Chapter 6 - THE TRUTH IN THE WOODS
(1,500 words)
Four months passed. Spring returned to Rhode Island.
The cherry blossoms were blooming along the streets of Providence, casting soft pink petals across the damp concrete.
I was sitting on the wooden back deck of my comfortable two-story home, wearing jeans and a soft sweater. My right leg was out of the heavy cast, resting in a light, flexible physical therapy sleeve. Beside my chair stood a pair of wooden crutches, but the doctor had told me that morning I would be walking completely unassisted within four weeks.
The physical therapy had been brutal, but my recovery was ahead of schedule.
Through my open kitchen door, I could hear Greer setting out fresh iced tea and sandwiches on the counter.
My phone chimed on the wooden patio table.
I picked it up.
The caller ID displayed an unknown number from Boston.
I hesitated for a second, then swiped the green button and placed the phone to my ear.
"Hello?" I said.
Silence hung on the line for three seconds. Then a low, raspy, hesitation-filled voice spoke through the receiver.
"Merritt?"
It was Sloan.
I didn't hang up. I sat back in my deck chair, watching a blue jay land on the wooden deck railing, keeping my breathing calm and steady.
"I'm listening, Sloan," I said softly.
Sloan let out a shuddering, ragged breath. She sounded completely stripped of her old aristocratic polish, her voice thin, raspy, and broken.
"I'm... I'm calling from my apartment," Sloan stammered. "Mom said... Mom said your lawyer delivered the final settlement papers yesterday."
"They did," I replied flatly. "Dad signed the property lien on Tuesday. The $267,000 damage settlement has been placed into an escrow account to cover my medical bills and lost earnings."
"I... I signed the apology letter, Merritt," Sloan whispered, tears leaking through her words. "The notarized one. Your lawyer has it."
I stayed silent, letting the quiet air linger between us.
"I lost everything, Merritt," Sloan sobbed out loud, her voice cracking into genuine, pathetic weeping. "Thatcher won't take my calls. His family sued us for thirty thousand dollars. I had to sell my car... I lost my job at the spa because the news about the lawsuit got out on social media... Mom and Dad had to sell the dry-cleaning business at a loss to pay off their bank credit lines..."
I listened to my younger sister describe the total, absolute collapse of her sheltered, privileged world.
"Why did you do it, Sloan?" I asked quietly, my voice free of hatred, free of anger, carrying only a deep, quiet curiosity. "Why did you push me?"
Sloan went silent on the other end of the line. For five long seconds, the only sound was her ragged, uneven breathing.
"Because..." Sloan whispered, her voice dropping so low I could barely hear her over the wind in the trees. "Because you were always real, Merritt."
I frowned slightly. "What?"
"Dad always talked about how tough you were," Sloan wept softly. "Mom always complained about your job, but whenever anything actually went wrong in the house, they looked at you to fix it. They paid for everything I wanted, but they never respected me. They treated me like a doll... and I thought... I thought if I made you look ridiculous in front of Thatcher's family, if I made everyone laugh at you... then I’d finally be the one who mattered."
I closed my eyes, taking a long, deep breath of the spring air.
"You didn't make me look ridiculous, Sloan," I said softly. "You just showed everyone who you really were."
"I know," Sloan sobbed. "God, Merritt... I know. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
"I accept your apology, Sloan," I said smoothly. "And I hope you use the rest of your life to become someone who doesn't need to hurt people to feel important. But we are done."
"Merritt, wait—"
"Goodbye, Sloan."
I tapped the red icon, ending the call, and permanently blocked her number from my phone.
Greer walked out onto the deck holding two glasses of iced tea. She set one on the table beside me and sat down in the adjoining chair.
"Was that the sister?" Greer asked softly.
"It was," I nodded, taking a sip of the cold tea. "She signed the paper. She admitted everything."
Greer looked out over the green garden, a quiet, proud smile touching her face. "And how do you feel?"
May you like
I looked down at my right leg, then stood up from the deck chair. I didn't reach for the wooden crutches. I stood tall on both feet, taking a slow, steady step forward onto the wooden planks, feeling the strength returning to my knee, feeling the warm spring sunlight on my face.
"I feel free, Greer," I smiled softly. "I feel completely free."
