Refusing to Repent

By Patricia Gauthier

Small town life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and no one knows that better than Becki Holbrook. Growing up in Somerset Falls as the town outcast had been bad enough. Now that she’s a single mother she just wants things to stay quiet and ... normal. The arrival of Max James is sure to put the town gossips’ undies in a bunch.
Five years after skipping town without a word, Max James, her sexy ex-best friend is standing at her front door with his senile, disheveled mother in tow asking for her help. Really? Is it possible for a human being to be that clueless? All right, so it is late at night and he has no one and nowhere else to turn.
Maybe she could take them in for just one night...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patricia Gauthier
• Release date: Feb 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301152018

Patricia Gauthier

Patricia Gauthier is a retired teacher. She has served the church in teaching, church leadership, church planting and speaking. She holds an MA from Wesleyan University and a MTS from Regent University, School of Divinity. She has published a thesis with Proquest LLC. One Baptism: The Power of Water and the Spirit is her first book written for a wider readership.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Becki ran as fast as she could, frantically glancing behind her and panting until her lungs felt like they would burst from her chest. Sweat dripped from her brow as terror ran through her body. Was he still following her? She had no idea where she was or where she was going, not knowing the city very well yet. A new ripple of fear seized her when she heard the heavy footsteps behind her, closing in on her quickly. Breathless, exhausted, and lost, she took off running again, trying to get away from her attacker. The horrors of what he’d done to her were stashed in the back of her brain. She must not fall apart. If he caught her he’d end up dead in an alley. Running for her life…

Mommy, wake up. I’m scared. The tiny voice of her daughter startled her awake while the sweat from her body saturated her pajamas and sheets. It took her a few seconds to realize that she was safe.

You’re scared? Why? What happened? She embraced her daughter as Jilly crawled into the safety of Becki’s arms.

You were screaming in your sleep again. Don’t do that anymore, it scares me.

If only it were that simple. I’m sorry, baby, I’ll try not to do it anymore. Glancing at the clock on her nightstand, she realized that it was almost time for them to start their day. She felt exhausted from the nightmare that had once been her reality. Would she ever be able to sleep without some kind of nightmare haunting her dreams? After all, five years was a long time ago. A lifetime ago. Yet here she was, wiping away the sweat as if it had all happened yesterday.

********

Becki backcombed Mrs. Winters’ hair while the bleach sat on Lori’s foiled head. She nodded while she listened to Mrs. Winters’ endless complaints about her daughter-in-law and what a terrible job she was doing raising her grandchildren.

Can you believe she let those little ones have cold cereal for breakfast? Children need a hot meal three times a day, but will she listen to me? Hell, no. Mrs. Winters complained. Becki knew her daughter-in-law and sympathized with her. Mrs. Winters’ slimy son had run out on her and the two boys, leaving Deb to her own devices, without any emotional or financial support. Mrs. Winters didn’t know how lucky she was Deb could even afford the cereal. Mrs. Winters had raised one no account son and never worked at anything but gossip and criticizing.

Well, I’m sure she’s doing the best she can. It’s not easy working and raising children without any help. Becki tried to defend Deb, but after years of listening to her mother-in-law she knew her words went in one ear and out the other. Luckily Lori’s timer went off and Becki had to excuse herself from Mrs. Winters for a minute, grateful that she had been able to hold her tongue and not tell Mrs. Winters exactly what she thought of her. Becki checked Lori’s hair and decided it was time to rinse the bleach out, which she did just as Jillian came running into the beauty shop.

Mommy, look what I made at preschool today! It’s a picture of you and me. Can we hang it up? Jillian’s little cherub cheeks were pink with excitement. Her blonde hair, once neatly held back in the braids Becki had put in this morning, now barely hung in place on the child’s head, distorted beyond recognition by the hair falling all around her face.

As soon as I’m done with my customers we’ll pick just the right spot for it. Have Heather give you your snack while I finish-up here. Tonight is clean the beauty shop night, sweetie. Becki answered, with love radiating from her heart at the beautiful little girl.

Yes, Mommy. Jillian turned and skipped back into the house, holding her picture tightly to her chest to keep it safe.

Becki, she is just the happiest, sweetest little girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. You must be so proud of her, Lori commented.

I’m blessed, that’s for sure, Becki admitted, not wanting to say more than was necessary. Mrs. Winters was listening with all her might, probably salivating at the thought of being able to spread anything she perceived as negative. Why did gossips only spread what they considered to be bad news? Lord forbid Becki should go on and on about her precious Jillian, an unforgivable offense that she knew she would hear about tomorrow morning while she worked the breakfast shift at the diner.

One of Becki’s rules of survival was to never talk about her personal life, either at the beauty shop or in the diner. Any customer at the shop when Jillian came home knew she was there, otherwise Becki kept to herself. She had learned to keep a cool, aloof distance from the townsfolk, letting them draw their own conclusions. All she really cared about was Jillian, letting her daughter know every chance she got how much she loved her and how proud of the little girl she was. But that was always in the privacy of their home and no one else’s business.

If she was going to stay in this town she had to keep a low profile. People had long memories around here, so she was sure she would never live down the reputation her mother had made.

Being the town nutcase who tried to murder her own pregnant daughter was just the last in a string of psychotic episodes her mother had gone through. The last murder attempt was the one that landed her in the state mental institution for the criminally insane. The only good that had come out of Becki ‘s attempted murder was that she now had a house that was paid for, allowing her to gather a little nest egg for Jillian’s future. Not being able to care for her daughter was just one of several nightmares that haunted Becki in her dreams.

Often she worked two, sometimes three, jobs, saving and scrimping every cent she could, knowing things could change in the blink of an eye. The waitressing job at Mom’s Diner, the only diner in Somerset Falls, paid for her and Jillian’s health insurance while the beauty shop paid the bills. Tips got saved religiously. She kept her tips in a coffee can until it couldn’t hold any more, then she would take the cash to the bank and deposit it. She chuckled to herself, thinking that the twenty five cent tip Mrs. Winters gave her every week would add up to a whole dollar by the end of the month, and that was a dollar more than she had last month.

By the time she locked the salon door Jillian was done with her snack, so she skipped through the door, with her picture in hand.

Mommy, is it time to hang my picture now?

Yep. Lets go into your special area and see where it would look the best.

She grabbed the tape dispenser and walked with Jillian to the area of the beauty shop that was designated just for her. When Jillian had been younger and she hadn’t had money for a sitter, she had made a little room for her in the same style as the rest of the beauty shop, but where customers weren’t allowed. It followed the same pink, white and green color scheme as the rest of the shop. It was sectioned off with lattice painted white with silk greens ‘growing’ up the lattice. Jillian had her own small television with built-in DVD player, a recliner with end table and all her Little Tykes kitchen ware. She often stayed in there for hours ‘cooking’ for the customers, humming to herself and even taking her naps on the cot against the wall.

Throughout the rest of the shop she kept the garden theme going with pink floral wallpaper, a white linoleum floor accented by four hot pink dryer/chair combinations matching the hot pink shampoo bowls and chairs. For fun she had painted the desk and back cabinets in a cheery green color, keeping the Formica countertops white. The ceiling was a white drop style with florescent lighting. To look at it, a person would never know it was a converted garage. As her business had grown she had been able to put a gas fireplace in the corner of the reception area, giving it a warm, cozy atmosphere while providing heat in the cold winter months. She had made slip covers for a couple of couches and chairs in a cute, happy gingham check pattern and made the throw pillows in the same pattern as the wallpaper, tying everything together nicely. Overall, she was proud of her achievements, even if it wasn’t at all what she had planned for herself back in high school. Without any help from anyone, including Max James, she had made the best life she could. With a shake of her head she pushed the anger and hurt he had caused her to the back of her mind. Ancient history and a complete waste of time, rehashing it wouldn’t change anything. What counted was the here and now.

Okay, Jillian, show mommy the spot you picked for your art work.

Jillian walked up to the art wall and put her chubby little finger on the one spot of uncluttered wall.

Right here.

You got it, babe. Becki tore off a small piece of tape and placed the paper on the wall, pretending to take care that it was centered. With a flourish she taped it up.

Did I do it right? Trying to keep a straight face, she asked as seriously as possible.

Perfect. Can I watch a movie while you clean today? I had a rough day. Jillian flopped down into the chair, raising the foot, even though she was short enough to not need it.

Oh, poor baby. Of course you can. I’ll only be a minute. Becki laughed to herself at how adult Jillian sometimes spoke. She had probably said the same words a million times to Jillian. Seriously though, how bad could a four year- old’s day be?

Do you want to talk about your bad day?

Nah. I’m all right. I just need to relax for a while.

Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind. She started cleaning the salon, grateful that Jillian wasn’t ‘helping’. Without the child’s help she would finish twice as fast.

Becki looked through the huge window of the shop just as a shiny black car, one she knew didn’t belong to anyone in town, drove slowly past her house. Who in the world would be visiting Somerset Falls in a car like that? She knew she would find out tomorrow morning at the diner.

CHAPTER 2

Max gazed through the streams of water running down the windshield, ignoring the rhythmic pace of the wipers as he thought about his first trip back home in five years. He had left town an angry, abused young man, barely old enough to wipe his own nose. Since then his body had grown another two inches and filled out into that of a well-muscled man. Of course, the Marines had put a lot of that bulk on his body. Teaching him to care for it as if it were a high tech weapon. Now, at six foot two and two hundred and ten pounds, he made sure nobody messed with him if they were in their right mind. He had learned to keep a permanent scowl on his face. Intimidation was a wonderful weapon that worked ninety percent of the time. The muscles were for the other ten percent of the population who couldn’t take a hint.

As much as Max had loved the military, he longed to get out from under the huge thumb of Uncle Sam. He still hadn’t traveled like the Marines had advertised on television. Seemed like he had just gotten settled when he was deployed somewhere else. Some of those places were pure hellholes. Terrible living conditions combined with unbearable heat, torrential rains, or freezing cold were not Max’s idea of traveling. It still amazed him that people would even want to fight to save some of those places. They were, in his opinion, uninhabitable.

As he’d gotten older he’d longed for the resorts with the blue drinks and the little paper umbrellas stuck on the side. He wanted the vivid blue ocean lapping onto white sandy beaches while he relaxed in a lounge chair and read a book. Instead, he found himself driving back to Somerset Falls, Michigan. Back to the small town he had grown-up in, minus his son of a bitch of a father, to take care of his ailing mother. When his father died he hadn’t even bothered to request leave for his funeral. As far as he was concerned, the old man could rot in hell. His Aunt Carol had come to help his mother with the funeral and had ended up staying with her for three years, until her health began to fail her. Now it was her family’s turn to take care of her. His cousin Alice had agreed to have Aunt Carol move in with her back in New York.

No longer a marine, he couldn’t come up with an excuse he could live with for not coming home to help his mother out. His older brother, Edward, had left home when Max was fifteen. He'd never heard from him again. So the burden of his mother’s care fell to him. The apprehension he felt had nothing to do with his feelings for his mother. What Max feared were all the bad memories that still haunted his dreams. Painful memories his father had beaten into him throughout his childhood wouldn’t stay hidden. Also troubling him was the anger he felt toward himself, wishing he had protected both his mother and himself from that horrible, miserable excuse for a human being. He was glad the jerk was dead. Thankfully his mother had lived peacefully the last three years without the fear of being used as a punching bag for his old man.

According to Aunt Carol his mother was having a bit of trouble with her memory. An understatement according to Sheriff Wilkins. One morning the Sheriff had taken his mother back home at six a.m. after finding her wandering down the street in her nightgown and mumbling to herself. She’d had no idea who Sheriff Wilkins was, even though she had given him piano lessons for five of his adolescent years. Sheriff Wilkins had called Max from his mother’s house so he could talk to her himself. It had broken his heart when she’d thought he was still ten years old and out playing with ‘that Becki Holbrook girl‘. Max understood immediately that his mother was in far worse shape than Aunt Carol had let on. He took a leave of absence from his job as a police officer in California and drove back home to Michigan, hoping to get his mother settled into some kind of residential program or care facility before he had to go back to work. Being new to the job, he hadn’t accrued much time off, so he needed to get this taken care of quickly. Max let out a long breath when he saw the Visitor Center and the Welcome to Michigan sign on I-75N. Another few hours and he would be in the middle of the mitten of Michigan. Home, but not home. He didn’t really know where home was anymore. California didn’t feel like home, even though he had lived there a little over a year. He had made some friends with the other cops on the force, but not really the ‘I’m there for you’ type of friends. He doubted he would ever find a friendship like the one he’d had with Becki. He often wondered what had happened to her since he had left town. Did she ever go to college like they had planned? Was she married? Did she have any kids? Where was she living? But most importantly, was she happy?

Max slowed his car to a crawl, stunned by all the changes to his little hometown. What had once been a sleepy, industrial town now had been street-scaped into a quaint Victorian village. Fresh paint graced all the buildings and the old, cracked concrete sidewalks had been redone with quaint cobblestone pathways. All of it accented with colorful landscaping and streetlights resembling Victorian gas lanterns looked new and welcoming. He was impressed by the new antique shops, gift shops and even a Bed & Breakfast that had once been known as the old Schneider place. Even Mom’s Diner had gotten a facelift. The white building with green shutters now had a matching awning that stretched over an outdoor section like a café. Huge pots of bright red geraniums added a pop of color on the café patio. Impressive. No one could accuse this town of sitting back on its heels during a bad economy.

Surprisingly, Max now felt a bit light hearted and encouraged, replacing the dread that had consumed him earlier. Hopefully this was a sign that things at his mother’s house couldn’t be as bad as the Sheriff had said. Maybe it would just take a little sprucing-up, a coat of paint and hiring some extra help for his mother so he could be on his way back to California in no time.

He drove out of town and turned right onto his old street. Again he was impressed at how well the homes had been maintained. His mother’s house was at the end of the street in the middle of the cul-de-sac. Darkness loomed ominously as the car approached his old house. A feeling of foreboding beginning to creep down his spine, he unconsciously slowed as he approached what looked like an abandoned home. His mother’s home. Shit. The outside of the house looked like a snake shedding its skin, some spots with no paint at all. Half of the porch railing was listing forward and missing more supports than he could count. He was sure if he pushed it with one finger it would go tumbling off into the neglected flower bed below. Filled trash bags sat right outside the front door where some of nature’s children had broken them open and spread the contents all over the porch and down the steps. Only two of the three steps were still in place, both of those sagged in the middle and had pulled away from the porch. The windows were filthy, with several of the shutters missing. The ones still attached to the house were hanging crookedly by one nail. The screen on the front door flapped in the evening breeze as it dangled precariously from the top left corner of the frame. Weeds, overgrown shrubs and an unidentifiable vine encased the front and side of the house.

This was bad, real bad. It was much worse than Max had imagined. They’d have to spruce the place up just to condemn it. He couldn’t imagine his mother living in this squalor. She had the income from his father’s pension and social security. That should be enough to afford to maintain the house and live very comfortably. She had always prided herself on her flower beds, spending hours humming to herself as she tended them. Meanwhile his father had drunk himself into a stupor in front of the television. Thinking back on it now, maybe his mother wasn’t so in touch with reality back then, either. How could she hum as if nothing was wrong while that bastard abused her and her children? To her everything was always fine and dandy. Maybe this dementia Sheriff Wilkins had talked about went farther back than he’d realized.

Dread once again settled in his body as he opened the car door and stepped out. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of staying the night in this hellhole. He decided to leave his baggage in the car for now, anticipating a visit to the B & B in town. He approached the steps warily, noticing the holes in the warped and rotted porch, he stepped gingerly around them and knocked on the front door. When there was no response he knocked again, louder and harder than the first time. To his surprise the door swung open with the last knock, hitting the wall behind it from the force.

Mom? It’s Max. Are you here? he bellowed from the threshold, not wanting to startle her. After a few moments of silence a shuffling sound came from the living room toward the front door.

Reviews for Refusing to Repent

[Kate · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

This says it was released in 2013 but it feels older to me. Even though it has DVDs and video cameras in, it seemed to be overly sweet in some areas (like you wonder if your granny wrote it til you get to the sex scene) but the violent things that happened in the couple's past were absolutely awful and, though therapy is mentioned, it felt that the gravity of these tragedies was skipped over/ treated too lightly.

Also Max was not my idea of a hero whatsoever. His behaviour was shocking.
His mum has dementia and it was good that this was included and the character was treated with sympathy. But caring for someone with dementia is so difficult, exhausting and time consuming - the idea of dropping your mum off at someone else's house and then swanning off, or not bathing her yourself because she's of the opposite sex, is no excuse in my book.

Same with being a mum, aside from the fatigue of working two jobs, it was all sugar sweet.

So I would've said 1 star.
But I'll give it an extra one for this line:
"She knocked the bitch out with her heaviest Bible" - what a villain!