CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Jamie watched Phoebe as she walked down the aisle towards him on the arm of her mother, a vision in her pristine white gown. The guilt wouldn't let him enjoy the moment. He was about to marry the most wonderful woman in the world but all he could see was Johnny. It wasn't the first time he had killed someone but it was the first time he had had such guilt about it afterward.

Jamie wasn't sure she would still want to marry him after she found out about her father. He had tried to tell her the last few days to their wedding but he couldn't bring himself to burst her bubble of happiness. He had to tell her before they tied the knot.

Jamie watched her as she stood opposite him on the altar, smiling up at him as the priest went through the motions. He imagined how her face would look like when he told her what he had done. How her face would transform from happy and loving to angry and disgusted.

"Jamie Watson, do you take Phoebe Whitman to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, to protect until death do you part?"

The question rang in his head, his mouth opened and closed like a fish, the answer stuck in his throat.

"Jamie, what is wrong?" He realized he hadn't answered the question and had been quiet for a while when murmurs began to ring out in the audience.

"I need to tell you something?"

"You have to tell me something, this thing cannot wait till we get married?"

"No, Phoebe. I have to tell you now. I'm sorry it can't wait."

"Well, spit it out."

"Not here, not in front of them."

Phoebe looked at the priest who muttered for them to follow him, he ushered them into his office and gave them privacy to hash out their problems. Phoebe's heart began to race, was he going to call off the wedding, he had been acting strange and distant these last few days. Maybe he didn't want to be with her anymore. Phoebe nervously sat down on one of the sofas and waited for Jamie to begin. He crouched down in front of her and began his speech.

"Phoebe, I love you, and no matter what I don't ever want you to doubt that."

"Okay…Are you calling off the wedding, Jamie?"

"What...no…"

"Cos if you are, it's okay… I don't want to force you to marry me if you're having second thoughts."

"I'm not having second thoughts, Phoebe."

"Then what is it?"

"Your father is dead, Phoebe."

Phoebe felt like ice-cold water had been dumped on her head, she shivered and hugged herself lightly, she didn't want to believe it. Her father, the man who had given her the most beautiful presents, the man she had endless princess tea parties with, the man who had hugged her to sleep when she was scared of the monsters under her bed. He was no more.

Phoebe choked on a sob as the tears began running down her cheeks. Phoebe hadn't forgotten what transpired between them a few years ago but even at that, she never wished him dead. She had been angry at him, angry enough to boil a kettle of water with all the heat coming out of her ears, but right now all that anger evaporated. Jamie took her hands in his again and Phoebe found comfort in that but his next words shook her down to her foundation.

"I killed him."

Phoebe pulled her hands from his and moved away from him. She didn't want to believe she heard what she just heard but the look on Jamie's face was all the proof she needed that this was not just a bad dream. This was happening. Jamie had killed her father.

"Why?! Why the fuck will you do that?!"

"Because he tried to kill me first."

"That is a lie. He wouldn't have! He knew it would have hurt me. He wouldn't have tried to kill you!"

This was proving to be more difficult than Jamie had envisioned, so he began from the beginning. He told her the whole story. How her father had been hovering around them, how he had been visiting the country and hanging out with his fiercest opponents, and finally, the events of the final moments that led to his death. Phoebe just sat there unmoving, listening to what he was saying but not quite believing it.

"It's a lie. My father would never do that to me. To us!"

"I'm afraid your father is capable of doing that, Phoebe."

They both turned their heads towards the sound of the new voice as Phoebe's mother entered the room. She nodded to Jamie to excuse them, waited till he closed the door behind him before making her way to Phoebe. She gathered her into her arms and held her as she cried. Phoebe breathed in her mother's lavender scent and managed to gather herself together. She sniffed and carefully wiped her eyes with the handkerchief her mother provided her.

"Phoebe, your father was not the saint he made himself out to be for you."

"But…"

"But he was a wonderful father to you. He loved you very much Phoebe, that much was certain, but your father…" Phoebe watched her mother take a shuddering deep breath before she continued talking.

"Your father, he was only perfect when it came to you. He was very, very abusive to me, Phoebe. He hit me severally, severely. I remember one time I finally grew a pair of balls and tried to leave him. I went with you. Do you remember that trip to Mexico?"

"The one where you said we were going to see one of my uncles?"

"Yes. That very one. That was me trying to leave him. Phoebe, your father found me…after giving me the beating of the century. He gagged me so my screams wouldn't wake you up…and then he killed my brother for daring to shelter me."

"Oh my God…" Phoebe's hand flew over her mouth as she tried to hold back her sobs. She couldn't believe her mother had gone through that, and no less at the hands of her father. A man she idolized.

"So, yes, your father is capable of everything Jamie said. Believe me, I have seen him do worse to people who offended him less." Phoebe realized her mother was finding it difficult to tell the story, who wouldn't?

"Your father always believed that a woman should be submissive. There is nothing wrong with being submissive if that's what she wants, but he forgot something very important. A woman can only submit when she sees a true leader. Your father was never one."

"Do not let him win, child. Do not let him destroy your one chance at true happiness. Do not be like me…"

Mrs. Whitman hugged her daughter one more time and left her to her thoughts. All Phoebe did was cry, cry, and cry.