Dolby(46)
Author: Maryann Jordan
She shifted around a little more to get comfortable. “My twin brother, Marty, was my best friend. We were raised to appreciate what we had. Daddy used to always say, “no matter how lofty your goals are, always make sure to keep one foot on the ground.” A little smile slipped across her face as she thought of her father’s words.
“Sounds like you came from good people.”
She nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “I was lucky. They were the best.”
“Marty had a rare illness that never really let him live life to the fullest the way he wanted. He tried doing all the things a normal boy would want to do but was unable to maintain his physical stamina for very long and needed special medication. He and Momma formed a bond over their love of horses. I loved to hang out with the ranch hands and listen to their stories, sometimes writing them down so they’d be recorded and last forever. I think Daddy loved that I would do that. I still have some of those notebooks.”
Looking down at her hands in her lap, she knew the story was about to take a turn for the worse. “One night, when Marty and I were thirteen years old, my parents were gone for the evening to an event. My brother's room was across the hall, and we were both asleep. Our housekeeper was downstairs. I don’t remember much about that night, but according to the FBI report, she heard someone in the kitchen, and when she went to see if one of us were hungry in the middle of the night, she was hit on the head. Three men had entered the house, two went into Marty’s room, and one came into mine. I remember waking up when someone leaned over the bed, but I thought it was daddy. Then nothing. Just nothing.”
“You were drugged?” he asked, his voice soft and hard at the same time.
She nodded. “That’s what I was told. They did the same thing to Marty. When I woke up, I was in the dark.” A shiver moved through her whole body, and his arms tightened. Letting his warmth soothe her fears, she leaned into him. “Things were very fuzzy at first. The memories come to me in little snippets. I remember the pitch black. I remember being scared. I remember crying. I remember hearing Marty trying to breathe, and I’d reach out to see if I could get to him, but there was something on my wrist that kept me from moving too far.”
She gently rubbed her right wrist, a slash of pain seeming to hit where she’d been tethered. His fingers wrapped around hers, creating a new kind of band around her wrist. One made up of their joined hands providing protection and comfort.
“It was so dark that my eyes couldn’t adjust. There was a blanket on the floor, and as I felt around, I heard moaning and realized Marty was in a bad way.” She winced, her head beginning to ache. “A door finally opened, but the light seemed blinding. A man walked in, and I was finally able to discern that we were in a room about the size of a large closet. The man brought us a water bottle and two pieces of bread. I had no idea how long we’d been there, but I knew Marty needed his medicine. I cried to the man to help us, telling him that Marty was sick and begging him to get the medication. The man just told me to shut up, and then as soon as Daddy would pay, we’d be out of there.”
Jonathan’s face grew tight, and she felt his entire body coil, ready to spring into action. But she knew there was no action to be taken. The events were years before. They couldn’t be erased. They couldn’t be denied.
“The hours ticked by, and Marty grew weaker. I don’t know how much time passed, but I tried so hard to break free from the chain and band around my wrist. I even remember clawing at my skin, trying to get free. I thought if I could somehow escape, I could save Marty. But time slipped by, and Marty finally slipped away. His last words to me were, ‘It’s okay, sis. I love you.’ It was sometime later that day, as I held Marty in my arms, that the door was broken open with a loud crash, and men rushed in, their weapons drawn. They shouted that they were the FBI, assuring me that I was safe. Looking back, I should’ve been afraid, but with Marty no longer breathing, my will had ceased to matter. I knew that even though I’d been rescued, I was far from safe.”
“Christ, babe, I can’t imagine.” His hands gripped her even tighter, making it almost hard to breathe, but she didn’t want him to let go.
She hadn’t even realized that she began to cry until the tears on her cheeks dropped onto her hands in her lap. It wasn’t that she never cried over the past anymore, but with time, she tried to remember her family through the good times and happy moments, working hard to push the tragedies behind.
“Of course, I learned more later. At the time, I just knew that they had to pry Marty out of my grip, and we were separated. While in the hospital, I was checked out, and other than my wrist, dehydration, and hunger, there were no other physical injuries. My parents rushed in, their grief written on their faces even while they held me. I later learned that while we were land rich, my father was working desperately to get the cash that the ransom note required. Friends and relatives were helping, but the kidnappers had delayed getting the ransom note out, and by the time they got the money ready, and the FBI knew where to go, it was too late for Marty.” She was silent for a moment, then added, “My parents never recovered.”
“You know none of that is your fault, right?”
Her head moved up and down, but while she knew the facts, it was sometimes hard for the heart to believe.“I’m assuming you’ve read about my parents.” He didn’t have to answer because she could see the response on his face. Sucking in a deep breath, she let it out slowly, hitching halfway through as she fought to keep the emotions in check.
“My mother, who’d never been a heavy drinker, started self-medicating with sleeping pills and vodka. I sometimes hated that was how she coped. She’d been such a strong woman, full of life, ready to take on everything. But the addiction to sleeping pills, and then the alcohol, was a combination that managed to bring a strong woman down. One night, she went to sleep and didn’t wake up. When I was sixteen years old and really needed my mom, I was burying her.”
She loved the closeness of having Jonathan hold her, but suddenly needed to move. She pulled out of his arms and stood, grateful he didn’t try to hold her back. She walked over to the window where the sliver of dawn was shining through. Without looking back at Jonathan, she continued. “And just a few years after that, my father had a heart attack, but honestly, he died of a broken heart. I know he loved me, and he loved my mom, but he was never able to get over the guilt. Parents are told that it’s their job to protect their children no matter what. But I think there’s evil in the world that sometimes touches us no matter what we do. But daddy could never seem to forgive himself that he and mom had gone out that night. And that he wasn’t able to get the money as quickly as needed.” She sighed. “By the time I was entering adulthood, I buried the last of my family.”