Fate Revealed, page 18
The sitting room had always been Indi’s favorite room. The walls were the color of the forest––a green so warm and so deep she thought she was eye-deep in leaves. Everything else in the room—from the window dressings to the cushions—were all some shade of the same color. A rug sat between the sofas, a wingback chair at one corner and the granite fireplace behind it.
Along the top of the mantel were pictures of Jerry growing up. There was only one photo of Indi. It was of her and Jerry in the swimming pool together one hot summer day. His strawberry-blond hair was cut short, looking more strawberry than blond. With his arms wrapped around her shoulders, his head rested on top of her head. Indi’s tight-lipped grin dripped with beads of water from the pool, her hands resting on his. Jerry looked so happy. Indi almost appeared happy, but she noticed—for the first time ever perhaps—just how haunted her eyes looked.
“Won’t you sit down?” Barb said. Indi turned around, finding Barb sitting in the wingback chair, her long fingernails curled over one of the ends.
“I’m good,” Indi replied, but Jerry took a seat on the sofa adjacent to his mother. Eric came in then, carefully balancing a silver platter on his palm. Three flutes of champagne sparkled in the light of the overhead chandelier. Attending to Barb first, Eric circled the room, eventually turning his attention to Indi. She refused the drink.
“Thank you, Eric,” Barb simpered, placing her good hand on his wrist as he placed some canapes onto the chestnut coffee table. He nodded reverently to her before whisking out of the room like a ghost. Barb’s steel-blue eyes gravitated to Indi, who was now standing behind Jerry so she could keep an eye on the threat.
“I didn’t think you’d actually come.”
“Surprise,” Indi murmured darkly.
“How’s your arm, Mother?” Jerry interrupted. Barb’s cold gaze went to her son, her face softening just a little. She looked down at the sling across her chest and forced a smile. “It’s uncomfortable.”
“Not that I care, but what exactly happened that day?” Indi asked icily.
Barb placed her champagne flute down onto a napkin on the table, methodically judging the exact center of the paper. Indi could practically see Barb’s loathing for her. “Mark and I were in town looking for a new suit for him. We crossed the road to get a coffee, and as we were crossing, a car ran a red light and plowed straight into me.” She sniffled. “Well, at least that’s what I’ve been told. It happened all too fast for me to remember correctly,” Barb said calmly.
Jerry had retreated in on himself, trying to keep his emotions from showing on his face; he was failing miserably. Indi could see the self-blame even though there was nothing he could have done to stop that car.
“The last thing I remember was Mark cradling my head in his lap with a phone to his ear. I woke up in the hospital later, and was told that I’d had surgery to find the source of some internal bleeding.” There were no hysterics, but truth be told, Indi had never seen Barb become hysterical over anything…well, except that one time. Barb pierced Indi with another hard stare. “I heard you died? Is that true?”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but no,” Indi replied.
Jerry took Indi’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. She looked down, thinking his giant hand could swallow hers completely. There was something comforting about that.
Indi glanced at Barb when she sensed someone’s blood pressure escalating—another crazy side-effect after waking up in the hospital. Barb was sitting completely still in the armchair, her eyes fixed on their display of support and affection. Most people would think Barb would be touched by this––her son and her not-quite-adopted daughter sharing a special moment––but Indi knew her better than that. A very fine shudder shook the golden liquid in Barb’s glass, betraying her. Eventually Barb put it down when the champagne threatened to slosh over the sides.
There was a silence so stifling that Indi thought she’d suffocate in it. Eric appeared in the doorway, saving them all from the impending horror of small talk. Barb glanced over at him and nodded.
“Dinner’s ready,” she announced, standing up in one gliding motion despite her injury. She walked over towards the archway that led through to the dining room. The fabric of her dress was so sheer that you could see just how great her figure was. Her hips swayed out to the sides like she was dancing to her own slow, erotic drumbeat.
Jerry hadn’t let go of Indi’s hand yet, and she didn’t pull away. He needed the touch to help him get through the dinner. And she was starting to think maybe she did, too.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Being back in that room brought everything back for Jerry. It floored him. Beside him stood Indi, her breath sawing in and out of her lips too quickly. She swayed and only his hand on her arm stopped her from knocking into the dining room table. She gave him a tight nod a few seconds later to let him know she was okay.
Jerry took in the room, his eyes drifting down to the flagstone floor. The rug was gone, replaced. Swallowing down thickly, he remembered what had happened in that very room only six months ago…
The sound of shattering glass had brought Jerry into the living room from the foyer. He was dressed in a Jay Kos suit, something his mother had insisted on. He felt much more comfortable in jeans and a casual shirt. They’d all just returned from his father’s trial. His father had been given a sentence of ten years imprisonment––parole in five––for sexual assault. His case wasn’t helped when some ex-employees of his came forward with sexual harassment suits against him either.
Indi had been in the living room curled up against the arm of the wingback with a book in her hands. His mother had been in the same room, curled up against the arm of the couch with palpable animosity in hers. Jerry looked towards the fireplace when the sting of alcohol reached his nostrils. His mother’s whiskey was creeping down the forest-green wallpaper, the shattered glass sitting in a pile at the base of the wall.
Indi hadn’t looked up. Her focus was clearly still on her book. It was as if she hadn’t even heard the crack of the crystal.
Barb stood up, shrieking, “Look at me!” Indi continued to ignore her. “You did this! You did this to him with your lies!” Barb spat, her whole body beginning to shake.
“Mother,” Jerry said desperately. “Please. Don’t do this. It’s not her fault.”
“Of course it’s her fault. She put your father in prison!”
“He put himself there, Barb,” Indi said without looking up from her book—her tone bored. “He did it when he decided to rape me.”
“You lying little tramp! I can’t believe I let you under my roof. I can’t believe I let you get in my son’s ear.”
“Jerry can make his own decisions, Barb,” Indi replied coolly, looking at her from the corner of her eye.
Jerry had to diffuse the situation. “Mother, why don’t you go into the kitchen and cool off? Maybe get another drink?” he suggested.
His mother gave him a dark look before she sashayed out of the room. She had changed so much since his father had been arrested. She and his father didn’t have a perfect marriage, but it was something Jerry could always depend on, something that was solid, something he knew would always be there. After Indi made a complaint against him, Barb had started victimizing her, bullying her, using her passive-aggressive nature to undermine her.
Jerry turned to look at Indi. “I’m sorry about her, Ind. I think it’s the stress of having to sit through all the evidence and the media and everything.”
She shrugged. “It’s fine. She’s threatened to kick me out before. I’ll survive.”
“I don’t want you to survive, Indi. I want you to live the life you deserve.” She’d been kicked out of every home she’d ever had, but Jerry was determined not to let that happen to her again. She smiled at him then––the rare smile she gave someone when all her defenses were down.
“Dinner is ready, Master Jerry,” Eric said from the doorway.
Jerry turned. “Thank you,” he replied. Just as Eric turned to leave, Jerry stopped him again. “Eric, have you seen my mother?”
“She’s already in the dining room.”
“Thank you, Eric.”
Indi and Jerry found Barb sitting at the head of the table, another crystal glass of Remy Martin in her hand. When his mother saw Indi, she downed the cognac before getting up for another. Jerry sat down, and Indi sat directly opposite him, her back to the kitchen door.
Then there was a sound—a door opening and closing. Looking over Indi’s shoulder, Jerry saw his mother walking towards them. In her hand was the carving knife from the kitchen. He could see Barb’s plan in her cold midnight eyes. She meant to kill Indi. Jerry didn’t even have time to draw breath to warn Indi before the blade sank home.
Indi’s scream would forever be seared into his memory. Barb’s blow landed between Indi’s shoulderblades. His mother dragged the blade down then wrenched the knife out with a grunt. Indi collapsed on to the flagstone floor with a heavy thud. Jerry pushed out of his chair, shock funneling though his system. He watched his mother as if she was a complete stranger. She was breathing heavily, standing over Indi’s body, the knife still clutched in her hand.
Barb screeched and launched herself at Indi once more. Without thinking, Jerry rushed around the table, raised his hand and slapped his mother across the face—spinning her around like a top and sending her sprawling to the ground.
Jerry fell to his knees beside Indi. Her back was red with blood, her shirt sticking to her skin, refusing to let go. He rolled her over onto her side then, shucking his suit jacket, Jerry pulled off his dress shirt and pressed it to the wound.
“You’re going to be okay, okay?…Indi?” he breathed, praying his words were true.
“How bad is it?” Indi asked, her face already growing pale. Jerry lifted up the material to check. The stab wound was two inches wide and god knew how many inches deep. Her lungs or heart or spine could be injured, and he had no way to tell; the amount of blood soaking the rug beneath her wasn’t a good sign though.
“Can you feel your arms and your legs?” he asked. She seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. “Indi!”
“What?” she grouched.
“Okay, okay.” Jerry took a deep breath and released it. “You’re going to be okay.”
Indi swallowed down hard. “Don’t lie to me, Jer.”
He felt the first tears prick his eyes. “I’m not. You’re going to be fine. You’ll see.” He pressed a little harder against the profusely bleeding wound, hoping that what he’d told her was right. Jerry looked down at his mother. She was still out cold, a little blood trickling from her nose.
“Jer? I don’t feel so good,” Indi groaned, her eyes rolling back in her head.
“Indi!” Desperation turned him towards the kitchen. “Eric! Eric! Call an ambulance!”
When he didn’t hear anything in response, he had no choice but to leave Indi for a moment. Bursting through the kitchen door, he searched for help, but the kitchen was completely devoid of life. It was almost as if Barb had told them all to––
Jerry turned and ran back into the dining room to find his mother staggering to her feet, going for the knife again.
“Mother! No!”
Barb, wiping the blood from her nose, ignored Jerry and lunged for Indi. Jerry ran as fast as he could, throwing himself between his mother and the girl he was determined to save. Barb was so focused on revenge that she didn’t realize what she was doing. Jerry had put up his arms to protect his face and neck as the frenzied attack continued. It only stopped when his mother’s temporary insanity wore off. Looking down at her blood-soaked hands then back at her son, she started to shake—shock rocking her body so severely that the knife dropped from her fingers to the stone floor.
Jerry had had close to one hundred stitches to close the wounds on his forearms. When Indi went in, though, Jerry thought she’d have to have surgery to close up the stab wound. But when the doctor saw her, he’d cleaned the wound and said he thought she’d only need a dozen or so stitches. Jerry couldn’t believe it. He’d seen the knife go in. He’d seen the giant, gaping wound between her shoulderblades. He’d stared at the pool of blood on the rug as the paramedic team secured her to a gurney and wheeled her to the ambulance.
As for his mother, she had pleaded temporary insanity, her lawyer making it sound as if the stress of her husband’s indiscretions and consequent legal trial for sexual assault had taken a mental toll on her. A healthy donation to Buxton Gen and one hundred hours of community service later, Barb had paid her debt to society.
Jerry refocused on the present. Indi was looking at him, worry plain on her face. He managed to smile at her. Still looking unconvinced, she sat down––not in her usual place, but one over. When everyone was seated, Eric came around placing a linen napkin into their laps with an expert flick of his wrist. As he approached Indi, though, his cool, gray eyes met hers and an unspoken conversation took place. A second later, Eric nodded and Indi pulled her napkin down into her own lap.
“So, Jerry,” his mother purred, “how is the cafe going?”
“Fine, thank you, Mother,” he replied cautiously, scratching nervously at the edge of his Wedgewood plate.
“I had a peek through the window while I was waiting for you. It looked…quaint. Perhaps you should redecorate; you know, make it a bit more modern.”
Indi tensed beside him.
“I can’t afford to redecorate,” he replied. He took a drink of water from the glass in front of him, placing it back on the table, trying not to let his mother see how shaky his hand was.
“Well, I could loan you some money,” she offered smugly.
“No, thank you,” Jerry replied softly.
Barb huffed quietly. “So, have you started dating again?”
Licking his lips nervously, he said, “No.”
“How very interesting. Tell me though; you must be terribly lonely since Mark left.”
“I am.” His voice was little more than the breath of a whisper. It cost him to say it, too. His mother’s lip curled up into a fierce grin.
“Well, as you know, Mark’s already moved on.” She paused long enough to give him a chance to respond, but he couldn’t make his mouth and voice cooperate. “It wasn’t ever going to work out between you two, you know? You run a vulgar little cafe for god’s sake. Did you really think it would be a success? Did you really think he could love you for that?”
“I…” Jerry began, but the words got stuck, lodging at the back of his throat and threatening to choke him.
Barb gave him that fierce grin again, touching the sides of her mouth with her napkin. Jerry crushed Indi’s hand in his, trying to get as much of her skin on his as possible. His mother hadn’t changed. She was just as bitter and twisted as before.
He felt Indi staring at him, asking him wordlessly why in the hell he was just sitting there and taking the abuse. So, why was he?
Jerry worked down the lump in his throat before speaking in a harsh whisper. “Is this why you asked me here, to taunt me about Mark?”
“No, dear. I asked you here so I could mend broken fences. I told you that before.”
“Like fuck you did,” Indi muttered under her breath.
“I beg your pardon, Indigo?” his mother asked, one eyebrow arched in challenge.
Before Indi could respond, Jerry said, “If you wanted to apologize for what you did to me—to us—then all you had to do was just that. Don’t invite us around and use derision as a way of saying you’re sorry.”
His mother looked offended, but he didn’t buy it.
“Jerry, I would never do such a thing to you. I am your mother, and yes I may have made some mistakes six months ago, but being in that accident really put everything in perspective for me. You are all I have left now that your…father…is in prison. I’m sorry for attacking you, for—”
“You attacked Indi, too. You stabbed her in the back,” Jerry hissed.
“She stabbed me in the back first!” Her voice rose only a little, but that was enough of an indicator for Jerry.
Jerry stared at his mother. And for the first time in his life, he saw her. He actually saw her. The picture he’d had in his head as he was growing up was perfect, but now he saw her for what she really was: warped and disfigured. She was like an oil painting where the colors had bled and run until the face that had been painted was no more than a mass of twisted features—a cruel mouth, a hooked nose and cold, hostile eyes.
“Indi?” Jerry asked, looking over at his sister.
“Yeah?” Indi replied without taking her eyes off Barb. They were glowing with rage, but she had stayed quiet so he could do whatever he had to do.
“We’re leaving.”
“Good. Great. Let’s get the fuck out of here. This room is making my skin crawl.”
They both stood up together, Barb watching with a smug look on her face. “You two aren’t really leaving, are you?”
“Yes,” Jerry replied coolly.
“But there’s something I need to tell you both.”
“What?” Jerry snapped.
“Sit down, Jerry,” she said seriously.
Jerry remained where he was.
His mother’s jaw bulged for a moment. “Fine. Your father and I are getting a divorce.”
“You’re what?”
“Don’t look at me like that, Jerry. I can’t be associated with him now he has a criminal record.”
“You’ve been married for twenty-five years. How can you just divorce him when he needs you the most?”
“Things have been rocky for a few years now, Jerry, not that you would have noticed.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
