Thorns and Forgiveness : Twisted Legacy Duet Page 7

  I heard footsteps approaching. I felt his body crouch and hover over mine. I continued to pretend to sleep. Trauma was like a nightmare, reminding me of how evil he was. “You’re fucking pathetic. Always needing me to clean up your messes,” Joseph whispered fiercely. There was a shift in the air that was so sudden I didn’t even have time to brace myself before an expensive shoe on a lethal foot was slamming into my stomach. I groaned and grunted.

  I lost my fucking mind. For a brief second, I wasn’t in DC on the hotel floor. I was in my childhood bedroom, hiding under my bed from Joseph. I could still feel the way his hand wrapped around my ankle and pulled me out. I could still feel the way he kicked me over and over and over in the stomach.

  “Fuck,” I groaned. I wanted to stand up and beat the shit out of him. Fuck this job. But the only thing that kept me writhing on the floor was the idea of revenge and creating a safer world for Vera.

  “Get up, brother. We have work to do,” Joseph replied before spinning on his heels and walking away. Jack didn’t dare help me pull myself to my feet. He never wanted to interfere when Joseph beat the shit out of me. It was a hard kick that made my teeth rattle. I’d probably bruise.

  But instead of raging, I laughed. “Want to go for a drink, Jack?”

  “Shut up. Let’s go,” my father barked before pushing me through the door and toward the elevator. It wasn’t until we were outside that I dropped the drunk facade.

  “That was brilliant,” Jack said. “He bought it.”

  “And he’s going to make my life a living hell.”

  I waited as the limo pulled up to the front of the hotel.

  Jack cleared his throat. “I’ll tell you something my father told me, God rest his soul.”

  “Your fatherly advice is cheap, Jack,” I replied.

  “People can only make your life hell if you let them, Hamilton. Beat him at his own game, and you’ll never have to deal with him again.”

  Beat him at his own game, huh?

  Well, that I could do.

  7

  Vera

  “A letter of recommendation? Are you dropping out?” Dr. Bhavsar asked while looking over the rim of her glasses at me. I felt awkward, sitting in her office. Shelves stuffed with books filled all four walls. Her oak desk was ornate and oversized. The massive furniture and leather desk chair seemed to swallow my dainty philosophy professor. Her brown skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. She had a small space heater in the corner, warming the entire space. I’d left my suitcase by the door, but Dr. Bhavsar kept staring at it.

  “I’m not dropping out. Just…transferring schools.”

  “The semester is almost done, Miss Garner. I’m not going to waste my time or insult your intelligence by telling you why I think it’s ridiculous to drop out now. Why not wait it out? Get the credit you earned, Vera.”

  “I’m still going to finish out the semester,” I said in a rush. I completely agreed. I earned my semester of school. Jack already paid for it, and I wasn’t going to put myself through the trouble of taking my classes all over again for the sake of pride. But I wouldn’t be continuing my education at Greenwich University. “Thanksgiving is in two weeks and then finals. I know I’ve been absent lately, but—”

  “I don’t need excuses. I’m just surprised is all. You’re one of my best students,” she said with a casual wave of her hand. I couldn’t help but feel proud of her comment. I’d worked my ass off this semester, despite all the…distractions.

  She rolled up her cheetah-print sleeve and grabbed her cup of tea. Taking a sip, she stared at me, as if waiting for me to explain myself. How would I even begin? “Do you know who my family is?” I asked.

  “The Beauregards. Influential. Powerful. Annoying as hell. Egotistical. Simple-minded. Selfish…”

  I grinned. At least we were on the same page about them. “They’re paying for my school and have certain expectations of me. I’d rather go somewhere more affordable than have them hold it over my head.”

  She clicked her nails on the desktop. “I suppose I’m just disappointed. You were one of my favorites, Vera. I was even going to suggest that you sign up for my higher-level class.” Dr. Bhavsar sighed. “But I guess I can’t blame you. You know my parents wanted me to be a surgeon? With my caffeine addiction? My hands shake constantly. I also have the worst gag reflex. Just the thought of cutting someone open makes me want to puke. But they persisted. In the end, I became a doctor, just not the kind they expected.”

  I politely laughed as she grinned at me. “Did they try guilt tripping you into going to school for medicine?”

  “Something like that,” she quipped, a hint of mischievousness in her tone.

  “Maybe I’m too proud,” I replied with a shrug. “Life is just a cycle of owing people something, you know? This school is amazing. I could easily do whatever Jack asks and just accept their generosity. It just feels wrong. And…” I paused, debating on telling Dr. Bhavsar about this. “Joseph just served my mother divorce papers. How long until they pull the plug on my education anyway? Or what if they come back and tell me I owe them for it?”

  “Owing people is an evil necessity, yes? We owe landlords, taxes, parents, bosses, friends, and various bill collectors. There’s a level of trust associated with going into business with someone or agreeing to a relationship in which they have all the control. Landlords can easily kick you out. Bosses can fire you. Parents can disappoint you. Humans are…tricky. And craving control over your own destiny is understandable. But it’s also important to note that we can choose who we owe.” I swallowed the emotions bubbling up my throat and squirmed in my seat. She looked down at the paper I’d handed her when we first got here. “So what is this for again?”

  “A scholarship at a state school an hour away. I’m scrambling and might have to take a semester off to get everything in order. But the deadline is in three days, and I think I can get my essay done by then and hopefully not have any gaps in my education.”

  “You’ve had a busy morning,” she murmured while looking over the requirements for the nomination. She nodded at my suitcase. “Packing, too, no doubt.”

  “I know your time is valuable. You’re just such a notable name in your field that—”

  “I’ll write the recommendation. You need anything else for this scholarship? Where are you staying, Miss Garner? Have you eaten?” Her tenderness caught me off guard.

  I hadn’t quite figured that out yet. “I was going to figure that out after here…”

  Dr. Bhavsar clicked her tongue, then stood up. “I’m done with my classes for the day. Grab your things. I’m taking you to my house.”

  “What? Why? I don’t—”

  “How would you like to owe me, Miss Garner? The way I see it, you have nowhere to stay. Four weeks left in the semester, and a lot of work to do in order to get into your new college. You can spend your time trying to survive, or you can owe me one.” Her eyes twinkled, and I considered her offer. I knew Dr. Bhavsar from school. She was kind, wise, and intelligent. But it felt wrong to…

  “I don’t want to be a burden,” I admitted. It was a common theme these days, burdening people.

  “I have a spare bedroom. Get yourself a job, and I’ll let you pay rent if pride is your issue. I live right by a bus station, so you can go to school easily. I also need someone to house-sit when I go to visit my parents in India over winter break. You’d be helping me, honestly.”

  My eyes filled with tears. I couldn’t believe she was going to help me. “Seriously?” I asked.

  “Don’t look so shocked. I might be a snarky hard ass in the classroom, but I do care about my students.”

  I wiped at my eyes, the strength I’d been clinging to for the last few days fleeing my body. I slumped in my seat. Grief wrecked me. Sobs choked my body. How could this kindness from a woman I barely knew feel so much more meaningful than things given to me by my own mother?

  Because it was pure.

  Because there wasn’t
an ulterior motive.

  “Vera,” Dr. Bhavsar said. “Let’s go to my house. I’ll order some food. And you can tell me why you’re crying, okay?”

  I let out an exhale. “Okay.”

  Anika Bhavsar’s home was beautiful. Clean. Eclectic. Cozy. Spacious. Decorated in forest green and gold tones, with a luxurious flair that made me feel comfortable. The guest room was large and had its own balcony looking out over the street and neighboring park.

  “I just can’t believe you slept with your uncle. Wait—” Anika—it was still weird calling her by her first name—pulled up her phone and started typing. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the younger Beauregard.”

  We were giggling and three glasses of wine in. Sitting on the carpeted floor in her living room with my legs crossed, I let out a drunken huff. Anika was kind, graceful, and she listened to me talk for the last hour with striking attentiveness, only offering a few comments here and there. Take-out containers littered her coffee table from the food we’d eaten. It was awkward at first, transitioning from the professional authority I was used to when thinking of her and moving to something more friendly. But she assured me that when I was in her auditorium, I was nothing more than another student. If anything, I knew I’d have to work twice as hard to ace my final essay.

  “Oh,” she added in a deeper voice. “He’s handsome.”

  “You found a photo of him? That was fast.”

  “I just typed his name in Google. He fills out a suit, that’s for sure.”

  My fingers ached to take her phone from her and stare at the photo. I missed Hamilton, against my better judgment; I couldn’t help but feel like goodbye wasn’t enough. She set her phone down and stared at me. “It sounds like you really liked him. And I can’t believe Jared was a paid bodyguard. I should fail him.”

  She winked at me playfully and started to clean up our dinner and stack the food containers. “I already yelled at him,” I replied before moving to help her. “I wanted a family, you know? In the beginning, I liked Jack. I was willing to like Joseph. I wasn’t disillusioned about the wedding, but I still hoped that it would lead to something great. It’s always been my mother and me. Now it’s just…me.”

  “A lot of people have this picture-perfect idea of what it means to have a family; it makes reality a much harder pill to swallow,” Anika began. “I never had any kids. Never got married. I’m not really a fan of chaining my life to someone for all eternity,” she said in a soft voice, but there was a pain there. “I started the process to adopt last year, and my parents don’t understand why I want to be a single mom. It’s been harder than I anticipated to find a birth mom willing to work with me, because I’m in my late forties and am single, but I still have hope. I have a steady job, a calm routine, and a heart for children. I don’t understand why I need a man, too.”

  “Do you date?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t being too intrusive.

  “I have in the past, but it’s just not really my thing. I’ve had sex with both men and women, but I never really enjoyed it or felt like I needed it to survive. I want to be a mom, though. I love kids. And I truly care for women who have had to give their children up. Not everyone is strong enough to do that. I’m really sorry your mom went through such a difficult situation without the support she needed, and more so, I’m so sorry that trauma impacted your life, Vera.”

  I cleared my throat and took another sip of wine. “I just never got the mom experience, you know? And now I’m stuck in a relationship with what feels like a toxic best friend.”

  “It sounds like you set some healthy boundaries, though,” Anika pressed. “Separating yourself financially from the Beauregards, going out on your own. It isn’t easy to take that leap.”

  “I probably couldn’t have done it without Hamilton,” I admitted.

  “And why is that?” she asked before pouring herself another glass of merlot.

  “He’s been encouraging me to do that since the beginning. I always envied his ability to say fuck it and just do his own thing.”

  “Do you think the two of you will ever—”

  Her question was cut off by my ringing phone. I looked down at the caller ID and frowned. Why was Hamilton calling me? “Speak of the devil,” I murmured before looking up at Anika.

  “Oh, please answer. Don’t mind me. I’ll just finish cleaning this up.”

  “I don’t know if I should,” I admitted.

  The phone stopped ringing, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Vera?” Anika said as I stared at the screen.

  “Yeah?” I sounded distracted and dejected.

  “I’m going to turn on my professor hat for a moment,” she said before throwing away our empty containers and walking back over to me. My phone started ringing again. “One of my favorite philosophers is Ludwig Josef Johann Wittgenstein. Brilliant man, if not a little twisted. He said my favorite line. ‘Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.’” Anika looked down at the phone in my hand. “Wittgenstein explored the concept that there are limits to language. There are many things that can’t effectively be said. Some things have to be shown, Vera.”

  “It’s curious that he’s calling me,” I whispered.

  “I think you should focus on the fact that he is calling you, instead of whatever words he’s about to say, yeah? Didn’t Hamilton want a goodbye? Why would he call if he wanted that?” I chewed on my lip. Anika had a point. “I won’t judge if you answer or not. Do what’s best for you. If, right now, the healthiest thing for you is to turn your phone off and eat ice cream, then I support that. If you want to talk to him and devour whatever he says to you, then that’s cool too. Either way, I need to sober up so I can write this letter of recommendation for you.” Anika patted me on the shoulder before excusing herself. My phone started ringing again.

  “Thank you,” I said. “For everything.”

  She waved her hand, dismissing my appreciation as if it were inconsequential. It wasn’t until she was tucked back in her office on the other side of her home that I answered my phone.

  Actions. I’d focus on the things not said.

  “Why are you calling?” That was the first thing I’d said. No greeting.

  “Where are you?” Hamilton questioned.

  Did he know I wasn’t at the apartment or with Jack? And what did it mean that he was looking into it?

  Actions, Vera.

  I decided to test him. “I’m at my apartment,” I replied in a haughty tone.

  Hamilton huffed. Wherever he was, it was loud. The familiar sounds of a metropolis were the background noise to his voice. Cars honking. People talking. Busses’ squeaky brakes. “No. You aren’t.”

  So he knew where I was? Why was he keeping tabs on me? ”It doesn’t matter where I am. We said goodbye.”

  Hamilton cared, despite his goodbye, he cared.

  “Just tell me where the fuck you are so I can hang up the phone.”

  So he wanted to make sure I was safe, but didn’t want to speak to me. Interesting. “I’m safe. Staying with someone for a bit while I get on my feet.”

  “Who?”

  “I’m not obligated to share that with you, Hamilton.” I stayed quiet.

  “Who are you with?” he asked again.

  Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.

  Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.

  Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.

  I breathed in and out, letting the noiselessness take over. Letting it consume me.

  “Vera? Are you still there?”

  I sat back in my seat, letting him panic for a bit longer. He cared. Hamilton pushed me away for a reason, and I was fucking going to find out why.

  “Vera! Fucking talk to me. I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe.”

  “I’m safe, Hamilton. Are you?”

  My question must have caught him off guard. He exhaled, the sound full of startling exasperation.

  “Well?” I pre
ssed on.

  Hamilton ended the call.

  I smiled to myself.

  8

  Hamilton

  “Did she get the scholarship?” I questioned, holding the phone in one hand while the other adjusted the ruby red tight tie that felt like a noose around my neck.

  “Yes, though the scholarship director told me she would have gotten it regardless of my intervention. She did great on her essay, and the letter of recommendation was a huge selling point. Her professors really like her,” Jack replied. “They don’t announce the scholarship winner until December seventh, but she’ll be all set for school this spring.”

  “Of course she did great,” I snapped, half proud and half annoyed. “She’s great at fucking everything she does.”

  Jack chuckled. “You’re welcome, though. For pulling a few strings. Even if she didn’t need it. Vera is a true Beauregard. Shame the marriage didn’t work out.” I hated the way my father equated success to being a Beauregard. It was like he wanted to somehow take credit for Vera’s hard work. My girl being great at things wasn’t a shocker to me. I just wanted to make sure that she had the money she needed to start her classes in the spring. Thanksgiving was tomorrow, and she only had a couple of weeks until finals. Time was running out and her stability was the most important thing to me.

  Well, perhaps the second most important. Ruining my brother was probably first.

  Jack went silent, and I walked down the tarmac to the Beauregard private jet. Jack wanted to do a family Thanksgiving at his house, and I was required to attend. Joseph went there a few days early to meet with his lawyer about the divorce, and was staying at a nearby hotel, which meant I didn’t have to fly or stay with the insufferable bastard.