Thursday, December 15, 2016

Chapter 49: Some Things You Can't Hide From

In what is apparently classic fashion for me, I left.

To hell with work, with Greyson, and with Liam, and with memories. To hell with love and lust and romance. I'm going to become that single lady on the street who lives with twelve cats and no men. Female cats, thank you!

Don't ask me why Liam ended up lumped in there, but Greyson's parting shot made it impossible to leave him out. Why isn't he fighting for you, Merrie? Why is he so accepting about everything? My God, he found a strange man in your house and didn't do a thing about it! What's going on in that head of yours that you have to get mixed up with someone like that? Why can't you pick someone who can handle you, who will let you be yourself? You're too alive to squander yourself on a man so far away and still so married.


Even then I managed to refrain from dumping anything on him beyond a killing scowl. Don't ask me why. I should have emptied my coffee mug on his head, then followed it with the Pepsi on his desk. Run all over him? All over Liam? Ha!

My supervisor accepted my excuse of a headache, said I looked rather pale, and that she hoped I'd feel better tomorrow.

Liam didn't have to question Greyson's presence, I told myself. Why would he have to question anything? He trusts me!

That's right, run away again, I told myself. Just like you ran from Reed, from Liam. This is different, though. I'm trying to get my life together. The last thing I need is some two-bit journalist... ! Who in the hell does he think he is? What right did he have to dig that deeply into my life?

And why did this article never materialize? If it had, Reed never would have... then again, those first few weeks after the accident were still a little hazy. Admittedly, I took full advantage of the pain pills they'd given me for my broken leg. It made dealing with everything easier. Reed had been the one to handle everything. He'd decided what to keep and what to sell, what to store and what to display. So little of me was kept and kept out, per Reed's direction, that when I moved out a few months ago it wasn't that difficult. Most of my life was still boxed when I told Reed that I was leaving. Even my brother had commented on it when we moved me out. What's with this, sis? It's not like you to leave everything packed up. It looks like you figured you weren't staying that long. Am I right?

No, Stephen, that's not true. I thought this would be permanent. It's just, well, Reed decided otherwise.

Ah, com'on, kiddo. This is your brother you're talking to. You grew up with Dakota. Mincing words and telling lies ain't your style. Though God only knows why you're letting something as silly as a cyber-fling drive you out of this life. What are you thinking anyway?

Just finish loading the truck, will you? I know what I'm doing. I'm not our mother, and I won't put up with being that man's occasional amusement.

It's not like he's having an affair. He's still sleeping with you. Not her.

I forced myself to stop thinking. Perhaps, in hindsight, I hadn't unpacked because I knew something was wrong. Liam once suggested that Reed was threatened by my strength and thus had to try to run my life, which I scoffed at. It wasn't like Reed was some abusive, controlling man. Weak and insecure and  jerk, yes. He was also incredibly passive. Trying to control me and my life would have taken too much effort on his part. No matter what I didn't know about life, I did know what he wasn't.

I pulled into my driveway, turned off the car, and retreated into my house, to my kitchen for something -- anything -- to chew on while I mulled over the man (men?) in my life.

One of these days I need to go shopping. In moods like this, I need something crunchy... and the only thing I had was a box of croutons. At least I had my supply of Pepsi.

So what happened to the article? No one ever mentioned it to me, showed it to me. Not even Aunt Geenie, who would have delighted in tormenting me with it. She would've sent the magazine to me immediately -- along with a note about how much I was living up to the McKenize name. She would've sent something to Stephen, too. Come to think of it, Stephen's miserable wife would've made it a point to share it with me as well. So what happened to the article?

Time to do with I've always avoided, I guess. A moment later, I had my laptop up and running and was googling London's name. Nothing -- most of the hits dealt with the city. Jamie + Addams + Meredith + Hagan. I'd try both of our names.

Bingo. Hidden in the on-line archives of American Faces magazine.

...Jamie Addams, Lafayette County's rising son, was killed... in his car was co-worker Meredith Hagan... the single-car accident on River Run Road shattered her right leg...

I skimmed it quickly, but found nothing whatsoever about my life. Hell, aside from the mention of my being in the car and my broken leg, there was nothing of note. Even if someone I knew had seen it, it wouldn't have been worth mentioning.

So what was he doing researching my life?

Dammit. I was going to have to talk to him again, wasn't I?

My head was absolutely pounding. I didn't want to talk to him again. I didn't want to talk to someone who had a way of making me question everything I thought I was so sure of.

I picked up the phone. "It's me. We need to talk."