Page 34
Story: Shelter from the Storm
“Brenda. This is a surprise.”
“I wanted to see how your first week at the new job went.”
Gretchen hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until Brenda revealed her reason for calling. “Oh. It’s been amazing,”
“Thank goodness. I’ve been so worried. We haven’t talked since you left and?—”
“I’m sorry I haven’t called. It’s been such a whirlwind.”
“But a good whirlwind?”
Gretchen was touched by the tone of concern in her former boss’s voice. Brenda had really gone the extra mile for her these past six months. “So good. The place I’m staying is incredible. There’s a fireplace in my room.”
“A fireplace! Damn. I might come stay with you.”
Gretchen smiled. “And while the job is challenging, it’s also exciting and even fun. Everyone on Stormy Weather Farm has been so kind and inviting.”
Brenda released an audible sigh. “I can’t tell you what a load you’ve taken off my mind.”
“I can never thank you enough for what you did for me, Brenda,” Gretchen said.
“I should have seen what was going on much sooner?—”
“No.” Gretchen quickly cut off her boss, unwilling to let her wallow in regret. “I wasn’t honest with you, feeding you lies about the bruises.”
“And I should have seen through the lies. My dad’s a therapist and my mom is a divorce lawyer, for God’s sake.”
“Please. I can’t stand thinking you feel even an ounce of guilt after what you’ve done for me. Everything happened the way it was supposed to, and in the right time. I’m sure of it. My head…it wasn’t in the right place to plan and do what needed to be done for such a long time.” Gretchen hated how many years she’d wallowed in her own self-loathing and misery.
“You deserve this second chance,” Brenda said.
Gretchen hesitated, torn over whether to ask the question burning in her mind. When she boarded that bus and got the hell out of Harrisburg, she swore there would be no looking back. But those words were easier said than done.
Despite feeling safe in Gracemont, she’d suffered too many moments of panic whenever she saw someone who looked like Briggs, or heard a voice that sounded like his, or whenever she woke up to one of the countless moans and groans—as Edith called them—of the old Millholland house. The creak of a floorboard or a gentle bump in the night left her huddling under the covers, shivering, certain he’d found her.
In the end, she decided forewarned was forearmed. Since she was looking over her shoulder all the time anyway, it was better to know if her need for vigilance was called for.
“Do I want to know how Briggs took my leaving?” She’d left her old phone along with a letter on her desk at work, which meant Brenda would have had a front-row seat to his reaction.
“I don’t know,” Brenda hedged. “Do you?”
“How bad was it?” Gretchen felt that familiar weight pressing against her chest when she thought about her ex.
“I’ve known Briggs practically his whole life. And I had no idea he carried that much rage in him. I’ll be honest, he scared me for a few minutes. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you, living with him all those years.”
“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Gretchen was suddenly terrified she’d unwittingly put Brenda in the line of fire.
“No, of course not. But after he read your letter, he picked up your phone and threw it across the office. It smashed against the wall. I think he immediately regretted that impulse, because it made it impossible for him to go through your phone for clues about where you might have gone.”
“He wouldn’t have found anything,” Gretchen reassured her. She’d all but hit the factory reset on the thing, only leaving the Find My Friends app active, so he wouldn’t suspect her plans. She’d done the same thing with her computer at work, careful not to leave him the slightest trace of where she’d run to.
“He’s been all over Harrisburg looking for you, checking at the homes of friends, your parents’ place, even the old foster home where you lived. My brother stopped by yesterday, unannounced—I’m sure at Briggs’s request—to make sure I wasn’t harboring you. I told Douglas, Briggs was an abusive asshole, but apparently Briggs got there first, admitting to my brother that he’d done things wrong, crying on his shoulder, swearing he’d make it right if only he could find and talk to you,” Brenda murmured. “Douglas, the fucking idiot, drank the Kool-Aid, then suggested Briggs talk to our dad. Douglas has always been one of those people who believes in second, third, and twenty-eighth chances.”
“Maybe Briggs will give up when he keeps hitting brick walls.” Even as Gretchen made the comment, she knew how unlikely that scenario was. Briggs wasn’t the type to take getting dumped, lightly. He wouldn’t forgive and forget, which meant there was going to be a day of reckoning for her at some point. She’d known that when she left, but she hoped it would be way down the road, and that she was stronger and in a safe place when that happened.
As she glanced around the yard at all the people still eating and chatting, she sent up a silent prayer that perhaps she’d found that place.
She laughed to herself. Apparently, Gretchen Banks—unlike Gretchen Parker—was an optimist. Who knew she had it in her?
“I wanted to see how your first week at the new job went.”
Gretchen hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until Brenda revealed her reason for calling. “Oh. It’s been amazing,”
“Thank goodness. I’ve been so worried. We haven’t talked since you left and?—”
“I’m sorry I haven’t called. It’s been such a whirlwind.”
“But a good whirlwind?”
Gretchen was touched by the tone of concern in her former boss’s voice. Brenda had really gone the extra mile for her these past six months. “So good. The place I’m staying is incredible. There’s a fireplace in my room.”
“A fireplace! Damn. I might come stay with you.”
Gretchen smiled. “And while the job is challenging, it’s also exciting and even fun. Everyone on Stormy Weather Farm has been so kind and inviting.”
Brenda released an audible sigh. “I can’t tell you what a load you’ve taken off my mind.”
“I can never thank you enough for what you did for me, Brenda,” Gretchen said.
“I should have seen what was going on much sooner?—”
“No.” Gretchen quickly cut off her boss, unwilling to let her wallow in regret. “I wasn’t honest with you, feeding you lies about the bruises.”
“And I should have seen through the lies. My dad’s a therapist and my mom is a divorce lawyer, for God’s sake.”
“Please. I can’t stand thinking you feel even an ounce of guilt after what you’ve done for me. Everything happened the way it was supposed to, and in the right time. I’m sure of it. My head…it wasn’t in the right place to plan and do what needed to be done for such a long time.” Gretchen hated how many years she’d wallowed in her own self-loathing and misery.
“You deserve this second chance,” Brenda said.
Gretchen hesitated, torn over whether to ask the question burning in her mind. When she boarded that bus and got the hell out of Harrisburg, she swore there would be no looking back. But those words were easier said than done.
Despite feeling safe in Gracemont, she’d suffered too many moments of panic whenever she saw someone who looked like Briggs, or heard a voice that sounded like his, or whenever she woke up to one of the countless moans and groans—as Edith called them—of the old Millholland house. The creak of a floorboard or a gentle bump in the night left her huddling under the covers, shivering, certain he’d found her.
In the end, she decided forewarned was forearmed. Since she was looking over her shoulder all the time anyway, it was better to know if her need for vigilance was called for.
“Do I want to know how Briggs took my leaving?” She’d left her old phone along with a letter on her desk at work, which meant Brenda would have had a front-row seat to his reaction.
“I don’t know,” Brenda hedged. “Do you?”
“How bad was it?” Gretchen felt that familiar weight pressing against her chest when she thought about her ex.
“I’ve known Briggs practically his whole life. And I had no idea he carried that much rage in him. I’ll be honest, he scared me for a few minutes. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you, living with him all those years.”
“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Gretchen was suddenly terrified she’d unwittingly put Brenda in the line of fire.
“No, of course not. But after he read your letter, he picked up your phone and threw it across the office. It smashed against the wall. I think he immediately regretted that impulse, because it made it impossible for him to go through your phone for clues about where you might have gone.”
“He wouldn’t have found anything,” Gretchen reassured her. She’d all but hit the factory reset on the thing, only leaving the Find My Friends app active, so he wouldn’t suspect her plans. She’d done the same thing with her computer at work, careful not to leave him the slightest trace of where she’d run to.
“He’s been all over Harrisburg looking for you, checking at the homes of friends, your parents’ place, even the old foster home where you lived. My brother stopped by yesterday, unannounced—I’m sure at Briggs’s request—to make sure I wasn’t harboring you. I told Douglas, Briggs was an abusive asshole, but apparently Briggs got there first, admitting to my brother that he’d done things wrong, crying on his shoulder, swearing he’d make it right if only he could find and talk to you,” Brenda murmured. “Douglas, the fucking idiot, drank the Kool-Aid, then suggested Briggs talk to our dad. Douglas has always been one of those people who believes in second, third, and twenty-eighth chances.”
“Maybe Briggs will give up when he keeps hitting brick walls.” Even as Gretchen made the comment, she knew how unlikely that scenario was. Briggs wasn’t the type to take getting dumped, lightly. He wouldn’t forgive and forget, which meant there was going to be a day of reckoning for her at some point. She’d known that when she left, but she hoped it would be way down the road, and that she was stronger and in a safe place when that happened.
As she glanced around the yard at all the people still eating and chatting, she sent up a silent prayer that perhaps she’d found that place.
She laughed to herself. Apparently, Gretchen Banks—unlike Gretchen Parker—was an optimist. Who knew she had it in her?
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