Page 16 of Beyond Reach

“I know what you’re up to,” he growled. “You’re sneaky, think you can come back here and mess up my daughter’s chances?”

“I said let me go!” She jerked back, but it didn’t even faze him.

Uncle Bill yanked her forward to grab both her arms. He spat foul words into her face. His breath smelled so strongly of alcohol, she gagged. He shook her, rocking her head on her shoulders. She kneed him as hard as she could in the junk, but he was oblivious to pain.

“Stupid, stupid, girl,” he raged. “I’m not letting you get away with it. Think I don’t know what you’ve been doing to Marcella all this time?”

Her vision blurred. Her stomach rocked and reeled. She was going to be sick if he didn’t stop shaking her. Fighting for all she was worth, she couldn’t combat his greater size and strength. A scream of fear escaped her. “I d-don’t know what you’re t-talking about.”

He released one arm, but only to raise a hand, palm open. She lifted a weighted arm to deflect the coming hit, but wasn’t sure which of the three blurry hands were coming at her.

Her uncle swung down, but another hand swooped in to stop his assault. She fell against her car as Garner shoved her uncle away from her. “Get your hands off her,” he ordered.

“Stay out of this, Garner.” Her uncle pointed at her as she struggled to catch her breath and keep from heaving. “She’s a filthy s—”

Garner’s fist smashed into her uncle’s mouth, and he went down. Chanda’s eyes widened. Gentle sweet Garner hit someone?

Oh God, he hit his future father-in-law.

“Garner,” she rasped. “Don’t…”

He stood over a rattled drunk who perched on his butt. The church doors opened again, and the rest of the wedding party poured out. Dread hit Chanda at the new accusations that were sure to come. Garner had fought for her. Marcella wouldn’t like it. Chanda wished she could get in her car and peel out of there, but to do so she’d have to run over both Garner and Uncle Bill.

“He hit me,” Uncle Bill whined.

“Daddy!” Marcella hobbled over to her father. “ What happened? What do you mean Garner hit you?”

Chanda noticed Aunt Hope wasn’t too quick to move to her husband’s rescue. She folded her arms over her chest, glaring at him. The drunken madness must be a usual occurrence, although Chanda had never heard of her uncle being violent.

Garner’s parents eased out of the church, and the couple in their sixties glanced at Chanda. She dared not read condemnation in their faces and looked away. “I need to go,” she said. “Will y’all please move?”

Garner started to speak to her, but she hurried to get in the car and slammed the door. Marcella shouted something at her, but Chanda started the car. The roar of the engine drowned out whatever her cousin intended to say. Maybe Chanda was handling this mess wrong, or she should feel bad for Marcella. The fact was, she couldn’t deal with anything right then.

Garner helped Marcella’s dad to stand and get out of the road. The first chance Chanda got, she drove off. Halfway down the road, her cell phone rang. She ground her teeth and checked the screen. Mrs. Driscoll was calling. She’d forgotten the woman’s number was still in her phone.

Chanda let the call go to voicemail, but the phone rang again, and again. She stopped at a light and with her hands on the steering wheel, she noticed the darkening mark on her wrist. Uncle Bill must have held her really tightly because she didn’t bruise easily.

Her wrist throbbed and was beginning to swell. This family though. Here was Marcella with a sprained ankle and her with a potentially sprained wrist. As she tested it out, twisting this way and that, she noticed pain in her upper arms as well.

When her cell phone rang for the millionth time, she stabbed the connect button and prepared to be shouted at.

“Chanda, come and have lunch with us.” Mrs. Driscoll didn’t beat around the bush.

“Um, huh?”

“You have to eat. Come eat with us, our treat.”

The gentle tone gave Chanda pause. Maybe Mrs. Driscoll wasn’t about to accuse her of trying to steal Garner back—or for that matter of breaking his heart.

“Shouldn’t you be asking Marcella to lunch?” She needed to keep herself distanced, especially since she planned to go back to her hotel and change her flight home to as soon as possible.

“Please.”

She tried to think of an excuse. These people were stinking rich, income far above what she had ever earned. Their education wasn’t anything to sneeze at either. Garner’s mom held an MS in Education or something, although she never pursued a career in the field. She raised her three boys herself at home.

“Hand me the phone, Gardine,” Garner’s dad said in the background.

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