did.”

When Jeff Shelton turned the machine off, Emory slumped against Jackson and he caught her face in his hands. He didn’t say a word; he didn’t have to.

“Dirk, Jackson.” Jeff snapped his briefcase closed. “I know that was hard to hear. And, Emory, I know it was harder to say.” He took a step toward her but he didn’t get in her personal space. “But I want to tell you something. You didn’t do anything wrong. This was not your fault. Drake Winterbourne is a privileged, self-indulgent, pretty-boy animal, who knew exactly what he was doing. I took the statements of two other women and there wasn’t a dime’s worth of difference in your story and theirs. He met them in a group, social setting where they had mutual friends. He chatted them up and took them home. Then he beat and raped them. And when they filed a report, he did it again.”

“When did he first hurt them?” she asked.

A cloud came over Jeff’s face. “One was three years ago, the other eighteen months.”

“So, if I had come forward, I might have saved that last woman.”

Jeff shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Date rape is a hard case. If the first woman had come forward, she might have saved you. But it’s impossible to know, just like it’s impossible to know how many more there have been. In reality, it probably took all three of you to get him off the street.”

“But he is off the street? He can’t take back his confession?” Emory asked.

“It would be hard. His story matched theirs, just like it’ll match yours.”

“And she won’t have to go to court?” Jackson asked. “She doesn’t want to go to court.”

“I don’t think so,” Jeff said. “I don’t know what Dirk said to him, but he was very effective.”

“I did not have a weapon,” Dirk said. “I did not threaten him. I just told him what I wanted him to do.”

“Yeah.” Jeff laughed a little under his breath, as he picked up his briefcase.

Suddenly Emory had an epiphany. She stood. “You know what? I think if I had to testify now, I could.”

Jeff met her eyes and nodded briefly. “Emory, I’m no expert on mental health or much of anything else except catching the bad guys. But I think you would benefit from talking to someone at a rape crisis center. Will you think about that?”

“I will.”

“I’m going to go now, if Dirk will take me back to the airport.”

“Dirk, Sammy will do it if you don’t want to,” Jackson said.

Dirk laughed and it was such a normal sound that Emory reveled in it.

“I’ve got it. When are you going to stop speaking for that boy like he has no choices in life?”

“I don’t know that particular date.” Jackson held out his hand to Jeff. “I appreciate this. When some time passes, can I at least send your wife some CDs?”

“Sure. After Winterbourne is sentenced. Though, I don’t know why. She’s got them all. But no concert tickets, no iPod with music loaded on it. Nothing like that. Though she might like a t-shirt.”

“Done,” Jackson said. “I’ll make sure you get one, too. I want you to walk around New York City with my face on your chest.”

“Not going to happen.” Jeff took Emory’s hand. “Again, good job. I know it was hard.”

“You made it as easy as it could have been. Thank you for treating me with respect.”

“I’m sorry I only treated you with respect when reverence is what you deserve.”

And Dirk herded Jeff out the door with a half wave over his shoulder.

Emory turned and looked at Jackson, wide-eyed. Finally, the power that he had been talking about settled over her.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “What can I do for you?”

She shook his questions off.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said with wonder.

“No. You did not. That’s a fact.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“No.”

“I can wear a short skirt if I want to.”

He smiled. “And you should. But only in front of me.”

“If I want to wear pretty, matching underclothes, I can. I might want to wear them just for myself. It wouldn’t mean I’m a slut.”

“Of course not. And if you
wanted
to wear them for me and there were a few strategic cutouts, even better.”

“A kiss is not an invitation to have sex.”

“True. But what he did to you wasn’t sex. It was violence.”

“But I can have sex if I want to, real sex. I am an adult who makes good decisions. I deserve to have sex if I want to.”

“Yes. You do. With me.”

That was a given.

“I’m not a whore.”

“Far from it.”

“I am not a cocktease.”

“Never.”

“I am not a bitch.”

“Hmm. Mostly not.” But he was smiling.

“I deserve not to have to hear the word
dick
if I don’t want to.”

“I will cut the tongue out of any man who dares say that to you. Better yet, I’ll buy you a little gold dagger so you can do it yourself. It should probably be set with diamonds so you can do it in style.”

“He did not just hurt me.”

“No.”

“He did not just beat me.”

“No.”

“He did not have sex with me.”

“No.” Jackson stepped toward her and took her hands. “Say it, baby.”

“He raped me. He raped me! And it wasn’t my fault.”

Why was her throat hurting? Oh. Because her voice had gotten louder with each acclamation until she was screaming.

“Sorry. I got a little loud.”

Jackson smiled and leaned his forehead into hers. “You call that loud? Girl, I’ve got an AKG C12 VR microphone in the music room and everything that goes with it. We’ll go down there and set that up for you and let you say it all over again as many times as you want, as loud as you want. Hell, we can record it if you want to. I’ll set music to it.”

“I have a different idea. I want you to make love to me, really make love to me.” The words came out in a rush. “You said you wouldn’t until I asked and I’m asking. I want you over me, inside me, and when we’re done I might want to do it again.”

He looked hesitant. “Are you sure, Emory? Because I wouldn’t want you to ask for this because you’re high on emotion and relief.”

“I
am
high on emotion and relief and it’s about damned time.” She ran her hand over his jaw. “Look, Jackson, I know I’m screwed up. I probably always will be in some ways. What happened to me isn’t something on a whiteboard that can just be wiped away. But I finally know what you’ve been saying: It was not my fault. He had no right. He’s a criminal. I met him in a safe environment through people I knew. What I did wasn’t even foolhardy.” She closed her eyes and leaned into him. “You said the power was mine and it finally is. And I want it all—all of you and right now.”

He cupped her face and leaned her head back so he could look into her eyes.

“Then it would be my honor and my pleasure—more than you know, really.” He gave that charming little head toss. “But, Emory, you can stop me if you change your mind. I’ll always stop. And you’ll only have to ask once.”

But she didn’t ask him to stop. He took her to his bed and they laughed and loved and celebrated, tasting and touching and, sometimes, driving each other almost crazy with want. And they knew how to do that because they had learned each other’s bodies so well.

Finally, when they knew the moment was right for both of them, Emory rolled onto her back and pulled Jackson between her thighs in the dominant position. He looked into her eyes searching for any hesitation on her part.

There was none. Slowly and sweetly, he entered her, and she saw the ecstasy she felt reflected back from his face.

“So tight, so good,” he muttered, lying perfectly still as they enjoyed the feeling of fullness, the connection like no other. “I guess we just broke that youth revival chastity pledge.”

She laughed, he thrust, and she lifted her hips and met him.

And when they were done, they did it all over again—twice.

It was rare that Emory was able to have lunch with her friends but on Monday they all sat around a table together at The Café Down On The Corner. Now that there was a break in the Around the Bend schedule, she and Gwen had a little downtime and Christian had a lighter schedule. Abby, Neyland, and Noel had been able to meet them as well.

After spending the night in Jackson’s bed Saturday, he’d woken her early Sunday morning to say he was going to rehearsal and he’d be gone until late, but she should stay in bed as long as she wanted—all day if she liked. Exhausted from the previous night’s ordeal and elation, she had come close to doing exactly that, rising only when hunger drove her from the bed mid-afternoon. During that time, she’d done a lot of thinking and one of the things she’d decided was that it was high time she told her friends what had happened to her.

So after everyone finished eating, she told the story.

Emory looked around the table at them. Their expressions registered a wide range of emotions—shock, anger, despair, and Noel was silently crying.

“And that’s what happened,” Emory said. She had told it all, surprised that she had felt more anger than shame. “I’m sorry I’ve kept it from y’all.”

“This isn’t about us,” Christian said. “I always knew something had happened to you. I’m just sorry we haven’t been able to be there for you.”

Emory reached and took her hand. “But you have been. Can’t you see that? You all knew something had happened.” The women looked at each and nodded. “And you never asked me. You just went on being my friends, quirks and all. It was what I needed.”

Neyland said, “Gwen, you didn’t know? Even with Dirk’s part in this?”

“No. One of the things I love best about my husband is his ability to keep his own counsel. I knew some things because I saw them. I knew that when Emory came back to Beauford Bend she’d been injured and kept to her room for a month. I knew she was afraid to leave the premises at first. But I thought she’d been mugged, maybe. I never imagined something so horrible.” She closed her eyes and put her hand to her forehead.

Not a single one of them told Emory it wasn’t her fault because it never occurred to them that it was remotely possible that she could think that. And she loved them all the more for not saying those words.

“And there isn’t really anything else to say,” Emory said. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore today. Later, there would probably be questions but, for now, she’d talked about it all she could.

“But if you want to talk, you’ll come to us, won’t you?” Dear, sweet Noel. She wiped her eyes.

“Of course.”

“I am very angry about this,” Neyland said. “I’ll say that right now. I want to go to New York and cut his balls off.”

“And I want to hold him down while you do it,” Abby said. “And while Neyland cuts him”—her eyes got big and she waved her hands—“I want to pour alcohol on him. Alcohol infused with habanero peppers!”

In spite of everything and much to Emory’s relief, they all laughed.

Emory reached for her purse. “I have something for everyone.” She handed envelopes around the table.

“A ticket to the concert!” Abby said. “I thought they were sold out. Not that I could have afforded it.”

“Jackson gave them to me to give to y’all this morning before he left for rehearsal.” Emory said. He’d tucked them under her pillow when he’d kissed her goodbye.

“How’s it going?” Christian asked.

“I don’t know. He said they were awful. They had their first rehearsal yesterday and they’re putting in fifteen-hour days.” But for all his criticism, he’d been upbeat last night and ready to take her to bed—and she’d been ready to let him.

“He always says they’re awful,” Gwen said. “Ginger said they have some kinks to work out, but they sound good.”

“So, how is it going with the visitors?” Neyland asked. “Daddy was beside himself. Gabe brought those two other guys down to the school this morning while the team was doing weight training. They stayed all morning and they’re going back tomorrow.”

Christian pushed her chair back from the table a bit and crossed her legs. “I’ll bet that’s making those women
really
happy—abandoned in the boonies for a high school football team.”

“No kidding,” Gwen said. “I finally had Sammy take them to Franklin to shop. Except for Tasha. She’s perfectly content and loves the house. She spent all morning looking at old picture albums, and tomorrow she and I are going to make blueberry jam. I asked her to come to lunch with us but she said she needed a nap.” Gwen looked at Emory. “Though, it’s good that she didn’t come, after all.”

“It would have been fine. I could have told you a different time. But I don’t know what the C-Squad is going to do for the next four days. They were incensed that there’s no pool at Beauford Bend and no horses to ride. I don’t know what Gabe told them to expect.”

Christian rolled her eyes. “I expect Gabe said, ‘Come on,’ and they said, ‘Okay.’ But send them over to Firefly Hall. They aren’t touching my horse but they can swim.”

“Really?” Emory said. “That would be great.”

“Really. I’m all but vacant until Friday.”

Abby looked at her phone. “I hate to leave good company but I’ve got to go. I promised I’d be back before noon.”

Noel and Neyland rose, too, muttering that they also had to get back to work. After hugs all around, Emory, Gwen, and Christian settled back into their seats.

“Poor dears.” Gwen poured another round of iced tea from the pitcher they’d asked Billy Joe to leave for them. “
They
have to work. We, however, are ladies of leisure. Or at least I am until I have to get back and cook dinner for the masses.”

“Order pizza,” Emory said. “The guys will love it and the women don’t eat anyway.”

Gwen wrinkled her nose. “Tasha does. Turns out she’s a good cook and we’ve been swapping recipes. I want to show off.”

“What are we having?” Emory asked.

“Heirloom tomato and cucumber salad with a balsamic vinegar reduction and olive oil dressing, shrimp and smoked cheese grits, turnip greens cooked with bacon, and sour cream cornbread. And for dessert, peach cobbler and homemade vanilla ice cream.”