Chapter Forty-Five
Naples, Florida 1979
If Van was the father of the child Anthony was certain Christy had given birth to, Richard's revelation made the situation more heinous. Why had she made up the lie about Van being her stepfather? he wondered, but was quickly able to answer his own question. Shame. Who would ever want to admit to giving birth to their own sister? Anthony shook his head as he tried to come to terms with this new information. He needed to find Christy. Not only because he was hopelessly in love with her, but because she was the only one who apparently knew the truth. He'd returned home after his quick visit to Richard's and was deflated when there were no messages on his answering machine.
He now stood in his shop, the smoldering embers matching his mood. The hammer came down hard and sparks flew, searing his exposed chest. Good, he thought. Let them burn me. He'd been mentally numb, wanting and needing to feel something. Even if it was pain. Though no external physical pain could even come close to what he was feeling inside, not only for himself, but for his woman. He couldn't fathom the emotional scarring his Owani had endured. He needed to find her. He needed to bring her home.
His eyes carelessly perused the shelves of his sanctuary and rapidly returned to an empty spot. He laid down his hammer and swiftly strode to the door that separated his blacksmithing area from the other two garage bays. Upon entering, his eyes quickly rested on another empty shelf. He knew where Christy was.
He drove for thirty minutes and breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled up next to her car. He would have to make the rest of the journey on foot. After hiking his way through the brush, he spotted her campsite. He didn't see her, so he headed for the freshwater lake where they'd bathed. He spotted her bent over, rinsing something out in the water.
She didn't jump when he said, "You need to be careful of alligators, Owani."
"I know," Christy replied without turning around.
"When did you know I was here?" he asked.
She stood and turned to face him. "I heard your truck about ten minutes ago," she answered. She pointed to her left ear. "Remember? Bionic hearing."
"How could I forget?" he countered.
She looked at the ground as she wrung out what looked like one of her shirts.
He watched her, his anger and anxiety at the distress she'd caused him evaporating. He loved her so much. When he noticed her shoulders shaking he realized she was crying and he immediately went to her, pulling her close.
"It's okay, Christy. It's okay, baby." His words were soft, like a caress. He led her back to her tent, impressed with how she'd set up the campsite.
"How did you know where to find me?" she asked, her eyes red and puffy.
"I was in my shop and noticed a lantern missing off the shelf. Then I saw the tent missing from the garage and knew immediately where you were."
She nodded and stifled a hiccup.
"Why did you leave me?" he blurted out.
He sat down on a log and pulled her down on his lap.
Christy sighed and then relaxed into him. "I can't do this, Anthony," she confessed.
"You can't do what? Be the wife of a criminal?" he asked.
"Yes. No!" she corrected immediately. "I'm not that good of a person, Anthony. I'm not like Grizz's wife, Kit. I don't have the moral compass that she has. I don't care about all of that." She sniffled.
"Then what is it you can't do, Owani?" he asked. He tilted her chin up to meet his eyes. They filled up and tears coursed down her sunburned cheeks.
"I can't lose someone else that I care about, Anthony." She shook her head as if to erase the thoughts. "Everyone I've ever loved has left me. First, Litzy left to have Abby. Then my grandmother died right before Abby was born. Then Abby died. Then Litzy moved away. Nadine and the boys moved." She hiccupped. "Alexander getting arrested and hauled away put me over the edge. When that man put the handcuffs on him, all I could see was you." She burrowed her face into his chest and sobbed.
"I'm not leaving you, Christy. I'll never leave you," he told her.
"Not on purpose," she choked. "But what if the law shows up at our door like they did for Alexander?"
"It won't happen, honey. X was careless. I'm not. But if you want a guarantee, I'll end it all. I'll do it for you."
She pulled back and looked up at him. "Anthony, I don't want you to step away from your life for me."
"My love for you can't be measured against my lifestyle, Christy. There is no comparison. You'll win out every time, and because of that, I'm willing to let it all go. Marry me, and I'll drive to Camp Sawgrass right now and torch the whole place."
"You would do that for me?" she asked, her expression one of bewilderment.
"Don't you realize by now that I would do anything for you, Christy?"
She smiled, and he carefully wiped away her tears. She grabbed a lock of his hair and without looking up at him asked, "And you think you can keep doing what you're doing and still keep your distance from the law?"
"Yes," he answered honestly. "Do you know how much I pay every month to do exactly that?"
Her eyes went round. It'd never occurred to her that he paid off people in law enforcement to look the other way or protect him. But why wouldn't he? He’d already admitted to paying off someone at the insurance company to look the other way with the dealership thefts. Why would this be any different? And she was certain that was how Van had gotten away with so much when he'd been accused of having sex with underage girls. A thought occurred to her, and she started chewing on her lip. "Paying for the law to look the other way didn't seem to help Alexander," she told him.
"Because I don't have anyone on my payroll in Pennsylvania," he answered.
She nodded her head in understanding and smiled up at him.
"Can we go home?" she asked him.
"Not until you tell me why you didn't think you could tell me Abby was your daughter."
Anthony would've spent the night with her in the Everglades, but felt it was more important to get to a phone and call off the search for her. After helping Christy pack up her little campsite, they met back at the house, where she took a shower while he made the necessary phone calls.
He found her a little while later in the sunroom. She was sitting in a chair facing the huge backyard. He sat down next to her.
“I don’t even know what Abigail looks like," Anthony said. "The day I went through your wallet, there were no pictures. I’ve been to your apartment several times and again, no pictures.”
Still staring straight ahead, she told him, “It’s too hard for me to look at them. I keep them in that shoebox I brought here from my place. I’ll show them to you if you want.”