Page 4 of Tangled Memories

Standing in front of the fridge, deciding what she wanted, pouring the milk, stirring in the chocolate, rummaging for the marshmallows, popping the cup into the microwave—all were ordinary activities that had been denied to her for eleven months. Even being up at two in the morning was a luxury she would never again take for granted.

She wanted to forget prison, to erase the humiliation she had suffered. But her brain rolled the memories before her mind’s eye, and she was helpless to stop them.

There had been rules and harsh penalties when the rules were broken. Every single moment of an inmate’s day and night had to be accounted for. One rose early, made one’s bed to precise specifications, then stood in line to be counted for bed checks, meals, and showers.Oh.Showers.Just an open room, concrete floors, a half-dozen women or more, all naked. At first, she cringed against the wall until someone passing behind her slapped her on her fanny.Fight?No way. From then on, she faced outward, defiant, ignoring the taunts of inmates and guards alike.

Then there were the strip searches. The ultimate in humiliation. And when her period came, she had to ask a guard for each and every sanitary napkin. Since prisons were equal-opportunity employers, the sneers and smirks of male guards often had to be endured in docile silence.

Rewards were few. An extra cup of instant coffee. The occasional cookie.

Her chocolate had grown cold, skimmed over. Stormy stared into the cup, unseeing, as she calculated what she had lost—a thriving sandwich shop on the beach, her small but lovely carriage house in the historic district. Both business and house had been sold while she was on bail awaiting trial—sold at a loss to pay the attorney fees. All for naught. She had been convicted.

She closed her eyes. While in prison, she had felt left out of life, forgotten. She wanted everything restored. Job. House. Money. Love. Motherhood. She was starving for everything in the world.Everything.

A tear rolled down her cheek and splashed into her cup. “No!” she whispered. “I won’t give in to self-pity. I won’t.”

“Won’t do what?”

Stormy turned and saw her sister. “I was just talking to myself. Couldn’t you sleep?”

“How can I with you wandering the house all night?” Nina plopped down on a stool. “Tully is furious. He needs his rest.”

Stormy shook her head. “Nina,” she said gently, “this is a big house, and it does belong to both of us.”

“What does that mean? That my husband is an outsider?”

“I only meant that Liane and I are obliged to live here until I can get on my feet again.” Stormy tried to take her sister’s hand. Nina jerked it away. Hurt, Stormy was silent as she tried to fathom her sister’s attitude. “Look,” she began, “I know it’s hard having two families under the same roof. We each need our privacy. But I’m having a bit of trouble adjusting, Nina. My whole life has crashed down.”

“Yours! What about ours? I can’t go anywhere without someone asking about you, reminding me of what you did. Tully is sure he lost that big plumbing contract because of you.”

Stormy stiffened. “Wait a minute! I didn’t rob any bank, and you know it. I simply got caught up in the wheels of the justice system when they weren’t rolling very smoothly.”

Her sister scoffed. “Who believes that?”

“Someday, I’m going to clear my name, Nina. Meanwhile, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop blaming me for Tully’s—” Stormy stopped. The long and the short of it was that Nina’s husband was fond of hatching grandiose schemes with other people’s money. He often had good ideas, but he didn’t have the patience for careful planning. He wanted to be at the top without having to work to get there.

Stormy suspected her parents had been afraid Tully Dawson would squander Nina’s inheritance; thus, they’d placed their own inheritances and carefully saved lifetime earnings in trust. The house was left to both sisters, with the stipulation that it not be sold until Nina was at least thirty-five. Meanwhile, either one or both of them could live there. The trust, which included other investments, took care of upkeep and paid each sister a small stipend each month. Stormy had signed over her stipend to Nina during her incarceration to help Nina care for Liane.

“Blame Tully for what?” Nina spewed. “The reason we can’t liquidate the estate is you. Mom and Dad were concerned you’d fritter it away. You were nothing but trouble to them. It broke their hearts when you had Liane as a single mother. I’m just glad they weren’t around to see how you really did turn out.”

Every muscle in Stormy’s body quivered. Her heart contracted in her chest, and her breath choked in her throat. “You must be turned inside out by all this to say something so cruel,” she gasped. “Nina, I can understand your being bitter—my going to prison turned all our lives topsy-turvy. But don’t you ever say mean things about Liane. Mom and Dad adored her. I won’t let you take that away from her. Or me.” Stormy stood, holding onto the tabletop for much-needed balance. “We’ll be out of this house as soon as I can find a job and an apartment.”

“Or a man?” Nina said with a sneer.

Stormy felt her stomach tighten. She wanted so much for her life to return to normal. She especially wished she could experience some sense of closeness with her younger sister. Nina must have been waiting a long time for an opportunity to erupt so viciously. And that was simply too much emotional baggage for Stormy to cope with atop all her other problems.

“One day, perhaps there will be a man in my life, but for now, a job and Liane will do.”

“No one hired you today, did they?” Nina’s expression was one of self-satisfaction as if affirming Stormy’s worthlessness to family and society.

Stormy winced. “No, but I’ll keep looking.” Brave words, Stormy thought, especially since she had discovered that finding work was not going to be as easy as she had thought. Her two interviews were disasters. What she wanted most right this minute was to lick her wounds in private. “I’m going for a walk on the beach.”

“I suppose you’ll want to leave the door unlatched so anybody can come in and murder us in our beds.”

“No,” Stormy said evenly. “I’ll take my key.”

A few minutes later, she was on the deserted shoreline, taking long strides in the wet sand while the sharp March breeze whipped open her parka. It was never pitch-dark on the beach, the golden sands seeming to cast a glow of their own.

As the salty wind rushed over her body, Stormy felt her humiliation and anger begin to fade. She walked a mile, then two, allowing her mind to empty itself. She swung her arms, taking pleasure in the rhythm of free movement, the give of the sand beneath her shoes, the rumble of waves as they rushed ashore.

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