Forced to Change Ch. 38

"Katie, honey, are you okay? Where are you, dear? We've been so worried. They found your car by the side of the road, and we didn't know what to think. Are you okay?" Natalie Donnelly's concern poured down the phone line. Her empathy forced me to feel my pain and my chest hurt as I tried to breathe through it.

I took another deep breath. "I'm in Atlanta. I'm okay." I was as far from okay as a person can get. "I'm going to be okay. I just want to come home."

"Of course, of course. We'd do anything for you. You know that. I'm so glad you called. We've had the police looking for you since Mr. Dixon called to say you hadn't shown up for work. But you're all right, really?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

Mrs. Donnelly's end became muffled, as if she were holding the phone against her chest. I only heard bits and pieces. "Paul, Paul! Katie's on...she's okay, I think. She's crying... needs help..." Then her voice became clear as a cloudless sky. "Can you get to Hartsfield?"

Until she'd said it, I hadn't even realized I was crying. "No, I don't..."

She cut me off. "We're sending a car service. Where are you?"

There was a knock at the door. My heart lept as I thought of Jared returning. I wasn't sure how I felt about seeing him again. I laid the phone on the bed and went to the door.

"Who is it?" I asked.

***

He stared at the flatscreen TV. CNN was crossing the high-definition screen, although he wasn't watching the reports.

"Paul, Paul!"

"Yes, dear," he mumbled as his wife ran into the living room.

"Katie's on the line," she said in a panic. His blood began to race, but for a different reason. "She's okay, I think. She's crying so much I can barely understand her. She said she needs help. She's in Atlanta."

"I'll call Roberts." He pulled the iPhone from his pocket and dialed the company pilot.

"Can you get to Hartsfield?" Natalie spoke into her phone.

"How soon can you get to Atlanta?...Now, go now!" he yelled into the phone and then he blanked the screen.

Paul Donnelly Sr. didn't know how, but he was going to get what he'd been waiting for. It had been over a week since Carter had failed again. For six years he'd waited, and somehow, finally, he could have what he'd wanted ever since Jorge Riaz had planted the idea in his head.

***

Joe stood in the hallway, hip against the opposite door way.

"Ms. Katie. We have a few problems, that need immediate attention. So dry your eyes and close your mouth." His grin was irritating at this point but I did as instructed.

"C-come in, Joe," I stammered and backed away to allow him into the room.

"Good girl. And would you mind calling me, Uncle Not Fake Eyes, or Uncle for short. It'll save time."

The nickname shoved a picture of him into my head when I was a child. My mouth dropped open again. "Grin and bare it?"

"Yup." His smile got brighter.

"I, well. Oh my God. Uncle. You. After mommy. You..." I couldn't complete a sentence the incident was as fresh in my head as the day it happened. Until this moment I hadn't remembered anything. I was three years old hiding in a cabinet again, playing the Quiet Game. I needed to sit down before I fell down.

"Just breathe. Sit. One step at a time. Who's on the phone?"

"Mrs. Donnelly," I stated as I fell onto the bed. My legs shook uncontrollably for a moment.

Joe picked up the phone and spoke quickly. "Nat, it's Joe...There's no time. I've narrowed down the one behind it all. It's Paul...Did you hear me?"

He pulled a device from his pocket and attached it to the phone. "Yes. Yes. I understand...She's not leaving my sight." He hung up the phone.

"Okay. So, you want the bad news or the really bad news first?" Joe asked me as he dropped to his knees in front of me.

"I guess I'll take them both," I said with a much steadier voice than I felt. Yeah, for me.

"First, why did Jared leave?"

"He confessed he killed my father," I said flatly.

It was the first time I'd ever seen Joe frown. "Did he explain about that? Or do you need to hear it again," Joe asked. "He didn't kill him. He assisted with his suicide. You can switch your blame anytime you want, but for my plan to work we're going to need him."

I placed my hands over my face and tried to breathe. I almost succeeded. Almost.

***

I flew back to Lansing, Michigan in the comfort of a private jet. Joe was by my side the whole time. As much as I appreciated the gesture, I enjoyed nothing about the flight. I was too numb, too broken to take advantage of such extravagant luxury. Mr. and Mrs. Donnelly met me at the airport tarmac and crushed me with hugs and kisses—well, Mr. Donnelly stood stony faced, but patted my shoulder when his wife finally let me breathe. She and Joe exchanged a look, but didn't acknowledge each other.

"Do you want to go home? Where are you living now? What happened to you, dear?" Mrs. Donnelly's questions wouldn't stop, and I remembered how much I loved her. I still loved her, really. We'd developed a relationship of sorts when Paul and I dated. After Paul's death Mrs. Donnelly and I had stopped talking as much, until it was just a 'Hi, how are you doing?' every now and again. We hadn't spoken in a few years until my phone call six hours prior.

Mrs. Donnelly once told me it was hard for her to see me because I reminded her so much of Paul. I understood that and I had the same issue with her. Paul had always favored her blonde hair and blue eyes. I regretted letting our relationship lapse, though it clearly wasn't broken as Mrs. Donnelly wrapped me in her arms. Joe and Mr. Donnelly spoke quietly the entire time.

"I really don't want to talk about it...yet. I'm just tired. I need sleep." I whispered weakly.

My body was drained. My thoughts felt muted as I climbed into the back of the limousine. Joe sat up front with the driver. Mrs. Donnelly climbed in after me and settled gracefully on the seat, cradling me in her soft arms.

"Of course," she said, frowning minutely.

"You will stay with us, Katie. That would be best. We'll talk later," Mr. Donnelly stated in a way that left no room to broker his decision.

My mouth fell open and then I remembered what Jared had said. How Mr. Donnelly paid a lot of money to rescue me. Joe had been cryptic about his end of the conversation with Mrs. Donnelly and the device he used. I assumed he'd been speaking with Mr. Donnelly. I nodded my head in agreement, overwhelmed by the generosity. I started crying into Mrs. Donnelly's shoulder.

"Thank you for bringing me home," I whispered.

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Donnelly said. Even though I'd meant Cantana and was speaking to Mr. Donnelly I let the conversation end. I didn't have the energy to say everything I needed to say properly. My gratitude was six years overdue. I tried to smile at Mr. Donnelly but he stared out the window, ignoring me.