Until recently.
Most people would have screamed and yelled at Andrew and the woman on top of him, but Callie didn’t operate like that. She’d learned early on to curb her temper, no matter how unfair the circumstances. After that, only once had she ever lost complete control of her temper. It was a slipup as a teenager and she was lucky it hadn’t ruined the rest of her life.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. Nothing in my past has anything to do with me finding my boyfriend in bed with another woman.” She fisted and relaxed her hands several times. “It didn’t make me lose my temper and break an expensive vase. Though I almost wish I had so at least I’d be paying for something I actually did.”
The more she’d thought about it since court, the more she was positive she couldn’t have broken Andrew’s vase. The ugly thing always sat on a shelf right outside his kitchen, so she never even would have come near it as she ran out of his apartment. The only way she might have been responsible is if it had fallen when she’d slammed his apartment door as she’d left—but she wouldn’t have slammed the door. That would have been a loss of control that was completely out of character for Callie.
“Our time is almost up for today.” Dr. Hammond leaned forward. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this, but I want you to go spend time with your father and stepmother.” When Callie opened her mouth to speak, he raised a hand to stop her. “I want you to voice, face-to-face, whatever your feelings have been about them. Even if in the end you haven’t settled things, at least you won’t be carrying your hurt inside where it’s obviously tearing you apart.”
This couldn’t be happening. “Can’t I just write letters to them, pour out my feelings, and then burn the letters or something?” She’d seen that on shows countless times and it always seemed to make the person feel better.
Not that she needed to feel better. She was just fine. Especially now that she was free of cheating Andrew and single again.
“I’m afraid not,” he said. “I’ve already made arrangements for you to continue your community service in Whittler’s Creek.”
“But—”
“Our time is up.” Dr. Hammond repeated as he stood. “We’ll continue therapy by phone while you’re away. You can email my receptionist with the best time for you once you know your community service hours.”
Callie stood up, her mind a foggy mess. “What about my job?” How would she explain needing time off? How long would it take? A few days? A week? Longer?
Breathe. In and out. Slower. In...out.
Dr. Hammond put a hand on her elbow to show her out. “I’m sure they’ll allow you to take a sabbatical once you explain.” He handed her another piece of paper. A formal letter on his personal stationery. “Use this if necessary.” He handed her another sheet of paper. “And here’s where you report for community service at 8:00 a.m. Monday.”
She glanced at the information. Office of the Chief of Police, Whittler’s Creek, Maryland. Great. What were the chances this small-town law enforcer was someone who didn’t know her or about her past?
LATE SUNDAY AFTERNOON Callie reluctantly drove the hour and a half from her home just inside the Washington, DC, beltway to the town where she’d grown up in western Maryland. She’d spoken to her boss Friday afternoon and arranged to telework while she was away. Her boss hadn’t been happy about it, but he’d had no choice. She’d made the company a lot of money the past few years. They couldn’t afford to lose her, especially knowing there were several other financial firms that would gladly hire her immediately after this fiasco in Whittler’s Creek ended.
When she reached the sign welcoming her to Whittler’s Creek, her heart began to beat double-time. How had she gotten herself into this? Was it too late to give Andrew the entire amount for the stupid vase? Probably.
Callie’s plan for today was to arrive in town and immediately head to her father’s house to get their reunion over with. She loved her dad and missed having him in her life. But she couldn’t get past the feeling that he’d let her down all those years ago.
She drove through the “downtown” area of Whittler’s Creek that consisted of two blocks with a few small, family-run businesses, as well as a bank and the police station where Callie would report tomorrow morning. She continued on toward the outskirts of town and made a left turn on the winding uphill road that led to her childhood home.
When she reached the long driveway, she pulled over onto the gravel-and-dirt shoulder to gather her courage. She pressed the button to turn off the engine of her dark red sports car—the one she’d splurged on, buying it outright with her last bonus.
She could see the house farther up the hill. It didn’t appear much different than when she’d lived there all those years ago.
The house held painful secrets, but from the outside you’d never guess it was anything but run-down.
The white clapboard was dingy and one of the dark green shutters was missing, while several others hung slightly crooked. The landscaping needed work. The grass needed to be mowed and the evergreen bushes near the front door were overgrown. One of the large oak trees in the front yard was dead. The next big storm could knock the tree into the house if it wasn’t taken down soon.
Callie hadn’t called ahead to let her dad know she’d be coming. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to know, it was more that she didn’t want to give her stepmother a heads-up. This visit would be difficult enough without giving the woman prep time.
Callie stayed in her car for quite a while, gathering her courage to face her past. There were only a few other houses down this quiet road. Not even one car passed by as she sat there.
Her stomach was in knots. She should have eaten lunch, but she’d figured an empty stomach was better than a full one that could reverse direction if her anxiety got out of control.
Which it was definitely threatening.
She uncapped the water bottle in the center console drink holder and took a long swig. The cool liquid somewhat soothed her dry mouth but offered no relief to her stomach. She replaced the cap and turned her attention back to her father’s house.
A car was visible in the detached garage, the door having been left open. She hoped that meant her father was home, but she’d been gone too long to know if it was her father’s car or her stepmother’s.
It was now or never. She would prefer never, but that wouldn’t make her therapist happy. Callie needed to get this over with and move on.
The engine turned over when she pressed the start button. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the gearshift and froze.
She reminded herself that she was an adult now. Not the eighteen-year-old who’d left home for college eleven years ago. She could stand up for herself, could leave whenever she wanted. No one could force her to do something against her will.
She wasn’t that scared little girl, so easily intimidated.
She put the car in gear and slowly pulled back onto the two-lane road riddled with potholes that still hadn’t been patched from last year’s harsh winter.
She carefully turned right into the long driveway leading to her childhood home and stopped abruptly.
Her head throbbed.
Before she could change her mind, she threw the car into reverse and backed out onto the street to face the direction from which she’d come.
A single bead of sweat ran down her temple. Not from the heat but from anxiety.
Without another glance at the house, she gunned the engine and headed