Take Flight

by T. E. Price

  “We’ll be back on Saturday to take you to the airport,” is my father’s final remark as he walks over to pick up their packed bags. Everything in me wants to scream you can’t leave me here alone! But nothing comes out. I just stand there, with my mouth ajar, unable to produce a word or a tear that would explain what’s racing through my mind.

  “We’ll leave the keys with you,” my mother says, still unwilling to lift her gaze as my dad removes the key from the lock and places the keyring on the table beside the door. “We’ll leave you the SUV so you can go where you need to tomorrow.”

  “No,” I nearly shout, then I clear my throat, steadying my quivering voice. Now that I have both my parents’ startled attention, I add, “Leave the truck instead…please.” Their eyes narrow, but they nod, then leave without another word. They may not understand it, but if Jonathan comes by the house at any point, he needs to believe that my father is here, and the truck will be evidence of that.

  I lock the door behind them and move to the window in the den. Maybe they’ll change their minds. Headlights leave the driveway, and my heart plummets once again. My mouth waters, like I’m going to be sick. I swallow. They have no idea what kind of danger they’ve put me in by leaving me here alone until Saturday. The house is eerily silent as I step back from the window and grab my suitcase. I trudge down the hall, past my parents’ room and Harrison’s old room, until I reach my bedroom, just before the bend in the hallway. I open the door and flick on the light.Oh my gosh! My eyes sting and my face builds with heat. There, sitting on my bed, are all my belongings. My parents left everything that we packed from the lake house piled high on the mattress, right where I was supposed to sleep tonight. I bang the lights off and slam the door shut. Oh sure…they knew I was coming, but did they bother to help me out? I cross over to the hall closet beside the bathroom and yank out a blanket and pillow. My stomach falters, like I’ve been punched in the gut. I turn down the hall, pass through the dining room, and slump over to the couch in the family room. This will have to be my bed for the next two nights. I’m not going to clear out my room. It’s like they left the stack on my bed as a punishment for my decision to file for a divorce. Humph. Maybe not … maybe they left all that stuff because they thought I’d eventually collect it to move back in with Jonathan. Wouldn’t that be just peachy, granting their only wish? I didn’t think I could sink any lower after seeing my parents’ packed bags. Man, was I wrong.

  I set up my bed and unpack my pajamas. My eyes flit to the corners of the large room. Good—the blinds are closed. I change out of my clothes then meander into the kitchen, passing the dining room table. My hand fumbles to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. Turning off all the lights, I use my flashlight on my phone to find my way back to the couch. As I curl into the narrow, suede sofa, my heart rate begins to climb, coursing through my muscles and snapping my mind to attention. Each creak of the old house sends me jumping. This place is so old and creepy. Why didn’t I just fly in tomorrow, like I had lied to Rita … to Jonathan? Oh God—please let him believe what I told him last week. He can’t know I’m in town tonight. The wind whistles outside, and I force my eyes closed, but every sound serves as a siren going off in my head. I lay still, with my heart pounding and my ears ringing. How will I ever sleep tonight?

  CHAPTER 25

  Yawning, I stretch my arms over my head and dangle my feet off the side of the couch. The day has finally come. It’s not like last year, when I was waiting for Harrison to help me escape. No…today is a whole new ballgame. Today is the day I end my marriage for good. I kick off the blanket with a grunt. So much for a good night’s sleep to get me through the events of the day. But at least it was only my racing heart that kept me awake … it could have been much worse.

  I grab for my phone on the glass coffee table, blinking at the early morning light peering through the closed blinds. I fold one arm over my stomach as I lean forward to text a threatening reminder to Jonathan. This is it—I didn’t fly all the way here to be deserted by my parents and played by him. I don’t expect a response, but I do expect his full cooperation … or else. Placing my phone down, my weak legs carry me to the kitchen. Coffee, that’s the answer. With a quick glance in my parents’ fridge, I groan. Wow. No creamer. My eyes scan the empty racks. Well, thanks for the hospitality, Mom and Dad. I shut the fridge and lumber out of the kitchen. I guess I’ll be eating out today. I should call Harrison, he would be outraged at my parents’ decision to travel an hour and a half away at such a critical time. No. I can’t. I lift my chin and curl my lips inward. I’m a fighter, and I don’t need my parents holding my hand through this day anyway.

  I change clothes, brush my teeth, grab for my purse and phone, and head toward the front door. Time to get out of this wretched house. At least they left me the truck. If it weren’t for that and the lie I fed Rita last week, I wouldn’t have stayed here last night.

  As I swing open the front door, the sun shines through the screen door and leaves me squinting in the heat. Jeez. Why is it so hot in October? I wrinkle my nose and remove my jacket, placing it on the hallway table and picking up the keys in return. I lock the door behind me. Bang! I jerk back, one leg frozen mid-air as I’m about to descend the steps. Oh gosh. I forgot about that creaky, screen door. Dad was supposed to have fixed that. My quarter-length, black shirt, complimented with a pair of gray dress pants, has me blasting the AC the moment I rumble my dad’s old truck to life. I rummage through my purse, past all the paperwork I’ll be bringing with me to the courthouse, and find my sunglasses. My hand pauses on the gear-shift, and I scan the interior of the truck. If Jonathan suspected I stayed here last night, he would’ve left something to scare me … something my parents wouldn’t think twice about. I take one last look around and shrug. The truck looks as normal as ever. I pick at some cotton coming through the tear in the single bench. That was my doing, years ago, when my dad had rushed me to school. I had to present a school project in my biology class, and when I yanked it from the truck in a rush, the sharp edge ripped the seat. My dad wasn’t happy. I groan. Here I am, older and more mature, but still causing him grief.

  I sigh heavily, hit reverse, and back down the short driveway. Here’s to a day out on the town. First, I head to Java for an iced latte. There’s no way I’m ordering a hot drink today. I scan the parking lot of Jim’s Gym as I walk down to say hello. Phew. Rita’s jeep is nowhere in sight. That would be just my luck…running into her as I say hello to all the trainers so she can run back to tell Jonathan I lied. Everyone offers warm greetings, and Jim has some kind words to share about how much he misses me. Danny catches me just as I’m leaving, and although he spends a good amount of time bragging about how he’s transformed the bodies of all my old clients he took once I left, at least he doesn’t hit on me. My stomach growls. I should’ve gotten a muffin or something at Java. Oh well … just another excuse to hit up my favorite restaurant. As I drive over to the other side of town, the courthouse appointment lurks in the corner of my mind. I drive down the familiar streets, turning at the second-hand shop where I purchased my cowboy boots, then turning again at the little, white church that always looks empty. It doesn’t seem to matter how I distract myself today, the courthouse awaits, constantly nagging at me, reminding me that something dreadful is around the corner. Don’t dwell on it. I throw the truck into park and hop out, ready to order the same lunch special I get every time I come here.

  I smooth a hand down my full stomach as I walk to the truck. Settling behind the wheel, I turn on the engine and start to inch out into the traffic. Thunk. I slam on my breaks, missing the bumper of a Highlander by a hair. Oh gosh! That’s Ainsley’s Highlander. I freeze, watching as she pulls into a parking spot. I duck in the front seat, just low enough to remain hidden yet still able to peek out the window. Did she see that near miss? Will she recognize the truck and come over?

  I unroll the window a crack. If she’s going to approach me, I need to be prepared. She exits the dr
iver’s seat and turns for a moment to get Miles out of the back, her phone wedged between her shoulder and ear. I strain to hear through the cracked window.

  “No, Mom. I’m not going to the courthouse,” she groans into the phone. I hold my breath as my eyes narrow. “Well, Hallie isn’t the friend I thought she was. Jonathan was texting me the whole night after we got back from Nashville, and he told me I only knew half the story.” She plunks Miles on the ground, moves her phone to her other ear, and rubs the back of her neck. “She lied to me about Jonathan, and I should’ve known … the way she was acting in Nashville just confirmed that she’s judgmental and chooses to be the victim rather than telling the whole story.” Miles runs for the door of the restaurant. He knows the routine. She pauses just outside of the door beside Miles and puts her hand on her hip. “Jonathan asked to meet with me so he could tell me the whole story, and now that I know everything, I feel bad for him.” She throws up her free hand and disappears into the restaurant.

  I grip my stomach as I sit up straight. There it is. I should’ve known Jonathan would get to her too. He knows what people want to hear, and it seems my last conversation with Ainsley was all she needed to lend a listening ear. As I drive off, I gulp back tears. No, I’m not going to cry for this. The rumors around here haven’t stopped, and now’s not the time to give into them. The problems of this place and the people here are not mine to handle anymore. I don’t have to make my case in front of my pastor because someone has been spreading rumors about me. I don’t have to explain my way out of any alleged affairs. I’m done with it all.

  My heart falls to my stomach. But I still have to look over my shoulder for Jonathan. Did he mean it when he said he would never give up trying to find me? Will I ever really be free from him? Maybe I’ll get a better feel for all that when I leave the courthouse. Maybe my mysterious evidence is enough to keep him away for good.

  I spend the rest of the afternoon sauntering mindlessly through various stores, biding my time. My belly gurgles. Only an hour left until I have to be at the courthouse. Fighting back nausea, I distract myself in the local library, browsing book covers about various heroines. Can’t I just be like these women? My phone buzzes from my purse. It’s Sarah with a text saying she wishes me luck and that she’s praying for me. Within the next thirty minutes, I receive similar texts from Harrison and Isabel, and with each new message, my heart lifts just a little. Maybe I am like the women who stand strong on the covers of these books. Maybe I am just as fierce—maybe I can fight against all odds, just like them. As I drive to this final encounter with the man who once stole all my sense of hope, drive, and strength, I cling to the fighter in me that I’ve adopted over the past year. Here it comes, the final test of my fight-or-flight battle.

  By the time I pull up to the courthouse, my fingers are trembling. A dark cloud starts to roll in, and the sun disappears behind it. Humph. Why did I have to leave my jacket behind? I glance quickly at the clock on the dash, then kill the engine of the truck. Only fifteen minutes left … I’ve got to pray. God, be with me. If I’ve ever needed your strength, it’s now. I know you didn’t design marriage to end in divorce, but I also know that you’ve been with me through every step of this disaster, and you have a plan for my future. Please, give me hope, right here … right now.

  The moment I step out from the truck, a fierce wind whips my hair away from my face and tugs at my purse. I shiver. Oh dear. It must have dropped at least ten degrees on my ride over. Folding both arms across my chest, I plunge a shoulder into the wind and march toward the courthouse. My eyes scan the parking lot for Jonathan’s car. My mouth falls open, and I take a quick step back as my eyes narrow. He’s here already? I turn my back to the wind that’s still picking up speed and sidestep between two cars only a few spots down from his. I peer over the hood of one car. His driver’s seat is empty. Not only did he get here early, he’s already inside. My skin crawls. It’s not like him to get here early. A lump forms in my throat. What’s he planning? I approach the glass door and pull it open against the wind. There he is, turned away from the door, chatting to one of the security guards behind the metal detector in this large entrance hall. Bile creeps into the back of my throat…he’s engaged in a friendly exchange with a man in a police uniform.

  “It was really good to see you,” Jonathan says. I lick my lips. His clothes are neatly pressed, almost hiding his thin frame. His buzzed hair is tidied-up, unlike my windblown tangles, and his face is clean-shaven. I move wordlessly through the metal detector on the other side. Can I sneak by and into the courtroom without being seen…and without throwing-up?

  “Yeah, man,” the security guard replies, “you too. You look fit, and it seems like you’re doin’ good. So glad to hear that the family is well, and that business is good—as always.” They shake hands, then he adds, “Man, the McClains are still doin’ things right ‘round here, and I respect that. Now you make sure to hunker down tonight. A nasty storm’s brewin’—it’s gunna get ugly.”

  With a courteous nod, Jonathan pivots just in time. We lock eyes, and his pleasant smile drops instantly. A shiver runs up my spine…he’s got everyone in this town right where he wants them. With a nervous twitch, I flee from his burning glare, enter the large courtroom, and find my seat. My knees bounce relentlessly during the next thirty minutes, matching the rapid beat of my heart. When the judge finally grants the divorce, the tension begins to leave my shoulders. I rise when excused. Is it acceptable to run from a courtroom? My marriage is finally over. He signed the papers without a problem, and our divorce is now finalized. I take a deep breath as my heart soars. I’m finally Hallie Reed again. The courtroom doors thud shut behind me, and I beeline for the exit doors as the tiniest smile lifts the corners of my mouth. I did it! This agonizing year is finally over. I can start living my life now.

  “Hallie,” comes a bark from behind. I spin around, my smile fading instantly. “Guess you got what you wanted,” he growls as he approaches me.

  “Yes, I did,” I spit. “Now it’s over, and you can leave me alone.”

  His black eyes seem to burn red, “I guess so.” He lowers his voice, “I mean, you probably still have that evidence against me.”

  My legs begin to tremble, but I stand tall. “I do, and I can use it whenever I need to, just so you know.”

  “It almost makes me curious what you got—but it’s not a problem. Like you said, it’s over now.” His eyes narrow, “I’m just surprised your parents weren’t here.”

  My limbs begin to shake at the mention of my absent parents, but I hold his gaze and force the strongest voice I can muster as I say, “They’re here. Just not in here. I don’t need my parents to get a divorce, but they are here.” My head spins with this lie. I hope I didn’t over-do it.

  A shadow passes over his face, darkening his features to match the gray and black clouds outside. But in a flash, it’s gone, convincing me that the look might not have been there to begin with. “Well, I guess this is good-bye then,” he states, and without another word, he brushes past me and out the door. The wind catches the glass for a second, and I wait back, long enough to watch his car leave the lot. The moment his vehicle is out of sight, I let out a long breath and lean against the door. He’s gone.

  I stop at one of the nearby, family-owned diners for a quick dinner. As I pick at my salad, the owners are nervously watching through the windows at the approaching storm. They eventually tell the few guests still here that they are closing early tonight. So much for a celebratory, Friday night dinner. I text Harrison, Isabel, and Sarah to let them know my marriage is finally over. Who is Jonathan celebrating his freedom with? I shake my head and rise to pay the bill, leaving behind my half-eaten salad then clambering back into the truck.

  The whole drive home has me fighting the gusty winds. The moment I’m parked in the driveway, I run to the house through heavy raindrops. I slam the door closed behind me, lock up, and fling the keys on the hallway table. As I trudge down the hall,
carrying my unused jacket with me, my eyes flicker toward my parents’ bedroom, then to Harrison’s old room. I wish someone was here. I wish I wasn’t alone. I could just stand here and sulk, but that wouldn’t change my circumstances, so I meander into living room. Slumping on the couch, I toss my belongings on the floor, then place my phone on the coffee table. I slide off my flats, curl my legs up, and flick on the TV. It’s kind of weird, sitting here, clicking through the channels, as if the sound of the TV can keep me company. An hour passes as the house rattles with each roll of thunder. I rise from the couch and march to the window. If there’s thunder, then there’s got to be lightening. That police officer at the courthouse was right, it’s probably going to get ugly out there. Shivering, I reach into my suitcase and find a pair of sweats and a hoody. Once I’m changed, I sink back into the couch, hug the pillow, and yank the bundled blanket up to my chin.

  Bang-bang! My heart leaps as I jump off the couch. Is someone knocking on the front door? My heart drums against my ribs as I tiptoe down the hall. With each turn, I pause to flick on the lights. Who would be calling on my parents now? As I reach the end of the hall, I turn toward the den and peak through the blinds. A white van is parked in the driveway, the headlights still on. Squinting through the darkness, a flash of lightening highlights a florist logo on the side of the van. Bang-bang! Another loud knock rattles the door, and my brow furrows as I slide over and twist the lock. I open the door a crack and breathe a sigh of relief. It’s a complete stranger holding a vase of flowers. I flick on the porch lights as I open the door wider.