I swallowed a denial, realizing that Trace had never told her the truth about our engagement. He didn’t love me, but he did care. “He’s an intense man,” I answered noncommittally.
Nora sniffled. “Sometimes those are the best kind. I’ve buried two husbands now. And I know the difference between a good and a bad relationship.”
“Did Trace set up this meeting?” I was pretty convinced that Nora being here was more than a coincidence.
“Yes. He didn’t like it, but he agreed that you should know the truth.”
“The truth shall set you free,” I murmured, doubting how right that biblical quote was in my situation. “I’m glad you told me.”
I stood up and placed her hand gently back on her thigh.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered again.
I looked down at her and realized she was just as much a victim as I had been. Though her motivation was skewed, she’d been trying to right her wrongs. She didn’t have to be here telling me the truth. She could have been in denial for the rest of her life, letting me forever take the blame in her mind. It would have been easier, and kinder to her psyche.
“It’s okay,” I told her softly. “I survived.”
“You should have had so much more than survival.”
I picked up my mother’s journal, knowing I had to read it. “I did. I had my father for fourteen years. He was more than enough.”
“You really loved him,” Mrs. Mitchell stated.
I nodded. “I really did. Thank you for telling me the truth.”
“I’d like to be part of your life someday, Evangelina. You’ve grown into an amazing woman.”
At one time, I would have given anything to hear that from family. Now, my mind was cluttered with information, and I was still trying to process the details I’d been given. “I need time to think.”
The older woman nodded her head once. “Of course. Call me after you’ve had time to think it over. I’ll understand if you don’t.” She nodded her head at my mother’s journal. “It’s going to be hard to read. She was very angry.”
I walked to the door and twisted the handle. “It’s nothing I’m not used to,” I informed her, then walked out the door.
Trace was there to support me, his arm around my waist. “Are you okay?”
His expression was unreadable, but I knew he was asking if I could accept what I’d just been told. “I don’t know.”
Escorting me to the elevator, he didn’t say a word to me or anyone else on the way out.
I waited until the elevator doors closed us in alone before I hurled myself into his arms and cried.
Chapter Fourteen
Eva
I started to panic as the door slowly began to close, the bars appearing in front of my face before the door completely shut and locked me in with a loud bang. The finality of the sound echoed the resignation in my soul.
I was going to spend years in this place, pay for a crime I never would have committed.
Heart racing, I tried to stifle my hysteria as I lifted my hands and grasped the bars.
I didn’t do this!
I need to get out!
I didn’t belong here, but fairness had no place in my fate.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t been here before. I’d had to be locked up to await my trial. But this was different. I was no longer waiting for release because I’d been found innocent.
I’d been found guilty, and sentenced to four years. How in the hell had this happened?
Terror gripped me with clammy hands, and a chill ran down my spine.
I wasn’t getting out.
I wasn’t getting out for a very long time.
My situation was surreal, but the reality was sinking in fast.
“I didn’t do it,” I whispered frantically to myself, but words were futile. There hadn’t been a single person who’d believed I was innocent. From now on, even when I got out, I’d be a convicted felon.
“No. Please. I didn’t do it.” My voice got louder, more hysterical.
Sobs of desperation escaped my mouth, and I slid down to my knees, my hands sliding down the bars, feeling hopeless.
“No! No! No!” I screamed, hoping somebody would listen, that somebody might care. “Noooooo!”
“Eva!” A stern, masculine voice pierced my foggy, panicked brain.
“Trace?” Tears were flowing down my face and my body was trembling as I sat up in bed.
“Jesus! I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up.” He wrapped his arms around my naked body.
A dream. It was just a dream. I was out of prison, and Traced believed I was innocent. In fact, he’d proved it.
I relaxed into his body, still a little confused in the dark bedroom, although I knew that we were in his bed. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled against his naked chest.