#1.5 Finding Autumn (3 page)

Chapter Three

“Blake, you have to come home… now,” my sister said, her voice a broken whisper over the phone line. I came to a dead stop on the path that led out of my freshman composition class. I had called her back as soon as class ended. I had twenty missed calls on my phone—an obvious sign something was very wrong.

“Del, what’s going on?”

Instead of an answer, she was crying—loud, heartbreaking sobs—and her pain was slicing through me. My fingers tightened around the cell phone. Something awful had devastated my sister, and my first thought was someone had died. Because she sounded so lost, death was the only explanation that made any sense.

“Del, please stop crying and tell me what’s wrong.”

She hiccupped and the tears were still in her voice as she spoke. “It’s Dad. He’s been arrested.”

Those three, simple words flung me into a tailspin I somehow knew I’d never get out of. I didn’t give her a chance to explain any further. I told her I was coming home and everything was going to be all right. I hung up and ran to my car.

I made it to Clark in record time. My Chevy Impala was over ten years old, but still managed the high speeds of my frantic drive home from Cook. I raced through the front door with my heart thudding in my ears. Delia was crumpled on the couch while my mom stared blankly out of the bay windows of the living room. She made no sign to indicate she had seen me.

“Blake!” Delia screamed and ran at me like her life depended on it.

I gathered her up in my arms and held her securely. She had recently turned fourteen, but I swore she had grown at least six inches since the last time I saw her. I kept her close to my side once our embrace ended.

“What the hell is going on?” I demanded of my mother. The house phone was ringing, but she didn’t move. I kept Delia at my side and stood in front of my mom. I was six foot one and two hundred pounds. Next to me, my mom had a much smaller build.

Her lower lip trembled, and she began to rock back and forth in her seat. She had perfected the art of appearing helpless, and it was the reason the men in her life had such a drive to protect her. But I knew my mom wasn’t as frail as she liked everyone to believe. If she were truly this shaken up, the charges against Thomas must be grave.

I had a million questions, and I needed answers. But making certain my family was okay had to be my first priority.

Finally, my mother’s gaze focused on me. “Blake?”

“Del called me, Mom. I came as fast as I could.” I released my hold on Delia and squatted down to get in my mom’s face. “Why was Thomas arrested?”

Instead of answering, my mom’s eyes filled, and she bit down hard on her lower lip. I looked to Delia for guidance.

“The cops are saying Daddy raped one of his students,” Delia said with rising hysteria.

I stumbled backward as if her words physically wounded me. I had imagined dozens of different crimes as I sped home, but rape had never been one of them.

My mother shook her head. “It’s not a rape charge. He’s been accused of sexual assault.”

“Against a student? How old is the girl?” I demanded. Thomas taught math at Newpine High School and coached their football team. The school was about forty minutes from us and he had been working there for more than a decade.

My mom didn’t react at first, and I wondered if it would take all day to get answers out of her. Finally, after a long minute, she seemed to dig into her reserves and straightened up in her seat.

“I don’t know anything about this girl. But whoever she is, she’s a liar. You know your father,” my mom said, looking back and forth between Del and me. “He would never hurt anyone. He’s a good and decent man and he doesn’t deserve to be hauled off to jail like some kind of sick freak.”

Her speech broke, and Delia and my mom clung to each other while releasing agonized sobs. I tried to comfort them both, although I wanted to fall apart right alongside them—because Thomas had been my dad since I was in kindergarten—and I loved him. My favorite memories were the times we would ditch the women of the house and spend hours at the park running practice drills. My mom had encouraged me to start calling him Dad, but he said to not worry about it. He understood my father would always be a part of me and honored the bond I shared with the man who died when I was two years old. How could anyone accuse Thomas Bridges of sexual assault?

***

The bail hearing was set two days later and Thomas was released under a twenty-five thousand dollar bond. My mom put the house up to secure his bail, because she insisted her need for him to be home was more important than the money. My mother was falling apart, and I wasn’t strong enough to hold her together.

The media had found out about the case and they descended upon our house and family like ravenous wolves. The scandal of a decorated educator being accused of molesting his teenage student was a reporter’s wet dream. Although Thomas was out on bail, he was a virtual prisoner inside the confines of our suburban bi-level home.

New faces had drifted in and out of the house since his arrest: lawyers, cops, counselors. Finally, one evening, the house emptied out and our privacy temporarily returned. I had taken the week off from school to stay home but needed to return to finish out my spring semester. It was time to have a private discussion with Thomas and get his unfiltered version of events. I had heard the story he had told the cops and my mother, but I wanted him to look me in the face and tell me exactly how this could have happened.

My mom and Delia were in the kitchen cooking dinner, trying to pretend our life hadn’t gone to hell overnight. Thomas had turned off the TV ten minutes earlier, after clicking over a local news report with him as one of the lead stories. His face was plastered everywhere accompanied by the headline:
Well-Respected Teacher and Football Coach Assaults Teen Girl
.

I leaned forward on the beige couch with my elbows digging into my knees and stared at the man I considered my father. He was a large man, tall with a generous belly. He kept his brown hair trimmed short, and he and Delia shared the same intense blue eyes. Thomas turned to me, obviously gaining awareness of my stare.

“What are you thinking, Blake?”

“Did you do it?” I kept my voice low to prevent Mom and Delia from hearing. Mom would probably knock me upside the head if she heard me questioning my stepfather in any way. She wanted us all to accept the story Thomas had sold her on: he had made a mistake with a student, and she had retaliated by accusing him of sexual assault.

“I told your mom—”

I didn’t let him finish. “I know what you said to Mom, but this is me you’re talking to. Don’t bullshit me. Start from the beginning and lay out how we ended up here.”

Thomas’s shoulders slumped, and it was the only time I had ever seen him truly broken down. He was strong and smart, and it had become natural for me to admire him. But the case against him was making me question his character. Was it possible to live under the same roof with someone and have no idea who the person really was?

“Her name is Autumn… Autumn Dorey.” Thomas closed his eyes at the sound of her name, and I wished I could peek inside his head. Was he feeling disgust over saying her name, or remorse for his actions? “Autumn’s beautiful and she knows it. She’s seventeen, but her experience made her seem so much older.”

“What kind of experience? Like sexual stuff?” I was confused, and the more I spoke to him, the more perplexed I became over his motives. My aim was to see things from his perspective and understand where he was coming from.

Thomas looked torn over how to answer, and I understood how hard it must be for him to talk to me—because, either way, he was in the wrong. In his scenario it was an affair gone wrong, and in Autumn’s version it was a sordid crime.

“Autumn was provocative and not afraid to show that side of herself, even in the most inappropriate situations. I was tutoring her and tried to keep things professional, but I was weak… and I’m so truly sorry for that.” His voice broke and a deep flush colored his cheeks.

I steeled myself. I wouldn’t feel remorse for asking him the hard questions no one else in my family was willing to. “But how? You’ve been a teacher for a decade and married to my mom for almost fifteen years. Why would you risk everything for one girl?”

“She came onto me hard, Blake. We were alone in my classroom, and then in her car, and things just got carried away.” Thomas stared at the carpet and swallowed hard. “I kissed her and touched her a little, but it wasn’t good enough for her. She wanted more....”

The visual he painted was enough to bring on the urge to throw up. “But why? You’re her married teacher and more than twice her age.”

“She liked the forbidden aspect of it—it was a turn on for her. She was also struggling in my class, a few points away from failing. She said if we slept together, she was confident I’d take care of her grades.” Thomas leveled his eyes on me. “Autumn is a sick, mixed-up girl, and I wished I saw it sooner. I should’ve never laid a hand on her, but I swear to you, she wanted it. She went crazy in that car when I told her I couldn’t sleep with her. She tore off her clothes and ripped off her underwear, trying everything she could think of to seduce me. And because I finally came to my senses and stopped things, I’m paying the price.”

I fell back into the couch cushions and tried to make sense of the mess Thomas created. It made me sick to think of him even looking at a student in a sexual way, but the way he told the story had me confused. It was a moral crime for sure, but if his side of the story were true, it wouldn’t be a chargeable offense. The age of consent in Pennsylvania was sixteen years old. He would lose his job regardless, but the difference was in whether he would be serving time, too.

“The situation is bad—I know,” Thomas asserted. “But I didn’t hurt Autumn, and I didn’t attack her. If what she was saying were true, wouldn’t I deny everything? Why would I bother admitting any kind of involvement with her?”

What he said made sense, but it still didn’t lessen the hurt to hear him admit he cheated on my mom. I was so angry at him—enraged—not only for what he did to me and my mom, but for what he was putting his own daughter through. Delia was a freshman in high school and had been completely ostracized by her friends because of the accusations lobbed against Thomas. She was young, but she couldn’t be shielded from hearing what her father had done. She was crushed by the knowledge he had been fooling around with a girl not much older than herself, his own daughter.

Disgusted, I stood up and stormed out of the room. Thomas called out to me, but I ignored him. I wouldn’t wait until the morning to return to campus; I’d leave right that minute. I couldn’t bear another second of staring at the face of the man who betrayed his entire family.

I gathered up my books and clothes, shoving each object into a duffel bag. As I heaved the bag over my shoulder, Delia stepped into the doorway of my bedroom. Her eyes were wild as she looked between my overnight bag and me. “Where are you going?”

“Back to my apartment,” I answered shortly. Picking up a blue and gold Cook University sweatshirt off the floor, I pulled it over my head. I added, “I’m sorry, Del, but I can’t be here right now.”

She tugged at the ends of her blonde hair. “Do you think I can? But I don’t get a choice!” she said, with increasing ire in her tone. “I have to stay here until Monday and then Mom wants me back in school. How can I show my face there? My dad is all over the news for raping his student!”

“Del, I’m sorry. I’m going through the same thing as you—”

“No, you’re not!” she screamed. “You get to hide behind your real father’s name and go back to school as Blake Preston. My entire school has already made the connection that Delia Bridges is Thomas Bridges’s daughter. And do you think Mom cares about how my friends are treating me? No, she’s only worried about us putting up a front that we’re all completely okay with all of this.”

I could empathize with Delia’s rage. Because, honestly, I didn’t get my mom’s thought process either. She accepted Thomas had made an error in judgment and had already forgiven him. My mom blamed his actions on a mid-life crisis and contended that a morally bankrupt slut had tempted him.  

“Listen to me. I’m going back to school now, but I’ll be back.” I promised. “No matter what happens, I’ll be here for you. I can’t replace your friends, but I’m not going to disappear on you.”

Reluctantly, Delia nodded and she unleashed a fresh round of tears. I hugged her and resolved to keep my promise. I had no idea if Thomas could be going to prison for months or years, but I wouldn’t let her down. I would take care of her and my mom until Thomas was able to once again. I was nineteen, an adult in the ways it mattered, and I wouldn’t fail them the way Thomas had.

Chapter Four

Two weeks of being in class together and Autumn and I had developed a bizarre quasi-friendship. We had art history twice a week, and I’d invite her to eat after class at the campus cafeteria. Eating together was the perfect opportunity to find out as much about her as possible. The problem was, Autumn Dorey was a tough nut to crack.

I got a sense she liked me, but she could also be aloof and mistrustful. She hated talking about high school—despite my floundering attempts to work it into our conversations. I couldn’t figure out why I was bothering. It wasn’t like she was suddenly going to blurt out she was into her teacher in high school and had falsely accused him of assaulting her.