Page 20 of The Me I Left Behind (Tuckaway Bay #4)

Maggie shifted in her seat so she could catch Jason’s eye. “Jason, listen to me. I’ll admit I’ve kept things from you kids, a lot of things over the years, but I did that to protect you. In fact, everything I’ve ever done since you’ve been alive is to protect you.”

“Sure. Right.”

“Jason!” Carol reached out and punched his arm. “Stop. You don’t have a clue, do you? God, Mom, just tell him or I will.”

To be honest, Maggie wasn’t sure which thing Carol wanted her to tell. The part about the night in January when Max beat the shit out of her? Or the part where he’d knocked up some random woman in Brisbane? Or that Jason had a sibling he didn’t know about.

Carol glared. “All right, then I’ll say it.”

Jason stood and took a step away. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Oh yes, you do.” She reached across Chloe and grabbed his arm.

He jerked back and glared.

“Carol…” Maggie warned.

She ignored her. “Dad hit Mom, hard. I was there. I saw it. He wanted to hurt me, too.”

“What are you talking about?” He scowled.

“Do you remember when Julia was here in January, and you and Chloe stayed with her in the hotel? Well, Dad came back home that night and attacked Mom—because she was protecting me. Dad was mad because Tyler was in the house, and grabbed me hard, shaking me. Mom went after him, and he hit her more than once. He hit her so hard, he knocked her out, Jason. And he choked her . Mom told Tyler to get me out of the house. We tripped the alarm and called 9-1-1, and the cops came, but Dad slipped out of the house and left. Mom spent the night in the E.R.”

Jason glared, looking first at Carol, then Maggie. “What did you do, Mom?”

“What do you mean , Jason?” she said.

“You must have really done something bad to make him hit you like that.”

Carol interjected. “She didn’t do a damn thing! Don’t you get it?”

Suddenly, Maggie realized what a dangerous example Max had set for the kids, whether or not they realized it. Jason, in particular. In his adolescent mind, Max was—probably always had been—punishing her for something she apparently had done wrong.

If the kids did something wrong, something he didn’t like, they got punished.

Therefore, if Max punished her in that horrible way, then she must have deserved it.

Shit.

She took a step closer to her son. “Jason, your father is a mean-spirited, controlling asshole of a man. He is mentally and physically abusive to me, and to all of you, whether or not you realize that. And my only fault in all of this, even though I tried to protect you as much as a could, is that I didn’t see it, stop it, sooner.

But now I can, and I will. And all of us—you, Carol, Chloe, and me—are going to stick together so we can stay together because, frankly, I can’t lose you. ”

She sniffled briefly, still focused on him. “And yes, I made him mad. I found out something over Christmas that changed things.”

“Christmas? We were at Tuckaway Bay then.”

“Right. Remember when your dad missed the call on Christmas Eve?”

“You said he texted and something came up.”

“Yes.”

Carol sighed and pushed closer. “Jason, I tried him again later on Mom’s tablet. He had logged on but forgot to sign off. I saw him in a bedroom with another woman and a baby.”

Jason’s eyes widened.

Maggie moved closer. He took a step back.

“Jason,” she whispered. “Your dad is living with another woman in Australia, and they have a child together. And after we got home from Tuckaway Bay, I broke into his locked office and searched for more information. Whatever I could find. Turned out he had cameras in there and saw me. That’s why he came back.

And that’s how I ended up in the E.R.” She stared, held his gaze.

Jason stood unmoving, barely breathing, it seemed. “Dad has another kid?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Maggie blinked away tears and glanced at the couch. At some point, Chloe had gotten up and moved to the coffee table, where she’d taken out a coloring book and crayons. Oh, my sweet baby….

Jason sat, his head hanging. “I don’t want to move to Australia, Mom. I don’t even want to visit him in Australia. I don’t have to. Do I?”

Thank God he’s softening somewhat. “That’s what Julia and I are working on. I don’t want any of you to be with him. He’s not good for you, for any of us. I want you with me and I will fight to make sure that happens. But your dad….”

Maggie glanced at each of her kids again.

Chloe kept coloring. Staring at her paper. Silently scribbling hard and fast.

Carol just sat there, looking sort of numb. This had taken its toll on her, hadn’t it? Was she thinking about how her life was unraveling? How everything she’d ever had—everything Max had given her, provided for her, awarded to her—was going to stop? He’d always doted on her so….

“I’m with Jason. I really don’t want to be with him. But Dad has connections,” Carol said. “And that sucks. Will a judge make us?”

“I pray not. Julia will do her best. She’s an excellent attorney,” Maggie said.

“I’m almost eighteen, though. I can choose, right? Have a say?”

Maggie nodded. “I don’t know the exact age. Maybe Jason can choose, too.”

“Me, too?” Chloe begged. “Mommy, I get to choose, too. I choose you!”

Her heart literally felt like it was snapping into pieces.

I don’t know what my own life is going to look like. How can I help these kids feel secure in all this? How will they know, and trust, that I can keep them safe? Fed? Warm and happy?

She knew in her heart she would fight tooth and nail for custody, but Carol was right. Max had power. Connections. And around there that was everything—white male, good-old-boy network power, which was abundant in this southern state. Plus, Max played golf with the judge.

“Mommy?” Chloe looked up from her coloring book, searching Maggie’s eyes.

She pressed so hard on her crayon that it broke, flipping off the coffee table.

“Who will tuck me in? Daddy doesn’t know how.

” Big fat tears made a slow progression down her cheeks, and her baby girl started crying, mumbling.

“I don’t like when Daddy throws things. Will I still go to my school?

Will you take me? I don’t like riding the bus with other kids. They’re mean and icky.”

That’s when Maggie’s soul cracked. Fully and completely. Splintered.

She quickly swept Chloe into a tight hug, her chest tight and aching, unable to stop her sobs. Jason and Carol rushed in to join them.

Long after the children were in bed, Maggie stared out her bedroom window again, observing the dance of leaves and branches swaying in the breeze, backlit by the streetlamps. It was all sort of mesmerizing, and calming, and in some strange way, had soothed some of her anxiety.

They’d all turned in early. The olders —Jason and Carol, she no longer wanted to include Jason as a little —had isolated themselves in their rooms. She didn’t know if they were sleeping, but it didn’t matter.

Hopefully, they were dealing with things, rolling them over in their minds like she was doing.

Chloe was a different matter. Maggie stayed with her until she finally fell asleep.

It took three books, four songs, some tears, and a couple of whispered prayers before her girl finally went to sleep in her arms. Maggie left both of their bedroom doors cracked, so she could hear if Chloe called out.

The look on the kids’ faces earlier, when reality struck, was painful.

That’s when Maggie knew that their truth had set in—and they understood that life was going to change.

That they might no longer live in the house they had lived in all their lives.

They would no longer have their father at home when he wasn’t traveling.

They might never see him again at all. Money would be tight, and Mommy would have to work.

And they would have to do what millions of other kids of divorced parents routinely do—juggle visitation schedules.

They didn’t like any of it.

Her heart hurt just thinking about it.

That was when Maggie realized her kids had grown up privileged.

But it wasn’t their fault, was it?

Max had provided for them—gave her enough money every month to meet their needs. Apparently, his company had done well, although he never shared exactly what he was worth, or how much money he made. All of that business detail, he kept to himself.

Plus, his family suffered from generational wealth.

Suffered. Yes. Max’s family was dysfunctional in ways her own family had never dreamed.

Yet, she’d been an eager participant because he met her needs, too. Checked all the boxes—security, financial and otherwise, and a sense of feeling safe, a sense of belonging.

Physically. Sexually.

Even if she wasn’t. Safe.

Emotionally. Physically.

How had she totally misinterpreted what Max had done for her? How had she allowed him to control her life, their lives, in the way he had?

It really is my fault. Isn’t it? She’d allowed Max’s shit to happen.

And for what? Security? Money? A beautiful home? Private schools?

Love.

She’d done it all— endured it all —for love. Hadn’t she?

At least in the beginning.

She just wished she hadn’t lost herself somewhere along the way—and understood why she’d let it happen. Why was it okay to give over her life to Max? Had she grown tired, worn down, and caved to his demands? Or did she just get lazy and accept the life he allowed her to live?