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The cost of loving

My Michelle paid the price for her Mum's mistake


Published by: Polly Taylor & Sharon Ward
Published on: 10th February 2011

They say true love costs nothing – and it’s a good job, too. When I met my wife Michelle, we were 14 and neither of us had a penny to our name.
We’d been paired up in our high school biology class and, from the moment I’d clapped eyes on her long dark hair and almond-shaped eyes, I’d been besotted. We’d walked to school together, made each other’s packed lunches, helped each other with homework…
But two years after we’d met, something had happened to burst our carefree bubble. ‘Charlie, I’m pregnant,’ Michelle had told me one day, voice shaking. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘We’ll manage,’ I’d promised, hugging her. From that moment, there was no more acting like lovesick teenagers for us.
We’d married, had our son Michael, then a daughter Chelsea two years later. It’d been a struggle – but Michelle’s parents Lottie and Jimmy had been a godsend.
Lottie had helped with the kids, and Jimmy had given me a job washing cars at the lot he owned, so I could provide for my family. But when Jimmy sadly died from colon cancer a year later, someone needed to lean on us for a change – Lottie.
Over the next four years, we’d done our best to take care of her, see her through her grief. We helped her with shopping, popped round for a cuppa when we could. But we were still concerned.
‘She’s so lonely,’ Michelle sighed after one visit. ‘Wouldn’t it be great if she met someone special?’
‘It would,’ I nodded.
A few months later, we got our wish.
Lottie, 64, met James Quick, 53, at church and the pair hit it off.
‘He’s wonderful,’ she gushed on the phone to Michelle. ‘Clever, funny…’
‘I’m so pleased for you,’ Michelle smiled. ‘You deserve someone nice after what you’ve been through.’
And when we were introduced to James a few weeks later at a family do, he seemed to fit the bill perfectly – a charmer, the life and soul of the party. ‘Your mum really is something,’ he winked to Michelle.
‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ she chuckled, clinking glasses with him.
Six months after they met, they moved in together and married soon after. ‘It’s great to see Mum so happy,’ Michelle said. ‘She’s done the house up, bought a new car…’
‘She’s a new woman,’ I smiled. Lottie was old-fashioned when it came to money. Even after she’d got Jimmy’s $500,000 (£300,000) life insurance payout, she’d still eaten beans for dinner to save cash. It was great to see her loosening the purse strings, enjoying life.
But, after a few months, Michelle grew concerned about her mum’s spending. ‘It’s reckless,’ she said. ‘She’s paid off James’ credit card debt, bought him a new truck…’
‘She’s happy, though,’ I reasoned.
‘He’s convinced her to sign half the house over to him, too,’ she added. ‘I think he’s a gold digger.’
‘Okay, it’s all a bit sudden,’ I agreed. ‘But is it our place to say anything? Your mum’s more than capable of running her own life.’
Michelle wasn’t going to stand by and let him bankrupt Lottie, though. ‘I’m worried about you,’ she told her mum. ‘All James does is sit about spending your money.’
‘He works hard, it’s time he enjoyed himself,’ she shrugged.
‘But not with your money,’ Michelle sighed. ‘What exactly is he contributing to this relationship?’
‘He makes me happy. That’s all the contribution I want.’
As time went on, James kept spending, taking early retirement from his job at the chemical plant, and living off Lottie. Sat around drinking beer, watching the shopping channels with her credit card in his hand. ‘There’s no getting through to Mum,’ Michelle sighed.
She didn’t want the money for herself. After years of scrimping and saving as a young family, we knew the value of money – and also that it couldn’t buy you love. Michelle was terrified that’s what her mum was trying to do, though.
Finally, her concerns seemed to hit home. Six years after they’d met, Lottie slowly began to see sense.
‘I’m not getting any younger,’ she explained to us. ‘If me and James are to enjoy our retirement, we’ll need to start looking after our cash.’
‘You don’t have to go back to eating beans on toast,’ said Michelle. ‘Just stop James spending so much on televisions, clothes and cars…’
‘I will,’ she nodded. Only, James was having none of it. ‘He got so angry, he moved out,’ she said.
As far as I was concerned, that told us what we needed to know – he was only in it for the money. The last thing Lottie needed was someone taking advantage. ‘We’ll take care of you,’ Michelle soothed.
Yet, a few months later,
Lottie called to say James had moved back in. ‘She offered him $20,000 (£12,500) to come home!’ Michelle spat in disbelief.
‘What?’ I gasped. Could she really be that lonely?!
My worried wife got straight on the phone. ‘Please, Mum,’ she begged. ‘You have to leave him, he’s bleeding you dry.’
Years passed but, finally, after 13 years of marriage, Lottie filed for divorce. ‘I thought he loved me,’ she said. ‘I thought giving him my money, letting him buy things, proved my love for him…’
‘But he never gave you anything back,’ sighed Michelle.
‘I realise that now,’ she added. ‘He never loved me, just the numbers in my bank account.’
James, though, refused to go quietly. He wanted half of everything. ‘That’s ridiculous!’ Michelle spat. ‘It was never his in the first place!’
While the divorce went through, Lottie put Michelle in control of her estate. ‘Everything’s in your name,’ she said. ‘James is fuming.’
They fought constantly over everything from the TV to the coffee pot but, for the first time in years, my mother-in-law refused to give in.
The rows escalated – a month later, she called in tears. ‘James is here, threatening me,’ she said. ‘He’s refusing to leave unless I give him half of everything.’
‘That’s it,’ I fumed. ‘We’re sorting this out once and for all.’
When we arrived at Lottie’s, James was sitting stony-faced on the sofa. ‘You need to leave,’ Michelle told him. ‘None of this is yours, and you’re upsetting my mum.’
‘If I can’t have my half, no one can,’ he spat, standing up. What did that mean?
‘I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do,’ he shrugged, calmly walking towards the front door.
Click – he locked it, shoving the key in his pocket. Then he headed for the study. ‘What’s he…?’ I started.
‘H-he has a gun in there,’ Lottie whispered.
‘What?!’ Shaking her head to silence me, Michelle reached for the phone and called the police. Lottie kept an eye on the study door. ‘My stepdad is threatening us,’ she said, voice shaking. ‘Please come quick, we think he has a gun.’
‘We need to get out of here, now,’ I said. ‘The back door…’
We dashed through the house. My heart hammered as I reached for the door handle… it wouldn’t budge!
‘It’s locked!’ Lottie panicked.
We were trapped. James had planned this, hemming us in like cattle. But what else had he planned?
The dining room window, it wasn’t locked. Pulling Michelle and her mum after me, I ran into the room, threw open the window, and vaulted over the windowsill.
‘Come on!’ I called as Michelle followed, landing beside me on the driveway. Then Lottie… but she stumbled on the ledge, fell flat on her back in the bushes.
‘Mum!’ Michelle shrieked.
But Lottie must have been in shock. She couldn’t move or speak, no matter how loud Michelle yelled, how hard she tugged at her arm. ‘Honey, let’s get out of here!’ I yelled, running down the driveway towards my truck.
I knew Lottie wouldn’t get hurt. Everything was in Michelle’s name now – it was her I was worried about… Twisting to look over my shoulder, my heart stopped. The barrel of a gun was poking out through the open dining room window!
‘Michelle!’ I shouted, running back towards her. Bang! Blood arced out of her mouth and splattered on the ground as a bullet sliced through her arm and into her chest. ‘No!’ I screamed.
Blood soaked through her t-shirt as she stumbled towards me. ‘Charlie,’ she spluttered, collapsing.
As she looked up at me, her big blue eyes rolled back in her head – and she was gone. My beautiful wife lay dead at my feet.
‘Michelle!’ I cried, dropping to my knees, cradling her head in my lap. For a moment, as I ran my fingers through her hair, I was lifted out of time. I forgot I was staring down the barrel of a gun, that an elderly woman was laying helpless feet away from me – I had to say goodbye to my wife.
‘I love you,’ I sobbed, bending to kiss her head. ‘I always will.’
Bang! A second shot jolted me back to reality. I could see James now – he was leaning out of the window, aiming the gun at me.
Scrambling to my feet, I turned and ran for my life. As I neared the end of the driveway, a third bullet tore past, missing me by inches.
He was going to kill me.
My palms were sweating, my knees like jelly, but somehow I reached the end of the street – as the sound of sirens filled the air.
James was arrested at the scene, and confessed to Michelle’s murder. Police officers found Lottie unharmed in the bushes.
Just three days later, though, I received a terrifying phone call from the police. ‘James has been released on bail,’ the officer told me. ‘He’s been ordered to stay away from you and your family.’
‘You can’t be serious!’ I spat. But they were – a $100,000 (£63,000) bond had been paid for his release. Who the hell had paid that? Seemed wherever that gold-digging murderer went, money followed.
I was terrified James might come back and finish me off. So what if he’d been ordered to stay away from me? He’d shot my wife,
and tried killing me.
Telling Michael, 18, and Chelsea, 16, that James had killed their mum was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, now I was telling them their mum’s murderer was roaming the streets. ‘The police have let James out of jail,’ I said. ‘But I promise I won’t let him hurt you.’
‘I’m scared,’ Chelsea whimpered. ‘Can I sleep in your room with you?’
That night, I stroked my daughter’s hair until she drifted off, like Michelle did when she was little and she’d had a bad dream. I’d never sleep another wink if that was what it’d take to keep my kids safe.
The next few days were a blur as I planned Michelle’s funeral. Looking around at the 800 people who came to pay their respects, it was amazing to see how many lives she’d touched. But even as I watched my wife’s casket being lowered into the ground, two police officers were standing guard in case James came back to kill me.
Luckily, he stayed away and, in December 2009, he was found guilty of first-degree murder and sentenced to 15 years in prison. He was also found guilty of attempting to murder me, and given another five years. It didn’t seem like enough. No prison sentence can bring back my wife, the mother of our children.
Michael and Chelsea are all that keep me going – their strength makes me proud every single day. Michael recently became a dad. He and his girlfriend Amanda are so similar to me and Michelle when we were young.
As for Chelsea, she’s the spitting image of Michelle. She’s just graduated and has won a place at law school – a real smart cookie.
We still visit Lottie from time to time, but part of me can’t let go of the resentment I feel towards her. My head tells me it wasn’t her fault. I know if she could turn the clock back and never get involved with James, she would.
But because of her decision to keep him in her life, my wife will never see her kids grow up. I hope, one day, I can forgive Lottie for that.
I’ll never forgive James. I still can’t believe this happened because of his lust for money – I’d give every penny I have to see Michelle one more time.

Visit www.iseebeautifulnow.com for advice on domestic violence.

Charlie Melton, 39, Deer Park, Texas, USA