Unforeseen, page 16
“I just don’t think I can sit right now. Honestly, I feel like I’m going to be sick,” he admitted, exhaling sharply.
“I’m sorry,” I said in a dull voice. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?”
“You’re already making it better just because you’re here. I don’t know how I could be doing this right now without you,” he said, sincerity in his tone.
“I’ll stay by your side for as long as you need me to be,” I said, standing to place a soft kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you,” he mouthed, as an assistant district attorney entered the courtroom.
“Mr. Mitchell?” she asked. “Would you follow me to the conference room so we can prepare you for the judge’s questions?”
“Certainly, I’ll be right behind you,” he said, as he lightly squeezed my face, pecking me on the forehead. “Do you want to stay here? I’ll just be a few minutes.”
“Sure, that’s fine. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll just keep our places,” I said with a weak laugh.
Staring at the clock, I watched a few minutes tick by. Since it was policy that cellphones and other devices weren’t allowed in the courtroom, time seamed to pass by at a much slower pace. Picking a piece of lint from my black pencil skirt, I looked up as I heard the courtroom door open.
First entering the courtroom was the one who I believed was the defendant’s attorney. He was a good-looking man, probably a few years older than I with salt and pepper hair. He looked distinguished, a little like George Clooney, the exact definition of a silver fox. Following closely behind him, escorted by a police officer, was the defendant himself.
Seeing this man for the first time, dressed all in orange, I blinked rapidly hoping my mind was just playing tricks on me–the stress of the day finally taking its toll. Staring at him with my mouth agape, he finally looked in my direction–recognition sweeping across his face.
“No, no, no. This can’t be happening. That man is not Quint Michaelson,” I said to myself, as the room began spinning around me.
Needing air, I dashed toward the exit just as Blake and the DA were entering the courtroom.
“Whoa, Cass, are you OK?” Blake asked, catching me in his arms. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
If he only knew the truth behind his words, although maybe not a ghost, but more like a monster. “I–I need some air, maybe a glass of water. I’ll–I’ll be right back,” I stuttered, my entire body beginning to quake.
“I’ll go with you. You can tell me what’s going on with you,” he said, worry written on his face.
“Mr. Mitchell, I’m sorry, but you can’t leave right now. The judge is about to enter and you’ll be called to the witness stand first,” the DA said, listening in on our conversation.
He looked at me for a moment before turning back to the DA. “I’m sorry, but I need to be with her,” he said, opening the door for me.
“No, Blake, you need to stay here. You need to do this for Alyssa. You need to do this for me,” I nearly begged.
Confusion flashed across his face, “OK, you know I’ll do anything for you, but I don’t understand what this has to do with you?” he said.
“Just stay. Please just stay here. I’ll be fine,” I pleaded, trying to conceal my anguish.
Truthfully, I wasn’t fine. The baggage that I’d carried around for years had just shown up at my doorstep. The demons I’d tried to bury when I’d met Blake had just resurfaced. I was sure he would never forgive me for this. I had to leave before I could give him the chance to leave me.
Convincing Blake to stay in the courtroom, just as the judge was about to enter the chamber, I ran into the restroom and splashed cold water on my face. Staring at my reflection, I didn’t even recognize myself in the mirror. Gone was the confident woman who’d overcome her fears, and who at last had given love a chance. She’d been replaced with her former shell, the woman who just lived day by day, not letting anyone get too close.
Knowing court would be in session for at least an hour, I slipped out of the courthouse, hailing the first taxi that came into view. Sliding into the back seat, I asked the driver to take me back to the hotel so I could grab my things, and get the hell out of this city. I couldn’t be around Quint Michaelson, the name Steve was going by these days. And as much as I wanted the comfort of Blake’s arms wrapped around me, I knew he wouldn’t want anything to do with me once he learned the ugly truth about his wife’s killer.
Pulling up to the hotel entrance, I asked the driver to wait for me while I went in to grab my suitcases. Knowing I didn’t have much time before Blake came looking for me, I scurried around the room trying to remain calm. Throwing my bags into the trunk, and sliding back into the taxi, I finally reached for my phone, noticing I already had two missed calls from Blake. Not bothering to open my voicemails, I quickly dialed Brooke.
“Cass?” she answered, alarm in her voice.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I responded.
“What the hell is going on with you? Blake just called me in a panic telling me that you just up and left the courthouse without so much as a goodbye. He has no idea what’s wrong!” she yelled into the phone. “Have you lost your damn mind?”
Taking a deep breath, “I guess you could say that—at least I thought I was losing it when I saw Quint Michaelson for the first time,” I explained.
“I don’t understand. The guy who killed Lys? What does he have to do with any of this?” she asked.
“Brooke, Quint Michaelson is Steve. It must be his alias, or something, because Quint Michaelson is really Steve Jackson. Or maybe Steven Jackson is really Quint Michaelson. Regardless, my baby’s father killed Maddy and Ben’s mother,” I told her, tears by now streaming down my cheeks.
She gasped, “What? Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m positive. You should’ve seen the look on his face when he saw me in the courtroom, Brookie. I just keep replaying it over and over in my head. It was a nightmare!”
“Cass, you need to calm down,” she said, trying to soothe me. “Where are you now? Wherever you are, just wait for Blake.”
“No, no, no! You can’t let Blake know where I am. He’ll hate me, Brooke. He’ll resent Kaity for being a part of HIM. I love Blake and he’s going to reject me. I should’ve told him sooner, but I didn’t. I was afraid, and now it’s over and he’ll never know how much he really meant to me–to us.”
“He won’t hate you. He only loves you, Cass,” Brooke said, trying her best to reassure me.
“He may have loved me before, but he certainly won’t after he learns the truth,” I protested, my voice revealing defeat. “Please, just promise me you won’t tell him that I’m at the airport. I need to be hundreds of miles away before I can even bear to talk to him. Promise me.”
“Fine, I promise. Text me with your flight information and we’ll come get you when you land,” she said.
“It’s fine. It might be late. I can just take an Uber.”
“You aren’t shutting me out, too, Cass. Text me!” she said, sternly.
“Fine. I love you, Brookie,” I said.
“I love you, too,” she replied, ending the call.
After boarding the plane, I finally decided to listen to the four voice messages from Blake after he realized I’d left the courthouse–with each message, his voice becoming more and more frantic. Knowing that I couldn’t talk to him, but I didn’t want to worry him either, I typed out a quick text before powering off the phone.
Cass: Blake, I’m sorry that I left you alone in that courtroom when you probably needed me the most. I didn’t mean to hurt you. In case Brooke hasn’t already told you, which I’m assuming she did, Quint Michaelson is actually an alias for Steve Jackson. Yes, the same Steve Jackson who left me pregnant with Kaitlyn. The same Steve Jackson who left me unable to trust any other men–until you. You were able to break down my walls, and help me to believe. I know this is all coming as a shock to you, and I understand that you’ll never want to see me again. Seeing me would just be a painful reminder for everything that you’ve lost–everything your children have lost. Just know, I love you–I know I waited too long to tell you, but I do love you–I probably always will. Please don’t come after me, I’ll be OK. This will be best for all of us. Kiss those babies for me. Goodbye, Blake.
Even though I’d said goodbye before, this one seemed like the most difficult.
Blake
TWELVE YEARS–MY son would be in middle school, and my daughter might possibly be a cheerleader, going out on first dates, and attending high school dances while Quint Michaelson would be finishing the remainder of his sentence for killing my wife and their mother. As soon as the judge handed down his sentencing, I was relieved. Although I would never forget Quint Michaelson, or the pain he inflicted on my family, I could finally move forward with my life–my future with Cass. I would never have to hear his name again.
Leaving the courtroom, I expected to see Cass sitting on one of the benches, but she was nowhere to be found inside the building. She wasn’t waiting for me outside either. Ever since I’d realized Cass was gone, I’d been searching the city for her. I thought maybe she’d been to the places that we’d visited, during her recent trip. I stopped at the various stores and boutiques along Fifth Avenue, Serendipity, and even McPherson’s. But, she’d seemingly vanished into thin air.
Taking the stand to tell the court about my wife, my first love, I couldn’t avoid the nagging feeling that something had gone terribly wrong with Cass. When I’d left her in the court chamber, she seemed like herself, so I couldn’t quite piece together what may have happened in the short time I’d been gone. Was it Kaity? Her parents? Brooke?
Dozens of possible scenarios swirled through my mind. Had our relationship, hearing me talk about Alyssa, become too much for her? Had she gotten sick? The possibilities were endless, but none were as wild as learning the shocking truth several hours later, and by a text message no less.
While answering each question from the prosecution, I’d kept my eyes focused on the door, waiting for Cass to come back, but she never did. The moment I’d been able to power on my phone, I was surprised that she hadn’t so much as sent a text to tell me she was all right. Calling Brooke, I was even more alarmed when she hadn’t heard from Cass either. The last time I couldn’t get ahold of someone I loved, my life as I knew it crumbled before me, and I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to survive it a second time.
Reclining in my chair, I’d just finished a conference call regarding a business piece I was working on when two of my officer buddies from my rookie days of covering the city’s police beat showed up at my office door.
“Hey fellas, I think you’re in the wrong place. The donut shop is next door,” I joked.
The two didn’t crack a smile, as they spoke the words that no man is ever prepared to hear.
“Blake, it’s about your wife, Alyssa. She’s been involved in a serious accident and has been taken to Mount Sinai,” they said.
“What? I don’t understand, I just talked to her a few hours ago. She was about to go Christmas shopping,” I said, as I reached for my phone, dialing Alyssa’s number. “This is a terrible joke,” I added, her phone going straight to voicemail.
“Blake, we wouldn’t joke about this. We wanted to be the ones to come here and tell you so you wouldn’t hear it from a couple of strangers. You really need to get to the hospital right away. We were told she’s critical.”
“Oh god! Do you know if she was alone?” I asked, remembering Alyssa was planning on dropping our daughter off at my parents’ place. “And our baby? She’s pregnant!”
“Yes, as far as we know, she was alone in the car. She was broadsided, and evidence gathered at the scene suggests that alcohol may have been a factor. We don’t have any information on the baby, Blake. We just recommend you get to the hospital. I’m sure the doctors can answer all your questions. Do you have someone you can call for a ride, or would you like us to take you. You probably shouldn’t be driving.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, resting my head in my palms.
Nodding in understanding, the officers left, allowing me to gather my thoughts. Threading my fingers through my hair, I had to process what was happening. Alyssa had to be OK, she just had to be for her own sake, for my family’s sake, and for our unborn child’s sake.
Not knowing where else to turn, I quickly dialed Rich’s number–even though he’d been going through a bunch of shit in his personal life. I needed my friend. After several rings, he finally answered the call.
“Rich! I need you,” I said, screaming into the phone.
“I’m here. I’m here. What the fuck’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”
“It’s Alyssa. She’s been in an accident. Fucking drunk driver. She was rushed to Mount Sinai. I don’t have much more information. I could really use a friend, Man,” I said, my heart thumping out of my chest.
“I’ll be on the first flight out. Please give your beautiful wife a kiss for me. She’s a fighter, Blake. You both need to fight–fight for her,” he said, before ending the call.
Sitting on a bench outside the courthouse, I thought about Rich’s words. Alyssa had been a fighter. She fought long and hard enough to keep our son alive; Now it was my turn to fight for Cass.
Preparing to call every hospital and police department within a fifty-mile radius to search for her, my phone dinged with an incoming text. Looking down, I sighed in relief when I saw her name flash across my screen.
Opening the text, I was unprepared for what I was about to read. Even among the wildest scenarios that I could’ve imagined for Cass’s disappearance, I never would’ve guessed what she told me. How could Quint Michaelson be Steve Jackson–the Steve Jackson? Believing that Cass had to be mistaken, I quickly dialed the prosecutor, hoping to gain some clarity, and put Cass’s mind to ease. The stress of the court proceedings must’ve affected her as much as it did me. That was the only logical explanation–it had to be.
Ending the call, I couldn’t believe the words the attorney had told me. Quint Michaelson did at one point use the alias Steve Jackson for business purposes while living in the state of Michigan. He’d ended up in legal trouble for several driving offenses, one of which included drinking and driving, and ended up returning to his given name and moving to New York where his sister now lived.
Knowing the truth, I couldn’t let Cass leave New York. We needed to talk about the situation. Although it was far from ideal, it didn’t matter to me. In fact, knowing the truth, I just wished the fucker would serve more than twelve years behind bars–for not just his crime against my family, but for the pain he’d caused Cass and Kaity as well.
Dialing her number, I prayed she didn’t get on that plane, but I knew she had when the call went straight to voicemail. My suspicions were confirmed when I got back to the hotel and found she’d taken all of her things.
Collapsing on the edge of the bed in defeat, a sinking feeling swept over me as I realized Cass actually believed I would hold her responsible for Alyssa’s death. In my eyes, Cass and Kaity were just as much victims of Quint Michaelson as Alyssa, but Cass didn’t seem to believe enough in us to stick around and let me explain that to her. If she truly loved me as she said she did, she would’ve fought for me–she would’ve fought for us. Instead she dismissed me with nothing but a text message as a goodbye.
After dialing Cass’s phone for several hours and it going straight to voicemail, I was shocked when it actually connected.
“Hi,” she answered, barely above a whisper.
“You left,” I said. After rehearsing this conversation in my head for the past three hours, I’d already forgotten everything I’d wanted to tell her.
“I’m sorry,” she responded, her voice shaking.
“You didn’t even give me the opportunity to fight for you. You just left. You cared so little about me, and what we’ve built that you just left. You didn’t fight,” I said calmly, rubbing a hand over my face. “Why didn’t you put up fight?”
“There’s nothing to fight about, Blake! My daughter’s father killed your wife. How could you ever get past that? How could you ever look at her the same way? Look at me the same way?” she cried.
“Cass, I don’t think you understand. I. Don’t. Care! You actually think I would look at your little girl any differently than I already do? Don’t you understand that I love her just as much as I love you? She’s not him, Cass. She’s You!” I yelled, angry that she really believed the words she was speaking. She truly thought leaving was the right thing to do.
“Please, Blake, don’t yell. Don’t you see this is exactly why I left? I don’t want to fight with you. You and Alyssa had the perfect marriage. You never fought. She could do no wrong in your eyes. I can never live up to that. I’m tired of trying to live up to a ghost,” she sighed in defeat.
“You can’t possibly be serious right now? You don’t think that Alyssa and I never fought? You think it was always perfect between us?” I asked, dumbfounded by her admission. “Cass, there’s no such thing as a perfect relationship. Yes, what we had was pretty damn great, but it was far from perfect.”
“It doesn’t matter! This whole thing with Steve is just too much! It’s a sign, Blake. Can’t you see that? It just doesn’t matter,” she said flatly.
“All right,” I said, resignation in my voice. “None of this matters to you then? I don’t matter? My kids don’t matter? The life we were beginning to build together doesn’t matter?”
“I–I didn’t mean that,” she sobbed. It took everything within me not to hang up the phone and take the first flight out to be with her, but I couldn’t. I had to stay strong. I had to show her how much she was hurting me–hurting us.
“You may not have meant it, Cass, but you said it.”
“It’s for the best,” she said again. “I can’t live with the distance between us anymore anyways.”
