Easier to Run (27 page)

Cassie

Thanks to my afternoon nap, I was wide awake before Ben. And by five o’clock, when he still hadn’t stirred, I heard footsteps upstairs. I carefully rolled out of bed, making sure not to wake him, and pulled on a fresh set of clothes. Checking one last time to see Ben sleeping, I crept up the stairs and through the door.

“Morning Cassie,” Beth said. She was sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal and the newspaper. “Chuck already headed out to deal with some things at work. Ben is still asleep?”

“Yeah. Apparently we switched roles this morning.” Growing up I hated mornings. I was lucky to even get out of bed for school. That was no longer a problem when I’d lost the ability to sleep through the night. Not even strong sleeping pills could keep me in a deep sleep for more than maybe six hours if I was lucky. But lately, I almost felt like a normal sleeper—aside from the fact that I’d taken on a trucker’s sleep schedule.

“Would you like something to eat?” She peered over the paper and frowned. “I’m afraid Ben still has my waffle iron.”

“Yeah,” I sighed. I was never going to get those waffles. “Cereal sounds fine. I can get it myself if you don’t mind.”

“Bowls are in the cabinet to the right of the sink. Spoons are in the drawer right below. There’s fresh coffee as well.”

I fixed myself a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, then joined Beth at the table.

“How does it feel being back?” she asked, folding the newspaper and setting it aside.

I shrugged and stirred the milk through my coffee. “In some ways, it’s not as bad as I expected, but then there’s already so much to deal with.”

“You two seem to be handling it just fine, given the circumstances.”

“M-mostly Ben,” I admitted. “If it were just me, I’d probably be running for the hills.”

Beth smiled over the rim of her coffee cup. “He’s always taken good care of you.”

I fidgeted, drawing shapes through my cereal with the spoon before taking another bite. “I expected… I mean, I didn’t expect….” I couldn’t find the right words. “You didn’t seem surprised that we were together. I mean—”

Beth laughed and leaned across the table toward me. “When have you ever known us not to be accepting?”

“It’s just,” I exhaled. I spent far too much of my time worrying about what other people thought. It developed from being an overly self-conscious child who couldn’t speak like anyone else. “It’s all happened so fast. I didn’t know what to expect when I came back, but I didn’t expect to just fit right back in. In some ways, it feels like I never left, especially with Ben. But at the same time, things are so different. And the way I feel about him, I always thought I loved him, but it’s more intense now. Not just looking up to him, but standing next to him. Feeling like a part of him.” I stopped myself, realizing how long I’d been going on to Beth about her son. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Sometimes, she looked at me just like my mother used to. Not exactly the same expression—and they certainly didn’t look alike since my mom was light-haired and Beth had dark brown hair going on grey. Just the same sparkle in the eye. The sparkle that assures you that there is indeed no monster under your bed. Or that your leg won’t fall of as a result of it falling asleep, even though it feels like it will. It’s the look that a mother gives you that makes you believe that anything might be possible if you try hard enough.

Seeing that look again broke my heart in more ways than I could fathom. It felt good and bad, reassuring and promising, yet distantly painful because it wasn’t my own mother behind those eyes.

Beth sat her cup aside and reached across the table to touch my arm. “You and Ben have something special. There are some relationships that are so deep that no matter how much time passes, you can pick up with that person again. Even though you’ve both changed and moved to different points in your life, on some level it’s like no time has passed at all. Those relationships are rare, but some people get lucky enough to share that connection with the very person they want to start a life with.”

“Is that what you and Chuck have?” I asked.

“Chuck,” she leaned back, with a wistful smile on her face and stared into her coffee cup. “Chuck and I met when I was twenty, he was much older than me—seven years—and he was already driving a truck. We went on a few dates and grew close, but he was always on the road. That wasn’t the life I had in mind. My parents were both extremely involved with me growing up, and I just couldn’t imagine the thought of being committed to someone who was hardly ever there.”

Her eyes glinted as she stared off into the open air and spoke. “So, we both went our separate ways, and he ended up moving. He was following a new job and going where the money was, so I didn’t expect to hear from him again until I got a letter in the mail. He told me about his new city and all the sights he’d seen along the way. We both saw other people and went on with our lives, but every couple of months I’d get a postcard—always from a new place he’d stopped while driving. I wrote back to him from time to time. That’s all we had for the next few years. I still went on dates with other men, but what I always looked forward to was the next postcard and glimpse into his life. The last letter I wrote came back a few days later as undeliverable. And I figured, well, that’s it, he’s gone and settled down.

“I was still waiting tables at my parents’ restaurant, and on Friday night, he came in and sat down. Well, I never looked back after that, and it was a good thing too, since Mark was born about nine months later.” She finished her story with a tight grin.

I burst out laughing, and covered my mouth, hoping it wasn’t loud enough to wake Ben. “So, was it hard? Being together and dealing with him being on the road?”

“Of course it was hard.” She blew out a long breath and shook her head. “The first couple of years weren’t so bad because we were close to my parents, so I had them while he was gone. But after Jenny was born, we had to move. Sometimes the jobs came and went and we followed the money. But I was left in a new town with two kids, where I didn’t know a single person. And there were times during that first year that I wondered what I got myself into and if it was really worth it. But, we became friends with the families of the people he worked with. We’d check on each other while our husbands were away, rally together when someone was sick. We all took care of each other, and that made it much easier.

By the time we moved here, we had lived in so many towns and said goodbye to so many people. Mark’s entire childhood was like that—he was almost eighteen when we came here. This was the first place we really got to lay down roots. Ben especially loved to travel and move around, but as much as he loved it, it wasn’t good for him as we discovered when he got held back a grade. I knew he’d be the one to follow in Chuck’s footsteps though. He was always itching to get out there.

“So, yes,” she squeezed my forearm. “I know exactly what it’s like falling for a man who can’t stay in one spot. And yes, it’s worth it.”

I smiled, but I didn’t know what to say. “When I came back here—well, to be honest I didn’t set out to come back here—I just wanted to be independent. But it’s not so bad having someone take care of me like he does.”

“There’s a big difference between someone taking care of you and dictating your existence.”

“When did you meet my grandparents?” I asked sarcastically.

“Oh, I talked to your grandma on the phone a couple of times. She made it very clear—in a very blunt way—that they didn’t want us to have any part in your life.”

“Yeah. It has been a crazy few years.”

The door to the basement opened and Ben came up behind me, leaning over me and tilting my head back to steal a kiss. I wasn’t as self-conscious about it anymore, but my face still heated.

Beth nodded to the kitchen. “Breakfast is self-serve.”

“And there are still no waffles,” I added.

“Yes, love. I will make you as many waffles as you want in the morning.”

“I’ve been telling you all along,” Beth said, standing up and collecting her dishes. “Wrapped around her little finger.”

I took the last few bites of my soggy cereal—I’d been too engrossed in Beth’s story to eat or drink while she’d been talking. It wasn’t just Ben who was meant to be in my life, it was his while family. I wasn’t sure how many people could say that about their boyfriend’s family. But they were already my family.

Ben followed Beth into the kitchen and returned with a bowl of cereal. “How long have you been up?”

“A while, your mom was regaling me with the story of how your dad wooed her.”

“Ah,” Ben chuckled. “Well, I’m afraid I don’t have any stories to compete with that. But I did talk to Brantley. Our locks have been changed, and we can pick up a new key at the manager’s office. And the police ran the prints on the note—they definitely don’t match Mitchel’s, and so far it hasn’t matched anyone in the system.”

I traced my finger around the rim of my coffee cup, debating on whether or not I wanted more—but it certainly wouldn’t help my anxiety. “Well, those are both a relief I guess, but not really helpful in finding whoever did do it. How long have you been up?”

“A while,” he winked. “I heard you and mom laughing so I figured you weren’t missing me too much.”

For some reason, I really wanted to come up with a vulgar response to that. Brantley was already becoming a bad influence. But, Ben changed the subject before I had the chance to argue with myself too long.

“You ready to see the lawyer this morning?”

I had been trying to avoid thinking about that. All of it. The fact that whoever I was going to meet had slept with Ben. The fact that this would involve dredging up parts of my past better left buried.  “Only if you make me waffles for dinner.”

“You’re demanding,” he smirked.

“But you love me,” I gave him my cheesiest grin. 

He hummed around a bite of cereal and nodded. “Damn straight. I wouldn’t put up with half of this crap for anyone else.”

He sat down his empty bowl and sat back, scooting his chair away from the table, so I took that as my invitation to sit on his lap. “Good,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I like to know I’m tough to beat.”

His mom walked by the kitchen doorway and out the back door. “Little finger…,” she sang as she walked by.

Cassie

We walked into Stacey Cline’s law office about ten minutes before we were scheduled to meet with her. Doubts creeped into my head as the smell of new carpet and furniture hit my nose. I was already intimidated by a woman I had never met. Intimidated by her success and whatever she had shared with Ben—even if it had only been one night.

Two women stood at the reception desk. One wore a deep blue skirt suit, and had her blonde hair in a tight low bun. Everything about her screamed lawyer, from the way she held her head, to the set of her shoulders.

As soon as the door closed behind us, she spun around to greet us.

“Ben,” she extended her hand as she approached and shook Ben’s hand first. “And you must be Cassie.”

I nodded and shook her hand as well. Her grip was firm, not the flimsy, half-assed grip my old lawyer had.

Damn, even her handshake has more confidence
, one side of my brain mumbled. Only to be followed by the other side telling me to stop being so self-conscious.

“I’m Stacey Cline,” she said, yanking me out of my head and back to the situation at hand. “Ben told me about your situation, and I dug up as much information as I could. I’ll need your permission to get access to anything confidential you had with your lawyer, but I figured we could go ahead and discuss everything so you can tell me how you’d like to proceed.”

“Thanks for m-meeting us on short notice,” I said.

“Don’t mention it.” She turned and motioned for us to follow. She led us to a back room, dominated by a large black meeting table. A stack of folders and papers sat next to a closed laptop on one side of the table. Stacey headed for the seat near them, so I took a seat across the table from her.

“Okay,” Stacey said, placing her hands on top of her notebook and rolling her pen between her fingers. “Are you ready?”

“N-not in a million years,” I said. My hands already felt clammy, while my throat was dry.

“I know,” Stacey said. “If you feel overwhelmed and need a break, just let me know. Would you like some water?” She pointed to a water cooler in the corner.

“Please,” I said, reaching over and squeezing Ben’s hand. I pulled it over into my lap, pressing it between both of my palms, while Stacey retrieved us each a glass of water.

I needed to anchor myself, to find a way to hold the rush of emotions and memories at bay.

Stacey sat the small glasses of water in front of us, and I watched as the top rippled for a few seconds then went quiet.

“Okay.” Stacey took a long deep breath and blew it out slowly. I noticed halfway through that I mimicked her and relaxed slightly.

“I know Mitchel is your biggest concern,” she began. “And given the situation with your last lawyer, some things slipped through the cracks and you weren’t notified about his release. I can tell you that he is being monitored and tracked. His location is being recorded twenty-four hours a day for at least the next two years, so that’s a positive. The negative is”—she shrugged—“he’s out and you feel like you need to keep looking over your shoulder.”

“To say the least,” I said. “What h-happens when he’s no longer being tracked?”

“He will have to register anytime he moves for the rest of his life, so as long as the system keeps up with him, we’ll have an idea of his general area.”

That sounded like a pretty big if. I wanted a solid wall between him and me, not pieces of paper or little blips on a map that may or may not reassure me that he was nowhere around. “Right.”

“We’ll get a restraining order in place so that you’ll have something to use if he comes anywhere near you.”

“That won’t help if he kills me f-first,” I said dryly.

“But I’m going to keep working to make sure you’re safe. He is in a program right now—it was voluntary and he enrolled upon his release, and that actually means that right now he’s living more than an hour away from here. So, you’re not even in his immediate are right now. He can travel to work, therapy, and do anything he needs for day-to-day life, but if he goes anywhere beyond town lines, he’ll be picked up immediately.”

That didn’t sound too bad, for the short-term. “So, p-possibly two years of relative peace?”

“Yes.” She sat her pen down and leaned back in her seat. “When’s the last time you spoke with your old lawyer?”

I had to remind myself to stop digging my nails into Ben’s hand, but as soon as I loosened my grip, he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. “About six or seven m-months ago, I got a notification that he was t-t-trying to get released. That’s it. I didn’t get any more updates.”

“Okay,” Stacey nodded and folded her hands. I felt in constant motion compared to her cool, calm demeanor. “There was an incident in prison around the time of his petition, and Mitchel was injured—stabbed in the groin and abdomen. It left him impotent.”

Suddenly, I was the one who was motionless. I couldn’t even take a breath for fear I’d blow away the fantasy.

“Off the record,” she said, nodding her head. “I was also able to find out that he’d been exposed to Hep. C in addition previous liver damage from excessive drinking. He’s undergoing treatment, but to be honest from the sounds of it and the little other information I managed to obtain, he’s not going to be much of a threat. But I didn’t tell you any of that,” she reminded us with a smile. “Any questions?”

I wanted to laugh. I also wanted to scream, and cry, and shout. That was some kind of poetic justice. I wasn’t completely relieved. I’d never be convinced that Mitchel wasn’t a threat. My mind could never understand that concept. He would always be a threat—even if he was dead, he would be a threat simply because he haunted my nightmares and my subconscious.

“What do I need to do?” I asked.

Stacey shrugged. “Sign some paperwork. I’ll keep an eye on everything else and let you know if there are any changes. If he skips town, violates probation”—she put her hands out and clapped them together in front of her chest—“happens to kick the bucket…. As soon as I know, you’ll know. To be honest, if not for the health problems, he’d probably still be in prison.”

“So that’s it?” I asked looking from Stacey to Ben. That couldn’t be it. That couldn’t be the culmination of everything I’d been dreading.

Ben raised his eyebrows, and with that one subtle gesture, I knew that wasn’t it.

“Ben also mentioned some harassing phone calls, which you reported to the police last night.”

I groaned and sank into my seat. It was enough to talk about Mitchel, but did I really have to rehash my own stupidity now? “Do we r-really have to make a big deal out of that?”

“It
is
a big deal,” Stacey said. “Harassment is illegal.”

I let go of Ben’s hand, picked up my glass of water and took a slow drink. I was
pissed
. Embarrassed to have to talk about it yet again. So angry at myself for letting it happen in the first place that I felt nauseated. And above all, pissed at Ben of all people for having the audacity to tell her about that, too. I looked up from my cup and glared into Stacey’s eyes. “I shot porn, some loser posted my number, and a bunch of other losers took advantage of it. I got a new number so they can’t contact me anymore. And I only gave the information to the police in case it had something to do with the person who broke in.”

“Do you believe that what you did gives them the right to harass you?”

Now she sounded more like one of my counselors rather than a lawyer.

“No,” I said, but as soon as the word came out, I dropped my gaze. Had I wanted to be miserable, deep down, in belief that it punished me for what I had done?

My chest constricted until I couldn’t get air. The world around me slowed as my brain rushed onward like a playback of thoughts stuck on fast forward.

Not now. No, not now
.

Lies
. I remembered discussing with my counselor how my brain could lie to me. Thoughts trying to convince me that everything was my fault. Twisted justifications feeding my guilt and depression.

“Cas.” Ben twisted my seat to face him, and I gasped as if waking from a dream.

“Yes,” I said softly changing my answer to Stacey’s question. “I know I s-shouldn’t, but I do.”

“You shouldn’t,” Stacey said. “I don’t know what your situation was like, and I don’t need to in order to tell you that it doesn’t justify anyone harassing you. I want to be able to protect your future. Even if you don’t want to push it to the limit and attempt tracking them all down and filing charges—or even tracking down the person who posted your number. We should keep a record of it all in case something comes of it down the line.”

I nodded, but my body was still shaking.

Stacey’s eyes darted to Ben for a second then back to me. “One final thing, do you have copies of the contracts you had to sign for the video shoots?”

I shook my head. “I have n-no idea where they’d be.” My roommates had packed all of my things when I had been admitted to the hospital. At least, I was fairly positive they had, and my grandparents hadn’t. “It was a crazy month, but I signed away my consent and a bunch of other waivers said if anything happened they weren’t responsible.”

Stacey nodded. “I’d like you to allow me to contact them, and get copies.”

“Why does it matter?”

“So that I can protect your interests going forward—all of them. I trust you’re ready to move on with your life and stop looking over your shoulder? Stop worrying about something coming back to get you?”

I closed my eyes and nodded.

“That’s what I want to make happen, and I want all bases to be covered and all contingencies taken care of. I can worry about that, and you can worry about moving on.”

It was beginning to sound like a fantasy again. All of that dirty money clogging up my bank account was probably going to be getting a new home. And I couldn’t imagine how many jobs I’d have to take to pay for the rest. “And what’s all this going to cost me? I haven’t even found a job yet.”

Stacey sat back and smiled, but I felt my stomach drop.

“For this meeting,”—she watched me carefully—“nothing. This is your consultation. If you want to hire me, I’ll take you on under a sliding fee scale, so if you’re not working, you don’t owe me anything.”

“Why?” I shook her head. None of this made sense.

Stacey clasped her hands and leaned across the table. “Because I’ve been the one crying on a witness stand and relying on the people standing next to me to help me get through it all. I’ve seen the nightmares first hand. Spent years looking over my shoulder, even when I knew he was behind bars. And I’ve stood over his grave and not shed a single tear.”

“You’re hired,” I said. Every doubt I’d had about her disappeared in that instant.

“Good,” she said with a strong nod. “All I need are some signatures. I’ll give you my contact information, and you can contact me anytime you need to or send over any information that you think I might need.”

Ben

Cassie spun around and stared me down as soon as we stepped out onto the sidewalk. “You knew?”

“I told you she’d be the best.” I had debated over telling her when I first mentioned Stacey, but I wanted Stacey to win her over by herself. I wanted Cassie to hear it straight from her. “Do you feel any better?”

Instead of an answer, I got a kiss, but when she stepped back, she had a suspicious smile. “You also didn’t tell me you have a thing for blondes.”

“What?” I asked, choking on the word.

“Kaylee, Stacey….” She scrunched her face. “Which also rhyme by the way.”

“Coincidence.” I pushed her toward the truck. “Liz doesn’t have blonde hair.”

“Yes, but you were only with her because you knew she wasn’t your type and you didn’t want to fall for her.”

Given her smug expression I knew there wasn’t any way out of it, except one.

I grabbed her and dragged her toward me for a long kiss, right in the middle of town. By the time I released her, she was breathless and flushed.

She pulled her door open, but never took her eyes off me. “We should go home and have some waffles, and then have a second attempt at breaking our bed—” Her mouth hung open for a minute, and she looked off to the side. “I, uh, mean your bed.”

“I liked it better the first way.” Although what I
really
liked was the look on her face when she’d realized what she had said. And the idea of going home and doing just that.