Second to None, page 20
“Okay. Fine. We’ll wait. Move in then.”
“Because I can cook?”
“Because I’m crazy about you, Josie. I want you here all the time. I want you to move in. I want you to have half of the closet. I want your stuff to mingle with mine. I want you to use the kitchen and, yeah, try out all of Gran’s old recipes. I want to share this life with you. So, move in with me.”
With my heart full to bursting, I nodded. “Yes. Okay. I’ll move in.”
He kissed me hard and then stood with his plate. “I need seconds.”
I cracked up. I had a feeling I’d be making this for him forever. And I loved that idea.
I moved in the next day. Mom was glad that I’d agreed to stay in Savannah for the time being even if it wasn’t in her house. We’d agreed to meet for dinner regularly since I was less busy. Dad seemed unsurprised that I’d decided to stay. He’d known I was in love with Maddox again before I did, apparently. And he wholeheartedly approved. He just requested that we come back to Atlanta and see him again soon. Which really meant, we needed to stay longer, so he and Maddox could draw together, but I wasn’t complaining.
Now that I had time to myself again, I’d taken to sitting in Gran’s rocking chair on the back porch, reading my mother’s journal. Maddox still had post-production work to do. So, he was busy most days. I didn’t have anything official to do until we went on a promotional tour for Academy.
When I’d spoken to my agent to tell her no more auditions, she’d been shockingly understanding. She assumed it was a break after a long movie. I hadn’t needed to tell her that it felt permanent. Maybe I’d change my mind. Maybe I wouldn’t. All I knew was that as soon as I’d taken it off the table, I felt free again.
Not that I had any idea what I wanted to do from here. Maddox was right that I was in a position to wait for inspiration to strike.
So, I settled in, even going as far as bringing Maddox to my house in LA to pack up things to take back to Savannah. The first thing I’d grabbed was the picture Maddox had drawn for me in college. It deserved a place of honor in Gran’s house.
But otherwise, the house in LA had felt cold. I’d spent years there alone after my second divorce, and the thought of it made me sick. When I told Maddox I wanted to sell it, he told me to do whatever I wanted. We could get a place in LA for when either of us had to be there for work. I’d gotten a real estate agent the next day to put it on the market. That house was old Josie. I’d get something new when I figured out who I was going forward.
The best part about being in town the rest of the summer was getting to spend more time with Marley and Lila. They drove down to hang out with me and Maddox, and we drove up there. We planned Lila’s wedding, which she and Cole had decided would take place at the Chapel on UGA’s campus next year. It was fitting since that was where they’d met.
And as the last rays set on July, I was finishing up the final pages of my mother’s book with tears in my eyes.
“Josie,” Maddox’s voice called through the house.
“Back here,” I said with a sniffle.
“Is everything okay?” He stepped through the back door and out onto the porch.
I closed the book. “I finished.”
“How was it?”
“Sad,” I said softly. “I need to talk to my mom.”
“Aren’t you having dinner with her tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I’m going to go over there now though.”
“Want me to come with?”
I stood and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I love you, but no. Stay here. I made Gran’s mac and cheese. It’s in the oven on warm.”
He groaned. “You know the way to my heart.”
“Through your stomach,” I said with a laugh.
“Just you.”
We kissed again, and then I headed out the door with the book tucked under my arm. When I arrived back at my mom’s home, I looked at it completely differently than I had all those summers I grew up here. It wasn’t the bright future for my mom. The place she’d escaped her responsibility. The house was a prison. And I had no idea why she’d kept it.
I knocked once on the door and then stepped inside. “Mom?”
“Josie?” My mom stepped out of the kitchen, dressed to the nines, as always, with a martini glass in her hand. “Is everything okay? We’re not supposed to have dinner until tomorrow.”
I didn’t say anything. I just walked across the living room and enveloped my mother in a hug. She made a sound just short of shock before she put her arm around me.
“What’s going on? Are you and Maddox okay? Because you know I will skin him alive if he hurts you.”
“Yes,” I said on a laugh. “We’re great. I just … I finished the journal.” I held it up, so she could see it. “I got to the end.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “Well, took you long enough. I thought you’d read it right away.”
I chuckled. “I was busy. And it was … heavy.”
“Let’s go outside. Do you want a drink?”
“You know what? I really do.”
She smiled. A soft, genuine smile. “That’s my girl.”
She poured me a martini, and we took the drinks out to the pool. We took a seat on the lounge chairs under an umbrella.
“So, you know my whole story.”
“He hit you,” I forced myself to say.
My mother nodded. “Yes.”
“You chose him after Dad wouldn’t take you back, and then he made you suffer for your choice. He hit you for years. And I never knew. How … how did you survive? Why didn’t you leave?”
“You read why.”
“He wouldn’t let you leave.”
“Abuse never starts out with physical pain. It starts out with psychological torture. With destroying your worth and your financial success and everything you know until all you have is him.” Her voice wasn’t weak. It was strong. Even recollecting what she’d gone through with him, she wasn’t that weak person anymore. “And then, when he hits you, you think you deserve it. You made him do these things. If only you’d been more or better or some unattainable thing, then you would have been enough, and he wouldn’t have raised a hand to you.”
I choked on tears. “You didn’t deserve that.”
“No, I didn’t, and it was many years before I realized that. But I knew all along that I wouldn’t let it happen to you.”
“That’s why you gave Dad custody.”
“Yes.”
“And I only came back in the summers because Edward was gone. It was the only time you were safe.”
“Yes. I could have left in the summer, but I didn’t know what he’d do to you if I left. So, I didn’t risk it. I couldn’t risk it.”
I took her hand in mine. “Thank you. Thank you for protecting me, even when I didn’t understand what you were doing. Even when I resented you for it.”
“Josie, I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom.” I squeezed her hand through tear-blurred eyes.
She held her martini glass aloft. “To freedom.”
“To freedom,” I agreed.
We clinked glasses and drank deeply of the gin.
“So,” I asked as casually as possible, “did you do it?”
My mom arched an eyebrow at me. “Be more specific.”
“You know … did you kill him?”
That had always been the rumor circulating. Half the time, I thought it was utterly ridiculous. Half the time, I knew the rumors had to come from somewhere. Usually, I’d assumed it was jealous sycophants who wanted my mother’s money. But after reading the journal, it was entirely unclear exactly what had happened. Edward had been into prescription drugs. He’d done a lot of opioids. Overdoses were common.
My mom laughed. “Ah, I was waiting for this. What do you think?”
What did I think? I stared at my beautiful mother. My mirror. Could I have done it? I really didn’t think so, and I didn’t think she could do it either.
“No. I don’t think you did it.”
“Good. I’m glad, darling,” she said, patting my hand. “I like to hear that. The rumors and all the slander don’t matter. Only what you think does.”
“I have an idea. A wild idea.”
“What’s that?”
“I want to make this into a movie.”
She laughed. “What into a movie?”
“This journal. Your life. I can see it all on the big screen. I know exactly how I’d play it.”
“You want to make my life a movie?” she asked, momentarily shocked.
“Yes. I want to direct it and make it into something valuable. Maddox reminded me that I always wanted to direct and that I was interested in women’s stories. The ones that weren’t being told. What better than your story?”
“That boy is good for you.”
“He is,” I agreed easily. “What do you think?”
“I say yes with two conditions.”
I waited for the ball to drop. For her to request something ridiculous, as she always had when I was a kid. I hadn’t known then that those requests were to keep me safe from Edward, but I’d hated her for them. Though I was learning to forgive and move on from the trauma of my childhood, I couldn’t stop the involuntary reaction.
“What’s that?”
“For one, you play me.”
I relaxed at those words. Then, I laughed. “Me? No, I was going to direct.”
“Directors can be the star too, Josephine. And you, my darling daughter, are both.”
She was right, of course. There were plenty of actors who directed. It wouldn’t be unusual. And … the thought intrigued me. I’d have to step into my mother’s shoes. Could I do that? Could anyone else do it better?
I nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it. What’s the second request?”
“You have to get your father’s permission too.”
Of course. It was both of their stories. It was only fair that I ask him too.
“I will absolutely do that.”
“Good. I always knew that I was meant for the big screen,” she said with a wink.
And we both giggled at that.
I felt the bridge finally rebuilding between us, and this movie was only going to bring us closer. And I couldn’t wait.
30
ATLANTA
PRESENT
“What if he says no?” I asked, chewing on my hair in Maddox’s truck as we got off I-85 and headed toward my dad’s house.
“Then, he says no.”
“I don’t have another idea.”
“You’ll come up with another idea,” he assured me. “You were off for no time at all and had this idea. I’m sure if you gave yourself another week, you’d have a new idea.”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“And he’s not going to say no. It’s not like you’re going to show him in a negative light.”
“No … just Edward.”
“Personally, I think he wouldn’t care if everyone saw Edward as the villain.”
I glanced at him. “Not speaking from experience, are you?”
He squeezed my hand. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure. Sure,” I said with a laugh.
Even with Maddox’s words in my head, I couldn’t stop the nerves as we parked in front of Dad’s house. I grabbed the book and shouldered my bag before hopping out of the car and walking to the front door.
Maddox knocked, and Dad opened the door, holding a paintbrush. I just shook my head.
“I’m in the middle of a breakthrough. Come in. Come in. Hurry.”
Maddox and I shared a look and then followed Dad inside. As eccentric as ever.
He was working in my old bedroom. A canvas was on the ground, and there was paint everywhere. It half-looked like he’d been suspended from something and thrown paint from the ceiling. Luckily, he’d had the forethought to put a sheet over the bed.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?”
“Genius,” he said without a hint of joking.
Maddox turned his head to the side. “I like it. It kind of reminds me of the kaleidoscopes we had as kids. If you look at it from another perspectives, it’s a different picture.”
“Yes, yes!” my dad said. “He gets it.”
I hugged the book to my chest and waited for them to be finished. It was another half hour, in which Maddox got paint all over his shirt and in his curly hair. I picked my feet up and backed farther away from the mess.
“Okay. That’s it for today. Let’s go into the living room.”
“Dad, you should change.”
“Right you are.”
He disappeared into the back and came out a few minutes later in fresh clothing. Maddox had stripped out of his shirt and dug through his duffel to find a fresh one. Finally, we all sat down in the living room. Dad had gotten us all beers.
“What’s this all about? I’m glad you’re here, but you didn’t seem like yourself on the phone.”
I took a deep breath and launched into my pitch. It was harder to ask this of my dad, considering he was the first victim of the entire ordeal. I knew he didn’t want to relive what had happened or have hundreds or thousands or even millions of other people to relive it with him. But I needed his permission before I proceeded.
At the end, Dad was struck silent. He ran a hand across his beard and then held his hand out. “That’s the journal?”
“A copy. I had one made for you.” I put it in his hand. “She loved you, Dad. And … she was protecting me the best she could. I believe that now.”
“And Edward really … hit her?” he asked. His hand clenched tight around the book, his knuckles white at the thought.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Did he ever raise a hand to you?”
I shook my head. “No. I barely saw him when I was there. That’s why she asked me to come in the summers—because he was gone. I had no idea until I read the journal.”
He sighed heavily. “I wish she’d told me.”
There was so much weight in those words. An entire lifetime of what could have been.
“Me too.”
The silence was heavy, but I let it hang. Let my dad process everything I’d told him. It was a lot to take in. It had been for me, and he’d been there for half of it.
Finally, he met my gaze again. “And you want to make this into a movie?”
“I do. I feel like I’m finally following my passion again.”
“All right,” he said with a nod. “I can’t guarantee I’ll read it. I don’t know if I want to know all of Rebecca’s inner thoughts. But I won’t stop you from creating. Not when you’ve done so much for me all these years.”
I jumped to my feet and wrapped my arms around my dad’s shoulders. “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. Just promise to come back with Maddox more often.”
I laughed and swiped at my tears. I met Maddox’s gaze, and he nodded. “Definitely.”
“I’d be happy to,” Maddox agreed.
“Well, when do you start?” Dad asked.
“Now.”
Maddox coughed up a lungful of dust. “Jesus, has anyone gone through the stuff in this attic ever?”
“Not for years,” my mom said. She waved her hand in front of her face to clear the dust.
“Rebecca, allow me to introduce you to the show Hoarders.”
I cracked up. “Mom isn’t a hoarder. This is just the attic, Maddox.”
“Just because she can hide her hoarding doesn’t make it any less hoarding.”
“Well, won’t you thank me when you don’t have to do all new costumes for the movie?” Mom said.
Maddox snorted and then started coughing again.
“Go downstairs if you can’t handle the dust,” I said as I navigated the towers of boxes in my mother’s attic.
Developing my mother’s journal to a film was an endeavor like I’d never gone through. I’d had to fall heavily back into things that I’d learned at SCAD when I was first trying to get into directing. I’d reached out to my film advisor from college about the direction. We’d set up weekly meetings for consultations on the project.
But Maddox had been right. What really got me through was my experience on Academy. All of the directors I’d worked with on different episodes of the show. The hours of rehearsing lines and filming and acting and dealing with technical direction. The millions of little things that I’d acquired over the years were now a fount of knowledge in my head.
Then there was Maddox.
Because he had worked on a host of blockbuster films and seen his fair share of direction. Plus, he had the opposite expertise of me. He knew post-production and angles and settings. He saw the half of the picture that I was missing.
Eventually, a script had been shaped out of the journal. Scenes came into focus. Everything fit together like the ingredients for Gran’s perfect biscuit recipe.
I’d phoned in some favors to get actors in for the roles. The scheduling was a nightmare, to say the least. But I was excited that at least I’d gotten Iris in for a part. The role of my dad was easily the most difficult to cast, and Edward was the easiest. A young me had also been challenging, but officially, the film was set. And we were doing everything to not go over budget.
Which was why we were digging through my mom’s boxes.
“Found it!” I cheered.
I ripped open a box to find an array of tulle, big puffy sleeves, oversize blazers with shoulder pads, mom jeans, velvet track suits, and more.
“Oh my God,” I gasped. I held up a ruffled hot-pink dress with massive sleeves. “Why did you keep all of this?”
“I hate getting rid of things,” my mom said. “And that was my senior prom dress, mind you.”
I burst into giggles. Even Maddox chuckled.
“Here’s a box of Edward’s clothes too.” She removed clothes that looked like they had come straight out of a John Hughes film. “Well, will it do?”
“1988 has never looked so good.”
“Ready?” Maddox whispered against my ear.
