Remember Me (60 page)

Taking a few steps from them to get some personal space, Granger looked from Satin, then to Malcolm, regarding them with a degree of respect he gave very few people. It made him feel good that they cared, but they had to understand what he really was, what his family was. “Do you know how the Mortensen's first gained their vast fortune?” he finally asked.
Neither of them answered, they just stood there waiting to hear some plausible reason to why he was leaving.
For the first time in a while, Granger gave them a thin-lipped, humorless, empty smile, “Whorehouses and ran-down tenements, charging poor people three times what the shacks were worth. Of course the great Mortensen's did eventually move up to coal mines, refineries, and vineyards later. However, my.....predecessors, meaning ancestors, of course, hired poor immigrants and minorities to do all the dirty, back-breaking work, for
slave wages. What little money they made was owed to our company stores, and a man could never break even.” Knowing his mother would turn over in her grave (as it were) at the admission of such a shameful family 'secret', he chuckled mirthlessly. “
Mortensons
have fed off good, honest folks, most of our lives. I've did my best to change that with my own employees, but you, Malcolm, of all people, know how ruthless I've always been in my dealings with competition. Am I any better than the ones before me? I don't think so. I never gave a second thought to how many people have lost their jobs because I bought out a rival company. You don't know how many times my mother told me it was my birthright to have good people working like dogs for me, like they were nothing but a means for me to gain more wealth. This is what Cassandra married into, and she deserves better. As much as I'm loathe to admit it, mother was right, I'll always have Mortensen blood in my veins. Even though I'm not a real one, I learned their ways well.”
“Granger, you can't change what other people did in the past, but you can change the future. Just...” Satin said, but was cut off yet again.
Closing his eyes, Granger continued. “I won't do what my father and mother did to me, I won't use people. I refuse to use Cassandra or Regan any longer, just for the sake of my happiness. I finally see how selfish that is. I would rather be alone than to see them suffer any more, or risk jading them both for life. Sometimes, to truly love, you have to be willing to let go and allow the person to be happy. I know you may not believe it, but I love her and my son with every fiber of my being, and I don't want to destroy them. That's why I have to leave them, so they can be happy. And there's also the matter of one more lunatic who's still at large. If I'm gone, maybe she'll give up.”
“Granger, the police will find her and deal with her, just give it time.” Malcolm croaked.
“The police are no closer to catching her now than they were the day she skipped town, and you know that, Malcolm. I can't take that chance either. As I said earlier, my mind is made up.” Granger replied. Reaching down and picking up his bag, he nodded once to both of them, then left, closing the door behind him.
Malcolm looked at Satin, and although he didn't say anything, he was stunned to see two fat tears rolling down her cheeks. After a few moments she wiped her face with the back of her hand, then took on the look of strong determination she was known for.
“We need to decide how to break this to Cassandra.” she said, sounding more than a little shaken.
It was something Malcolm was not looking forward to, and for a moment, he thought of chasing after his friend, even if it meant he had to physically restrain him. But in his heart, he knew it would only delay the inevitable. He knew Granger better than anyone in the world, save for Cassandra, and he knew his friend's mind was made up. “I just hope she's still here when he finally comes to his senses and realizes how badly he fucked up.” he mumbled, looking Satin in the eyes worriedly.

                                                           Chapter 47
Cassandra sighed contentedly as she finished the paperwork on the continuing education center and day care for low income, single parents. Hundreds of jobs had been lost in the area recently because of a textile mill shutting down, followed shortly thereafter by a printing plant that had been in operation since World War II. In addition to those worries, massive layoffs by Winco Mining went into effect immediately following a minor cave in, and a subsequent investigation by OSHA officials. The job market in the region was dismal, especially if the person lacked training that could help them find a different field of work. With the help of other prominent members of the community, she had founded a center dedicated to technical training and job placement for low income parents in the area. Several wealthy benefactors (herself included) had not only donated large sums of money, but were tirelessly raising money for the cause. Plus, helping run the daycare gave her some direction, and managed to alleviate, at least somewhat, the feeling of helpless floundering she had felt ever since Granger had left.
Putting the paperwork away in her desk, she found herself trying to think of other things to keep her mind occupied. But all too quickly, as usual, she ran out of diversions, and once again her mind wandered back to the root of all her loneliness and confusion. There was no denying it, her heart yearned for Granger, and nothing could or would fill that void.
Fishing a key out of her purse, she unlocked the bottom drawer of the beautifully refinished antique desk, and pulled out the unsigned divorce papers. Looking at them for perhaps the hundredth time, she read with a heavy heart, hoping to find some magic explanation in the words that would explain his bewildering behavior. But no magic would be forthcoming today, it seemed. And she suspected it never would. At the moment she didn't feel the anger she had felt when he had first walked out, leaving Malcolm and Satin to explain his reasons. And in all fairness, weeks after he had left, he had tried to contact her, but in her anger and confusion, she had refused any and all forms of communication with him. What was there for him to say? To her, from the moment he had left, that had made it perfectly clear how he felt. Not even so much as a goodbye.
When Satin had tried to explain that he not only had left, but that he wanted a divorce as well, she had been bewildered, and still was, at his reasons. It made absolutely no sense to her. How could leaving her and Regan save her from pain? Did he never stop to consider how deeply it would hurt both of them? For several days afterwards she had walked around in a stunned, almost shell shocked state, unbelieving. But she had managed to pull herself together somehow, knowing she couldn't afford to wallow in
self-pity
. After all, she still had her son to worry about and care for.
Her love for Granger was such that she could never bring herself to hate him though, for leaving the way he did. She understood that what Grace had done had traumatized him, and that he blamed himself. Not only that, he also felt responsible for Martina attacking her. Any slight bit of animosity she felt was simply because of what his abandonment had did to their son. How could he leave just when his child needed him the most? Determined that her son wouldn't carry the same emotional baggage his father did (the emotional trauma
Granger suffered as a child) she had found a wonderful counselor that helped her and Regan work through the anger and resentment. Although the child communicated his thoughts and feelings freely, the truth was, she knew that he hadn't truly snapped out of his dark depression until he began receiving calls and text messages from his father, weeks after he had left.
But no matter how she felt, the divorce papers said it all.
He wants a divorce, so there's nothing for us to talk about...
she thought. Folding the paperwork and putting it back in the desk drawer, she knew that she was only putting off the inevitable, it would have to be signed eventually. And she had always told herself, even before she had met Granger, that she would never hold on to a man who didn't want her. “When the time is right, I'll sign them.” she mumbled
halfheartedly
, trying to swallow the lump that lingered in her throat. Closing the drawer, she locked it and placed the key back in her purse.
Leaning back in the comfortable leather chair, she squirmed until her tired, aching back felt better. One long, manicured fingernail began tapping the desktop absentmindedly as she wondered if he would live at the Mortensen Estate, now that she had moved into the home he had bought before his mother committed suicide. The thought of living so close to him, and possibly seeing him with another woman nearly drove her mad with fear and jealousy, but at least she did have the support of friends and her family. Smiling, she reminded herself how lucky she was to have the people in her life, all of them supportive and understanding. When Granger had first left, everyone had rallied around her, expecting her to fall apart. She had bent, for certain, but refused to break, not after the living nightmare she had survived with Brett and Martina. She refused to be treated like some helpless woman, and gracefully but firmly had insisted that everyone go on about their daily lives and not hover over her. She encouraged her mother to go on the road with Tate, in his large motor home, up the east coast, and sightsee.
On a more cheerful note, her friend Cynne' had decided to quit her job at the orphanage and come work for her, as her personal aide, managing the many charities the Mortensen's had participated in and ran for decades. Since Grace's death and Granger's departure, the duty had fallen to her, a responsibility she gladly shouldered. On the strictly business end of things, Granger had entrusted Malcolm to running things for her, for which she was eternally grateful for. In that endeavor, she felt completely out of her element.
Shaking her head, she stood, still feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. As she left the room, she reminded herself that she just needed time to get over it, and then she could move on. She hoped.
                              *********************************
       
                  Italy: Morten
sen Vineyard, two weeks later
Nicola De Luca stood, wiping perspiration from his brow. Glancing to his right, his gaze settled on his baby brother,
Granger, who labored alongside
him and the other workers,
helping restore the carriage house they planned on converting into a small, elegant restaurant. His younger brother's natural business savvy and experience had helped him turn things around here, and had dramatically increased profits on the vineyard. Now they were working on nothing but improvements, and he doubted he would ever simply rest on his laurels again. He was surprised that his brother, who had been born into wealth and privilege, would even know how to hold a hammer, much less use it, but he seemed to enjoy the work, and was very knowledgeable when it came to carpentry and landscaping. Before beginning this particular project, Granger had explained that while growing up, he had worked many summer months for the family's construction company, and that he had always enjoyed it.
Feeling tired himself, and wanting to clean up so he could go out and enjoy the nightlife the tourist town offered, he finally stopped what he was doing, grabbed a bottle of water, and spoke. “Granger, let's call it a day.” Tossing his nail gun on a nearby work table, he glanced around and saw the other workers smiling with relief as they began putting their tools away as well. Seeing hesitation on Granger's tanned face, he reminded him, as he had several times before in the past several months, “Brother, ever since you came here it's been nothing but work work work, from sun up to sun down. I can certainly appreciate that, and I appreciate everything you've helped me with, but a man has to have more than work in his life to be fulfilled. Let's go out and have fun, we've earned it! I know a place where the women are plentiful, they also love American men for some reason.” he finished with a knowing wink, making it clear that his idea of fun would be drinking and chasing skirts. Signaling dismissal at the other workmen, he wished them all a good weekend, and told them he would see them bright and early the following Monday.
As the other men left, smiling, joking, and clapping each other on the back, Granger chuckled. From what he had learned about
him
and Nicola's biological father, his older brother was much like him when it came to women. From the moment they had been reunited, he and Nicola had forged a strong bond almost immediately, and he had been pleasantly surprised and pleased. Nicola had accepted him with open arms, and no questions, as if they been this close all their lives.
Nicola had confided to him earlier that he knew all along that Grace was his mother, and that they were brothers. He said that when he was twelve years old, a drunken Joseph Mortensen (on his annual visit to the vineyard) had delighted in telling him about his mother's scandalous deeds, about the brother he was not allowed to see, nor ever would be able to see. Hurt, he had first confronted his father, and seeing the look and guilt and shame on the man's face, he knew what Joseph had said was true. Afterwards he had confronted Grace and his grandparents, wanting to know why his brother was being kept from him. What had he done wrong that would make his family keep Granger away from him? Why had his mother rejected him as her own? The following day, after trying to get to the truth, he was sent, against his will, to a boarding school in England, where he had stayed until the age of seventeen.
He had assured Granger that he bore no resentment towards him, after all, he had been just a child himself, with no control over their parent's misdeeds and petty manipulations to
hide the truth. He said that he was angry and bitter towards Grace initially, but had finally let go of the resentment as he grew older, and began to see things in a different light. He had grown up getting the best education money could buy, and how many children could say that? Eventually, he had even became thankful to her, she'd paid for him to attended the best culinary school in Europe. As a chef, he had opened two successful restaurants, and in his heart, he knew it would never have been possible without the education she had badgered Joseph Mortensen into providing for him. After hearing what had happened to him, Nicola had been silent for
a while
, then finally said he felt that Grace had did the right thing by not taking him with her when she married. Said he actually felt blessed that his mother had not wanted him around the spiteful, abusive man she had married.
Afterwards, Nicola had shared his memories of their real father, telling him what a playboy he had been, even after his marriage to Rosa, a sweet natured woman who loved Nicola like her own son. Their father eventually left Rosa for a younger woman he met at a local bar, but that relationship had been short lived, due to his reckless impulses and insatiable libido. Their father died of a heart attack while sharing a bed with one of his many young lovers, even though his grandparents chose to believe his death was due to Grace breaking his heart. Even though it was apparent Nicola had loved the man dearly, he was painfully honest about the man's character flaws and short comings.
Grabbing a clean handkerchief from his back pocket, Granger wiped the sweat and grime from his face, and pushed the hair he had let grow out the past five months off his face. As he had pulled the handkerchief out, he never noticed the picture he carried of his family sliding out and floating down to the hardwood floor.
Bending over, Nicola picked up the photo and studied it for a moment. It was a picture of Granger's wife and son, both smiling for the camera. “You miss them.” it was more of a statement than a question as he regarded Granger with somber curiosity.
Feeling a familiar pang of loss and guilt, Granger could only nod miserably. How could he explain that he had been snapped back into reality only after Satin had informed him the papers were in his wife's hands, waiting to be signed? In a panic, he had scrambled desperately to correct his mistake, which in his mind, had been the mother of all fuck-ups. But his attempts to speak with Cassandra had been in vain. She ignored his calls, emails, and text messages. None were returned or answered. The one small bright spot was that she had at least allowed Regan contact, but had made it clear through her own actions that she had nothing to say to him.
Dumbfounded, Nicola shook his head, seemingly mystified by his younger brother's insecurity. “I feel for you brother, but I'll never understand what possesses a man to marry and tie himself down to one woman, when there are so many out there to enjoy. But that's just me. But, I can see how much you love and miss your Cassandra and Regan. You should go repair your marriage. I'm sure it'll be a simple matter of.....of saying you were out of your head at the time.” he finished lamely, completely out of his element.
Taking the picture from him, Granger looked at it longingly for what seemed like the
thousandth time. It was a snapshot of Cassandra and Regan frolicking in the indoor swimming pool, when she had first returned home with him after her three year absence. Her smile was so beautiful, and it made him ache and opened the self-inflicted, gaping wound in his heart yet again. He missed that about her and Regan: The two of them could walk in a room with a smile or a laugh, and it was so contagious that everyone else could feel it, even if the mood had been sullen and somber before. With a sad smile, his thoughts drifted to the conversations he had had with Malcolm and Satin over the past several weeks. Something was going on with Cassandra, both of them had been evasive. When he had asked Malcolm about it, all he would say was that he should never have left. Satin had told him, quite bluntly, if he wanted to know what was going on with his wife, then he should get his sorry ass back home. “She may not agree to even see me, let alone try to get our marriage back on track. Hell, I doubt she'll even want to be in the same room as me, after that boneheaded stunt I pulled. It's my fault things are the way they are.” he had said, hating the unfamiliar whining note in his voice.