FanStory.com - Life's Twisted Road - Chap 18by Begin Again

END OF CHAPTER 17

"What accident? What about Bobby?" Audrey stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with fear. "Somebody better start talking and tell me what's going on."

She heard a familiar voice directly behind her. "Audrey, maybe we should go somewhere more private to talk,"

She spun around, beating her fists against Jackson's chest. "No, you tell me what you have to say, right now."

Jackson looked into Audrey's eyes. He hated what he was about to do to the woman he loved, but she wasn't leaving him any choice. He pulled her into his arms and held her tight as he spoke, "I'm sorry, Honey, but Bobby's dead."

From a dark place deep inside, a spine-chilling wail erupted from Audrey's mouth as she fainted in Jackson's arms.

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CHAPTER 18

Amanda leaned against the kitchen counter, wiping her hands with a kitchen towel, even though they weren't wet. Deep furrows creased her brow. She spoke aloud, "Ahh, my Lahrd, 'ow much do ya expect de lass to take?"

"Shooeld I be wahrried when me wife be talkin to 'er self?"

Startled by Paddy's voice, Amanda jumped, knocking Gabby's uneaten breakfast tray to the floor. "Now look what you've gahne and dahne, scarin de likes o' me."

"I dedn't mean to, me love. I tooehght you 'eard me come inside." Paddy knelt, looking at the spilt food before he began cleaning. "Doesn't look like de lass ate mooch."

"She'll mohst likely be eatin' less when she 'ears de news." Amanda opened the closet and reached for the broom.

"What news wooehld dat be?" Paddy stared at his wife as she slumped onto one of the kitchen chairs. He didn't like what he saw, his wife was obviously very distraught. He stood, claimed the chair opposite her and took her hand. "Love, tell me what's bahtherin you."

Amanda pursed her lips and slowly shook her head from side to side. "Me friend, Mindy, frahm de 'ardware store, called and asked if I'd 'eard abooeht de bad accident ahn 'ighway 101. She sais she'd called Isabella but gaht no answer. She thoehght she might be 'ere."

"I was takin' Isabella home when she called, I guess." Paddy shook his head. "Ya wahmen and yer gahssip!"

"Paddy, dis time its impahrtant. She 'eard dat Gabby's father was invahlved and dat — 'e is dead."

"Dead?" Paddy moaned and squeezed Amanda's hand. "Ahh no!"

"Now, de you see why I was askin' de Lahrd 'ow moehch Gabby was expected to take?"

"You dedn't tell Mindy dat Gabby was 'ere, now ded you?"

"Of cooehrse naht!" Amanda pulled her hand away from his, brushing at some stray crumbs on the table. "We've gaht to get Isabella. She shooehld be de one to speak wit Gabby, dahn't you think?"

"Let's call 'er?"

"I tried, boeht no answer. Maybe you cooehld joehst drive over dere. It'll be quicker dat way."

Paddy pushed back his chair, bent to kiss Amanda's head, and headed to the door. "I'm on me way."

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As Isabella waved goodbye to Paddy, she had no inkling of what awaited her inside her home. Her first clue came quickly as she entered the garage. Her ears were assaulted by loud music, muffled by the walls but still far above the norm.

She'd made the mistake of leaving Natasha a note, in case she stopped after school, telling her granddaughter she might be gone past the dinner hour. She'd even suggested that she help herself to something to eat while she was there if she was hungry.

Nothing could have prepared her for the disaster she found inside. Her leather couch no longer graced the area in front of the fireplace. Instead, it was crammed against the wall between two overstuffed chairs, a side table, and a glass antique china cabinet.

Since Audrey's earlier visit, Natasha's guests had increased in number. Some were gyrating body to body to the blaring music, oblivious to the beer spilling onto the floor. One scantily dressed female moved provocatively over a young man, lying on the floor, while Juan and Natasha shot confetti poppers at them, rooting her on. Becky and an older young man were shooting shots and chasing it with beer, laughing as their beverages spilled down their shirts.

Even two room purifiers failed at any attempt to remove the smell of cigarettes, spilt beer, and other odors Isabella didn't care to define. For fear of collapsing, Isabella gripped the back of a chair, knowing she desperately wanted them to go, but how was the question?

Trembling, she could feel her knees knocking, threatening to send her crashing to the floor. A fleeting thought of her lying there and nobody noticing or caring sent a shiver up and down her spine. Without even thinking, she picked up the closest object, an empty liquor bottle, and sent it sailing across the room, with little notice.

She'd reached her breaking point. She grabbed a porcelian table lamp, raised it as high as possible, and smashed it. Pieces scattered everywhere followed by screams and panicking guests. The music stopped.

"What the hell?" Juan jerked the boy from the floor, but one look at Isabella told him the party was over. "Time to go, my friends." Everyone searched for their belongings and hastened outside, leaving Natasha standing alone.

Natasha glared at her grandmother. "You senile old biddy, why did you do that? We were just having fun."

Unable to move, Isabella stood frozen, staring at her beloved home. "It's not your home, Natasha. How could you —"

"What do you care?" Natasha sneered at her grandmother. Her next words shot like poisoned darts. "Mom says it's going to be mine when you die, which hopefully will be soon."

"Oh, my God." Isabella gasped and slowly sank to the floor. "Go home. Please, go home."

Having seen the melee of youngsters pouring out the house, Paddy had rushed to the front door, just in time to hear Natasha's bitter words. "It's nahne o' me business, boeht I think ya shooehld do what yooehr grandmahther says."

The angry teenager spun around, facing Paddy. "You're right. It's none of your business, old man. Go back to Ireland with the rest of the creepy leprechauns." She picked up her bookbag and charged toward the door, knocking against Paddy's shoulder as she slipped past him.

Ignoring the insolent girl, Paddy hurried to Isabella's side. "Are you ahkay? Shooehld I call de pohlice?"

"No, no, Paddy. Just give me a moment and I'll call her mom." Isabella took Paddy's hand as he helped her off the floor. "Though, I'm not looking forward to that either. By the way, didn't you just leave here?"

"I did, boeht when I gaht home me wife 'ad bad news. She sent me back to get ya." Paddy squeezed Isabella's hand before continuing, "Dere's been a bad accident on de 101. Gabby's dad is dead."

"Dead? Bobby's dead?" Isabella closed her eyes for a moment, saying a silent prayer. "Does Gabby know? I've got to get to the poor girl."

"What abooeht your home? Shooehldn't we -"

"No time, Paddy. Pull the door behind you. I'll worry about the house later." Isabella found her purse and was already moving down the sidewalk toward Paddy's car.

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Officer Lakewood didn't expect to be taking Austin's statement alone. It was something Jackson always handled, but he was with Audrey instead.

"I understand you've been through quite an ordeal, but the Sheriff prefers to get a statement as soon as possible." Lucille glanced at her notes. "You said you came up the hill and rounded the curve. You drive a mighty big rig. Do you think you were going the speed limit."

"Lady, no disrespect, but you don't know much about big rigs. For one, coming up a hill, you can't get the same momentum. The truck slows down. And on narrow roads, curves can tip the truck over faster than a jackrabbit. I wasn't speeding, cuz if I was that pickup would be smaller than a tin can. By the way, did any of them make it?"

"Thanks to you, Dion, the young man you saved, is alive but in critical condition. Bobby, the driver of the other truck, didn't make it. His passenger is in an induced coma."

"That's too bad. Alcohol and drugs don't ever lead to anything good."

"Alcohol and drugs? What makes you think they were involved?"

"Now, it doesn't take a forensic scientist to figure it out. The one truck smelled like a brewery, and I saw the white packets in the kid's truck when I pulled him out."

Lucille made a notation in her book. "What else did you see?"

"Two idiots racing side by side, coming directly at me. I was fighting to keep my rig upright when it started to jackknife. Caught the pickup in the rear end, I think, and sent it rolling into the ditch. Didn't exactly see the kid go over the cliff."

"In your opinion, who do you think was at fault?"

"Can't say. I told you alcohol and drugs don't mix. Maybe it was a stupid drag race or maybe — well, maybe someone had an ax to grind. That's your job, officer. Not mine."

"Looks like a split decision right now. Too bad, too. The kid had his whole life ahead of him."