Beyond Reach Page 4

  “You can’t leave.” Marcella hobbled over to Chanda, wincing with each bit of pressure she placed on her ankle. The woman refused to learn. “We might have to do the walk-in over again. You don’t want to ruin my wedding, do you? Or do you? Is there something you want to tell me?”

  Chanda rolled her eyes. “Please stop with the dramatics. I can’t deal with it.”

  “I’m not being dramatic.” Her cousin placed hands on her hips, which caused her to wobble since she was unstable on her feet. “I’m just saying you’ve been less than enthusiastic since you got here. I’m starting to wonder if you’re happy for me. Maybe you still have feelings for Garner. I…I…get the feeling you’re going to try to sabotage my wedding.”

  With this announcement, Marcella burst into tears. Her shoulders shook, and she sobbed with such sincerity, Chanda couldn’t believe it was an act. Her chest tightened. Never mind that she had no such plans. She’d never in her life acted against Marcella. The accusation held no weight whatsoever.

  Aunt Hope leaped forward to take Marcella into her arms. Uncle Bill hovered around the two of them and glared at Chanda. He balled his fists at his sides, and she stumbled back a step, for a second scared her uncle would attack her.

  The coordinator fanned her face, looking awkward and impatient. No doubt she didn’t like this emotional display interfering with her schedule. The minister muttered something Chanda couldn’t make out, and Lanae covered a snort of amusement. Some supportive friend she was.

  Garner’s parents, whom Chanda hadn’t spoken much to beyond a simple greeting, remained in their seat on the opposite side of the church. The couple was normally reserved and quiet. Chanda had to admit she didn’t speak more to them because she wasn’t sure how they had taken her leaving Garner and if they hated her. She couldn’t tell what they thought of Marcella’s accusation.

  Chanda didn’t look at Garner to see if he believed Marcella. Instead, she turned to her seat and gathered up her purse to tuck onto her shoulder. “If that’s what you think, Marcella, despite the fact that I’ve never come against you in any way, then maybe I shouldn’t be your maid of honor. Maybe I should just go back home now.”

  She started down the aisle, and behind her Marcella wailed even louder. Family gathered around Marcella, encouraging her to be strong.

  “It’s just pre-wedding jitters, baby, that’s all,” Aunt Hope told Marcella.

  Chanda didn’t wait to hear Marcella’s response. She banged the door to the street open and stepped out of the church. As she climbed into the rental car, relief flooded her system. She could escape this mess and return home.

  She smiled and pressed on the gas, then slammed on the brakes. Uncle Bill stepped out in front of the car.

  Chapter 7

  “Uncle Bill, what are you doing?” Chanda jumped out of the car and ran around to the front. “I could have killed you. Oh God, you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

  Her uncle snarled and grabbed her wrist. “What was that smile for?”

  “What smile? What are you talking about? Ouch, let me go. You’re hurting me.”

  His hold tightened. He was strong for an older man, and she cried out. Anger and fear choked off words as she struggled to get away.

  “I know what you’re up to,” he growled. “You’re sneaky, think you can come back here and mess up my daughter’s chances?”

  “I said let me go!” She jerked back, but it didn’t even faze him.

  Uncle Bill yanked her forward to grab both her arms. He spat foul words into her face. His breath smelled so strongly of alcohol, she gagged. He shook her, rocking her head on her shoulders. She kneed him as hard as she could in the junk, but he was oblivious to pain.

  “Stupid, stupid, girl,” he raged. “I’m not letting you get away with it. Think I don’t know what you’ve been doing to Marcella all this time?”

  Her vision blurred. Her stomach rocked and reeled. She was going to be sick if he didn’t stop shaking her. Fighting for all she was worth, she couldn’t combat his greater size and strength. A scream of fear escaped her. “I d-don’t know what you’re t-talking about.”

  He released one arm, but only to raise a hand, palm open. She lifted a weighted arm to deflect the coming hit, but wasn’t sure which of the three blurry hands were coming at her.

  Her uncle swung down, but another hand swooped in to stop his assault. She fell against her car as Garner shoved her uncle away from her. “Get your hands off her,” he ordered.

  “Stay out of this, Garner.” Her uncle pointed at her as she struggled to catch her breath and keep from heaving. “She’s a filthy s—”

  Garner’s fist smashed into her uncle’s mouth, and he went down. Chanda’s eyes widened. Gentle sweet Garner hit someone?

  Oh God, he hit his future father-in-law.

  “Garner,” she rasped. “Don’t…”

  He stood over a rattled drunk who perched on his butt. The church doors opened again, and the rest of the wedding party poured out. Dread hit Chanda at the new accusations that were sure to come. Garner had fought for her. Marcella wouldn’t like it. Chanda wished she could get in her car and peel out of there, but to do so she’d have to run over both Garner and Uncle Bill.

  “He hit me,” Uncle Bill whined.

  “Daddy!” Marcella hobbled over to her father. “ What happened? What do you mean Garner hit you?”

  Chanda noticed Aunt Hope wasn’t too quick to move to her husband’s rescue. She folded her arms over her chest, glaring at him. The drunken madness must be a usual occurrence, although Chanda had never heard of her uncle being violent.

  Garner’s parents eased out of the church, and the couple in their sixties glanced at Chanda. She dared not read condemnation in their faces and looked away. “I need to go,” she said. “Will y’all please move?”

  Garner started to speak to her, but she hurried to get in the car and slammed the door. Marcella shouted something at her, but Chanda started the car. The roar of the engine drowned out whatever her cousin intended to say. Maybe Chanda was handling this mess wrong, or she should feel bad for Marcella. The fact was, she couldn’t deal with anything right then.

  Garner helped Marcella’s dad to stand and get out of the road. The first chance Chanda got, she drove off. Halfway down the road, her cell phone rang. She ground her teeth and checked the screen. Mrs. Driscoll was calling. She’d forgotten the woman’s number was still in her phone.

  Chanda let the call go to voicemail, but the phone rang again, and again. She stopped at a light and with her hands on the steering wheel, she noticed the darkening mark on her wrist. Uncle Bill must have held her really tightly because she didn’t bruise easily.

  Her wrist throbbed and was beginning to swell. This family though. Here was Marcella with a sprained ankle and her with a potentially sprained wrist. As she tested it out, twisting this way and that, she noticed pain in her upper arms as well.

  When her cell phone rang for the millionth time, she stabbed the connect button and prepared to be shouted at.

  “Chanda, come and have lunch with us.” Mrs. Driscoll didn’t beat around the bush.

  “Um, huh?”

  “You have to eat. Come eat with us, our treat.”

  The gentle tone gave Chanda pause. Maybe Mrs. Driscoll wasn’t about to accuse her of trying to steal Garner back—or for that matter of breaking his heart.

  “Shouldn’t you be asking Marcella to lunch?” She needed to keep herself distanced, especially since she planned to go back to her hotel and change her flight home to as soon as possible.

  “Please.”

  She tried to think of an excuse. These people were stinking rich, income far above what she had ever earned. Their education wasn’t anything to sneeze at either. Garner’s mom held an MS in Education or something, although she never pursued a career in the field. She raised her three boys herself at home.

  “Hand me the phone, Gardine,” Garner’s dad said in the background.

&nb
sp; Chanda’s stomach dropped.

  “Chanda, this is Papa Colm.” Everyone in Garner’s family called his dad Papa Colm ever since the first grandbaby was born. “Give us the name of your hotel, dear, and we’ll pick you up. We have no hard feelings toward you. Everyone makes choices for their own lives. If you prefer, we can give you the name of the restaurant where we’ll eat and hope to see you there shortly. That’s fair, right?”

  ‘Calm’ was the right name for an oncologist. Papa Colm was always easygoing. At the same time, he knew how to make his displeasure known without raising his voice. He could also be stubborn.

  Chanda didn’t see how she could get away without being nagged to death. “Alright, I’ll meet you there.”

  She ended the call as soon as she could and drove back to her hotel. A quick shower and change of clothes made her feel ready to face Garner’s parents. Of course they’d seen her at the church, but she’d worn shorts to the rehearsal and guaranteed, Garner’s parents would want to meet at a fancy restaurant where she would feel out of place.

  Half-hour later, she drove into the restaurant’s parking lot and spotted the Porsche Garner’s dad drove. She recognized it because the plate reflected on his job as a doctor. Marcella had bragged before she arrived in town that Papa Colm recently bought the vehicle as if she’d purchased it for him.

  Chanda squared her shoulders and bolstered her defenses mentally as she headed into the restaurant. The second she stepped away from the door, Mrs. Driscoll waved a hand from across the room. It was such an odd experience since the older woman didn’t actually call out to capture her attention.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Driscoll, I’m sorry I didn’t get to speak much with you at the church. How have you been?”

  Garner’s dad drew her close for a hug. “It’s Papa Colm. I know you haven’t forgotten, Chanda.”

  “Um, no, sir.” She decided not to remind him that the nickname was one only family used.

  “Chanda.” Mrs. Driscoll kissed her cheek, and the three of them sat down.

  When Chanda’s drink arrived, she quickly sipped the chilled beverage, feeling a little overwarm. She wiped a bit of moisture off her forehead. Mrs. Driscoll waved a hand in her face and removed her sweater. “It’s warm in here, isn’t it? You should take your jacket off, Chanda. There’s no dress code.”

  Papa Colm snapped his fingers. “I’ll get them to turn down the air right away.”

  “It’s fine. I’m comfortable,” Chanda lied.

  “Nonsense. You’re sweating.” The man didn’t mince words, even though his tone remained kind. “Is there something you’re hiding?”

  Chanda choked on the sweet tea.

  He pointed at her wrists and glanced at his wife. The woman nodded in agreement.

  “We saw what happened with your uncle. I don’t condone violence toward a woman. Ever.”

  So he condones violence otherwise?

  “Let me see your wrist.”

  “It’s fine.” Her voice grew tight. “I can take care of myself, sir. I appreciate your concern.”

  “If you could take care of yourself, Chanda, my son wouldn’t have had to come to your rescue.”

  She pushed the glass away. “Is this why you called me here, to harass me about Garner helping me? If so, you’d be better served by confronting him. I didn’t ask for his help. I haven’t asked for anyone’s help. I’ve been on my own for twelve years, and I’m good.”

  She bit her tongue. The last thing she wanted was to disrespect these people. They had their views, but they were nice. Recalling the past, she never once thought they looked down on her because she was black. They never seemed to prefer their son date someone of his own race. Back then, they accepted her with open arms.

  “And that’s where you were wrong,” Papa Colm asserted.

  “Excuse me?”

  Mrs. Driscoll tapped his arm. “Don’t be so harsh, Colm.”

  “It’s true. You young people get notions. You don’t understand family. I’m going to be honest. I was angry and hurt for my son when you left without explanation. I had a lot of soul searching to do over the years. I came to the conclusion that you are young, and young people are…” He shook his head as if he had no words.

  “You’re a different generation,” Mrs. Driscoll finished. “We don’t always understand how each other thinks, but it broke my heart when you left Garner.”

  Chanda started to say what happened between her and Garner was none of their business but let it go.

  “Your wrist.” Papa Colm held out his hand.

  She sighed and slipped her jacket off. Both of them gasped. Papa Colm examined her wrist, gently prodding it and apologizing when she winced.

  “I haven’t worked in emergency medicine for many years, but I would hazard to guess it’s sprained. You need to go to the hospital.”

  “I’ll—”

  Mrs. Driscoll cut her off. “At least get a bandage from the pharmacy and wrap it. The bandage will provide support and ease some of the pain.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  Papa Colm released her hand, and she tucked it into her lap. For some reason, she was feeling weepy again.

  “Now,” he said in a low tone. “Shall we discuss the matter of you miscarrying my grandchild?”

  Chapter 8

  Chanda’s mouth dropped open. It took several minutes for her to pull herself together, enough to comment on what Papa Colm had just said. “Come again?”

  “You heard me. You had an accident, which took the lives of your parents. At the same time, you miscarried your child.”

  She ground her teeth. “How do you know that?”

  “The question is, why doesn’t my son know it?”

  Her body threatened to fall off the chair. “You told him?”

  “No, I didn’t, and he won’t hear it from me.”

  “Well, I haven’t told anyone. So why do you know?”

  “Some of my closest friends work at the hospital where you were treated. Make no mistake. We don’t go around violating patients’ rights. I pursued the matter because I worried about you. My friend confided in me, knowing you were Garner’s girlfriend at the time. This person worried about the mental impact of the loss because you were so young.”

  Chanda ducked her head, thinking hard. The surge of emotion rocked and reeled inside, and she worked to keep a lid on it.

  Mrs. Driscoll spoke up. “You were alone, Chanda. Can you understand the extenuating circumstances of us pushing to learn everything?”

  “No, I can’t. It sounds like you just wanted to control Garner’s life, like you control his brothers’ lives.”

  “Do we?” Papa Colm raised his eyebrows.

  Chanda had no idea if what she claimed was true. Her feelings were hurt that they knew her secret, making her vulnerable. At any time, they might have told Garner, and in her own way, she’d wanted to protect him from the truth.

  “Why didn’t you tell him?” Mrs. Driscoll asked.

  “What difference did it make? Our baby was gone. There was nothing I could do about that.”

  Mrs. Driscoll touched her hand. “You could have mourned the baby together. I know how much it hurts to lose a child. Did you know that my oldest son isn’t the first?”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No, my first child was born very ill, and he passed within a few months of his birth.”

  “Your situation was worse,” Chanda whispered.

  “A sweet baby is a sweet baby, and he’s your whole world.”

  Chanda pressed a hand over her mouth, and Mrs. Driscoll slid her chair around the table to wrap an arm across Chanda’s shoulders. Chanda could do nothing but allow the affection and comfort the woman shared. She saw Mrs. Driscoll in a whole new light and liked her more than she had when she first met her.

  After lunch, Mrs. Driscoll left Papa Colm to pay the bill, and she walked Chanda out to the parking lot.

  Mrs. Driscoll wrung her hands for a second and then looked Ch
anda in the eyes. “I’ll be honest with you, and I hope you won’t take offense, dear.”

  Chanda tensed.

  “I don’t want Garner to marry Marcella.”

  Shock hit Chanda for the second time.

  “She isn’t right for him, and while I can’t give you proof, I’m sure she’s not what she seems.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It appears that she loves my son very deeply, but I’m not convinced. I haven’t seen any evidence that she isn’t after his inheritance. Now, before you get upset, let me tell you. I don’t judge people as to whether or not they’re trying to get something from my family. I don’t have to.”

  Chanda knew what she meant. Mrs. Driscoll could look at most people and know what they were about. Chanda could as well.

  “Marcella has always been kind to us and as far as we can tell to Garner. But…” Mrs. Driscoll chewed her bottom lip, her brow creased. “I can’t pinpoint any one thing about Marcella. I just don’t want him to marry her.”

  “You’re not hoping he and I get back together?”

  Papa Colm walked out of the restaurant, so Mrs. Driscoll spoke quickly before he came into earshot. “You loved him then, and you love him now.”

  “I don’t!”

  The older woman smiled and moved in to kiss her cheek. Instead of a kiss, she spoke softly in Chanda’s ear. “I will do everything possible to assist you in winning him back. I promise.”

  Chanda would have denied Mrs. Driscoll’s claims, but the woman called her husband and walked off toward their car. Chanda was left in confusion with jangled nerves. She had no idea what to expect next or where this whole situation would lead.

  She climbed into her car and pulled off the lot. Before she made it a few blocks down the road, her cell phone rang. She checked the screen and trembled a bit when she read Garner’s name.

  God, how many times over the years had she yearned to see his name on her screen? A hundred times? A thousand? Probably a million. Yet, he had never phoned. She had told herself that he didn’t call after she left because he didn’t care, and it helped her to move on. She told herself he was relieved to be free.