The Ex Files (24 page)

“You heard Angel. I know there are children who make things up, but Angel has always had a good relationship with Bobby. Why would she say this now?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you hadn’t told me your suspicions, I might question this. But you and Angel?” She shook her head. “Something’s going on.”

Asia nodded, stood still, said nothing. Just let her aunt continue.

“And where would Angel get this from if he wasn’t touching—” Pastor Ford stopped. “Angel wouldn’t make this up.” She paused, cringed, as if ghastly images were passing through her mind. “Anyway, I called Deacon Ellis. He works for Child Protective Services.” She sat on the sofa and Asia followed. “We have to file a report in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“I want you and Angel to stay here tonight. Stay in the room with her, in case she wakes up.”

Asia hadn’t realized that tears were tracking down her cheeks until her aunt gently wiped away the emotional water with her thumb. “It’s going to be fine. I just want you to stay because I want to talk to Angel in the morning. After that, we’ll make the report.”

Asia nodded.

“No matter what, you and Angel will be fine. I’ll make sure of that.”

“I know. Thank you.”

Pastor Ford took Asia’s hands, and without a word, they both bowed their heads. But Asia didn’t hear a word of her aunt’s appeal to God. She couldn’t hear through the noise in her mind. Images of Bobby and Caroline and Angel. Thoughts of her plan for revenge. It had worked, maybe too well. But she wouldn’t back away. Soon Bobby and his wife would know the same feelings of misery that they’d handed her. This was payback—big time.

K
ENDALL

“Daddy!” Kendall yelled the moment she stepped inside.

Barely a moment passed before her father ambled into the living room. There was no warmth in his greeting. “What are you doing here? You didn’t go to church?”

She tossed her purse onto the couch, ignored his tone. “No, I needed to see you. I called and left messages for you yesterday.”

Edwin glanced at the blinking light on his answering machine. “I haven’t checked messages.”

“Daddy, we need to talk.”

His eyes were dim with the pain that he carried. Kendall just wanted to hold her father, remind him that he still had her and their life would go on wonderfully, no matter what happened with Sabrina.

“Daddy,” she began, “I saw Anthony. He told me. About you…and everything. Daddy,” she said, lowering her voice. “You can’t do any of that.”

He leaned back as if her words surprised him. “I can do whatever I want and if I’m a match, my daughter’s going to get my bone marrow. And if I’m not, I’m going to…find another way.”

From the moment Anthony had left her alone until now, her head had been filled with all of the arguments she was going to give to stop him. But all she could think of now was, “Daddy, you’re too…your health.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me. Besides, if I’m a match, the doctors are going to make sure that everything works well medically for me and Sabrina.” He pushed himself from the couch and wandered to the mantel. A pictographic history of her and Sabrina’s lives was spread across the shelf. Kendall watched as Edwin closed his eyes, drifted away on memories. A moment later, he was back. “I’m going to save my daughter.”

“But, Daddy, a transplant could be dangerous.”

“I don’t care. And if the transplant doesn’t work, then I’ll try something else.”

“Like trying to have a baby?” She paused, hoping her question would sound just as ridiculous to him as the entire notion was to her. “Anthony said you were even considering that.”

“You think I’m too old for that, too?”

“Daddy, please. Not only are you…too old. But who…and when?” She closed her eyes, trying to rid her mind of any kind of thought of her father having sex. “Everyone would say that you were crazy.”

The way he raised his eyebrows told her that he found her words ridiculous. “You think I care about that? All I’m thinking about is keeping Sabrina alive.”

“But, I’m afraid, Daddy. What if they say it’s okay for you to give the transplant?” She stopped, bit the corner of her lip to stop their trembling. “Daddy, I don’t want to lose you.”

“And I don’t want to lose Sabrina. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself or—” He stopped before he added her name to the equation. “Look,” he said, “this might be crazy. Everything I’m thinking might be totally impossible. But right now, I’m the best option if I don’t want to wait for a donor who may never turn up.”

She took a breath. “There is another option, Daddy.”

His lips curled into a slow smile, but he stayed quiet. Kept his eyes on her so that she would say more.

She paused, thought for a moment. “I’m not saying that I will do it…at least not yet.” She put hope into his eyes. “I need some time…to think about it.”

“Okay,” he said; he folded, then unfolded his hands.

Kendall could feel it—he had many more words he wanted to say to convince her. But he left it alone. He closed his eyes for another moment, and Kendall wondered if he was praying.

She walked to where he stood, kissed his cheek. “Daddy, promise me that you won’t do anything until you hear from me.”

He nodded. “But you can’t take too long, baby girl.”

She kissed him again and her eyes wandered over his shoulder, to the pictures of her and Sabrina that he’d been staring at minutes before.

Once outside, she refused to look back. She couldn’t. Because if she did, she would see her father, standing at the window with the hope she saw in his eyes. Hope that she’d put there. Hope that was completely false.

It wasn’t exactly a lie, she told herself as she eased her SUV from the driveway. Of course, she had no intention of being Sabrina’s donor. But her father couldn’t know that. Not until she had figured out how she could stop him.

Thoughts swirled through her mind as she sped up the freeway. For the first time since Pastor Ford put them together, she needed to talk to her prayer partners. Sheridan would be a help for sure, but right now she’d settle for Vanessa, or even Asia.

Well, their prayer group meeting was days away. In the meantime, she’d send up her own prayers to God. Because if He didn’t do anything else for her in this life, He needed to reveal a way that she could save her father from being dragged into this madness.

V
ANESSA

Vanessa glanced at the FedEx slip once again before she slid the package across the counter.

“Hey, you forgot your receipt,” the man yelled.

But Vanessa didn’t turn around. She strolled to her car and checked off her mental to-do list. The locks on her home had been changed. And now, this package would be delivered by ten in the morning. Vanessa glanced at her watch; that meant that in less than twenty-four hours the world would know.

As she twisted her car through the streets of Culver City, she thought about Reed; now she understood. She’d been so upset that he’d left her such a simple message. She wanted so much more than just that piece of paper with those twenty words; she’d wanted twenty pages.

But now that she was here, she realized why Reed had done it that way. At this point in life, all that you needed to say should have been already said. You couldn’t leave love in a note.

Vanessa pressed the remote for her garage and drove inside. She’d considered using this space—just getting into the car and leaving it running. She could have fallen asleep that way. But her friends on the Internet told her that wouldn’t work if she had neighbors—neighbors who would try to save her.

With slow steps, she entered her home and started in the living room, brushing invisible lint from the sofa and plumping the pillows. Satisfied, she moved into the kitchen and wiped crumbs that weren’t there from the sparkling granite counters.

Before she walked up the steps she took another look around the living room. She and Reed had chosen their furniture with such care. This was good; her mother should get a fair price when she sold the furnishings. Upstairs she repeated the process, made sure every room was in order.

Then she went into her bedroom.

In the bathroom, she glanced at her reflection. Her hair was curled tight, just the way she liked it. And she wore Reed’s favorite dress, the red one with the small flowers. It was shorter than most of her others—this one came only inches below her knees. But this was the one Reed would want to see her in.

She took a deep breath before she turned her attention to the bottles. This wasn’t like her dream. There weren’t hundreds of containers, only the eight that she’d laid out from that very first day. She’d been worried about whether she had enough. But last night, she’d told 4choice and Joynpain every prescription she had. And her friends assured her that she had enough.

With the water running, she popped the first pills into her mouth. Then more. And more. Still more. It took almost five minutes to swallow every pill.

Inside her bedroom, she smoothed the duvet before she lay down. She leaned back, closed her eyes, but then sat up suddenly. She reached for Reed’s photo and stared into his eyes for a moment before she brought her lips to his.

Then she lay back down. Held his picture in her arms.

She wanted her mind to be empty, but it was filled with thoughts: of her mother, Pastor Ford and the ladies of the prayer group. She thought about God. But most of all, her mind was filled with Reed.

She closed her eyes. Now groggy. Now sleepy.

And with a breath, she said good-bye to all, and hello to God.

S
HERIDAN

Five days and counting.

Sheridan had called Brock, but never left a message when his voice mail came on.
Had he really meant what he said?

“Hi, Mom.”

Sheridan sat up from where she’d been lying on the couch. She hadn’t even heard Tori walk through the door. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Tori dumped her bag at the stairs and then strolled into the living room. She leaned against the edge of the sofa. “Are you okay?”

That was the question she was supposed to be asking her daughter. But here she was, laid out as if she were sick. It wasn’t physical—everything that ailed was in her mind. Brock’s last words that felt so much like good-bye. Quentin’s nightly calls that left her with no doubt that he wanted something more.

She clutched her stomach; the familiar flutters had been with her more today.

“Mom?”

“I’m fine. I was just resting. How was school?”

Tori shrugged. “The same, but I’m getting used to it. Nobody talks to me at lunch, so today I skipped it and helped Mr. Berg with a project.”

“That’s a great idea, sweetheart.”

Tori nodded. “Dad told me to ask the teachers if I could work with them during my breaks. But…it’s still hard, Mom. I’d rather be with my friends.”

“I know.”

Tori exhaled a deep sigh. “I just don’t know why everyone is making such a big deal. If I had kissed Benjamin, they wouldn’t be acting this way.”

Sheridan didn’t like that image either.

“And I’m not even gay. I don’t want to be gay.”

Sheridan held out her arms and Tori rested inside her mother’s embrace. “It’s hard to be treated differently.”

“I’m not different. But that doesn’t even matter because nobody believes anything I say.”

Sheridan shook her head—mother and daughter in the same place. The people most important in their lives, Tori—her friends, Brock—her man, didn’t believe their words.

“Sweetheart, all I can tell you is to just stay true to who you are, and then one day, no one will be able to resist you.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“I promise, if you just do you, they’ll come around. People have to come around to the truth.” Sheridan hoped that would be true for Brock, too. One day, he’d have to realize who she truly loved.

“Okay, Mom.” She kissed Sheridan’s cheek before she trudged toward the door. Picking up her backpack, she said, “I’m getting used to being alone anyway,” and then she stomped up the stairs.

Sheridan shook her head. “Oh, no,” she whispered. Now she was going to have to do something. Because there was no way she was going to allow her child ever to get used to being alone.

Sheridan held her breath when her cell phone rang, just as she’d been doing since Saturday. But she lost her hope when she glanced at the screen. She gripped the steering wheel with one hand and pressed her earpiece.

“Hey, Quentin.”

“Hey. I called the house and Tori said you were on your way to church.”

“Yeah, I have a meeting. What’s up?”

“I was just checking on Tori. And on you.”

She couldn’t get the image of him—and his lips moving toward her—from her mind. “Tori and I are fine,” she said as she sped down Centinela. “Tori’s actually handling this better”—she took a breath—“since you’ve been around.”

“Great. You know what I’ve been thinking—we should go away this weekend. Drive down to Oceanside or up to Santa Barbara.”

“What for?” She frowned.

“I thought it would do Tori good to have a fun weekend away with her parents.”

What?
“I don’t think so.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Do you have plans with Brock?”

“No. It’s just not a good idea…for us.”

“I’m thinking this will be good for Tori. And it’ll give us a chance to be a family, even if it’s just for the weekend.” Sheridan opened her mouth, but before she could protest, Quentin added, “Just think about it. I’ll call you back.” He hung up before she said anything more.

Sheridan flipped her cell just as she entered the parking lot. She looked at Hope Chapel, its welcoming stained glass windows, the oak doors, and she couldn’t remember a time when she wanted to be here more. She needed to pray—she needed some guidance from God.