Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I don’t … I don’t understand.
“You okay?”
My body moves in her direction, but I can’t feel it. This is what I imagine it’s like to have an out-of-body experience. People talk, but everything echoes. Words mean nothing. Emotions shut off. Your body moves on autopilot.
“You don’t look well. Here … let me help you lie down.” She assists me to the sofa, covered in piles of laundry. “Should I call someone?”
He’s dead.
“Indiana?” Lorraine puts her face in front of mine. “Do you need me to call someone for you?”
“No,” I whisper.
She stands straight. “Have rent to me by tomorrow morning. And whatever you do, don’t die in here. Do you have any idea how hard it is to rent out an apartment after it gets out that someone died in it?”
When the door clicks, I fist my hands over my eyes. “No …” Emotion punches me in the face, and I cry. It kicks me in the gut, and I sob harder. “No!” I’m so fucking angry that I’m having these feelings. I’m mad that these tears won’t stop running down my face.
He doesn’t get my tears.
“Stop. Stop … just stop.” I shoot to my feet and scrub my face, trying to erase every tear, every last bit of evidence they existed. Clenching my shirt in my tight fists, I rip at it as if I could rip out my heart and stomp all over it for reacting this way to him.
Throwing open my kitchen cabinets, I look for any alcohol I can find, settling on a bottle of vodka. Tossing the cap aside, I bring it to my lips.
Then … I stop.
He would have done this. He did do it.
Fletcher tried to drink himself to death after Ruthie died.
Because he supposedly loved her.
Because he couldn’t bear a sober day without her.
Because he didn’t know how to love anyone else.
It’s too easy to imagine his impure spirit watching me, smirking, reminding me that I am his flesh and blood. Like father, like daughter.
Crash!
The bottle of vodka shatters against the wall. I wipe more tears, brushing my arm across my nose to wipe my snot. But I can’t stop. My emotional foundation crumbles. And I bleed all the tears and choke on every sob.
His evil spirit can watch me with that self-righteous smile, but he’d better know these tears are not for him. They’re because of him.
39
SLIGHTED
MILO
“Where’s Ty?” Pauline asks while I rock Benjamin and stare out at the trees by the pond. She hasn’t said more than a dozen words since returning to the ranch.
I’m okay with her remaining in a state of shock. After his funeral, I will have my judgment day. Jolene should be here soon. She’s avoided making the trip home until the last possible minute.
She’s avoided me.
But today, we say a final good riddance to the fallen master.
“I haven’t seen Ty.”
“What do you mean you haven’t seen him?”
The clouds grow darker. How fitting that it will storm today.
“I mean, I haven’t seen him like I don’t plan to see a handful of employees who never wanted to be here in the first place.”
“Ty was loyal to him. He wouldn’t miss his funeral.”
“I fear you’ve mistaken obedience for loyalty.”
“Well…” she clears her throat “…when you see him, tell him I’d like to have a word. And later tonight, I will have a word with you as well.”
There it is.
I say nothing.
When Benjamin falls asleep, I lay him in his crib, shave my face smooth for the first time in years, and don my whitest shirt, pressed suit, and black silk tie.
We dress our very best to grieve and celebrate. Today is both. A brother and uncle will be mourned. And a new freedom will be celebrated.
“You’re not in his will.”
Drawing a long breath, I close my eyes for a second before turning toward Jolene.
Her long, brunette hair is pulled into a tight bun.
Her lithe body clad in a fitted black dress. Black gloves. Black heels.
“And in our prenup, you get nothing if you cheat on me.”
Adjusting my tie, I don’t say a word.
“Was she worth it?” Jolene eyes me with a stern expression and a hatred more intense than anything I’ve seen from her in our short marriage.
Buttoning my suit jacket, I pull my shoulders back and make my way to the door, to Jolene. I stare down at her until she cowers, averting her gaze. “Yes. She was worth it.”
Fletcher’s butcher slash minister presides over his funeral service. His kind words are offered to a filled church. I am one of six pallbearers chosen to carry his casket from the front of the church to the hearse. From the hearse to his final resting place in the Ellington family cemetery next to his beloved Ruthie.
Pauline loses it during the burial service. Jolene passes Benjamin to me so she can console her mourning mother. I don’t look at the minister or the casket—my gaze slides along the acres of land surrounding us. And I imagine what my life will be like when it’s no longer my responsibility. When I’m no longer a slave to the man in that shiny box.