In a Haze - Jade C. Jamison Page 0,76

get it through.

I have more strength than I realize.

Blood begins to flow from the wound just as I hear behind me, “Freeze. Get your hands in the air.”

I don’t know if that voice is talking to me or Don, but I let go anyway and turn. There’s a cop and two center employees just behind. The cop has a gun and he’s using it like a pointer. “I need you both out here on the ground.”

I’m tempted to say something, but this cop doesn’t know who to trust.

I can only hope that we have enough. That Joe was able to save the files.

But as I feel the bite of handcuffs as the cop squeezes them too tightly around my wrists, I’m afraid I’m going to be living in a haze again very soon…

*

Don survived.

But I still have my memories since I woke up that first fateful day.

And Joe. Joe saved me.

I didn’t know it at the time, but when Dr. Wilson made her confession? Joe had Don’s new cell phone. He couldn’t get inside it because we didn’t know the passcode, but he was still able to shoot video—after making a call to 911. It took a while to sort everything out and for the cops to actually be able to watch said video, but they took us all in for questioning and managed to get to the truth.

And, although it took a long time, I’m free now.

“Mommy!” says Emma as she runs toward me. “Look!”

My sweet baby girl. She’s brought me another shell, a tiny cone. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Ollie’s right behind her. He doesn’t say much, but his little dimply grin tells me more than words. He, too, has a shell for me. “Thank you, buddy.” With a grin, he turns, acting almost shy.

They run back out away from us to sort through more shells in the brown sand.

The sun feels so warm on my legs, and I never want to leave. Even though I still don’t remember most of my time in the mental health clinic, I do know I never got to be outside when I was there. Joe told me later that there was a yard, but the clinic never had enough staff to be able to take patients out.

I think that should all be changing now.

Between the cell phone, the files, and other evidence I still don’t know about, in addition to a confession to the cops from Dr. Wilson, the police were able to present the DA with a heck of a case. And I was wrong. I figured Don would roll over on all his rich friends in order to mitigate the charges against himself. As a former defense attorney, he must think he has a great case.

I hope the jury finds him guilty and he rots in hell.

But the trial will be starting tomorrow, and that’s why we’re here on a beach in Hawaii. People recognized me from the stupid photos in the paper, on TV, and the truth finally came out that I didn’t try to commit suicide. And while I appreciate the kind words complete strangers had for me, I wanted to get away.

Glancing over, I look at my new partner, Joseph Dublin. My new husband. As soon as my divorce was finalized, we tied the knot.

We did not move into Don’s house. It belongs to his parents, and I don’t want to live there. But I did get a decent settlement and I also got a book offer. People want to hear my story. So, once the trial is over, I’m going to see if I can put into words what happened.

First, though, some quiet time with my family.

Of all the things I hate Don for, I almost want to say the thing I hate the most is being separated from my kids, for missing these years with them. But then I think of all those poor girls they still haven’t found and I realize that I hate him even more for that. I’m holding out hope, because Joe managed to save those files before Dr. Wilson could destroy them, and the cops aren’t giving up.

Maybe my book can help with that, too. If someone reads my story and then thinks, “Oh, yeah. My rich friend suddenly showed up with a new wife or maid and had no explanation. Why don’t I just pass this info on to the cops?”

I can hope.

Did I ever love Don? I must have. I can’t imagine living with someone and having his children without any love in the marriage. But I also often wonder if he manipulated me in my time of grief. He mentioned that I’d met him when my father died, so it leaves that question. I won’t ask Don, though, because I won’t ever again trust a word that comes out of that man’s mouth.

Meanwhile, I’m working on healing. Someday, when my kids ask what happened to their dad, I’m not sure what I’ll tell them. Already, Emma asks where he is sometimes and, although she’s happy to see me, she wonders.

And she wonders about her “second mommy,” too. Fortunately, that memory is fading fast. All I can do is give my babies all my love and make sure they feel safe.

Someday, I’ll tell them the story—but I don’t know that I’ll be able to shield them from the horrible truth of their father.

In fact, I know I shouldn’t.

But I’ll worry about that tomorrow. For now, we have a vacation.

“This was a great idea, baby,” Joe says, reaching over to squeeze my hand.

“Sure was.” And Valentine’s Day is just a couple of days away. I’m filled to the brim with gratitude that Joe loves my children. They like him, but I don’t know if they love him back yet. But we have plenty of time.

Now, when Emma runs back up the beach toward us, she delivers a shell to him. “Aw, thank you, sweet pea,” he says.

“Are you my new daddy?” she asks.

For the first time ever, Joe seems vulnerable. Glancing over at me, his eyes are asking me a question, but I’m not sure what. Joe is a good man, probably the best I’ve ever known, and I trust whatever he chooses to say or do. Were something to happen to me tomorrow, I know he’d love and care for my babies as if they were his own.

Not to mention, we’re considering having another one—but we’re giving ourselves a little time on that.

Joe tousles Emma’s hair. “I’m, uh, I’m your second daddy, sweet pea.”

“Can we call you daddy?”

Ollie’s handing him a shell now, taking it all in as Joe says, “Sure.”

My heart melts as both my babies hug him as though he were their flesh-and-blood father.

As for me, I don’t know that all my memories will ever return. I’ve had a few reappear, not just from my time at the clinic but from before, but they may be gone for good. I’ve been told that by experts.

Still, I try. Sometimes things come to me in dreams or at the strangest moments. I’ve learned to be happy with whatever comes through the haze.

In the meantime, I’m hellbent on making new memories, good ones—and I’ll eventually have a lifetime of them.

“What say we go eat, gang?” Joe asks. I nod and smile but the kids seem disappointed. After all, they were building up quite the shell collection. “Didn’t you guys like that tempura yesterday?”

Ollie’s grinning from ear to ear, but Emma says, “No, I liked the macaroni and cheese.”

“Then let’s get you some of that.”

Ollie says, “Get you some of that.”

I start laughing, because those are more words out of my chubby-cheeked little boy than he’s strung together at once in the past. Wrapping my arms around all of them, I fight back tears of joy and send a silent prayer of thanks.

If all my memories from here on out are this good, I’m okay with never, ever remembering the old ones.

THE END

I hope you loved reading Anna’s journey back to the land of the lucid and much as I loved writing it. If you’re so inclined, please consider leaving a review on either Amazon or Goodreads (or both!) or tell your friends!

If you loved IN A HAZE, you might like my Nicki Sosebee series or the Codie Snow series.

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