No Way Out Page 3

  Chapter Three

  “Where’s Daddy?” Susannah asked at the dinner table that evening.

  Abby held back a frown. “I’m not sure, but he’ll probably be home soon. Now eat your dinner.”

  Susannah accepted the answer without question and Abby looked over at nine-year-old Tiffany to see her reaction. Tiffany seemed unconcerned and Abby realized with relief that she was hiding her anxiety better than she’d thought. Trying to fill the silence with questions about the girls’ school and friends, her daughters eagerly talked about their day and she only had to half listen to their conversation as the other half of her mind thought about Eric and where he could be.

  Adrenaline rushed through her veins as different scenarios flashed into her mind. The baby must have felt it too, because Abby could feel her little one moving around more than normal.

  Glancing at her watch, she saw it was six forty-five.

  “Mom? How come you’re not eating?” Tiffany asked as she pointed at Abby’s plate. “You’re not going to get any dessert.”

  “What?” She looked at her older daughter, trying to smile at the joke.

  Susannah joined in. “Yeah, Mommy. No dessert for you.”

  Abby pushed back from the table and carried her plate and glass to the sink. She set the dirty dishes inside and leaned against the counter, staring unseeingly at the charming room that was the center of her home. Then her gaze darted around the room, trying to find something to focus on, something to help her figure out what to do next.

  “Who wants to go out for ice cream?” she suddenly asked, turning to face her daughters.

  The girls squealed with delight.

  As she backed the minivan out of the garage, Abby hoped that when they returned Eric would somehow be waiting for them. And though it was possible Eric might call or come home while they went for ice cream, Abby could not stand being in the house any longer. She had to get out.

  Now she wished she’d gotten a cell phone of her own, that way Eric would be able to call her no matter where she was. But to save money they’d decided not to get one for her and to just rely on the one Eric had through his job.

  Driving through town, Abby couldn’t stop herself from looking at every car they passed and down every side street in hopes of spotting Eric’s car. It was only after she swerved into the lane next to hers and heard a horn blare that she realized the whole purpose of going out for ice cream was an excuse to look for Eric.

  She didn’t care. She continued looking and when she saw the flashing lights of a police car and a tow truck to the right, she turned sharply down the street to investigate.

  “Wheeeee!” Susannah cried from the backseat. “Do it again, Mommy.”

  Abby ignored her and drove slowly by to see who was involved in the accident. In the intersection, three police cars formed a makeshift barricade around the damaged vehicles. One of the cars was being loaded onto a flatbed truck. It wasn’t Eric’s. The other car was still in the center of the protective barrier and Abby couldn’t see what kind of car it was, but she could make out the color. It was blue. Eric’s Jeep was red.

  Tremendous relief swept over her when she realized neither of the cars were Eric’s. At the same time, her heart constricted in fear and sadness.

  What if it had been Eric? What would we do without him?

  Forcing the thought from her mind, she continued past the accident and drove to the shopping center.

  Absently watching her daughters lick their ice-cream cones, Abby’s mind flashed to the conversation she’d had with Eric soon after they’d begun dating—and the subsequent incident in their marriage. Not yet able to consider his returning to that lifestyle, she used all of her self-discipline to push it to the back of her mind.

  After several minutes of waiting for her daughters to finish their ice cream, Abby felt an urgency to get home to see if there had been any contact from Eric.

  “Are you girls almost done? We need to get back home.”

  “Is Daddy there?” Susannah asked, her eyes bright with anticipation.

  Abby tried to put a reassuring smile on her face. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I hope so. Hurry so we can go see.”

  Within a few minutes they finished their cones and climbed into the minivan. This time Abby avoided looking at the other cars on the road, staring straight ahead until they reached their driveway.

  Pressing the button to remotely open the garage door, she focused on the garage, but immediately saw the empty space where Eric’s Jeep should have been. Her heart sank as the hope he would somehow be home by now was smashed, but when she thought of the possibility of a message on the answering machine, her spirits lifted.

  She hurried the girls into the house and went straight into the office to check for a message. Though the light wasn’t blinking, Abby punched the PLAY button, just to hear the message from that morning, just to hear Eric’s voice.

  “I . . . I guess I just missed you. I wanted to tell you that I love you and . . . I’m sorry.”

  As she listened to the now-familiar words, she wondered if she had misunderstood the intent of the message earlier that day. She had assumed he was apologizing for not accompanying her to the doctor’s appointment. Now she began to believe it was something altogether different.

  Confusion and worry coiled together in her mind—she didn’t understand what was happening.

  She went upstairs to help the girls get ready for bed.

  “Mom, why isn’t Dad here to tuck us in?” Susannah asked as she climbed into bed. “He always tucks us in.”

  Abby looked from Susannah to Tiffany. “I’m not sure when he’ll be home.”

  “How come, Mom?” Susannah asked.

  Stress made Abby’s tone sharper than usual. “I don’t know, okay?”

  Both girls stared at their mother.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, putting a warm smile on her face. “Now, let’s get you tucked in.”

  After the girls were settled in for the night, Abby wandered down the stairs. It was getting late and she feared Eric would not be coming home at all that night.

  Just like before. She shook her head. I thought that was behind us.

  She considered calling her mother or sister, but immediately dismissed the idea, not ready to confirm their low opinion of her husband.

  Walking slowly around the house, Abby locked the front door, activated the burglar alarm, and closed all the blinds. As she reached for the book she had gotten from the library earlier that day, she saw the green origami bird on the bookshelf and vowed she wouldn’t open it until Eric was there with her.

  Unexpected tears filled her eyes as the reality that her husband was missing seeped into her very soul. Abby sank to the floor and leaned against the bookshelf as tears rolled down her cheeks. All kinds of images raced through her mind, and now that she didn’t have to put up a brave front for her daughters, she let the tears flow freely.

  Eric, what have you done? Could I have helped you? Why did you leave?

  Brushing the tears from her cheeks, she slowly stood and trudged toward the staircase, not bothering to turn off the lights.

  Dropping her clothes in a heap on the bedroom floor, she crawled under the covers on Eric’s side of the bed and pulled the blankets up tight against her chin. The baby began its nightly ritual of kicking and Abby rubbed her belly to comfort herself as much as to comfort her baby.

  During the night Abby woke up several times from nightmares she couldn’t recall, each time reaching over to receive reassurance from Eric and jolting awake when she remembered he wasn’t there.

  Chapter Four

  It had been twenty-four hours since Abby’s world had shifted. Now, as she lay in bed waiting for her alarm clock to tell her it was okay to give up on sleep, she decided it was time to do something about Eric’s absence.

  As she gazed at the ceiling, a new day stretched in front of her—a day that could end well if Eric came home, or badly if she didn’t hear anything. Tossi
ng back the covers, she rolled out of bed and headed to the shower where the hot needles woke her up completely and soothed her clammy skin. Once she’d dried off and pulled on her robe, she used her towel to wipe the steam from the mirror, then stared at her face. The heat of the water had turned her cheeks into blazes of pink, but she knew that wouldn’t last. The circles under her eyes had been steam-shrunk into submission, and her wet brown hair dripped paths of water down the back of her robe.

  Wrapping the towel around her head, she padded into the walk-in closet and stared at Eric’s clothing. On impulse, she rifled through the carefully arranged rows of shirts and pants to see if anything was missing. She wasn’t certain, but there did seem to be a few items absent. She grabbed a handful of his shirts and pulled them off their hangers, burying her face in the fabric. Eric’s scent filled her nostrils and she closed her eyes, picturing his grinning face.

  How could you leave without telling me anything? What’s going on?

  Carefully hanging Eric’s shirts back up, Abby stared at his clothes again. Then overwhelming anger at her husband coursed through her and she wrenched half the shirts and all of the pants from their hangers in a vain attempt to purge the helplessness and rage.

  Abby stopped mid-pull and slowly sank to the floor, drawing her legs as close to her chest as her pregnant belly would allow, then resting her cheek against her knees. Her mind shrieked with unanswered questions.

  Where are you? Why haven’t you contacted me? Don’t you care about me? Don’t you care about our children?

  Staring at the pile of clothes on the floor, Abby thought about that day eleven years before, when Eric had confided in her.

  They had both been in college—Eric a junior and Abby a freshman—when they’d met in a biology class. After they’d been dating for four months, Eric had asked her to come with him to the park. They’d been walking hand in hand when he’d pulled her onto a nearby bench.

  “Abby, I have something very important to tell you.”

  Thinking he might be about to propose, Abby sat silently on the bench, watching the man she was falling in love with.

  “You have no idea how hard this is for me.” Eric looked directly into her eyes as she smiled her encouragement. “Last year I finally faced up to something.”

  A sinking feeling grew within her as she realized this conversation was about to take an unexpected turn.

  Eric took her hands in his. “You must know how much I’ve grown to care about you these last couple of months.” He smiled, his whole face lighting up. “I never thought I’d feel this way about anyone.” The smile faded. “But if this relationship is going to go anywhere, I think you have the right to know something about me . . .” His gaze dropped to his lap. “Something that might make you want to forget you ever knew me.”

  Abby’s pulse quickened as she waited to hear what he was about to reveal.

  “When I was in high school I gave in to a temptation that . . .” He glanced at her before continuing. “I started smoking pot.” He concentrated on his hands. “Then I began snorting cocaine. I even began dealing it.” He lifted his gaze to meet Abby’s.

  She stared at him, shocked by his admission.

  “And to make matters worse, I got arrested. Even though I wasn’t convicted, it was horrible. Not only that, I started failing most of my classes.” He stared at his hands. “I did some awful things to pay for the coke.” He looked back up at Abby, an ashamed expression on his face.

  “Last year,” he continued, “when someone I knew died of an overdose, I finally realized I could be next. That’s when I quit. Believe me, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through. But I did it.” He stopped and looked steadily at Abby.

  “Why did you try it?” She wanted to understand him.

  Eric closed his eyes, then gazed at her. “Looking back, I can see I was trying to escape the problems I was having with my father. Hanging out with certain people didn’t help. In fact, that was one of the things my Dad was always bugging me about. He didn’t like my friends, but I just wanted to fit in, and part of being accepted was using the drugs. I went along with it. I have to admit I liked it. It seemed to make my troubles fade away.” He looked at Abby as his voice softened. “I know it sounds lame now, but I just wanted to fit in.”

  Abby was quiet. Finally she said, “I know how it feels to want to be loved.” A lump formed in her throat as she thought back to her own childhood.

  His face brightened. “Thank you for listening. I knew you’d understand—”

  Abby stopped him. “I need to think about this for a while. I feel like I know you and can trust you, and I care about you a lot, but this is a pretty big deal.”

  Eric was quiet, but he nodded.

  In the end she’d decided to trust him. Now, sitting in her walk-in closet and staring at the mess she’d made on the floor, she thought about Eric’s drug problem.

  Could he have had a relapse? Am I foolish to believe he’s changed? They say once you’re addicted it’s something you have to battle for the rest of your life. But after that last time, he promised me he was really done with drugs . . .

  Then the doubts started crawling in and she had to squeeze her eyes closed to make them go away. When she felt in control of her thoughts, she stood, ignoring the pile of Eric’s clothes, and with calmness she didn’t feel, grabbed some of her own clothes and walked out of the closet.

  As difficult as it was, for the girls’ sake she had to get control of her emotions. She plodded over to the love seat in her little alcove and sank onto the full cushions, staying there until she felt composed.

  Once she was ready to meet the day, she went down the stairs and punched the code into the burglar alarm to turn it off, then paused, thinking how even this small thing made her think of Eric. They had chosen the code together.

  It was recently, after they had been living in this house for five and a half years, that Eric had decided they needed a burglar alarm. After the man had installed it, she and Eric had come up with their own code, toying with the idea of using the digits of the year they had married. Though it was corny, Eric had loved the idea, but in the end they had settled on Tiffany’s birth year, thinking it would be easier for her to remember the code—if they decided to teach her how to use the system at all at only nine-years-old. Now, after turning the alarm off, she couldn’t help but reflect on the suddenness with which Eric had decided they needed to buy one. She was glad he had, though.

  She flipped off the porch light and opened the front door.

  The late-April morning felt wonderful, and she smiled briefly as she looked at the pansies blooming in her flower garden, ignoring the weeds. Stepping onto the front porch, she saw the cat’s empty bowl. She picked it up and brought it to the kitchen, where she scooped out the day’s portion of food.

  As Abby set the bowl back on the porch, the sound of a bell on a collar caught her attention. Pumpkin, their orange tabby, scampered up to be scratched. Abby obliged, then walked down the driveway to retrieve the paper, looking up and down the street at the neighbors’ houses, envying their normal lives.

  Silently hoping Eric hadn’t had another relapse, she spread the newspaper on the counter and searched for any mention of an accident with an unknown victim. She found nothing.

  She didn’t know if she should be relieved or not. Is it better for him to be hurt rather than to be using drugs again? The thought seized her already-troubled mind, and she scolded herself for losing faith in her husband. Then, thinking about the promises he’d made more than once, she wondered if he was even trustworthy.

  Abby went into the family room and lay on the couch, exhausted from the events of the last twenty-four hours, wanting to rest for a few minutes before it was time to wake the girls for school. Instead, she woke to the sound of the television. Bolting upright, she saw Tiffany and Susannah engrossed in a morning cartoon, still wearing their pajamas. Abby looked at her watch.

  “Girls! School starts in twent
y minutes.”

  Looking at their mother in surprise, they sprang into action, running upstairs to get dressed while Abby went into the kitchen to pour them bowls of cereal.

  After dropping them off at school, Abby drove home and noticed the sink filled with dirty dishes. In contrast to the day before when she’d tackled the job with energy, today the task seemed overwhelming. And she still had to go to work later that morning.

  Pushing thoughts of work aside, she realized she couldn’t put off doing something about Eric’s disappearance any longer—the uncertainty was crushing her. Whether he was intentionally missing or not, he could be hurt, so she started by calling the local hospitals. The second one she called said they had a John Doe in the emergency room matching Eric’s general description. They wouldn’t tell her what his injuries were but suggested she come down to see if it was her husband.

  After hanging up, Abby felt saliva gathering in her mouth—a sure sign that she was about to throw up. Pressing her hand against her lips, she hurried into the bathroom and flung up the toilet seat, hanging her head, waiting. She was grateful when nothing happened.

  She gently closed the lid and sat on it.

  It’s probably not him. I’m sure it’s someone else. I’ll check to be certain, but I’m sure it’s not him.

  Once she felt in control, she rushed out to the car and raced to the hospital, then hurried into the emergency room. Frustrating Abby’s haste was a line at the counter. She tried to get someone’s attention as nurses strode by, but everyone ignored her until a man in a white jacket noticed her pregnant condition.

  “I’m Dr. Edson, ma’am. Can I help you with something?”

  With a smile of appreciation, she said, “Yes. I think my husband might be here.”

  He looked puzzled. “You don’t know?”