Mend the Seams (Buried Secrets 3)

“Josh, your threats are meaningless. If you were ever cold enough to kill me, I’d been dead years ago. But you’re a coward. You feed off my fear as if it’s the only nutrition you need to get by. Well, it’s time you starve. You’re only deserving of it, after all.”

“Vows, Savannah!” He shouts, his fists drawing together tightly and I flinch on instinct. “Remember those little words you promised before God? What were they? Oh yeah – for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish. I think there is one more, in fact – the most important of them all.” That sinister smirk creeps across his lips as he says, “Til death do us part, gorgeous. Remember?”

“I do remember.” My eyes cast down as the dismal feeling blankets over me. “The woman I once was, the one you married – she’s gone, Josh. You murdered her spirit.” His jaw hangs slack in surprise or shock – I’m not sure which, possibly both. That single reaction spurs me on, fueling my strength to close this chapter of my life without second thought. I square my shoulders and give him a pointed look. “I broke away from you within an inch of my life. I’ve lived in fear long enough. I’m numb to your abuse. Now that your talons are no longer sunken within my skin, I’m moving forward with my life. I don’t know what happiness feels like, but I know I deserve it. Let me go.”

Clearing the county jail, I take swift steps through the parking lot trying to reach my vehicle quickly. Climbing inside the SUV, I try to insert the key into the ignition but they fall to the floor as they slip from my trembling hands. Deep breaths, Savannah. Taking a moment to compose myself, I steady my breathing and push back the tears. My courage is just beginning to bubble up and I refuse to allow my fear to over shadow it. I’m in a slight state of shock. I didn’t think I was brave enough to face Josh, but my strength is greater than I expected. I highly doubt that he’ll relent and sign the Petition f

or Divorce, not without a fight. But finally standing up to him makes the battle that lies ahead seem trivial at the moment.

Heading home from the county jail, I make a short stop in Lexington for a caffeine recharge as my momentum begins to sputter along. The small shopping plaza just off Man-O-War drive is bustling. After driving a few loops around the parking lot I find an empty space near the front of the coffee shop to park. The shop is packed tight with patrons reading on their Kindles and typing away on their laptops – not an empty table in sight. I order a Venti Mocha and chocolate chip muffin to-go then head back out into the warm fall air towards an empty bench.

I take a small nibble at the muffin, losing interest fairly quickly when I realize it’s well past its prime – dry and stale. Thank goodness the coffee is fresh and strong. I pick small crumbs off the muffin mindlessly, tossing them in the grass to feed the birds while people watching. Everyone seems so caught up in the moment, hustling to and from their destinations as if they’re on a mission with each step they take. Shoppers who keep their eyes cast down on their cell phones as they walk, some nearly stumbling over the cracks in the sidewalks. You can determine a lot about a person simply by watching closely. The speed of their step, the concentrated expression on their face, the way they carry themselves speaks volumes about their mood in the moment. I don’t think we realize how transparent we are when we’re in our most natural state.

I continue to sip on my coffee, watching the passersby when suddenly something catches my eye. Something – someone familiar yet almost unrecognizable. He’s standing near the front of a restaurant talking to a young woman and for some strange reason I’m interested in what they’re discussing. She looks upset and although he tries to console her wrapping her up in his strong arms, it doesn’t seem to be the comfort she needs. Tilting my head, I squint my eyes as I stare at the attractive man. He’s tall, strong and muscular with broad shoulders that I’m drawn to. I can’t tell much about his features as he keeps his head cast down, breathing in the young woman he’s comforting. I feel just a smidge bitter for this woman, because while she turns a blind eye to the comfort she’s being offered, here I sit alone with a dark ache in my heart.

Finally, she pulls from his hold and his eyes trail her path as she walks away quickly. It’s then that my heart shoots to my throat blocking the passage of my airway. His scruffy beard is thicker, but his gentle face and baby blue eyes are still the same. Luke. And now it all makes perfect sense. The abrupt disappearance, ignoring all of my calls and text. I was just a game. Always, just a game.

Savannah wastes no time in leaving the visitation room after she speaks her final words. I sit stock still, waiting for her to straggle back in with her tail between her legs but she never reappears. As the guard leads me back to my cell, each step becomes heavier. The heavy steel grate slams shut, the lock latching into place and I place my hands through the slot allowing the guard to remove the cuffs from my wrist.

Sitting on the edge of the thin bunk, I brace my elbows on my knees, cradling my head in my hands as reality washes over me. None of this is my fault. I worked my ass off giving Savannah every fuckin’ thing she could want. I didn’t expect much of her: a clean home, meals cooked to perfection and served promptly at my scheduled times. She was only expected to succumb to my every beck and call as any wife should, honoring me in the highest regard. She failed on a daily basis, but I never gave up on her. Not one fuckin’ time did I turn my back on her. I disciplined her mistakes, encouraging her to submit to my requests, and although Savannah is submissive by nature, she always found a way to fuck something up.

My nerves are grated and the more thought I put into this bullshit, the more enraged I become. What the fuck happened to cause my life to spiral beyond my control? I love her. I know I was never the easiest bastard to tolerate, but was I really so horrific that I drove my wife away?

She promised to obey, to honor me, to love me for better and for worse. Well this is as bad as it can fuckin’ get and she thinks it’s okay to turn her back on me now?

“Guard!” I shout, jumping to my feet. “Guard!”

Heavy stomps and jangling keys fill the silence of the hallway, the distinct sound growing louder as it descends upon me. “What’s the problem, Moore?”

“I need to see Dr. Hampton, now.”

“You aren’t on the schedule as having an appointment with Dr. Hampton ‘til Monday.” Dumb fucker obviously doesn’t understand that I couldn’t give two shits about schedules.

“I don’t fuckin’ care when I’m scheduled to see Dr. Hampton. Fuckin’ call her office and tell her I need to speak with her, now!”

He scrubs his hand over his face before stomping off muttering quietly under his breath.

I begin to pace small figure eights across the cell, counting backwards in my head trying to concentrate on the numbers, begging the rage to dissipate. The rage only heightens as the clock ticks away. The white noise I’m so familiar with: shuffling, muttering, metal clinging, the zinging of the fluorescent lights overhead, keys jangling, and silent cries beyond the walls of the cells suddenly becomes a blaring echo in my head.

I need to hit something. I need to inflict pain, smell and see the blood oozing from the wounds I cause. My hand balls into a fist and without thought crashes against the cinderblock wall. One shot simply ain’t enough. Drawing back I slam my fist into the wall again and again keeping rhythm to the throb of the pulse that flows through my veins as adrenaline courses through me. The sensation of the warm blood that drips from my knuckles and the smell of iron that evades my senses is the best euphoric high I’ve experienced in a while. The dark, blind fury blanketed over me is so thick that the sound of the cell grate sliding open doesn’t even register in my mind, nor does the yelled commands from the guards. I don’t realize one fuckin’ thing about the world around me other than that fuckin’ wall and the crash of my knuckles against the concrete until a stabbing jolt pierces my skin and electricity floods through my muscles and nerves, crashing my ass to the floor in a heap.

Chapter Eleven

The last several days have been calming. Between allowing myself to close a chapter of my life by saying my final goodbye to Josh, then seeing Luke in a private moment with another woman, I'm actually shocked at how easily I allowed myself to relax. It was almost as if my give-a-damn finally crashed from the weighty pressure I've been under. Whatever it is, I think I like it. I've grown accustomed to my co-dependency, fear and lack of sleep. So this new relaxed state is a breath of fresh air I can't seem to get enough of. Set fire to the past and run towards the future – that is my intended goal.

My focus is my kids. Every waking moment – and believe me, I don’t sleep – is focused on Brailee and Braden. Whatever I can do to be the best mom to them, showering them with enough love for two parents, teaching them to be respectful children. Our weekend was full of ball games, a rowdy trip to Gianni’s for pizza and Sunday morning worship at our quaint little church. By the time I tucked the kids into bed last night, we were all exhausted. Since I was asked to chaperone the kids class trip today, I took a few Tylenol PM to knock me out.

I follow the bus out Route One to the small farm. After parking my SUV I meet up with the class as they file off the bus lining up neatly so Mrs. Cumpton can get a head count. She greets me kindly, then passes the twins and two other children, Jaylen and Gabe, off to me as she explains the stations set up for the children to visit. Armed with GermX, four excited eight year olds’ and a bottle of Tylenol I’ll surely be needin’ soon, we set off towards the goats.

I help the kids one by one fill their cups then watch as they let the goats nibble at the grain in their little hands.

“Eww, it licked my hands. So gross!” Jaylen shrieks, her little nose scrunching up in obvious disgust.

“Ya big sissy. What’d ya expect it to do when you put your hands full of food out there for it? It’s gonna lick ya, Jaylen!” Brailee laughs, swiping her hands down the front of her

jeans. I shoot her a stern look which earns me an eye roll as she passes by, trudging off towards the next station. That girl and her sharp tongue just might streak my locks of brown to a shiny grey sooner than I’d like.

The kids take their time at each station, petting the cows, feedin’ the chickens and laughing at the lazy pigs wallerin’ about in the mud. Our final station of the day is in the barn where Henry, the old farmer who owns the farm we’re visiting, is introducing the kids to Jelly Bean, the Shetland pony. Of course Brailee takes right to Henry’s side, grabbing the brush off the stool and brushing Jelly Bean’s coat as she interjects facts while Henry speaks. He tosses his head back with a hearty chuckle then bows, offering Brailee the floor. Brailee wastes no time telling her friends about her horse, Buttercup, and my heart swells with pride for the knowledge and love my girl has for one of her greatest passions. She’s been riding horses since she was four years old. It was entirely Josh’s idea since he was raised around horses. Initially, I thought she was too young, but she proved me wrong rather quickly. Riding was her special time with Josh, but as the years passed by he became too busy to dedicate the weekly riding times with her at the ranch, so that was left up to me.