Chapter 2: Along a Broken Path
"Hello, Michonne Jameson", she greeted, answering her phone.
"Mrs. Jameson, this is Spencer Monroe. I have some interesting information that I'd like to share with you. Can you meet me in an hour?"
She exhaled heavily. "Mr. Monroe, what is so interesting that you can't tell me over the phone? I am just getting ready to close up and I need to pick up my son from school."
"I'd rather not share this information over the phone, Mrs. Jameson…also, you'll want to see it," he replied.
She hesitated for a moment, "Fine, let me wrap up here and I'll be on my way."
Michonne disconnected the call and immediately called her sitter, Lydia. "Lydia," she began when the young woman answered, "I know you're not scheduled for today, but I need you to do me a huge favor. Can you pick up Kyle from preschool? I have an important meeting that just popped up."
"Sure, Michonne. I was headed that way anyway. I'd love to play with my little guy! We'll be waiting when you get home."
"Thanks, I shouldn't be long," Michonne assured her before leaving her office to asks Aaron to close up the gallery.
A little while later and Michonne entered the coffee shop. She saw Spencer Monroe sitting at one of the small tables in the corner. He gestured for her to join him when their eyes met.
"Mr. Monroe," Michonne said, removing her Burberry scarf and wool coat. "I don't have much time. What did you find out?"
He slid a large manila envelope across the table. Michonne took in a deep breath then retrieved the envelope to examine the contents.
She carefully laid out four photographs on the table, each of them showing her husband in increasingly damning sexual interactions with a petite dark-skinned woman with a sleek bob haircut. Michonne gasped as she examined the photos. She recognized the woman as one of the paralegals at Edward's firm.
"That sonofabitch," she muttered, feeling something akin to rage build up in her chest.
"Now, you see why I couldn't relay this over the phone," Spencer stated.
His voice broke her out of her murderous thoughts. "How long?" she asked.
"I was able to get into his email account. It looks like it has been going on for the past two months. I'm very sorry Mrs. Jameson. I say that a lot in my line of work, but…you truly deserve better."
He placed his hand over hers and she immediately tensed up, looking into his warm brown eyes. She hadn't really noticed how handsome he was until that moment…tall, fit, wavy brown hair. She saw pity in his eyes as he gazed at her, but also something else…adoration or lust, she couldn't put her finger on it. For a brief second, she thought about inviting Spencer Monroe to the nearest hotel and giving Edward a taste of his own medicine.
Instead, she pulled her hand away and began stuffing the photos back into the envelope. "Thank you, Mr. Monroe. Your check will be in the mail."
With that, she gathered the envelope and left.
Startled out of her sleep once again, Michonne sat up in bed. Her satin nightgown was sticking to her skin. She made a note to herself to call someone out to fix the air conditioning unit.
She glanced over at the clock and realized it was 5:30am. She had an hour before she needed to report to work. It had been a week since she started, and she liked the way things were going. The students were engaged, and she already recognized potential in a few of them.
Sure, teaching was a far cry from being an artist with a successful gallery in downtown Atlanta, but she enjoyed giving back. Most of the students at Tannon High hadn't been exposed to anything outside of their small town.
Tannon Falls was beautiful with Victorian architecture, abundant greenery and cobbled streets that transported you back to a time that had passed long ago. The focal point of the small town was its majestic collection of waterfalls that spilled into the Savannah River.
Even so, this place lacked the exotic beauty that captivated Michonne. She spent several years after college traveling to places, including Brazil, Antigua, Barbados, Thailand, Nigeria, and Haiti. She wanted her feet to touch the soil of as many places as she could manage…places she'd read about in books, seen on television. At the time, she was accompanied by her equally unorthodox boyfriend, Siddiq. His wealthy father was all too willing to foot the bill for their escapades, eager to buy his son's love. Her mother thought she was crazy to be backpacking across the globe, but Michonne had never been one to conform to other people's expectations.
Now, as she took on this new role of introducing art to young minds, she wanted to incorporate all that she had seen and learned. Hopefully, she could encourage her students to seek out all the gifts the world had to offer and translate them into beautiful creations.
She shook her head at the thought. "Who am I kidding? It's just a high school art class, Michonne. Get a grip," she mumbled to herself.
Still, she needed this to be meaningful. She needed to feel useful again. She longed to get her joy back and art had always done that for her.
Her mind suddenly wandered back to her dream. She was angry and sad thinking about how much she'd lost over the last year. She blamed Edward for breaking his vows, but she blamed herself more for allowing his indiscretions to distract her from her most important job…loving and protecting her son.
She unplugged her phone from the charger and scrolled to his name…Edward Jameson. Deciding she was in no mood to hear his voice, she typed out a message…I hope that you understand why I've been avoiding your calls. I don't feel there is anything left to be said between us. I need to move on and so do you. If you ever loved me, please grant me this one last thing. Sign the papers.
Rick was enjoying the quiet solitude of the early morning. This was always the best time for him to clear his head. This particular morning, he'd already been up for a few hours after being awakened by another nightmare. He showered, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a brown t-shirt, and eaten a plain bagel as he flipped through the news channels.
Now, he sat on one of the lounge chairs on his front porch, sipping a cup of coffee. Next door, the swinging screen door caught his attention. He looked over to see Michonne, exiting her house…juggling her purse, a mug and trying to lock the door. His eyes traveled the length of her. Her locs were flowing to the side, with gold thread woven throughout a few of them. Her exquisite curves were enveloped in a deep purple maxi dress.
Rick swallowed hard as he took her in. As hard as he tried, his eyes would not allow him to ignore her. He'd secretly watched her all this week, as she did mundane tasks around her yard, as she left for work and came home. Michonne was intriguing…mesmerizing.
She noticed him and called out to him. "Hello. You're an early riser."
He snickered. "Something like that."
She shook her head at his constant aloofness. He wasn't kidding when he said he preferred not to engage in small talk.
"Well, I hope you enjoy your day, Rick."
"You too, Michonne." He watched her as she got in her SUV and drove away.
He went back inside and placed his empty mug in the sink. He grabbed his laptop and sat at the kitchen table. He knew every time he engaged in this behavior; he was making things worse for himself. He was allowing himself to sink further into despair and be consumed with anger and regret. Nevertheless, he proceeded to open the file on his computer which held the tragic events of his past.
He clicked on an article from the King County Gazette…Local Sheriff's Deputy Injured and Daughter Killed in Devastating Car Crash, the headline read. He skimmed it, the horrible details of that day replaying in his mind.
He clicked on another…Twenty-Year-Old Man Sentenced to Five Years in Vehicular Manslaughter Case. Rick clenched his jaw, thinking about the man responsible for his daughter's death. He was furious when the sentence was handed down…five years…one for every year his precious Kaley was alive. It wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough to quell the pain, the emptiness he felt inside.
The accident caused quite a bit of controversy in King County. Many sympathized with Rick's situation. They understood his fury. After all, he had lost his wife and daughter in the span of less than two years.
On the other hand, many people knew and liked Tim. The Taylor family was well loved in their community. Several people felt Tim should have been given a lesser sentence for the accident. The emotional turmoil of taking a little girl's life was punishment enough. Rick scoffed at the idea of anyone feeling sorry for the young man. His actions that day had taken a life.
Even more infuriating, Tim Taylor had been released early, after serving only three years. He'd been a model inmate is what they said.
Rick closed the article and clicked on another folder. A picture appeared on the screen. Melanie's big green eyes were staring back at him. She had on an ugly Christmas sweater with an elf drinking a mug of hot cocoa. Her long auburn hair was in a French braid and a Santa hat sat atop her head. His eyes traveled over to Kaley, the spitting image of her mother, only smaller. She wore an equally adorable "Santa's little helper" sweater and elf ears. Rick had his arms wrapped around them both, wearing an identical sweater to Melanie and a Santa hat. They were standing in front of their Christmas tree.
Rick closed his eyes, trying to remember who had taken the picture. It was his dad, Richard. It was the year before Melanie was diagnosed with Inflammatory Breast Cancer. They'd been so happy that year. He and Melanie had come through a rough patch. She always told him that he worked too much. She accused him of being distant. He'd never been one to show his emotions, but he agreed to see a marriage counselor. Their communication was improving, and it seemed things were back on track. Then the rug was ripped from underneath him.
Rick sobbed as he ran his fingers over the image, the tears stinging his eyes. 'Rick why did you let it happen?' he heard a voice say. He wiped at the tears and looked up to see Melanie standing in front of him. She wore the same satin pink gown he had buried her in. "I'm sorry…I tried to protect her," he answered, his voice broken from despair. 'You need to finish this, Rick. Make him face what he's done.' Rick closed his eyes, desperately trying to shake away her image.
'Daddy.' He opened his eyes and stared back at Kaley. 'Daddy, why did you let me die?' He watched as a trail of blood ran down the side of her chubby cheeks. "I didn't baby," he cried. "I'm so sorry," his sobbing grew louder. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, running his hands through his hair. He shut his eyes tight. "Fuck!" he shouted, closing the laptop. He exhaled and wiped the tears from his eyes. He grabbed his keys off the hook in the kitchen and made his way out the house.
Michonne sat a table in the teacher's lounge, eating her cobb salad and scrolling through her phone. A thin, green-eyed brunette came in and sat across from her. Michonne looked up from her lunch and smiled.
"Hello, Maggie. How has your day been so far?"
"Not too bad. What about you? The kids treating you okay?" she smiled.
"Yeah, they've been great. I guess maybe if I were a chemistry or physics teacher, it may be a different story," Michonne joked.
"I think you may be right about that," Maggie quipped. "Seriously, Michonne…I'm glad things are going alright. High school kids can be pretty tough. When I first started teaching here, three years ago, I swear they were trying to haze me."
"No way," Michonne said, before stuffing her mouth with a bite of salad.
"Yeah, they egged my car and everything…little shits," she said, lowering her voice.
They both shook their heads and laughed.
Maggie continued, "It took some getting used to…being in a new town and dealing with the little monsters, but it all worked out. I love it here."
"Where did you move from?" Michonne queried.
"From a small town, just outside of Nashville. I grew up on a farm, milking cows and feeding chickens," she laughed.
"Oh yeah?" Michonne said, giving the pretty young woman her undivided attention. "Sounds exciting."
Maggie shrugged. "I guess, if you love getting up at four in the morning and smelling like manure at the end of the day."
Michonne twisted her face at the thought.
Maggie was amused. "Ok, it wasn't as bad as I'm making it seem. I loved growing up on the farm. My daddy still runs it with his wife Ellen. My sister went off to college and I moved here, chasing after a boy," she sighed. "The boy turned out to be an ass, but I liked it here, so I stayed."
"The things we do for love," Michonne said.
Maggie noticed the reflective look in Michonne's eyes. "Why did you move here, Michonne?"
Michonne tensed up. She wasn't prepared to answer questions about herself. "I just…I needed a fresh start," she answered, praying Maggie wouldn't pry any further.
"Are you running from a man?" Maggie laughed, but quickly stopped when she noticed Michonne wasn't joining in.
Michonne bit her lip. "You could say that. I'm actually going through a divorce," she said, averting her eyes.
"Oh…I'm sorry. Well, I hope you can find some peace here. Tannon Falls is a really nice place to start over," Maggie said, gently rubbing Michonne's hand. "Listen, a bunch of us teachers usually get together on the weekends for lunch and sometimes other shenanigans," she grinned. "You should come with us sometime."
It had been quite a while since Michonne interacted with people socially. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone out with girlfriends or even a family member. She spent her days in solitude, aside from when she lived with her mother, Anna, who hovered over her, treating her like she would break at any moment.
Michonne wanted to jump at the opportunity, but she knew she wasn't ready. "Thanks for the offer Maggie. I'm still getting settled, but I'll think about it."
"Okay, you do that," Maggie returned.
Rick stood at the front counter in Rhee's auto shop, paying for the oil change on his truck. The co-owner, Glenn Rhee, a slight-built Korean-American young man, talked his ear off.
"So, you're new in town, huh?" Glenn questioned.
Rick nodded. "Yeah, what gave it away?"
Glenn shrugged. "I know pretty much everyone in this town. There aren't many auto shops around here. I get most of the customers."
"I guess that's good for business," Rick returned flatly.
"So…Rick, where ya' from?" Glenn asked, handing Rick his debit card.
"Oh, a little town west of here. You wouldn't know it." Rick returned the card to his wallet, eager to end the conversation.
"Oh yeah?" Glenn pressed on. "What do you do for a living?"
Rick was growing impatient. "I used to be a cop…now I'm actually looking for work."
Glenn taking the hint that Rick wasn't interested in revealing anymore personal information, simply nodded. "Well, today might be your lucky day. Do you know anything about cars?"
Rick shook his head. "As a matter of fact, I do. I spent my college days working at my uncle's shop."
Glenn's face lit up. "Well, if you're interested, I got an opening. You can start tomorrow if you want."
Rick pondered the offer. "Yeah…okay. Thanks for the offer."
Glenn nodded. "I usually don't hire people on the spot, but you seem like a good guy Rick…you were a cop, so you can't be that bad," he teased.
Rick swallowed hard, feeling the lump in his throat travel painstakingly slow down his esophagus and into his gut. Glenn had no idea what he was capable of doing…what he planned on doing.
His thoughts were broken when two men entered. Both looked like they had seen better days. The younger one wore faded jeans and a dirty t-shirt that Rick mused had once been white. His hair was greasy, and dirt stuck to his arms and face. The slightly older man had a low crew cut and wore a leather vest with a confederate flag embroidered on the back.
"Daryl, you're late," Glenn huffed.
"I know man," the younger one grunted. "Look, Merle…I told ya' I can't help ya aight," he said curtly to his companion.
"Aww, come on little brother…you gonna do me like dat…after alls I done for ya? You cain't help ya' brother out?"
"Nah, man…I said I ain't got it. Now get outta here, I got work to do," Daryl scoffed.
Glenn sighed, "Merle, you heard him. Go on home now."
Merle looked at Glenn as if he wanted to rip his head off. "I ain't talkin to ya' boy…and I don't take no orders from Chinamen."
"Merle…" Daryl shouted.
Rick had heard just about enough. He stepped in front of Merle, staring him down. "I think Glenn here asked you to leave," he said sternly.
"And who the hell are you?" Merle asked with a devious grin. "Chinaman you done hired yourself a bodyguard?" he joked.
"I really don't like repeating myself," Rick said, clenching his jaw. "Now, I suggest you run on home or wherever the hell you hillbillies like to hang out."
Merle clenched his fist. "Now, you wait a damn minute…you ain't gonna come in here barkin' orders like you own the damn place. I'll leave when I'm good and goddamn ready," Merle shot back, dragging out his words.
The two men were standing merely an inch from each other's faces, Merle snarling like a wild animal, while Rick simply stared at him with a mixture of pity and disgust. He'd dealt with many "Merles" during his time at the sheriff's department. He knew how to handle them.
Daryl moved to diffuse the situation. He put his hand on Merle's shoulder, pulling him away from Rick. Merle, come on man. I'll see what I can do for ya' after my shift. Go on home. I'll catch up with ya' later."
Merle acquiesced, still wondering who the hell this ballsy stranger was that had just gotten in his face.
"Yeah…later little brother" he said before exiting the store and taking off on his motorcycle.
Glenn sighed in relief. "Daryl, I want you to meet your new coworker, Rick…sorry, what was your last name?"
Rick nodded at Daryl. "Grimes…Rick Grimes."
After Rick left the auto shop, he drove the thirty minutes outside of town to Savannah. He sat in the parking lot of Walker's hardware store. It had become a habit over the last week. He would drive to the store and sit outside waiting to catch a glimpse of Tim. Each time he wanted to get out of his truck and end it…but he couldn't.
Something was holding him back. He supposed it was the small sliver that remained of the Rick Grimes he used to be. That man was a good man, decent and honorable. That man would never take a life unless he had no other choice. That man had something to lose.
On the contrary, the man he saw staring back at him in the rearview mirror, was different. He had already lost everything…everyone he cared about. Losing his freedom after he murdered Tim Taylor, didn't seem like such a high price to pay in exchange for the satisfaction he would feel when he snuffed out the man's life.
He saw Tim exiting the store. He looked smug in his royal blue uniform shirt and khakis, his lowcut blonde hair combed away from his face. He didn't notice Rick sitting in the truck. He never seemed to notice the truck at all. He was smiling and talking on his cell phone as he got in his red Honda Civic and drove away. Rick was furious. The little fucker hadn't learned a thing.
Rick pulled out his phone and quickly looked up the number to the hardware store. A man answered after three rings… "Walker's hardware. How can I help you?"
"Do you know that you have a murderer working for you?" Rick growled.
"Excuse me…who is this?" the man questioned.
"I'm a concerned citizen. You oughta' be more careful about who you hire," Rick declared, before disconnecting the call.
Evening had fallen and the moon beamed bright in the nighttime sky. Michonne, looked out the window, admiring its glow and the numerous stars which were quite noticeable in the country without the glare of the city lights.
She sat her glass of Pinot on the kitchen table and went back to unpacking the boxes that sat before her. She'd changed out of her dress from earlier, and now wore a pair of black yoga pants and a cropped pink tank top, which showed off her midriff. Her locs were in a high ponytail, keeping them from getting in the way of her organizing.
She sat down at the kitchen table and pulled a photo out of one of the boxes. It was a picture of her, Ed, and Kyle. Her little boy had on his favorite Miles Morales t-shirt and a birthday crown. She remembered the day vividly. It was Kyle's third birthday and they had gone to see Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. Up until that point, Peter Parker had been "it" for Kyle, but Miles changed that. She smiled thinking about how excited Kyle was to see a Spider-Man features resembling his own.
When they returned from the movie, they ate cake and ice cream and danced. Edward had taken the shot of them using a selfie stick. She remembered making fun of people who used the gadget. Now, she was eternally grateful he was able to capture a moment of them happy and laughing. She always wanted to remember her baby like that…his bright brown eyes glowing, his soft brown curls sitting wildly on top of his head, his caramel skin tinged pink from the amount of kisses her and Edward showered upon him. She smiled at the photo as she felt the dampness stream down her face.
'Mommy don't cry', she heard Kyle whisper. She looked up to see his smiling face. "Mommy just misses you honeybun," she said, looking into his eyes. "I miss you so much."
The sound of a door slamming broke her out of her trance. She walked over to the window to see Rick entering his home.
Rick placed his keys back on the hook and kicked off his boots. He sauntered into the kitchen, retrieving a frozen dinner from the freezer. He put it in the microwave and grabbed a beer from the fridge.
The microwave beeped and he began eating in silence at the kitchen table. He looked at a couple of text messages from his dad and brother. He hadn't spoken to them in awhile and had no intentions of calling them back. He'd left King County without a word, not telling anyone where he was going. He knew it was selfish, but at the time, he was so consumed with rage, he didn't care. He didn't need anyone talking him out of his plan. He would speak to his family in due time.
His thoughts were broken when he heard the faint sound of music. He couldn't make out the words, but he heard the melody from the instruments. He walked over to his kitchen window, which faced Michonne's. Her curtains were drawn open, allowing him an uninhibited view. There she was dancing around her kitchen as she put up dishes and cookware. He could now hear some of the words. They were in French and Michonne was singing along to every one of them. He watched as she moved gracefully, swaying her hips to the beat. Her toned abdomen was showing, and he thought he could see a diamond stud in her belly button. He gulped, moving a little closer to the window so he could get a better view.
He felt his face flush when he realized she was staring back at him. He was caught. He wanted to move away, but his feet were frozen, planted to the floor. He watched as her lips turned up into a smile that nearly took his breath away. Despite everything in him that warned him against it, he smiled back.
Later that night, Michonne exited the shower, feeling more relaxed than she had in a while. Despite her breakdown earlier, the release of emotions was always cathartic. She enjoyed talking to Kyle. She knew he wasn't really there but talking to him comforted her.
She smoothed on her lavender and vanilla sleep lotion, then slipped into a pale pink nightgown. She walked over to her bedroom window to close the curtains, forgetting to close them before she got dressed. It was dark and she figured no one had seen her.
She was surprised, however, to see Rick's outline move from his own bedroom window, facing hers. Was he watching me? She wondered. The thought did not upset her or make her feel uncomfortable. She liked the idea of it.
She knew nothing about this man, but something about him made her feel like she'd known him all her life. She laid in bed and read for a little while before drifting into a deep slumber…her dreams invaded by the handsome and mysterious man next door.
A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews, favorites and follows! Also, big thank you to those who are sharing this story! I appreciate your support! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Much more to come! Be well friends!
