The Forgotten Child, Lorhainne Eckhart [bearly read books txt] 📗

It was killing him, this whole twisted, fucked-up mess. Brad should have protected himself years ago. Filed for divorce and established through the courts legal custody of Trevor. You know, to make sure every “i” is dotted and every “t” crossed. It was careless on his part, which was so unlike him. In any other area of his life he was shrewd, paid attention to detail and never took anything for granted. So why, in his personal life, hadn’t he done that? His five hundred acre ranch had been in his family for two generations. In business, Brad was shrewd and he’d turned this ranch into the successful operation it was now. Although his daddy had done well, Brad took advantage of every opportunity, expanding and landing the dairy contract for the area. He was the largest beef producer on the peninsula and in haying. He saw opportunities and he took them.

So how had he managed to allow a woman like Crystal to cuckold him? To use his son, his one weakness, against him? And for what purpose? Since she’d shown up, he’d been unable to find out what she really wanted. He didn’t believe her passionate plea that she wanted to be his wife, a mother to Trevor, she’d had a change of heart, and she loved him and needed him. Bullshit.

He’d allowed her to get away with far too much, including allowing her access to his bank account, their joint account. But this was only one in a long line of many truly monstrous fuck-ups. But he’d been a desperate man, drowning in the care of his child. A child, he now knew, wasn’t quite right.

When Trevor was born, she’d never looked after him. She’d fretted through her entire pregnancy of the baby ruining her body. She was amazing in bed, but she’d never truly been his wife.

Now, after years of being gone, she still avoided Trevor, wouldn’t touch him, look at him or talk to him. Nothing. So why was she really here?

Well, she was up to something. Their big blow up revealed a few things. She knew way too much of his personal business, his current offers to buy more land, his pending development permit to build a big show ring for the horses he was breeding. How’d she find out? Well, once Brad found that leak, he’d plug it and find a way to be rid of her.

As for Emily, just thinking of her sweet innocence and what this must be doing to her pounded the nausea in his stomach. He knew she cared for him and Trevor. She wore her heart on her sleeve, her passion for life and her angelic love for children. She was so beautiful. Her inner radiance reached out to touch whoever was around. Brad leaned against the worn cedar siding on the barn. He squeezed his fists and slapped his hat against his leg. He wanted to hit something. Emily, Katy and Trevor deserved better. Brad slid open the barn door and climbed the ladder into the loft. It was completely dark as he sank down against the wall.

He’d never expected Crystal to return. When she first walked out, he tracked her down in Hawaii. He jumped on the next plane; arrived at the all-inclusive resort where she’d rented a suite. He’d convinced the hotel manager to let him into her suite and he’d waited two hours for Crystal to show. Time healed some wounds, but not that. He’d watched as his wife burst through her hotel room door, giggling, wearing a skimpy green string bikini with some blonde, buff, young surfer draped and drooling over her. The arrogant prick left after Brad threatened to kick his ass if he touched his wife, and even then, he had to shove the guy a couple times before he'd stood down. Crystal had stared right through Brad, like a cold heartless bitch. She poured herself a glass of red wine. When Brad yanked her suitcase from the closet and started jamming her clothes in, she’d clawed his arms and face, threatening to call security if he didn’t leave. She screamed and cried; she never wanted to be a mother and shouted that Brad was no fun anymore.

Until then, Brad couldn’t see her for what she really was. But she successfully ripped off his tattered blinders. He left, slept in a chair at the airport and hopped on the first plane home. He never tried to find her again. Crystal stayed away. She never called. Brad did nothing but care for his son and struggle to get through each day. That mistake was what Emily and the children were paying for now.

Once he was a fool. Never again. This sudden change of heart, Crystal now wanting a marriage; even expecting Brad to return to the bedroom, and feigning a deep frantic concern for a child she didn’t know—what did she want?

At one time, Brad would have done anything to have her, to keep her. As a young arrogant player, he’d obsessed with having her. Now, the only feelings he could summon were contempt and a bone chilling fear when she’d threatened to take Trevor; the first day, during their first of many fights.

Emily filled his dreams at night. She was the type of woman he’d never looked at twice. But now, every part of her small rounded bottom, curvy bust and innocent soft eyes, filled and occupied his every waking moment. He dreamed of running his fingers through her heaps of rich brown hair, with its gentle waves that bounced over her shoulder. Every time he closed his eyes, he’d picture her silky, warm and naked, lying under him, her brown eyes shimmering with open desire; an honest love given with no expectations.

When he walked upstairs into his bedroom the afternoon Crystal arrived home; he was bowled over by her brash and bold arrogance. She’d hung all her clothes in his closet, as if she’d never left. She’d raced over to him and threw her arms around his neck, pressing her full breasts against him, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Brad couldn’t believe how good she looked...even as he’d pried her arms away. Her smile turned bitter. She crossed her arms and coldness filled her pale blue eyes. She accused him of sleeping with Emily, said she was his paid whore. She twisted his feelings, the goodness Emily brought here, and tainted it with her own poison.

Crystal knew Brad was attempting to get Trevor diagnosed with autism, that Emily was doing therapy with Trevor.

He still remembered how he’d grabbed her suitcases, now stored in the back of the closet, and opened them on the bed. He’d said nothing, but seized her neatly hung clothes and shoved them in her fancy bags. She was a dirty fighter; she’d clawed at his arm, and then had the nerve to say: “I know you’re trying to steal Mary Haske’s property. Right out from under her.”

Someone had been talking—but not the truth. Brad would never do that to Mary, but he’d be first to buy when she put it on the market. He also knew by Crystal’s smile she’d hurt Mary with her lies, twisting the story into something it wasn’t. Because Brad hadn’t been completely honest with Mary, he’d never told her he was buying up the land around her, he wanted hers, and that his realtor was now watching and waiting for hers to be listed.

“I want a divorce. And I want you out of my house.” Brad had fisted his hands and had to remind himself; no matter what, don’t hit her. Keep your hands down.

She laughed a deep, seductive, throaty laugh and raised her palms up as if showing him something. “If you try to divorce me, or throw me out of this house, my lawyer will proceed with action to take Trevor away from you and get full custody of the boy for me. I’ll take half of this ranch that’s been in your family for two generations.”

Crystal now paced around him; a woman with a plan.

“Then I’ll subdivide this property, breaking it up, and sell it piece by piece.”

Brad wondered if the chest pains he was experiencing were just a warning or a heart attack. Because he knew she was right. She’d done her homework. She also knew Brad would pay her to go away; but the ranch was a part of him, taking this prime land and breaking it up would hurt him. But it was the threat of taking Trevor away that almost killed him. That threat, she knew, would be enough to keep him in line.

Crystal yanked open the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out her black Chanel bag. She dug inside and handed him a letter from her lawyer.

Brad hesitated and shoved his hands into his pockets. His chest tightened; he struggled to breathe. But he gave in and ripped the papers from her hand. As he read the legalese, a cold sweat beaded his spine. She’d placed Trevor on a list for an institution in California for autistic children. Her lawyer had already begun the paperwork and Trevor hadn’t even been diagnosed; citing a long waiting list.

Brad was positive the room took on a slow, sick spin, and the floor softened beneath him. He ground his teeth hard and then roared. Throwing his arms in the air, he backed Crystal into a corner and rammed his fist through the wall above her head. Crystal screamed and ducked. Brad backed away and the papers fell to the floor. His knuckles were scraped and bleeding. He stared at her scrawny neck and pictured his hands wrapped around it, squeezing the life out of this cold, heartless bitch. She screamed, and must have seen the threat of murder in his eyes. He blinked then grabbed the crumpled letter at his feet and ran down the stairs. Brad flicked open his cell phone and dialed his old friend and lawyer, Keith Rainer, as he climbed in his truck.

“I need to talk to Keith, this is Brad Friessen.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Friessen, Keith’s at home sick today. Can I take a message?”

“No, I’ll call him at home.” He hung up on Keith’s secretary and dialed Keith’s home number. Brad had grown up with Keith. They had gone to school together, chased girls, and, as teenagers, were a nuisance; causing all kinds of typical teenage trouble together.

The phone rang six times before the poor bastard answered. He could barely talk and he sounded completely congested. He coughed so hard that Brad would’ve sworn he’d coughed up a lung. When Brad told him what'd happened, he urged him to come over. Thank goodness he lived close by. Keith owned a small acreage not far from Brad.