Comin' Home to You (43 page)

“So it was all worth it, right?” finally asked Nicky. “Doing all this and dying for your family?”

Owen got more comfortable. He silently apologized to his daughter for the blood that would surely stain the back of her seat. “Anything for them…I would do anything.”

Nicky’s eyebrows arched downward. His face looked muddled, but determination lurked deep down inside of it. Something sparked inside of his brain. “Anything for them. She…your girl, Patricia, she said that.”

Owen looked perplexed. “Excuse me?”

“Back then, Roy would usually send someone to collect his cut from her, but sometimes he would want to see her himself, just to see how things were going. I know you hated him. I mean, hell, you killed the guy. But he took care of his own, and even though he knew that she was with you, he still was a good employer. Anyway, it was out in the parking lot of the Dairy Queen, I think. After she gave him the cut that was owed to him, Roy asked her if she liked what she was doing.”

“And?”

“She said no. But she followed that by saying it was for her family. She’d do anything for them.”

Gazing into the windshield ahead was all that Owen could do. He noticed lots of bugs that found their end from high impact with glass. Emotions of sadness and regret were about to make their presence known. Wanting to leave quickly, his fingers shook on his way to turning the keys to start the ignition. Lifting his head swiftly upward as a sign of acknowledgement to Nicky, Owen thrust the car into reverse and found a small crevice to back in and out of. He was glad he was out of there; the place where fates were decided. He was further elated to see the sky again. A stray cloud dotted the blue of the sky. It was almost too perfect of a day. A choking feeling in his throat and a shaking in his cheeks were overwhelming him, reminding him of every emotion he held back. His eyes watered, but they were contained enough to where no tears fell. Once on the main road, he drove as fast as he could. Time and his consciousness were fleeting. The last thing he wanted was to pass out behind the wheel and screw someone else’s life up with a fatal head-on collision because he passed out from blood loss. But he couldn’t stop. There was somewhere he had to go. He wouldn’t forgive himself in the afterlife if he didn’t do this one thing.

He turned the radio on as loud as he could and kept the windows down, doing anything he could to keep his dizziness and sleepiness from conquering him. The choking feeling had never left, but it felt like it was being replaced by a familiar burning. He knew this feeling all too well. Feeling his chest and throat surge, he pulled over on the side of the road and threw his head out the window, letting loose a great deal of vomit. Most of his body was already hurting. Now he could add his acid filled throat to the list. Lots of drool escaped his lips and down his dirty shirt. He caught himself nodding off with his head still exposed to the outdoors. There wasn’t much time left. He was becoming so damn sleepy. He had to reach his destination.

He did whatever he could to keep himself alert. He pinched his face and arms, slapped himself across his sore face and even bit the skin on his wrist to stay away from slumber. But after minutes of self-imposed torture while driving, he made it to his goal. Above his head as he drove into the entrance was a steel arch that boldly spelled Adrienne Cemetery. It had been so long since he had been here. His mother’s graveside service was the last time he set foot on this land. Before that, it was Patricia’s funeral. This place made him uneasy. He didn’t fear the dead, but it was the finality of death and how everyone ends up here that freaked him out. It seemed ironic that the place he avoided would be his probable resting place.

It was sad that he completely forgot where to go. Despite it being 15 years, the fact that he couldn’t remember only reinforced the reason why he had to come here. He opened his car door and stumbled out, grabbing at his bleeding back, figuring examining each grave and looking at the name would be a better alternative. He dropped to a knee, but quickly willed himself back up. It was becoming difficult to simply walk. He felt like he was wearing bricks for shoes, but he pressed on, noting the last names of the graves he passed by. Stone after stone, he wasn’t finding the one he needed.
Where is it? Where the fuck is it?
Hope was fading away. Each step came closer to the end of his line.

Across the paved road that separated groups of graves that rested on freshly mowed grass, he noticed a beautiful array of orange, red and blue flowers in front of a lighter gray stone. For some reason, he needed to see whose grave it was. Something about the simple beauty and how it resembled the colors of both sunrises and sunsets appealed to him. He had witnessed both recently; a sunset when Grace ended their relationship and a sunrise this morning. Owen wanted to piece their meanings into some sort of allegorical meaning, but his mind and body were too chaotic to create something so complex. Each step made him weaker. Each breath grew shallower. But he pressed on and made it to the flowers, collapsing to both knees in front of the glass vase that held them. They were a thing of beauty. He wanted to touch them, but he didn’t want to disrespect the person buried beneath them or whoever laid down the flowers. He looked at the name and felt his upper body tighten.

McAdams. Patricia LeAnn McAdams.

The woman he loved was six feet underneath him. Nothing but bones by now, but they were the bones of his fiancé. He was sick of calling her that. She should have been his wife. Another regret he would have to live with. Though, he doubted that would last that much longer. He softly picked up the vase and smelled the flowers. They still had a fairly fresh aroma, although his olfactory sense wasn’t working quite that well, more than likely due to the pounding his nose took earlier. There was only one person who likely visited here, though he wondered how often his daughter came here in between drug binges. When she did visit, she likely spoke and had conversations with her mother. It didn’t seem practical, but Owen was willing to give it a try.

Grabbing the grass below him for leverage, he inched closer to the limestone. His fingertips, soaked with blood, traced the M in McAdams. For a moment, he focused on her date of death. If only he did something differently on that day, or any day before that. Those were opinions he could express out loud to her. His lips shivered as he strained to have his words escape. But they finally came out, though hoarsely.

“He…Hey.”

Owen grasped his hands on the top of the grave. Words weren’t coming with ease. He was so nervous, even to talk to inanimate piece of stone. “15 years. 15 years have passed. Your baby girl, she’s grown up. You know that. She comes to visit you a lot. She has a few problems, but she’s working through them. She’ll get through them. She’s got that Tomkins spirit. You have a grandson. If you were still here, oh my god, that boy would be spoiled rotten. I know you wouldn’t stand for that fucker father of his either, but he’s gone now. All that got settled today. They are free.”

His heart sank once remembering details of how this came to be. “I still remember it, honey. I remember it like it was yesterday. The day that I found you…how you were. Those memories will never leave me. God, I’m sorry. I did horrible things and betrayed you almost every night just so I didn’t have to think of you. No woman mattered to me. Just you.” The choking feeling returned. “God, I miss you.”

He broke down. His forehead rested on the coarse top as tears streamed out of his ducts. “God dammit, please forgive me. It’s my fucking fault you’re down there and not here with me. I miss you. I miss you so much.”

The drowsy sensation once again found itself battling his desire to stay awake. He thought of another memory. “Do you remember when we found out you were pregnant? Hah, you threw the pregnancy test at me. Then you threw a softball at me. Smoked me, right in the shoulder. Had a good sized bruise. You were gonna throw your piggybank at me too. But I had moved in close to you. I didn’t know what to do either. I was cool outside, but inside, I was just as panicked as you were. So I did the only thing I could think of. I wrapped you in my arms and didn’t let go. You fidgeted, calling me an asshole and careless, but you stopped after a while and placed your face on my shoulder. I could feel your warm tears through my shirt. I already knew you were the girl I would spend the rest of my life with, but I really knew it then. Holding you was the best damn feeling I ever had. I want it back so bad. I love you.”

He no longer wanted to fight his sleepiness. It felt beneficial to say those words to her, like he could finally relax. Now, the struggle was over. Rest called out to him. His eyes fluttered as the vicious sun sunk behind the sole cloud in the sky. Owen was sick of suffering, both physically and mentally. A quiet smile made its presence on his face as he tasted the salt of his tear. He felt compelled to say one last thing before sleep took him.

“I’m comin’ home to you.”

He opened his eyes. Owen guessed he wasn’t as sleepy as he believed. In fact, he found himself wide awake, vibrant and full of energy. The pain had completely vanished. He actually felt like a brand new man. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the beautiful brightness. The sound of running water in a stream was like a perfect symphony and put his soul at ease. Everything smelled fresh and pleasant. Each breath of oxygen felt clean and clear. He looked down to the vivid green grass dotted with white daisies. Picking one from the ground, Owen inhaled deeply. Its fragrance was like a perfume that fascinated his senses. Looking up to the heavens while enjoying the aroma, the sky was cloudless and cerulean. Closing his eyes, he hadn’t experienced such a peaceful feeling in a long time.

Taking a step toward the creek, he planted his knees into the ground and placed his fingers in the stream, letting the sparkling water run around them. It was cool and crisp. It also looked fresh enough to drink. He was considering it, until something white and bright caught his peripheral vision.

Ahead was a woman in a white sundress. Her dirty blonde hair was catching the breeze. The woman turned toward him with an infectious smile on her face. Owen had stood up to approach the lady, but seeing her face made him drop back to his knees. He wanted to say her name so badly, but the woman put her vertical index finger to her ruby red lips. She gracefully walked to him, her smile staying permanent. Back to his feet, he wanted to cry in happiness. She was so beautiful that he didn’t feel worthy to even be in her presence. Remembering the daisy in his hand, he carefully placed it in her hair, making her smile grow even wider, revealing pearly white teeth. Owen eased his lips toward hers. She made no attempt to resist his advance. Her lips tasted like every sweet and enjoyable thing that ever existed. He could feel her smile on his lips. It made him grin like a child.

Owen pulled away to look into her eyes. They were brighter than the sky and he wanted to die in them. Biting his lip, he had to say her name.

“Patricia.”

He guided his lips upon hers again.

And darkness reigned forever.

Three months later…

Ali sat at a round table with an orange crayon in her hand. Red, blue, and purple sat still beside the coloring book she was using, while a yellow crayon had rolled to the floor. She was touching up her sun and sky, being as specific with the colors as possible. Only half the sun was showing, the other half hidden under the drawn ground.

She had spent most of her free time coloring at the rehabilitation facility in Tyler. She had enrolled in a 90-day program shortly after her father’s death. At first, she stayed strong, spending most of her time consoling her son, who was truly devastated. Not only did he lose his grandfather, but his father and uncle as well. But once the weight of the world on her shoulders had broken her resolve, she ran back to her former home and found Clint’s stash of drugs. Wishing to escape her painful emotions, she used Clint’s rarely used heroin syringe kit. Worried after not seeing his mother for almost a day, Austin called the police to search for Ali. After a quick search, they found her comatose and with a barely beating heart. She was quickly raced to the emergency room, where her body recovered, but her clear penchant of turning to drugs was not as easily vanquished.

Somehow conscious and stable after taking three gunshot wounds, after hearing the news from his hospital bed, Ben suggested that she go to an inpatient rehab facility to avoid a possession charge. Before she departed, she attended her father’s funeral. It was set in a small church in Adrienne, though barely anyone attended. Ali, Austin, Taylor and her two children, some of the officers at the APD, his boss and coworkers at the mechanic shop, Grace and her new boyfriend, Old Day and a few others were all that showed up. The sermon was short, with the topic about finding forgiveness. After all, the ballistics at the crime scene at Lake Fork confirmed that Owen was the killer of Scar and Clint Grayson. The town and surrounding areas were also abuzz by the reveal of Roy Grayson’s bones, who was still officially considered missing for all these years. Ben, during a past visit a few weeks back, stated that the doctor believed that the gunshot would likely not have killed a healthy human if treated. But Owen’s wound, with his cirrhosis and effects, didn’t clot like it should have, therefore leading to his eventual death. One thing that gave her some sort of solace was that her father passed with a smile on his face at the gravesite of her mother. She was happy that he finally visited her, though he did it too late. Ali now had to live with the fact that she was 23 and had lost both her parents. That thought depressed her, almost to the point of suicide. But one thing kept her going. The last positive memory that they experienced; the picture that was taken before Owen left.

The picture saved on her cell phone that was printed out for viewing at the rehab clinic simultaneously elated her and saddened her. She was proud that Austin had such a wonderful grandfather who filled his young days with happiness. He hopefully would cherish those memories and keep them close whenever he faced tough times in life. She, on the other hand, regretted not forgiving him earlier. She never bothered to see his side and to understand how much he truly cared and loved her mother. What made her feel worse was that despite all the hateful things she said to him, his love for his daughter never waned. Ali spent many nights crying into her pillow in her room, chastising herself for being so ungrateful. No matter all of the shady things he did, he still raised her with nothing but unconditional love. What did she do to reciprocate his affection? Fucking Clint Grayson just to piss him off. She wouldn’t have Austin if she hadn’t fornicated with that sleazy piece of shit, but she wished she could have had him another way.

Austin gave her strength too. When she agreed to do the rehab, she said a hasty goodbye to her son. She didn’t want him to see her like this. She also asked Taylor, who volunteered to watch Austin while she was away, not to bring him to visit. Her reasoning was that he would forget the vices and problems of his old mother, and when she came back, she would be a clean and completely different mother to him. The picture helped her through these torturous three months. But today, as she touched up her sun with a little more yellow, was her last day.

Other rehab patients performed various tasks in the activity room. Ali hadn’t exactly made friends here. Her sole focus was getting out of here and to not be influenced by the demons of her past. None of her so-called friends visited her to offer their support. She was glad, however. They were horrible influences and the type of crowd she wished to avoid once she was out. The only visitor she ever received was Ben, who was sincere in his want for her to recover. He really was a good guy. Just like her father.

All she was waiting for now was the discharge papers to be signed. All her belongings were packed up. She was in the clothes she wore on her intake, thigh high black cotton shorts and a red t-shirt that said ‘LOVE’ across the breasts in a fancy font. She figured she would spend her last moments here doing what she did best. She put the finishing touches on her picture when she was called into the main office. There, she signed her papers and was given an information packet. Ali doubted she would ever take another look at it. Her desire for drugs was almost nonexistent. All she remembered was how it felt. It was a delightful feeling, but all that truly mattered now was raising her son the correct way. She considered going to church more, eating healthy and working out to relieve any frustrations from her past, all in the hopes of making her life better. Once out the door of the office, she saw her uncle, clad in his officer uniform.

“Ali.”

“Uncle Ben.”

The two hugged. Ben pulled away to look at his niece. “I’m proud of you. I really am.”

“Thanks. Really, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. How about we get the hell out of here?”

“You ain’t gotta tell me twice.”

Ben smiled and opened the door for her as they walked out of the facility. She was outdoors plenty during her time at rehab, but the warmth of the sun felt different now that she knew she was finally a free woman again. The bright and shiny rays felt cleansing on her skin, the air felt cleaner and her overall view of the world was more positive once truly on the outside. Her uncle was polite enough to open the passenger side door of his squad car. Once she was buckled in, Ben took off toward their fair burg of Adrienne.

“So how you feeling?” Ben asked. “You glad to be out of there?”

“I just want to get back to Austin. I want to show him that his mother has changed.”

“I hope this don’t sound too rude, but have you?”

Ali took a respite before replying. “I think so. Clint isn’t here anymore to force drugs on me, but I still have to say no myself. That’s what the rehab mainly taught me. It all starts with me.”

“That’s good to hear. Does that mean you’re going to stop drinking too?”

Ali smiled widely. “Uh, no. God, I’ve needed some whiskey in my life. But I plan to slow down. I don’t want what Dad had.”

The mood took a somber turn. “Yeah…I’ve slowed down too. Honestly, a couple of nights ago was the first time I’ve had a drink since before all the shit went down.”

“Yeah. I forgot to ask how you were doing. You’re not limping as much, I noticed.”

“Well shit, it don’t take me long to recover,” confidently bragged Ben. “But still, taking three shots, especially one that damn near hit my heart, it puts shit into perspective, you know?”

“And how’s Taylor doing? She getting better?”

Ben said nothing while he was merging onto the interstate, but when he felt comfortable and not concentrating so hard on the traffic, he resumed speaking. “She’s getting better. Her burns have mostly healed, but the whole killing a guy that was going to rape her thing kinda fucked with her head. She wakes up screaming all the time. She’s been getting some counseling to try to cope with it, but it’s tough. Adam wake up with nightmares too. Rainey watched everything happen from behind a tree. It was traumatic for everyone. Moving on hasn’t been the easiest, but we’ll manage. We face our problems head on. Family motherfuckin’ motto.”

“Ugh, you won’t believe how many times Dad said that growing up. If I had a problem with a teacher at school, face it head on. When I got pissed at my coach, face it head on. Shit, he even told me to face him head on when I get pissed at him. He was a damn character.”

“He stayed loyal to who he was. Never wavered. And because of him, he gave you a new crack at life without Grayson interference.”

“Oh, I have every intention of changing Austin’s last name. Is he doing okay?”

Ben scratched at his nose and cleared his throat. “Yeah, he is. I told you before, he was really confused after it all. The boy’s never experienced death before, and for two of his idols to die, especially one of them killing the other, it really confused him.”

“Two?”

“He didn’t seem too heartbroken about Clint.”

Ali bit her lip. “Makes sense. I don’t think he made one fatherly gesture toward Austin. I think he just gave up on him being his father. He saw Dad as an actual father. Scar was something close.”

“There’s still a couple things that are a little sketchy about the whole case. From what we gathered, Scar forced Owen to dig up the body. Then Owen somehow took Scar by surprise and lit him up. I’m guessing Clint shot Owen when he had his back turned, but the amount of casings in the area showed that Clint took a lot of shots, but only hit him once.”

“He always was a horrible shot,” quipped Ali.

“Things got weird from there. Judging by the bodies, Clint and Owen got in a physical fight. Pretty sure Clint got the best of him. But at some point, Owen got him in the back of the head with his gun. That one doesn’t make a lot of sense. Just by the angles and the blood, I don’t know how Owen shot him. Plus, there was an anonymous call at a payphone in Emory about some gunshots over by the Lake. Owen wouldn’t have went that way. Woods County Sheriff got the call. I’ve helped him out with a few things, so once he told me who the bodies were, I got to help out on the case. Eventually, he just turned it over to me since, well, the sheriff is fat and lazy over there and didn’t want two strange murders on his hands.”

“What are you saying?”

“I think someone else was there at the time. I’d bet my life it was Nicky. But the one thing I just can’t wrap my head around. If Nicky was there with Scar, if Owen shot at Scar, you’d think Nicky would retaliate? I don’t know. I’ve tried to get a hold of Nicky. I went by his house and it looks like he packed shit and ran with his family. Not sure why. You know, unless he had something to hide. And there’s the whole attack on me and my family, which seemed premeditated. I don’t know, Ali. There’s too much. I just want to put it all behind me.”

“So have things gotten better since…Scar and Clint are gone?”

“Ha!” Ben sarcastically chuckled. “I thought it would too. But now the remaining Graysons, if they ain’t fighting with each other, are fighting against others who are trying to move in on the trade. This place has no shortage of rednecks looking to take over, I tell ya. We seen some boys from Mineola, some Mexicans out of Tyler, even some hillbillies near Lake Tawakoni. We’ve been bringing in lots of ‘em, but we don’t have enough cells to hold them all at our town jail. It’s stressing me out. FBI’s been helping, though they’ve spent most of their time looking for Scar’s money.”

“Did they find it?”

“As far as I know, no. He didn’t launder it, didn’t spend it. They ain’t going to find it if he didn’t want them to. But they’ve been helping. Keeping me posted on the Roaring 20’s. I expected a changing of the guard with Scar gone. Figured it get passed down to Nicky, but he ain’t around. Instead, nothing’s happened. They haven’t done shit. It’s like they just abandoned Adrienne. If that’s the case and I can sort my mess out here, I might finally be able to clean up this town.”

“Just like you always wanted.”

“Oh yeah. Clean this shit up and get my relaxation on. I’m ready to cash in on all that vacation time I have just sitting there and waiting to be used. My family and I need to get the hell out of this town for a while.”

Ali meekly looked out the window. She was actually glad to be back. The rehab facility and its structure with day-to-day activities got on her nerves. She doubted that she’d ever mentally improve from the stress from her confined daily life. But now she was out, the sweet country air filled her lungs and made her content again. She liked to see other states and even the world, but this was her home, a place with too many memories, good and bad, to leave behind.

The rest of the ride was filled with small chit-chat with pauses in between. She had a chance to look at her cell phone which hadn’t been accessed in her stay at Tyler. No texts from any so-called friends. No big deal. She didn’t need them. Looking up local news, she noticed a few things while looking for her father’s obituary.
Doug Polster and Grace Toler to wed. Fuck her. Ernest Lancaster arrested for selling alcohol to minors. Aw, come on. Now what will I do for late night booze? Texas Rangers lose seventh game in a row. I’m sure Austin’s disappointed. New Orleans millionaire advertising and real estate mogul remains found in a dumpster. Ew.

W
hen her eyes looked up and noticed the Adrienne city limits signed stuck firmly in the grass on the side of the road, tons of emotions caused her throat to close. Months away had kept her memories at bay, but once back in town, the reality of her father’s death and being away from her son for three months slapped her right across the cheek. She looked at her uncle, who despite being shot three times and dealing with his newly mentally troubled family, stayed strong. His masculine features were dominant and his eyes stayed focus on the road ahead. Ben lived the family motto. He never let his problems affect him. He powered through, just like his older brother. Just thinking about her father saddened her, but it also gave her a shot of vigor. Owen stood his ground and did what he said he was going to do. Scar and Clint were now dead. Unfortunately, he was too. But she was finally a free woman. Free from the constant terror of Clint attacking her, free from the drugs and free from Scar. Even after all the time to reflect, she still didn’t understand Scar’s motives. Was all that he really wanted was a family to call his own? It was a useless question to ask now.