Jacqueline C. Thomas - Romance Novelist

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Something Really Special

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Where greasy burgers are eaten, and broken hearts mend.

This time last year I was finishing up writing a new romance novel. With the wave of the #MeToo movement I really began to think about the knight on the white horse trope. In fact, I even wrote an earlier blog post about it, asking who sits on the white horse and preforms the rescue in the era of #MeToo. I consider myself a feminist . “In real life” I am not one for a man to swoop in and rescue me. However, I am a pushover for the concept in a romance novel. Irony, I know. So I began to think what a book would look like where rather than one person rescuing another, what if the love interests rescued each other?

So I began to write a novel unlike any other I’d ever written before. This novel featured two people deep in their own struggles. It was a challenge to write because how was I supposed to make two people so damaged, yet ready to fall in love? This book stretched me as a writer. I was instantly invested in this book as I began to write, due to the characters, they’re raw, hurting, and honest.

I put the book away for almost a year before I read through it for the first time, and I have to say, the ending of this book knocks me off of my feet every time. I ADORE the ending to this book. Authors are constantly told to write the book they’d want to read. Man, this book is one I wouldn’t be able to put down, and I haven’t been able to put it down the few times I’ve read through it.

With the mediocre sales of Quarantine Stories, I decided to put out a full novel to self-publish on Amazon. I knew that a short story collection would always be a hard sell. I don’t read short story anthologies, I prefer a full novel. So with that goal in mind, I did my last copy edit and developmental edit to get it ready. It was SO MUCH WORK this time around. Normally I love editing but with this book, it was a heavy lift. I don’t know if it took more time because I really felt that I owed to the characters to get it right, or the fact that I copy edited and developmentally edited at the same time, but it was a lot of work.

Last night I finished this mammoth rewrite/ edit and I walked away from my computer completely in awe of the story. I love that these two “broken” characters find hope in each other! It’s gorgeous, guys.

So here’s the special part. Today I had to leave the house to run a few errands. This is a big deal because no one on my house goes out these days with Covid being so bad in our area. I ran my errands and picked up lunch to go. As I walked back to my car with my lunch in my hand, I thought I’d take it up to the lake front (Lake Michigan) to eat it in my car. My normal parking spot wasn’t going to work today so I set off West down the coast. As I drove, I remembered there are two significant scenes that take place where I was driving to. I had not planned it at all! As I drove I smiled thinking of the two characters in my footsteps, or me in theirs. I pulled up to the lake front and ate my lunch where they ate theirs. And so here is the really crazy part, as I was sitting there eating my lunch the song If I Say by Mumford and Sons came on the radio. I listened to this album as I originally wrote the book. That song is my characters song! I didn’t take it as a sign or weird woo-woo. I simply enjoyed the moment, and to be able to do that these days is something really special.

In closing, I am happy where I am in my writing journey, and excited for the future. The plan is to most likely self-publish this still unnamed manuscript. That being said, I also have a full manuscript out to an agent so that may throw everything happily up into the air. I will keep you all posted and hopefully come up with a title for this special book soon.

My First Publish Book Coming Soon

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The Journey to Print is LONG

I told myself when I finished Grad school, I’d have all the time in the world to write. Little did I know that the entire world would be in a state of chaos in the spring. In the meantime I was furloughed from work and I struggled just to have the drive to finish publishing Quarantine stories. Then I was called back to work, and I truly didn’t have time to write. Still I continued to write on, publishing stories as they came along. Meanwhile, I’d push the stories out to social media to promote them when I published.

I started writing them in early April at the beginning of the lockdown and I was surprised at the response I got from them. I pushed myself to keep writing through one of the most difficult times of my life. My husband also really encouraged me, and by encouraged I mean handed me my laptop and coffee, saying I couldn’t come out of my room until the story was finished. He’s an excellent cheerleader and I’m grateful for him.

Meanwhile I continued to publish these small love stories. To me, they seemed like a small piece of love and hope in a world that has become scary and uncertain. Creating moments of love, connections to one another, and hope for the future seemed like a small way I could help during this difficult time. Now, please don’t understand my intent here, I know I am not a best selling author (yet, hopefully) so my Quarantine Stories haven’t had a massive reach. Yet, as I published I got feedback from complete strangers that they loved the stories, or it brought them hope.

Around the time I published my fifteenth story, I started to get messages on social media from fellow authors and readers suggesting that I put the collection into an eBook and self-publish. I had not initially been open to the idea because I had read that unless your sales are wildly successful that self-publishing actually hurt your chances of publishing via a traditional route. I’ve been seeking representation for some time now, and have even had a few bites on the Twitter pitch contests, but I haven’t grabbed that brass ring of signing with an agent yet.

I was discussing this with my husband again, and he turned to me and said, “Babe, you have nine novels written and they’re just sitting on your computer. Start sharing them with the world.” I knew he was right. I have been writing almost nonstop since I wrote my first novel four years ago. I didn’t know where to start, and he suggested Qurantine Stories. I felt so stupid, so many people had told me to put them into a book too, but suddenly it clicked.

I am very lucky to have such wonderful resources in Twitter’s #WritingCommunity who offered excellent advice, and family that has been down the self publishing route. My husband just published his first book, called Adventures in Anglotopa. We’ve also published several smaller guidebooks over the years for our business Anglotopia. Yet, through all of this self publishing, I never thought to publish my fiction on my own.

Having made a career marketing and PR, I know how to market a product. I now have to make a marketing plan for my own book, and a cover, and typeset of a book. SO MANY Decisions! I also realized that why would anyone want to buy a book that is essentially published online for free? I knew that I did not want to pull the stories down off of the website either. The more I thought about it, it became clearer.

Quarantine Stories- the book, will have five or so additional quarantine stories that are not published on the website. Furthermore the published stories will have additional pieces to them, in the book, that aren’t on the website. This seemed simple enough, but let me tell you, this has been a mammoth undertaking.

So as I type this today, I am finishing up my first full edit through before the manuscript goes to my supremely talented copyeditor. From there I’ll take the next step towards design, then a full marketing plan and onward after that. Like anyone putting out any creative endeavor out into the world, I hope it’s successful. Wish me luck!

Make sure to sign up in the box below to be the first to know when the book is available for purchase and all of the steps along the way to publishing.

Quarantine Stories 2: Ally & Lex

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“So you’re staying here then,” Ally asked?

“Yeah, I guess, better than going back to my place. If I have to spend the next God knows how long listening to my upstairs neighbor practice for whatever theatre show she’s hoping to be in, I’m going to blow my brains out.” Lex made a gun gesture, pointing it to his head.

“Alright but you get the couch.”

“The couch? Ouch.”

The silence between them lingered a second longer than was comfortable.

Allie threw a couch pillow at Lex and giggled. He loved it when she smiled, and her laugh melted his heart. He wondered how he was going to quarantine with a woman he was madly in love with, as he deflected the flying pillow coming towards him.

“I’ll grab blankets and clear some space for you so you can unpack your bag. I’ll set it in my room for now.” Allie got up and walked into her bedroom to fetch blankets.

Lex picked up the pillow and silently screamed into it silently. Ugh, why can’t I just grow a pair, and tell her? I love you, Allie, see simple. Ahhhhh, he thought to himself. He pulled the pillow quickly as he heard her footsteps reapproach.

“You know, I’m kind of glad you came to stay. Who knows how long this is going to last. I don’t think we’ve spent more than two days apart since we met,” Allie said as she set the blankets on the coffee table and began to make the couch into a bed. ” We both know we would have gone crazy not being able to hang out. I don’t know what…” she trailed off.

“What don’t you know,” he asked?

“Nothing, nevermind. Here you are.” Allie gestured to the makeshift bed on the couch. “I’m going to turn in.” Allie stood, tucking a long, brown, curly lock behind her ear.

Lex couldn’t be sure, but he felt that she had lingered a moment longer than was normal. Is she sending me signals here and I keep missing it? Dude this is Allie, your best friend, he thought to himself. Allie took a step towards him and wrapped her arms around him, he embraced her. Before she let go, she placed a quick kiss on his cheek. Her lips on his skin felt like an electrical current through his body.

“I’m really glad you decided to stay. Good night Lex,” Allie said still standing in his arms. She pulled away and walked into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Lex took off his sweatshirt pants and socks, staying in his boxers and t-shirt. He had spent plenty of nights on Allie’s couch, through illness and break-ups. Lex climbed into the bed on the couch and stared up at the ceiling, the yellow street lamp cast a warm glow through the living room. It made him crazy that just on the other side of the door Allie laid in bed alone. He wanted to hold her in his arms and listen to her breathe softly.

Lex thought back to the night Allie had literally stumbled into his life. She tripped and fell off of the last step of the large porch at a college party. He had helped her to her feet, as Allie looked up to say thank you, she vomited all over him. Despite that, he helped her back to her dorm and left her with her mousey roommate, Ellen. Allie had utterly forgotten about Lex until she sat next to him in a public speaking course two days later. Lex had been cool about it and laughed it off. From that point on, the two of them had been inseparable but only as friends, nothing more. Both of them had been okay with that arrangement until recently. Lex found his feelings had grown into something more, but he was terrified to tell Allie. He worried about what would happen if she felt differently.

After graduation, Allie took a job in Seattle and Lex followed her. His parents died in a car accident during his senior year. As an only child, he was left without a family so, she became his family. Allie promised to stay in his life. They had spent their twenties building careers, and their friendship had been enough for both of them. Sure, there had been romantic relationships for both of them, but the relationships never lasted.

Lex finally fell asleep on the couch in the early hours of the morning. He woke to the smell of brewing coffee and the smell of Allie’s shampoo. He opened his eyes, registering it was morning but, he was still tired from the lack of a full night’s sleep.

“Here, coffee.” Allie held out a cup for him.

He propped up and grabbed the hot mug of coffee.

“Thanks.” he mumbled groggily.

“So how do you want to do this? I know we both have to work. I can take the bedroom, and you can use the kitchen table or the desk over there? I know you have to work too. I have a conference call here in a few minutes. Then maybe we can do lunch together? I have a veggie curry that I have been dying to make.”

Lex sat there not quite awake. “It’s your call. I mean put me where you want me. That sounds yummy. Lunch at noon then?”

“Sounds like a plan. Do you have any calls for work? Open plan living is great until it isn’t. Must remember this for the next place, it must be quarantine approved.” Allie joked.

Without thinking Lex reached up and grabbed her hand gently. She looked down at him.

“Thanks again for letting me quarantine with you,” he said.

Allie’s thumb rubbed over the back of his hand, it was a slight gesture but on that his body registered.

“Of course.”

She let go of his hand and turned back towards the kitchen. If he had not known her better, he could’ve sworn he saw a hint of embarrassment on her face. He shrugged it off, and picked up his phone and saw he didn’t have to start work for an hour.

“Why do you start out here? I’m going to grab a shower and then I can log-on to work from the bedroom if that’s cool,” Lex asked as before he took a sip of the hot coffee.

“That will work.”

Lex stood up and set the coffee down on the tabe. He began to fold up the blankets from the bed on the couch when he noticed Allie staring at him.

“Just leave’em. There’s no use in putting it all away, unless you really want to.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to leave a mess in your livingroom.”

“You mean your, bedroom.” Allie smiled.

He smiled back as he made his way to the master bathroom; the other bathroom in the apartment was only a powder room. He shut Allie’s bedroom door and walked into her bathroom. Turning on the water, he held out his hand to test the temperature. There was something so intimate about being her private space that Lex tried to push out of his head as he washed. He stepped out of the shower and dried himself, hanging the towel on the back of the bathroom door. She had left his bag just inside the door of her room, so it wasn’t in the way. He stepped into the bedroom to see Allie standing in the bedroom with tears in her eyes and a look of surprise on her face.

“Oh sorry, I thought you were still in the shower,” she said as she turned around quickly.

They had been close enough to see each other in various states of undress, but neither had seen each other completely naked until now. Lex darted back behind the bathroom door and grabbed the towel from the back, pulling it around his waist before he reemerged. In that quick moment, Allie had made her way out of the bedroom. He dug a t-shirt out from the top of his bag, a pair of boxers and a pair of jeans, and threw them on quickly. Lex walked out into the open-plan living, dining, kitchen area. Allie stood at the kitchen counter with her back to him.

He walked up to her softly asking, “Hey Al, are you okay?”

She turned to look at him, his initial read of her face correct. She wiped a tear from her cheek. “Sorry I thought you were still in the shower. I was looking for the employee handbook for my company. I’ve been fired. No warning, just done. Four years with them, and now I’m out on my ass. Lex, what am I going to to do?’

“It will be okay. You’re a brilliant grant writer and if this whole quarantine and economic depression are going to be as bad as they’re saying, babe, your brilliance is going to be in high demand. We’ll get through this together.”

Allie turned and hugged him tightly. There was something different about this hug than the many others they had shared before, although Lex couldn’t put his finger on it. He held her as she cried, reassuring her again that everything would be alright. She stayed tightly cradled in his arms.

“Al, your my best friend, I’ve got you, if you need it. You will land on your feet, I know you will.”

“Thanks but, Lex you’ve got responsibilities too. You cannot support me.”

“Al, my parents left me a mountain of money.”

“No! No way are you spending your inheritance to support me! No way, I mean it!”

“I make enough from my job alone to support both of us. Look at me,” he tipped her chin up, something he had never done before as he still held her in his arms. Her teary blue eyes and soft pink lips took his next statement out of his mind. All he could focus on were those eyes. Without warning, she leant up and kissed him. A real kiss, her tongue brushing over his lips gently.

He felt her push out of his arms as she backed away.

“I.. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that…” she said embarassed.

Lex stepped forward and pulled her back into his arm, this time kissing her. He searched her body for any sign of resistance but found none. In fact the deeper he kissed her, the more her body seemed to melt into his. Breathless, they stepped away from each other.

“Woah where did that come from,” Allie asked with an embarrassed smile on her face.

Panicked that he had misread the situation he wasn’t sure what to say.

“I.. Al.. I.. Are you mad?”

She tucked a curl behind her ear as she stared at him.

“What was that,” she asked?

Tell her you coward, tell her you love her, his inner voice screamed.

“It was.. Why?” his replied, not making sense.

“Because baby this changes everything,” Allie said as she wiped a new tear from her cheek. “I’ve wanted you to do that for so long.”

Without waiting for her next word he pulled her back into his embrace and kissed her again like he had crossed the desert and her mouth was a cool spring. Almost fifteen years of pent up passion lived behind their lips. He never wanted to stop kissing Allie, ever again but he knew he had to tell her. He stopped and pulled his lips away from hers, still keeping her in his arms.

“I love you Allie Brookman. I have for so long. We don’t know what the future holds with this quarantine, but I am by your side. Where you go I go. I love you.”

Her face lit up as she smiled at him, her smile sly with a hint of mischief. He looked at her quizzically.

“I love you to Lex. This quarantine is going to be fun. Come on,” she said as she grabbed his hand leading him into her bedroom.

If you liked this story, check out the Quarantine Stories book with 5 never before published stories.

A Spot for Inspiration

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A roadside seafood restaurant in Malibu.

I was walking on the shore just two short weeks ago along the Malibu coast in California, at my happiest to be in such a gorgeous place. As I walked, the surf tickling my toes, and the waves crashed on the rocks, I glanced over at the large beach homes that hugged the coast. I was struck with a spark, an idea…inspiration. An idea came to me for a book, a really good idea. I’ve been thinking about the idea ever since, but the idea of inspiration and place has also been on my mind.

Meanwhile, I have made what feels, like a massive career transition within those past two weeks as well. I left my former job and took a job in Chicago. I don’t live in the city, I reside within the commuter-belt, albeit a very far edge. So last week, I grabbed my high heels and stepped into my new life, doing a job that I have worked an entire career to get to. I won’t lie, it feels good, no great, to be here. I also know that although I have “made it” to this level, my work must be worthy for now and for forwarding advancement.

As exciting as this transition is, my new opportunity has put back downtown Chicago again. Chicago is my home city. When I travel the world and people ask me where I am from, I reply, “I’m from Chicago,” even though I don’t actually reside within the city. The first day as I stepped off of the commuter train, out of the station,  and out onto the street, I thought about all of those who came before me and all of those who will come after me. Then I thought about my characters, doing the same thing I am doing, going about their daily lives in this amazing city.

So much of my work is set in Chicago, because it is the city that I love, and it is the city that I know. As I was walking to catch the train home yesterday, I walked in the exact footsteps where Ben and Rachel from McKinley Park had their first date. I imagined them walking under the EL on the hot summer night. I couldn’t help but smile, genuinely smile. I am sure the others on the street if they even noticed wondered why this crazy woman wore a big smile but I didn’t care. As I walked further, my newest book has a scene set in the State Street Macy’s, I thought of the two characters as I walked past. Chicago is a rich setting, and I think it is why I use it so much in my work.

I am a firm believer that place directly impacts not just where a story is set but the writer too. I remarked to my husband while we were in LA a few weeks ago, that one would almost have to reside in LA for an extended period of time to accurately write the area. Sure writing a trope of LA is easy, but if you really wanted to richly set a work there… In my opinion, you’d have to go there and stay for some time. For reference, when I mean LA, I am talking about the greater LA area. It is so vastly different from the coast, to Anaheim, to Santa Anna and into the mountains, you’d have to be there to accurately describe the setting.

This past fall I took a trip for a long girls weekend down to New Orleans. At the time I was reading the book Fat Tuesday by Sandra Brown, which is set there. I picked up the book before I travelled thinking it would be interesting to read a book about a place I had never been and was soon to travel to. The experience of reading a book set in downtown New Orleans, while walking the streets the characters had, was a decadent experience. There was so much more to see, hear, smell, taste that added a rich velvety layer of complexity to Brown’s story. Granted I can’t travel to every book setting but the experience stuck with me.

When I first started writing romance, then reading it – yeah I know I got that backwards, but it’s the way it happened, I read a series by Christine Feehan. The setting for some of the stories were set in the bayous and swamps in Lousiana, as a home base for the characters. I read an interview with her about her research for the books, and she talked about spending time there for the purposes of book research. She discussed how the beauty of place resonated with her. When I read her books set in the bayou, they felt detailed in a way that you know she had been there. She describes place so well, and I would argue that the place in itself was an inspiration and a character in the series.

The more I write the more I learn. It used to annoy me to no end when writers would drone on about “the process.” I naively thought to myself, just sit down and write. How time has a way of teaching each of us. Place is important, whether reading or writing, it matters. I get it now. I am grateful to walk in the setting of my own work every day now.

The Importance of Place

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I’ve been thinking about this blog post for a while now, the concept of place and how it relates to a story. I knew I wanted to write this post, but I wasn’t quite sure how to go about it, then something truly unique happened. Over the summer I picked up a copy of Sandra Brown’s novel Fat Tuesday. Sandra Brown is romance writing royalty in my opinion and a New York Times bestseller, clearly, she knows what she’s doing. The story is set in New Orleans, somewhere I had never been.

In full disclosure I had started reading the book and set it aside for a while, not finishing it. I picked it back up, my interest reinvigorated when I booked a trip to celebrate my sister’s birthday in The Big Easy. New Orleans where the book takes place, and I would argue the city and the Delta is as much of a character as the actual characters. As I walked the streets of New Orleans, I could see scenes play out from Brown’s novel. From the Garden District to the French Quater, I was walking in the footsteps of Brown’s characters. It was an amazing experience, truly immersive!

When I think of place and setting I also think of Stephen King, and his affinity for setting books in Maine. Before I began to write I had always thought it was strange that he set his books in the same state.  Then I read the Ghostwalker series by Christine Feehan, and much of that is set outside of New Orleans, in the swamps. Reflecting on place, I find it interesting how much where you set your novel really does matter. It’s more than a geographic place on a map, it’s culture, weather, personality and so much more.

Most of my work is set in Chicago because it is my home and the city that I love. It is said to write what you know, and I know my hometown. Recently I was having a conversation and the person remarked that Chicago as a city didn’t really have a soul, meaning it didn’t have a feeling of uniqueness. After I picked my jaw up of off the ground, I made the stern argument that Chicago has a great soul. I have tried so hard to capture it in my work.

I have also set work outside of Chicago, one in Half Moon Bay, California, and the other in New York City. In every romance novel, I have written, I have strived to capture the feeling of where the story is set. I find that it enhances the story so much more. My take away from my experience reading Brown’s book in New Orleans was just how much place matters. As I walked the streets of New Orleans, I felt like I was one of the characters in the book. It made me wonder if Brown was from New Orleans as she had captured the spirit of the city so well.

Before I wrote this post, I did a little research, Brown is not from New Orleans, not that one has to be from a specific city to set a work there. I would have thought she was a native. I remember reading somewhere about Christine Feehan and how she would spend months down in southern Lousiana researching the swamps and the bayous and it makes me wonder about setting works in places I’ve never been. As an unpublished author at this point, taking a trip to somewhere a book is set for research purposes seems indulgent to me. I am not a New York Times Bestseller, well at least not yet. (Fingers crossed that I will be someday.)

For the works that I’ve written that aren’t set in places I’ve actually been too, this experience has made me wonder how much better the work could be if I actually went to these places and then in the next edits, put authentic details in. In today’s day and age, with the internet and Google maps, I think it is easy enough to get a decent idea of a city, at least geographically. While I was down in New Orleans, I did a bike tour where our tour guide was an author as well. He talked about how the city was like magic for artistic types, including authors. As we walked through the quieter parts of the French Quarter, I had the thought experiment of being able to travel back to NOLA to set a book there. I would rent a small, furnished apartment with a balcony and try to capture the feeling of the city. It’s a nice thought, isn’t it?

so as I grow as an author and I learn new things, this lesson has been solidified for me, place matters! Go visit, eat the food, be amongst the locals if you can. Capturing the spirit of a place adds dimension and texture to your work. Hmmm, now to think about setting a romance in the Big Easy….

 

What do you think about setting and place? Does it add more to the story, let me know in the comments below. Bonus points if you want to share a novel that has done it particularly well.

McKinley Park Chapter 20

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Rachel’s boys loved that Ben dropped them off for school. They were especially excited at the prospect of riding in his unmarked squad car. Their excitement was quickly dashed, when Ben told them Marty had his car and they’d be going in Rachel’s van. On the ride home, he called Marty, who was less than thrilled about Ben’s absence for the day but understood the magnitude of what was happening. Ben pulled into the driveway, promising himself that he and Rachel would be car shopping before the end of the week. He wanted to drive that van, off a cliff.

He walked into the house and found Rachel sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. There was a box of tissues on the table, her eyes puffy and red from crying.  Ben came and sat down next to her. He pulled her closer to him, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“The boys are safely deposited at school. What do you say, we go back upstairs and get some rest? Do you think you could sleep for a bit?”

“Ben, I have to show you something.” She looked him in the eye as she said it.

“Okay.” He said nervously.

She stood up and walked around to the other side of him where there was more room in the small kitchen. She turned her back to him and let her robe drop to the floor. She reached behind her and slowly pulled up her nightgown. Ben thought he was going to vomit; he had seen those marks before. There had to be at least a dozen burnt-in brands on the back of her upper thighs and butt. Rachel held her nightgown up but said nothing. They were the same brands on all of the victims of the South Side Strangler.

“Rachel,” he tried to say as calmly as he could, “you have to tell me where got those burns?”

Ben stood up and slowly walked around to face Rachel.

“Derrik Hall, he’s the friend of Rhett’s that I was talking about last night. He is the devil, Ben. He did this, Rhett sat there and watched him do this.” Rachel sobbed. “This is why I don’t like to have the lights on; I didn’t want anyone to know.”

Ben wrapped his arms tightly around her as she slowly moved to the kitchen floor. She was so upset she couldn’t stand. He helped her down as she sat on the floor and cried. Ben knew Derrik Hall had to be the name of the perp. He needed to know more, but Rachel was so fragile. He held her and stayed quiet as long as he could.

“Rachel, honey, what does Derrik look like?”

“What? Why do you want to know what he looks like? How that important in any way?”

“I have seen that brand before. Rachel, what does he look like? Honey, this is important.”

“He works with Rhett. He is our age. Maybe a little over six feet tall, white, thin.”

“What color is his hair?”

“It is dark blonde.”

Ben thought he was going to vomit again. He stood up and pulled out his phone. As it rang, Rachel stood, alarmed.

“Ben, no, you promised, you can’t tell anyone! No please.”

Ben pulled the phone away from his ear.

“Rachel, the man that has been leaving dead women all of over the city has been branding them with the same brand in the same spot. I would know it anywhere.”

The phone continued to ring. Ben put it on speakerphone as he searched through his photos for the artist rendering of the suspect.

“Is this him?”

Ben knew by the look on her face that it was. The call went to voicemail.

“Ben I don’t want to be involved in this, I don’t want my boys to know. Please.”

Ben redialed Marty’s cell. It rang two times before he picked up.

“Hey man, I’m in the evidence locker, can I call you right back?”

“The guy’s name is Derrik Hall. He works with Rhett Lawson.”

“What? What guy?”

“The guy, our guy!”

“Wait, how do you know this? It is a long story. I have a positive i.d. from one of his victims.”

“Who are you interview…” Marty stopped mid-sentence. “Rachel?”

“Yes.”

“Holy shit! We got him! Are you coming in for the collar?”

“No, I need to be here. Call me when you have him.”

Rachel got up and walked out of the room as Ben finished his conversation as quickly as he could.  Marty would keep him informed of any updates. He climbed the stairs, knowing Rachel was in bad shape. He walked into the bedroom and saw her curled up on the bed.  She looked so small and fragile in the bed by herself; it broke his heart. Ben walked around the bed and knelt down beside her.

“Rachel, honey. I am sorry I had to call it in. I know how hard this was for you. You have saved a lot of lives this morning and gave justice to others that weren’t so lucky. Can you tell me how and when this happened? Please, it is really important.”

Ben noticed she had begun to tremble from the adrenaline of reliving the trauma. He stroked the side of her face.

“Honey, look at me, you are safe. I promise nothing will hurt you anymore. I think you are the strongest woman I have ever met.”

“Will you lay next to me?”

Ben kissed her cheek and came around and got in bed next to her. He thought she would roll over, but she didn’t.

“I want you to hold me from behind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I don’t want that to be taken away from me anymore. This has taken away enough in my life.”

Ben scooted up behind her but didn’t press his body against hers; he wanted his touch to be gentle. He draped his arm over her but did not hold her tightly. He felt her body tense.

“I love you and am so incredibly proud of you.” He said softly.

She laid like that as long as her body would allow until she rolled over to face him. She took a deep breath.

“I am going to try to tell you the whole story. I am not sure if I can, I’ve never told anyone all of it.” She reached for Ben’s hand, and he grabbed it gently.

“After the first time with Derrik, I wanted to leave Rhett. I didn’t know what to do. I had pushed everyone away by that point.  My own parent’s wanted me to leave Rhett; when I refused, they stopped speaking to me. They didn’t know about the abuse; they just knew I wasn’t myself. Even my relationship with Becky was strained.  I didn’t have anyone to turn to, so I went to Rhett’s mother again. She called me a dirty whore and told me to get out of her house. She thought I was having an affair, and making up some wild story to cover my tracks.

After that first time, Rhett was different. He was happy like I said, he was the man I had married. It lasted for about six months. I was dumb enough to think it would last. I was very careful not to drink and to stay aware, even though things were back to normal, part of me knew. I was so stupid. Derrik came back at; first, he just hung around the house with Rhett after work and on weekends. I told Rhett I didn’t want him in our home, Rhett ignored me.

One evening I came home from shopping. I had left the boys with Rhett for the afternoon. When I got home, he told me his mom had the kids. I knew something wasn’t right; my mother-in-law never looked after my kids. When I saw Derrik walk out of our kitchen, it sunk in, what Rhett had planned.  I never consented, I fought him. Rhett just walked out of the room.” Rachel sobbed. “ I just couldn’t understand how my husband, the man I loved, who I had children with, could be okay with all of it. The next day when I went to pick up the kids, I talked to Rhett’s father. I needed help; I wanted my marriage to work for the boys’ sake. I told him I was going to have to leave if it didn’t stop and he promised me that things would get better. Andrew was always a stern man; I believed him. He talked to Rhett, and it stopped completely, but Rhett was so unhappy and violent.

One night Rhett sat me down and told me he needed me to be with Derrik. He said he could limit to maybe once or twice a year, as messed up as it sounds, Rhett spun it as if it was just sex I… Derek was a very violent man. I imagine it would be what having sex with the devil would be like.  I thought Rhett was nuts, we both were, but I still felt that we could fix our marriage. I was so delusional. The last time Derrik came by I ended up with some of these. I didn’t scream; I didn’t want to wake the boys. I remember thinking, that it could not last forever by Monday, they would both be at work, and I would take the boys and disappear, start a new life.

The day I tried to leave, we got into the car, Tommy was three. I had Evan in his car seat, and as I loaded the car, Tommy vomited everywhere. He came down with a bug. I brought both boys in and cleaned Tommy up, but it was clear that I was going to have to leave the next day. That night, Rhett brought Derrik home with him again, I fought. I screamed, I knew I would wake the boys, but I also knew I couldn’t live through that again. A neighbor heard me screaming and called the police.  I was so beat up that the cop wrote it as domestic assault. He took Rhett to jail. I kept trying to explain that there was another man in the house, but the cop didn’t believe me. Rhett told the police I was crazy and they believed him. They searched the house but didn’t find Derek. The police said I was confused. When he took Rhett, he left Derek hiding in the house. That night I thought I was going to die, I learned Rhett had kept Derek in check.

The next morning Andrew brought Rhett home. He found Derek in the house and put an end to it. I was so out of it; I don’t remember a whole lot of it. I complied because I was terrified for the boys. Andrew had a doctor come to the house for me. Andrew came over a few days later and told me if I stayed with Rhett, that we would never see Derek again. I didn’t believe him this time. I tried to leave twice after that; Andrew found me each time. Rhett didn’t seem to care about our marriage until I disappeared. He didn’t want to be married to me if I wasn’t willing to do what he wanted.

I turned up pregnant with Luke, and Rhett didn’t want him. He thought Luke was Derek’s son. I honestly can’t say.”

Ben was speechless. He pulled her in closer as tears ran down his cheeks.

“I left a month after Luke was born. I went to Becky and told her that Rhett had been hitting me. She and her husband, Jack, me get out. By that time, I made a will and wrote down all of the abuse and put it in a safety deposit box. I wanted Becky to have the boys if something happened to me. Andrew tried to scare me, but at that point, I didn’t scare so easily. I had looked into the eyes of the devil. I knew if Andrew killed me, my boys would be safe away from Rhett. “

Ben held Rachel in bed. Neither of them said anything for a while; the noise of their breathing was the only sound that filled the sunny bedroom. Rachel propped herself up and turned to look at Ben.

“Ben, I  know this is a lot. If you don’t…”

Ben sat up before she finished.

“Do not even finish that sentence. Rachel, I love you, there is nothing that would change that. I think I love you more today than I did yesterday, and I will love you more tomorrow… We can’t change what happened to us in our past, but we choose how our future goes. Look at you, raising your three boys; you are a fantastic mother to them. Rachel, I think you are the strongest woman I have ever met.”

Ben leaned in and kissed her on the lips softly. He pulled away and caressed her cheek. She grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss into his palm.

“Do you remember you once asked me why I became a detective?”

Rachel nodded.

“I didn’t give you the full answer to that question at the time, because it didn’t feel appropriate. My mother is the reason I became a detective. She was attacked one night coming home from the grocery store. I was little, maybe seven. She was alone, and a man grabbed her. My dad couldn’t handle it, and it made him crazy that someone had hurt her. You know, I am sure she hurt, but she never showed it to me or my older brother Joel. You remind me a lot of her. That is why I became a detective, to get guys like Derek and the guy who attacked my mom off of the street.”

“Ben, I don’t know what to say.”

Ben grabbed Rachel’s hand and brought it close to him.

“You remind me a lot of her, your strength, how you are with the boys. I hope that doesn’t sound weird.”

“Not at all. Can I ask a question?”

“Sure.”

“About your mom?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know about it? It isn’t exactly an open topic of conversation for most families.”

“Well, I remember a lot of it, even for being so young. I didn’t know the details until I was much older. My older brother Joel and I went to the library and thumbed through old copies of the newspaper. We found the story. I mean we had always known something bad had happened, but we didn’t know the details. I remember sitting in the old dusty basement of the library looking at pictures of my mother’s swollen face in the paper. I was so angry. I ripped the page out of the newspaper book and took off with it. I didn’t want anyone to see her like that. She was my mom. It took me three years to get the courage to finally ask her about it.”

“How did that go? I dread that conversation with my boys.”

“She was surprisingly open about it. She just said that bad things happen in life sometimes, things we can’t predict or change. It is our job to watch out for each other and the ones we love. When bad things do happen, that we focus on what is important and hold onto that tight. My brothers and I are what she held onto. From that day on, I knew what I wanted to do; I wanted to be a police officer. I wanted to help women like my mother.”

Rachel wiped a tear from Ben’s cheek and then her own.

“I want to hold onto you, Ben.”

She reached over and wrapped her arms around him, and he reached his around her. She leaned into him as he kissed the top of her head.