Page 61 of Saving Grace

“No.” Tank sounded angry. His accent crept forward. His face showing strain. “You are here for your protection.” He leaned into his chastisement. “Here you are safer than you could ever be outside of these walls. Atticus would lay his life down for you and because of him I would do the same. Despite the hostilities from the outsiders, you are loved. Atticus, on the other hand, navigated this life watching his back surrounded by people who should only want good for him, but they’re hyenas, waiting to prey on him. You downplay his trauma because you’re angry, but you see and know everything is not right here. Never was, has never been.” he spat.

I raised my hands in defense, seeing I had gone too far. “You're right.” I offered faintly.

The scowl on his face dissipated quickly as it had come.. His usual calm didn’t return though. A sullen silence descended over us. I closed my eyes and rested my head against my seat.

“So, I’ve answered your questions.” Tank said, pulling me from my state of mindlessness. “Now you answer mine. Explain to me how you have four point five million dollars in the bank under the name Grace Johnson. “He asked directly.

“When I tell Roman what I found. I would like to not speculate as to why you have it.”

Without opening my eyes, I replied “I’m the widow to a very wealthy man. I bet your little investigation didn’t turn that up. Used another fake name. Ralph could barely see. Didn’t know He was marrying Yvonne Bennet.” I laughed.

“And who is Ralph?”

“My mother’s ex-boyfriend.”

I kept my eyes closed, but I could imagine the surprise on his face.

Another beat of silence passed before he asked me to explain. I told him the story, all of it, the rapes, the attempted first marriage, the night in the hotel after I ran from Atticus’ house, all except what happened with Atticus' grandfather.

Maybe him telling Atticus would get me a reprieve from his punishments. Maybe he’d think the story of Ralph and my momma was all I was hiding.

“How did you end up back there?” Tank was shook by my confession. I could hear it in his voice, under the steel of his usual tone.

Nobody alive but myself and Ms. Joyce knew about Ralph. With him was the perfect hiding place from Atticus, from his grandfather, from Marcus. Thinking Marcus made me angry at myself. He was probably responsible for my accident. I’d swore I’d seen him there in Michigan a week before the accident, in passing. When I looked again I saw nothing. I chalked it up to paranoia until my car was flipped upside down in the road. Then the suspect had disappeared. I assumed he had help to cover up trying to kill me. I would probably have to eventually tell Atticus about that too. But not anytime soon.

Tank repeated his question, snapping me from my thoughts.

“When I found out I was pregnant I knew I needed money. He had plenty of money. He was dying. He had asked me to return to care of him.. I knew he would marry me. I went back, he welcomed me. We married at city hall. His was so full of meds I didn’t have to do anything but sleep beside him in bed.

The doctor said cancer had started in his stomach and spread. He would maybe have two years with chemo. I didn’t plan to devote two years of my life to him. I stayed long enough for him to add my name to his bank accounts. He succumbed to congestive heart failure after I injected air bubble into one of the few veins that hadn’t collapsed from chemotherapy. He had no family to fight with for his money with.”

I had a question that came out of the blue. “Is Marcus dead?” Atticus hadn’t asked me about him, at all.

“So, you’re comfortable with telling Tank your secrets and not me?” Atticus’ voice snuck up behind me, a hint of jealousy colored his tone.

I jumped, completely startled. The question I asked was quickly forgotten.

Tank didn’t even flinch. I cut my eyes at him. He knew Atticus was there the entire time.

I turned my head to look behind me. Atticus stood leaned against the back doorjamb, his hands fisted, knuckles turned pale white. I hadn’t heard the door open. I was glad it was him and nobody else.

I turned back and rolled my eyes at Tank. “You could have said something.”

He shrugged. “He was going to find out everything anyways. Better to hear it from your mouth.”

I pushed myself up from my seat. I was exhausted.

I faced Atticus. His eyes dropped to my exposed thighs. Then to Tank. He frowned.

“I’m going to bed.” I rolled my eyes again.

“Goodnight Tank.” I threw over my shoulder.

Atticus moved to the side, no longer blocking the door. But he grabbed my hand roughly stopping me when I tried to walk past him.

“What, Atticus?” I snapped.

Ignoring my annoyance, he asked. “How many more secrets are you keeping from me.”

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