Strapped Down Read online

  “Don’t worry. You’re not the first woman to do that to me. I’ll be fine.”

  His comment almost stops my heart, it hurts so bad I can barely breathe.

  “I love you so much,” I barely utter as leaves my sight. I’m not sure he hears me.

  ***

  I wake up to the sound of someone fumbling in the bedroom. The worst possible scenarios pass through my mind. It can’t be Eric, he’s somewhere hidden in a jungle, but who knows anymore? I reach over to the nightstand for anything I can use as a weapon.

  “Who’s there?” I ask in a shaky voice.

  The closet light turns on.

  “Shyla. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you.” It’s Harrison, thank god. I forgot Taylor sent him to pack his bags.

  “Oh no, it’s fine. I should have slept in another room.” But I wanted to sleep in the bed we share, so I could smell his scent on his pillow and pretend he was still here with me.

  It’s 6am, so I stay up. I observe Harrison grabbing items from the closet for a few minutes before I speak up.

  “Let me do it.”

  “It’s fine, I’ve done it for him before.”

  “Please, allow me. I know what he likes to wear when he travels.” I need to do this.

  “Okay,” he nods gently.

  Wistfully, I grab the remaining items he will need for his trip. I pack them lovingly, hoping somehow he’ll feel it when he opens the bags. I stare at the open luggage for a while, it feels incomplete and I can’t close it until I figure out what is missing. Then it hits me.

  I rifle through my jewelry box, looking for the small card that he gave me in St. Petersburg. I place it on top of his clothes and finally, I am able to zip up the bag and send it off to my distressed love, hoping somehow my he will feel me with each garment he pulls out of the bag. As I drag the luggage out of the closet, I pass my jewelry box again. Peering out is the black velvet bag holding the necklace I have yet to return to Emily’s family. I don’t know why I haven’t, but I think it’s because I had plans for it. It should be returned ceremoniously, not delivered by a FedEx carrier.

  Harrison reenters the room when he hears me fumbling with the luggage and relieves me of it. “Can you tell him that I wish him a safe trip?”

  “Of course,” Harrison smiles.

  I grab the satchel out of the jewelry box. I may have shattered someone’s world last night, but today, I am going to make someone whole again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “This is Chad at Rubix Marketing. I am unable to take your call. Leave a message.”

  “Hey Chad, it’s Shyla. I forgot to tell you, Bella from Bella’s Intimates wanted me to meet her at her store today. She has some new projects she wants to discuss, so I’ll be coming in after lunch. Let me know if you need anything.”

  I throw on a pair of jeans, red rain boots as the weather looks questionable, a chunky sweater and my army green anorak. My hair is slicked back into a neat ponytail, and I put on some natural makeup tones to disguise my puffy eyes. A quick google search on my phone yields the address of Emily’s parents’ home. It’s about two hours north, so I estimate I can make it there about 9am, spend a little bit of time chatting if they are home, and make it back by twelve-ish.

  A sense of responsibility consumes me. I must return this safely into the hands of Emily’s parents. She is part of the unfortunate club of those who have loved Taylor and never received the same in return. It is maddening enough to love him and be loved back by him, and so I can only imagine how bewildering it must be to love this man only to find out he will never feel the same way about you. That every kind gesture, every moment of seeming tenderness was for himself. That you were just a tool for him to work out his own pain and desires. That you could be replaced in an instant. I don’t think I could survive if I found out he felt that way about me. Unlike Emily, I have hope that he will return to me, but she knew she would never see the world through the same lens again, she would never be able to walk through the earth on a Taylor Holden high. Taylor can convince himself that she moved on, that her death had nothing to do with him, but he doesn’t understand the power he has over those who love him. I do.

  Harrison drives Taylor to the airport, making it the perfect time to deliver the necklace without anyone being the wiser. I hop into Ladybug and embark on my lonely voyage as a proxy for Taylor’s redemption.

  As I arrive into the small quaint row of houses on the town’s main street, a misty rain begins to settle in. Through the windshield wipers, I look for street signs to lead me to the Brown residence. Finally, after a few turns, I pass a modest white house with a small porch. A weathered hunter green rocking chair sits to the right of the front screen door. I park on the side of the street, as to not intrude on the driveway, which is occupied by a Subaru station wagon. This indicates to me someone must be home. I sit in the car as the squeaky song of the windshield wipers plays rhythmically as I pull the necklace out of the velvet pouch and admire it for one last time. I give myself a quick once over in the visor mirror, wiping some smudged makeup from my eyes and take a deep calming breath before stepping out of the car and onto the Brown’s front lawn.

  My stomach twirls. I hate knocking on stranger’s doors, but this isn’t about me. I ring the door bell, but after no response, I am not sure it works. I open the unlocked screen door and just as I lift my fist to knock, the red wooden door opens. On the other side is a woman who appears to be in her 50s. She is very thin, her weathered face bordered by a salt and pepper bob. Her face is bare and she is dressed simply, in a pair of jeans and a plaid button down shirt.

  “May I help you?” She asks with suspicious politeness.

  “Hi, I uh, I’m an old friend of Emily’s. I was hoping I could speak to you for a moment. I have something of hers I would like to give to you.”

  Just as I complete my sentence, my phone rings, but it would be too rude of me to look, so I ignore it.

  Her face becomes solemn, but warm as she tilts her head. “Yes, of course,” she says holding a faint smile as she steps to the side and welcomes me in.

  “I hope I am not keeping you. I thought I should come personally, and I didn’t have a phone number.”

  “Oh no, I am just going about my morning routine. I was planning on going to the garden store, but this weather means I won’t be able to do much anyway. Would you like some coffee or tea?”

  “Tea please.”

  “Come join me in the kitchen.”

  I sit at an old wooden table as she places a tea kettle on a white gas stove. I stare at the flames, reflecting upon them for a moment before revealing the memento.

  “How did you know Emily?”

  “We worked together at Holden Industries.”

  “Oh, she loved it there. But then she met Evan and wanted to start a family back here,” she smiles. “I didn’t know much about her friends in the city. In fact, I didn’t know any of them. No one from Holden Industries that I know of came to her funeral. Were you at her funeral? I don’t recall.”

  “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t know about her passing until after the funeral. I think that was the case for many of us at H.I.”

  “I’m sorry, it was such a shock when it happened.”

  “No, please don’t be. As you said, you didn’t even know of me. We were work friends, we lost touch after she left.”

  “You said you had something for me?” The tea kettle screams. “Chamomile or peppermint?”

  “Peppermint please.”

  She pours the steaming water into two old teacups, rimmed in gold, with curvy handles, adorned with dull pink and purple flowers and green leaves. She steeps the tea bags in each cup and slowly places mine in front of me at the table.

  She sits across from me, waiting for me to complete my original thought, tails of steam lazily dancing up to her face.

  “So, I worked at H.I. until recently and well, I came upon something, that after some investigating I believe belongs to your daughter.”
I pull out the pouch from my pocket, untie the rope and open the mouth of the bag, pouring the necklace onto the table.

  Her eyes well up. “I can’t believe you found this. How? I dreamed I could bury her with this. She told me she had lost it before moving back and she was so devastated. We both were, it was her grandmother’s, who gave it to me, and then I gave it to her. She was very close to her oma who passed a few years ago.”

  “I know it was important to her, so I didn’t want to mail it. I wanted to make sure it arrived safely.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  “It was caught behind a drawer in a filing cabinet of all places.”

  She clutches it in her hand and presses her fist against her chest, a look of strained joy on her face. “Thank you,” she says in a breath. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” I say. Finally, something I didn’t completely fuck up.

  “Would you like to see some photos of her? There are some on the mantle with her wearing this necklace.”

  “Of course.”

  “You know it’s so nice to talk to someone who knew her. Sometimes when someone dies so young, it’s hard to keep their memory alive. She had no children, no husband. Just me and her father.”

  “Didn’t she have a fiancé?”

  “Evan? Oh, Evan,” she says with pity. “He took her death the hardest I think. I’ve never seen anyone collapse the way he did when they found her body in the river. He searched like a mad man for her and he kept apologizing that he had let us down by letting her leave the house that night. He was a mess, so much so that I was more focused on helping him grieve than myself those first few weeks. Then we found out she was pregnant and it got even worse. After her funeral, he skipped town. I think this whole place reminded him of her too much and the life they would never have,” she says, cupping her tea in her hands.

  “Oh my goodness. I had no idea that she was pregnant.”

  “Of course, you mentioned you lost touch after she left her job. I didn’t mean to spring that on you. Well, we are a small town and me and her father know everyone. The coroner did us a favor and kept the pregnancy out of the papers.”

  “I’m sorry, we have been talking here all this time, and I never asked you for your name.”

  “Sure honey, it’s Evelyn. People call me Ev.”

  “I’m Shyla.”

  “Come, let me show you some photos.”

  She guides me further into the house, to a sitting room with old fashioned bluish-gray settees and oak tables with Queen Anne legs. On the wall furthest from us is a large white fireplace, the mantle crowded with far too many photos. I walk over cautiously.

  “You can pick them up. I know there are a lot, but I like to pass by every day and think of her.”

  “Of course,” I say.

  The photos are arranged in chronological order from left to right. Some bald baby photos, a giggly toddler, a toothless third grader, a cheerleader in a red and white getup with a high side ponytail, proud parents beside their only daughter holding up her college degree. Then there is a picture of her holding a big smile for the camera, a hand wrapped around her shoulder. I follow the hand to its arm, which leads to the tall young man beside her and I can’t help but take a few steps back, stumbling into the table behind me and nearly knocking down a lamp.

  “Is something wrong?” Ev asks.

  “Uh no. I’m sorry. Who…who is that?” I ask, already knowing the answer, but hoping that I am somehow miraculously wrong.

  “Oh, that’s right, you never met him. That’s Evan, bless his soul.”

  I stare at the photo in disbelief, silently praying my eyes are deceiving me, but I know. I know that dirty blond hair, those freckles, those pale eyes, that crooked smile, those lips that stole a kiss from me. It’s Eric, oh my fucking god, it’s Eric.

  I do my best to hide my shock and disbelief. All my mental resources are focused on doing this, leaving very little to piece together what it all means. He wanted me to find this, he wanted me to look into Emily Brown. I look at the clock above the fireplace to pretend to read the time.

  “Oh no. I have to run, I have to get back to the city for work. I am so sorry, I wish I could stay longer.”

  “Okay Shyla. Thank you so much for this. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  I nod with the biggest smile I can muster, which is hardly existent. As I approach the door, I give her one final goodbye and she embraces me, not just a friendly embrace, but one filled with gratitude and it makes me feel like a fraud. Once I get to the driveway, I stumble across the street to Ladybug, frantically digging for my phone to call Taylor. The call goes straight to voicemail. Shit.

  “Taylor, it’s me. Listen, I know you’re upset, but I just found out something huge. Eric is Evan Sumner…Evan Sumner was Em’s fiancé. Eric was engaged to Em. This is crazy,” I say in a shaky voice. I pull out onto the rain soaked road, the droplets hit the windshield like mini battering rams. “So, I don’t know what this means, but something feels off. Something is not as it seems. Call me as soon as you get a chance.” I recall that I had received an earlier call and see it is in fact from Taylor. The rain, flurry of emotions, and handling of the phone makes my driving erratic, so I pull over on the isolated two lane road onto the dirt shoulder for a moment to collect myself.

  I retrieve the voicemail. “Hey Shyla, it’s me. I just want to hear your voice. I found the card you packed…I don’t know. I don’t know what to do with all this, and I know you were trying to help, but my god you are such a pain in my ass. But that’s what I love about you. You are so fucking hard to handle, and it drives me fucking nuts. So, when I get back—”

  A loud rap on the windshield makes me jump from my seat. Through the raindrops cascading down my windshield I see the black barrel of a gun just inches from my face. I think about slamming on the gas, but by the time I reach for the gear shift, that gun will have blown my face away.

  The barrel taps against the windshield again. “Unlock your doors, Shyla. Hands up on the steering wheel.” the voice says calmly. I cautiously abide.

  Seconds later, a rain-soaked Eric slides into the passenger seat of my car. “Start driving.”

  All the while, Taylor’s voicemail murmurs in the background.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “You really are a handful. Now I know why Taylor is so into you, you’re hard to predict.” Eric says to me as I shakily pull out onto the road. “I can’t believe you made me.”

  “Please don’t shoot me,” I beg, looking straight ahead.

  Eric looks down at his gun and puts it back into his waistband. “Don’t worry, I have no intentions of hurting you. I need to talk to you and now that you know, I need to see Taylor. The only way that happens is through you. I’m sorry it has to go down like this.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Just drive around for a bit. I’ll direct you after we make this call to my beloved brother.”

  “What do you want?”

  My phone lights up and vibrates on the floor of the car. It’s Taylor.

  “Perfect. I was just about to call him.” He reaches for the phone on the floor. “Hey brother…Woah, woah…slow down.” I imagine Taylor reciting some sort of speech a la Liam Neeson in Taken. “I think I should be the one asking questions. Apparently I beat the shit out of Shyla? Thanks to you two lovebirds for that.” Eric eyes me as he says this. “Listen Taylor. I am gonna be brief so listen up. If you want to see Shyla unharmed, you are going to meet me at the coordinates I am about to send you. I’ll send the time too. Don’t be a minute late. Oh and it’s an open field for miles. If I see anyone else, she’s dead. You know my background and you know she’ll be gone in a second if I sense anything. Don’t bother tracking the number either, you know it’ll be pointless…Sure, here you go.”

  Eric puts the phone up to my ear. Taylor’s voice is on the other line. His voice is calm, as if he is trying to assure me with his tone “Shy, are you
there?”

  “Yes. I’m okay. Taylor I don’t tru-”

  Eric yanks the phone away from my face. “I’ll see you soon, brother,” he uses that last word as if it were a dagger.

  Eric hangs up the phone and starts writing a text. He waits for the little swoosh sound and then throws the phone out of the window. “Shyla, that was posturing. I won’t kill you. I just need to see Taylor.”

  “You’re going to hurt him.”

  “What happens between my brother and me is our business. He and I have some things to discuss.”

  “No. Please don’t hurt him,” I cry.

  “I’m sorry Shyla, but this is not up for discussion. Unfortunately, you got dragged into his shit and I am sorry for that. Really, I am. You are a victim of his too.”

  I think of my Taylor, the boy who guarded me in the closet so many years ago being riddled with bullets and I can’t let it happen. It’s my turn to shield him. I do the only thing I know I can do at the moment. I brace both hands on the steering wheel and turn the car sharply to the left.

  “No!” Eric screams, grabbing the steering wheel, making the car swerve sharply to the right. He and I battle over the steering wheel, the car zig zagging on the road haphazardly. Finally, he yanks Ladybug so hard in his direction that the car hydroplanes, spinning 180 degrees, its rear slamming into a tree. “Dammit Shyla!” Eric exclaims. He pulls his gun out of his waistband and points it at me. “Why are you making me do this? Get back on the road. Dammit!”

  “I thought you said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “I really, really don’t want to. Please don’t make me hate myself even more.” Unfortunately, the damage to the car is only to the rear bumper and the car continues to operate just fine. “I want this to be amicable between us. Don’t fucking do that again. If you cooperate you will be back with Taylor tomorrow. I swear this to you. I don’t want to restrain you right now. Are you going to fight with me, or just make this as easy as possible for both of us? Please make note of how restrained I am being right now considering you almost killed us both.”