Page 38 of Echoes of Temptation
“I have a caveman for a brother,” Cortney sighs. “Anyway, Kingston and Pops eventually wormed their way into our hearts, and we’ve all had a happy life filled with love ever since. But, for some unknown reason, I followed Mama’s same domestic romantic path. Bad boyfriend after bad boyfriend and no matter what Papa or Kingston said, I ignored them and did what I wanted.”
“Behind our backs, I might add,” King glares. “I didn’t even meet Cortney until I was nineteen and she was sixteen years old. For two years she dated fucking idiots.”
“When I turned eighteen I met the man of my dreams,” Cortney continues. “He had a job, a place of his own, and people loved him. He was the type of man that you couldn’t help but love. We eventually married and roughly eight years ago, we had a baby. From the moment he was born, Charlie was a crier. He had colic at first and then he was just an emotional baby. Well, Henry didn’t like that too much.
A side I had never seen before emerged and he was just angry. He got angry over the smallest things. I did my best to keep Charlie quiet when Henry was home. Luckily, he worked as a trucker so he was sometimes gone for weeks at a time. One day, when Charlie was only five weeks old, he got sick. He ran a fever and he could hardly breathe. He was just a miserable little baby. Which in turn, made his father a miserable little man.
I needed a shower in a bad way and I asked Henry to watch Charlie for five minutes so that I could wash my body and hair for the first time in two weeks.”
“It’s alright,” I try and comfort her as tears flow down her face.
I’m not sure why she’s telling me this story, but I hate seeing so much pain in her eyes as she does.
“When I emerged from the bathroom,” she says, casually wiping her eyes. “Charlie was quiet and Henry was watching TV. It hadn’t been that quiet for days. But, I got a weird feeling, so I went and checked on the baby. Henry had placed him in the bassinet and he was eerily still. Henry tried to convince me he was sleeping but I knew something was wrong. I called an ambulance regardless of the threats he was yelling.”
“By the time they arrived,” King says when it appears that Cortney couldn’t say anything more. “Charlie was dead. They were able to restart his heart before they rushed him to the hospital but he was in critical condition. In his anger, Henry shook Charlie. He shook him until he stopped crying.”
“That was a little under seven years ago,” Cortney says. “My son is a survivor of Shaken Baby Syndrome. Because of those five minutes, he will have a lifetime of struggle. The long-term consequences are developmental delays, cognitive impairments, behavioral issues, and physical disabilities.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say. My tears join Cortney’s as I struggle to get my emotions under control.
That poor baby.
“Two weeks ago, Kingston called me and said that he was about to fight for his future,” Cortney tells me, smiling knowingly. “He told me that he was waiting for the schools to let out for the summer before he went headfirst into the fight.”
“I got tired of waiting, baby,” he tells me. “I’ve been hoping beyond all hope that you’ll eventually forgive me and give me the opportunity to prove how much you mean to me. One more week and I would have been right where I am now. Waiting for you to make your way home from your last day of school. Then, I called my sister for moral support. I’m about to go to war, baby. I needed it.”
I lower my head so he doesn’t see the smile I’m trying to hide.
“He and the Obsidian men were moving our things into my new home a few days ago when they started talking about you.”
Instantly, I felt that small kick in my gut that I used to feel when thinking about the people who I thought were my friends. But, just as quickly, it goes away. My therapist told me that it would take a while for those feelings to vanish completely but that it didn’t mean I didn’t forgive them.
“Blaze was telling Ghost how one night, while you were at the clubhouse, you got up in the middle of the night to get a bottle of water,” King says, and I can feel my blush slam onto my skin as that awful memory invades my mind.
“He said that when you went to the kitchen you were half asleep and kept mumbling about Scottish men and their manly skirts,” Cortney chuckles. “Then you opened the bottle and took a huge gulp before jolting fully awake in a coughing fit.”
“I mean, come on,” I say, feeling frustrated all over again. “Who in the heck puts pure freaking vodka in an empty bottleand places it right next to the rest of the water? My throat was on fire. I had never drunk alcohol in my life up until that point and I felt like I was dying. Much to Blaze’s amusement, I might add.”
Giggling, I remember Blaze falling to the floor and making fun of me dreaming about Scottish men but not being able to handle a single gulp of vodka.
“Well, that conversation turned into another one,” she continues. “It was mentioned that you’re a special education teacher.”
“I am,” I admit proudly.
“It’s really hard for me to trust people with my son,” she tells me. “I’m not sure if he’s ready or even allowed to be in a regular school so I’ve decided to have him home-schooled until that decision can be made a little further down the road. He’s non-verbal. I’ve been told by many that he’s not teachable. But I want to try. I don’t want to sit back and watch as my son simply survives his life. I want to watch him live it the best way that he’s able.”
“I think that’s wonderful,” I admit. “Whoever told you that Charlie is unteachable is simply an uneducated baboon. Just because he’s not able to express his desires or his thoughts doesn’t mean he’s an empty shell. It may seem like he’s just there and not paying attention, but I guarantee, if he could speak, if he could communicate, you would be blown away by what he’s learned just by watching and listening.”
“I told you she was perfect,” King says, pride shining right into my heart.
“I want to hire you,” Cortney says, shocking me back to reality. “I want you to be the one to teach my son. At least until he’s able to go to school.”
Oh dear.
“Thank you so much for that trust,” I say. “But I honestly don’t know if I would have the time. Or I’m even the right fit.”
I lean back and take a few seconds to sort my mind. I can’t just leave this child to be taught by someone who simply wants a paycheck. Not to mention this is King’s family. If I did this, it would mean King would be part of my life.