by Laura Wolfe
As he wandered around searching for the night painting, I took in the cluttered apartment. It had been barren when Amanda had lived here several months earlier. I tried my darnedest to remember why she’d moved in but couldn’t. Or maybe she hadn’t told me. I regretted never having sat down for wine or coffee with her as I’d been doing with Beth. Amanda had been polite the day I’d shown her the apartment but hadn’t offered any more information than necessary. The four months she lived here had gone by fast. She’d kept to herself, barely offering a wave when we’d passed.
One day I’d run into her on the driveway, her eyes had been puffy as if she’d been crying and she’d obviously tried to disguise it with makeup. I’d hemmed and hawed about knocking on her door and having her over for dinner but hadn’t followed through with it. The drama with Mary Ellen Calloway and my Bible study group had distracted me that day. That was before I’d started reading The Thirty-Day Life Coach. I would have handled the situation differently now.
“Here it is,” Joe’s voice echoed from within the closet.
He stepped into the living room holding a large canvas. Thick black smudges crisscrossed the white background. A yellow circle hovered in the left corner.
“Oh, my,” I said, not sure how else to respond.
“It’s a work-in-progress. I started it when the moon was full.” He pointed to the yellow circle. “The moon was only three-quarters full when I was out there Thursday night. That’s where memory comes in. These lines will be trees, and I’ll fill in the night sky in the back.”
“Did you say Thursday night?” I leaned forward.
“Yup.”
“What time did you return from the woods?”
Joe stared at the ceiling. “Hmm, probably around midnight. Maybe later. You can ask Beth. She almost ran me over in the driveway. Didn’t even have her headlights on.” Joe laughed and shook his head.
My muscles tightened, my blood curdling like forgotten milk. Beth had returned home at midnight? Ethan said they’d left The Castaways around 10 p.m. What had she been doing for two hours? She’d looked like a mess when I’d asked her to go out for coffee the next morning, still wearing her clothes from the night before. Amanda’s lifeless body was discovered soon afterward. “Are you sure, Joe?”
“Yes, ma’am. I know it was pretty late on Thursday because Friday morning I had to help a friend set up his display at the art center and I remember wishing I’d gone to bed earlier.” Joe rested the canvas against the wall. “Why?”
“Oh, nothing.” I wavered on unsteady feet, hoping my face didn’t betray my horror. I swallowed and steadied myself.
The doorway beyond Joe’s shoulder caught my eye. It led to the bedroom. Joe slept there now, but it had been Amanda’s bedroom before him. The pile of forgotten mail she’d left behind in the nightstand surfaced in my mind. I’d collected it and set it aside, never having gotten around to returning the papers to her.
“Thank you, Joe.” I scurried through the apartment door, picturing the bundle of mail, and taking the steps as fast as I could without slipping or jarring my knees. I was anxious to close myself inside the privacy of my house and examine the papers before Beth returned. It was a long shot, but maybe, somehow, they held a clue to who killed Amanda.
Twenty-Six
Elizabeth
Before
I ended the call with the doctor’s office, my hands cradling my abdomen. The baby inside me was almost the size of a cantaloupe melon and my twenty-week checkup was scheduled for next Thursday at 10 a.m. Jason promised he’d clear his schedule that morning so we could experience the moment together. A week from tomorrow, I’d get the ultrasound and we’d find out if we were having a boy or a girl.
A petal dropped from one of the yellow lilies resting in a crystal vase on the counter. I reached for it. Jason had surprised me with the bouquet of colorful flowers the other night. It had been over a month since he moved back home and our relationship was healing. Turning the delicate petal over in my hand, I smiled at the irony of his affair somehow having brought us closer together. Lydia had been right. Our visits with Dr. Brennan had opened our lines of communication. Jason listened to me now. He’d even been willing to talk about all the pain he’d suppressed surrounding his mom’s death.
Jason still worked longer hours than I preferred, but because of our conversations with the therapist, I now understood he was only trying to secure our future before the baby arrived. Because of his schedule, we hadn’t been able to plan a getaway to the Caribbean or Mexico, but we did have a daylong cruise on a yacht scheduled for three weeks from Saturday. It wouldn’t be just the two of us, as I’d originally hoped, but it would still be fun. The owner of the yacht was one of Jason’s investors. He’d invited us on a private party cruise with about thirty other guests. I didn’t love boats, especially at nearly five months pregnant, but Jason was excited about it.
My stomach twisted with hunger, even though it was barely 11 a.m. The Detroit article I’d been writing for Gwen had been put on hold pending some fact-checking, so I had some free time. Jason had done so many thoughtful things for me lately—buying jewelry and flowers, arranging dinner dates, and having long talks into the early hours of the morning—I decided to do something nice for him, too.
I flipped through the carry-out menu from his favorite sandwich place, Lou’s Deli, and called the number. I’d surprise him with lunch at the office and tell him about next week’s doctor’s appointment when we’d learn a little bit more about the future member of our family. If I left now, I could catch him before he ran out to get his own food.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled into an empty space near the far corner of his office parking lot. I’d ordered his usual, corned beef and Swiss cheese with coleslaw. The savory aroma permeated the car. My stomach couldn’t hold out much longer. Clutching the handle of the brown bag in one hand, I opened my door with the other.
As I stood, Jason emerged from the front door of the building. I grinned, relieved I’d caught him in time. My arm began to rise in a wave but stopped mid-air as a woman sidled up next to him, her head tipping back in laughter.
A sickening sensation traveled through my bones, pinning my arm down to my side. I recognized her face and the shape of her body and her blonde hair, even though it was pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a short blue skirt and heels. It was the other woman—Sarah. My body was frozen, my mouth dropping open but no sound escaping. He’d lied to me. Nausea flooded my stomach, squelching my hunger.
Jason draped his arm around her shoulders the same way he’d done to me so many times. He turned toward her with his charming, boyish grin. They walked away from me toward his Mercedes, where he opened the passenger side door for her before climbing into the driver’s side. The brake lights lit up and he began to pull away.
I steadied myself against the car door, my body shaking. I thought I might throw up. How could he? Had it all been a lie? Again? I ducked into my seat and slammed my foot on the pedal, my rage accelerating along with my car. His SUV turned right. I’d catch him in the act. Then what would he say? What excuse would he have? He wanted to keep his wife and baby at home while he screwed his girlfriend, too. No! I was done playing the fool. I was smarter than him, and I wouldn’t let him get away with it.
His SUV traveled down the street where he paused at a red light before turning onto Woodward Avenue. I followed, my heart thumping out of control, my body cold and heavy, plunging to unknown depths. Three lanes of traffic sped around me as I took the turn without stopping. A car honked and swerved out of my blind spot and away from me. Jason drove fast. He switched to the left lane, the space between us lengthening. I tried to move over, but a moving truck blocked the lane and my view.
A frenzy of thoughts swarmed in my head. Where were they going? Lunch? A hotel? Back to her place? I was desperate for proof. My foot pressed on the pedal, my car shooting ahead. As I passed the truck, Jason’s Mercedes was no longer in view. In the rearview mirror, I
spotted him heading in the opposite direction on the other side of the median. He’d pulled into the turn-around lane to take a Michigan left.
“Shit!” I screamed. My foot plunged down, rocketing my car ahead as I dodged traffic. The next turn-around was up ahead. My car veered through the U-turn, only pausing slightly for the stop sign. I couldn’t waste any time if I wanted to catch up with them. A car in the oncoming lane headed toward me, but it was slow. I could beat it.
I accelerated into the turn, realizing immediately that my timing was off. The other car was on top of me, brakes screeching and metal twisting. A punch in my gut, and then in my head. Everything went black.
“I’m here, babe.”
My eyes struggled to open against the fluorescent lights above. Jason peered down at me, his face hazy. His hand was squeezing mine.
“You’ve been in an accident. You’re in the hospital.”
I lifted my head and gazed around at the sterile room. A blur of white walls surrounded me. A puke-colored curtain had been pushed back to reveal a window with a view of a half-empty parking lot, but the images overlapped each other. There was two of everything, the second square of the window drifting over itself and back again. A dull ache spread through my abdomen and my head seared with pain. An IV bag hovered near me, the tubes pumping fluid into the veins in my arm. I wondered what kind of drugs they’d given me.
I focused on Jason’s face but seemed to be peering at him through layers of spiderwebs, the edges of his features muted, his voice still ringing in my ears. He was a stranger to me, the room wobbling around him. What happened? I tried to ask, but only an inaudible grunt escaped my mouth.
“Your car got broadsided on Woodward yesterday. Your head hit the windshield.” Jason swiped the back of his hand across his eyes. “They said you weren’t wearing your seat belt.”
My muscles tensed as a bleary recollection from the shocking scene flashed through my mind. I’d been following Jason and Sarah. My gut heaved at the memory, not letting me forget the extent of the betrayal. I pressed my back against the soft mattress and averted my eyes. I wanted to yell at him, call him a liar and berate him, but my mouth filled with wet cement. The words refused to form, replaced by a series of grunts and drooling.
A nurse entered the room. Even through my cloudiness, I caught the worried expression flashing across her face. “I’ll get the doctor,” she said, looking only at Jason.
A heavy sort of panic rippled through me as I noticed for the first time the hollowness inside. There was a twisting of cramps where there’d previously been a warm fullness. Pain burned through my abdomen.
I clutched Jason’s arm, my eyes stretched wide and a scream struggling to escape my mouth. Is the baby okay? I tried to ask, but my tongue and throat weren’t cooperating.
He shook his head as if he understood what I’d been trying to ask, his fingers pressing around my wrist. “Your body hit the steering wheel. The trauma was too much for the baby.” He bit his lip and pressed his eyes closed. “They couldn’t find a heartbeat.”
My hand brushed against my abdomen and I flinched. Through the hospital gown, I felt the bandage. They’d cut me open. I swallowed repeatedly, gasping for air.
Jason squeezed my hand. “They said you’d die unless they did an emergency C-section.”
“No. No!” I tried to scream, but only a tangle of muted grunts came out. I clutched my stomach, praying it wasn’t true.
My body felt like it was floating above itself. I became a spectator watching my own disaster. My baby hadn’t survived. The one person who I’d never met but had already loved more than anything in the world was dead. I couldn’t look at Jason. More memories of the moments before the car crash came flooding back—my surprise visit to his office to deliver sandwiches, the short blue skirt, and the blonde ponytail. He was a liar and a cheat. I’d lost my husband and my baby in one day. My chest heaved and a sob bellowed from within me. My lungs needed air, but I couldn’t breathe.
“Why weren’t you wearing a seat belt, Liz?” Jason’s voice cracked. “Where were you going?”
He hadn’t seen me. Even if I was capable of speaking, I wouldn’t tell him. He didn’t deserve the truth.
My eyes bore into his. My body was weak and quivering. Although the weight of the drugs held me in place and kept me quiet, I understood what had happened and swallowed back my disgust at the realization. Jason was blaming the baby’s death on me. This devastation was his fault. He hadn’t even realized I hadn’t had time to buckle up because I’d been chasing him. I pushed away his hand and closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. Even through my spinning and blurred vision, I couldn’t bear to look at him.
A few hours later, I woke up in the same hospital bed, thankful that Jason was no longer sitting beside me. A white-coated woman entered the room and introduced herself as Dr. Langonson. She balanced on a stool next to me and placed her warm hand on top of my cold one.
“Can you talk?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, surprised by the word that now slipped easily from my mouth.
“Sometimes the drugs can have unexpected side effects, but they should be wearing off now. There are other things we can give you for the pain.”
“Okay.” My hand traveled to my abdomen, my mind still refusing to accept the absence.
The doctor explained how severe trauma can terminate a pregnancy, and described how normally when a fetus dies they prefer the mother to deliver vaginally. Because I’d been knocked unconscious by the crash and my life had been at risk, they’d been forced to perform an emergency C-section.
I listened but felt as if I wasn’t really there, as if I was witnessing a scene from someone else’s tragic life.
“We’re going to keep you here for a couple of nights,” she said. “Your vitals are strong, but we need to run some additional tests in case of concussion.” She pointed to my head. “That laceration on your scalp required two stitches.”
My fingers raised to a tight area beyond my hairline, the prickly thread poking my skin.
“Many women find support groups helpful after suffering this kind of loss. The nurse will bring you some pamphlets. You need to take care of your mental health.”
I nodded again, although I wouldn’t bother with the pamphlets. No support group could help me. I was too far gone.
“Where is the baby?” I asked. “Can I see my baby?”
“Would you like to wait for your husband to return?”
“No.”
The doctor’s eyes softened, the corners of her mouth turned downward. “We can bring him out to you if you’d like. Then you and your husband can decide what to do next. The hospital can send the fetus to a funeral home or some people choose to donate for medical research.”
“Him?” I asked. “You said ‘we can bring him out to you’.”
Her lips curved into a sad smile. “Yes. Your baby was male.”
My heart plummeted to the floor as I sucked for air. I felt as if I was drowning, as if Jason’s hands were holding my shoulders down beneath the murky water. Images from that bright place above the surface hovered just out of reach—the booties my son would never wear, the teddy bears he’d never hug, the baseball games he’d never play in. My baby. My little boy. Gone. And it was all Jason’s fault. I swallowed against my parched throat, my fingers curling into fists. I wouldn’t let Jason emerge from this disaster unscathed. Once again, he’d left a trail of destruction in his wake while he sailed on, untouched and blameless. He was nothing more than a cockroach that skittered into a hole in the wall whenever anyone came close to finding him out. This time he wouldn’t get away with what he’d done to me: to my baby. I didn’t know how yet, but I was going to blindside him just like he’d done to me. I was going to make sure he paid.
I uncurled my fingers, my eyes finding the doctor. “I’d like to hold my son now.”
Mom had arranged a small memorial service at the Methodist church where Jason and I had attended only once before
on Christmas Eve. The service had ended a couple of hours earlier. I lay in bed, nothing more than a warm corpse, staring at a speck on the ceiling while Mom, Dad, and Caroline milled around downstairs. Jason was down there, too, but I imagined he and Dad were sitting in separate rooms.
Despite the fog of grief, anger, and painkillers that enveloped me, I was aware it had been a nice ceremony, simple and loving. Jason had sat next to me, his leg pushing into mine. As the pastor spoke about God working in mysterious ways, Jason held my hand and squeezed his eyes closed every few seconds. I wondered if his grief was real or merely a performance of what he thought a grieving father-to-be should look like. I wasn’t sure if he was even capable of feeling the depth of love a father should feel for a child or a husband for a wife. His whole emotional life had been a performance, one act after another concocted from all of the TV shows and movies he’d watched over the years. Jason was whatever the people around him wanted him to be. A chameleon. He was a fake yet still so believable. So charming. He’d even fooled Dr. Brennan. A more astute psychologist might have diagnosed my husband as a sociopath.
In contrast, there was no doubt about Caroline’s pain. She’d been a wreck of raw emotion, hunched over and sobbing throughout the service, devastated by the loss of the nephew she’d never meet.
At the end of the service, I’d left Jason’s side and said my final goodbye to my baby, but I wasn’t ready to lay him to rest yet. For the last five days, laying in the bed in the hospital, and then in my bed at home, I’d existed in a haze, only conscious enough to not reveal the cause of the crash, to not tell Jason that I’d witnessed him cheating on me again with Sarah.
The secret crouched within me like a tiger waiting to pounce. He had destroyed my life. I hadn’t figured out how yet, but it was only a matter of time before I’d destroy his life, too.
Two soft knocks at the door caused my neck to strain upward. A pain ripped through my abdomen where the bandage from my C-section remained. The door creaked open and Caroline poked her head through.