For the Rest of My Life

by Harry Kraus

  She pulled the suitcase to her aging Toyota and threw the curling iron through the window onto the floor. She ran back and loaded a grocery bag with a box of cereal and a bag of Snickers, the little ones that her husband could eat in one bite. She didn’t know how long she’d be away and she wanted to be ready. She looked around the kitchen, dropped in two apples and a jar of peanuts. She never ate peanuts, but Billy Ray loved ’em, and that was reason enough to add them to the bag. She surveyed the carnage on the floor and smiled at the thought of Billy’s arrival. He would have to deal with the mess when he got home. Maybe it will make him real sorry. She rejected that thought out of hand, and gently slid the twelve-inch knife in beside a box of Wheaties.

  When she got to the car, she patted her pocket for the third time, reassuring herself of the location of her diamond. The little lump was there. She slammed the key in the ignition and turned.

  Nothing. Not even a click.

  “Ugh!” She pounded the steering wheel in frustration. “Help me, God!” She looked up at the evening’s last light. “Somebody help!”

  She ran around and opened the hood to see that the battery was missing. She slammed the hood and pounded it with both hands. “Billy Ray!”

  Obviously he didn’t want her getting away. She thought about running on foot, but that seemed ludicrous. He’d find her on the road, and she wasn’t about to venture into the woods. She trained her ear to the road. Was he coming?

  She tried to quiet her heart. Billy Ray would have gone to get some attention for his arm, and unless he planned on patching it up himself, she should have a good hour. But wouldn’t it be just like tough ol’ Billy Ray to pour a little iodine on his arm and come right back?

  The lady doctor! Dr. McCall said I could call her anytime I wanted to be taken to a safe place. She ran for the house. Where did I put that number? She pulled out the desk drawer and dumped the contents to the floor. Then she dropped to her knees and scattered the contents with her fingers. Paperclips, pens, a small Elmer’s glue bottle, and Scotch tape were combed aside with a stack of Billy Ray’s old checks. She pushed the phone directory away and lifted her grocery receipts, peeling them away by ones and twos until she held only the folded paper that Dr. McCall had given her. She had used it several weeks before when Billy Ray left her crying and alone. That time, in her panic, she asked a stupid question to cover her impulsive call.

  She unfolded the paper onto the kitchen counter and punched in the number. “Please be there. Please be there. Oh, please be there.”

  Claire and John were a half-mile from her home when her cell phone sounded, breaking their stride and eliciting a groan from John. He held up two fingers. “It’s your mom or a patient.”

  “A patient, Mom wouldn’t need us this soon.”

  She lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello, Dr. McCall.”

  “Dr. McCall! Billy Ray’s gone crazy. He’s coming back. I know he’s coming back and I can’t stay here. You said I could call anytime I wanted help. He’s broken my car so I can’t get away. Please say you’ll come and get me.”

  Claire signaled to John with her finger, and began walking back toward her house. “Slow down.” She paused. “Lena?”

  “Dr. McCall! Please!”

  “I’ll help you, Lena. Try to calm down. Where are you? I’ll come and get you.”

  John was at her elbow, nearly at a jog to keep up with Claire’s walk. She watched him roll his eyes. “Claire!”

  “I live on Briary Branch Road.”

  Claire repeated it so John could help her remember. “Briary Branch Road. Got it. How do I get there?”

  John touched her arm. “I know.”

  Lena continued her pressured plea. “Just come out of Stoney Creek like you were going to Brighton. Turn left onto Chesterfield Road and cross the railroad tracks. Briary Branch Road heads to the right after the tracks. Up toward Blue Knob.”

  “Okay, wait. Left on Chesterfield Road—”

  John interrupted her again. “I know where the road is.”

  “Okay.” Claire nodded. “Where on Briary Branch Road?”

  “Out from town. Maybe six, seven miles from the turn past the tracks. We have a mailbox with our name. It says our number. Eighty-two.”

  “Okay. Got it. Give me your phone number in case I get lost.”

  Lena repeated the number twice, and Claire three times out loud so John could memorize it too.

  “Please hurry. I don’t know how long he’ll be away.”

  The call ended abruptly, leaving Claire wondering if Billy Ray was there already.

  Claire sped up to a jog. “It’s the patient I told you about . . . the one whose husband knocks her around. We’ve got to go get her now. She’s panicked. Afraid her husband is coming home.”

  “Let’s take my car.”

  Claire nodded and drew a difficult deep breath. The tension and the sudden increase to a fast jog had her winded already. “I hate running after I eat.”

  John didn’t reply. He ran ahead and brought his car to the end of the lane to meet her. “I hope she has the dog chained.”

  “The dog?”

  John’s reply came after he had pulled out onto the road. “Everyone in the country has big dogs.”

  Claire pulled on her lap belt as John accelerated. They followed the road, making the turn onto Chesterfield Road with a squeal of the tires.

  “How did—”

  “I heard you say Chesterfield,” he snapped. “Now what?”

  “Go right after the tracks.”

  John followed the curves of the road, pushing the Mustang faster. When they approached the blind top of a hill, Claire clutched the door and screamed. “John, slow down!”

  They crested the hill without slowing and Claire relaxed only slightly when she saw a short straight section of road that allowed John to anticipate the next turn.

  By the time they pulled into the driveway, she was convinced that John had no fear. Either that, or God had assigned them double angel coverage. As if an angel could keep up with John, the Indy driver.

  They approached the front door on foot, aware of an eerie silence. Claire glanced back at the driveway which contained only an old blue car in front of the Mustang. “I hope that’s not Billy Ray’s,” she whispered. She pounded on the front door. “Lena!”

  Inside, she heard a bumping noise, a breathy grunt, and the rattle of a door chain. The dead bolt popped and the door opened. A coffee table and a lounge chair had been shoved away from the door. Lena had a fresh bruise under her left eye and dried blood on her arms. She was clutching a large gun with whitened knuckles.

  When Lena’s eyes met Claire’s, she seemed to relax a little, then looked down at her arm. She laid the gun on the couch. “Let’s go.”

  Claire took Lena’s hands in hers. “What’s happened?”

  Lena looked at the blood on her arms. “It’s not mine.”

  Claire looked around at the clutter and gasped. Lena pulled at her hand. “We need to get out of here.”

  They followed as Lena ran to the little car in front of John’s Mustang. She pulled out a brown suitcase, which John tossed in the backseat. Claire lifted the driver’s seat and climbed in the back. John opened the door for Lena. She eyed him pensively.

  Claire pushed the suitcase aside. “Lena, meet John Cerelli.”

  Lena nodded.

  They were three miles down Briary Branch Road before John asked where they were going.

  “Brighton. There’s a shelter that can help us.”

  Lena didn’t speak until they rounded the crest of a hill to see a red pickup in the oncoming lane. “Billy Ray!”

  John reached for her head and pulled her toward him. “Get down!”

  As the truck passed, Claire could see a shirtless man with a white bandage across his upper arm. His window was down and he stared at them with empty eyes.

  Claire watched as his brakes flashed, then stayed on.

  Claire flinched. “He’s turning aro
und!”

  Lena cried, “He must have seen me.”

  John punched the accelerator. “I don’t think so. I think he saw me.”

  But Billy Ray didn’t turn around. Maybe he knew he wouldn’t catch the Mustang. Maybe he wanted to get a gun. And maybe he hadn’t seen them at all. Claire wasn’t sure why he hadn’t taken chase, but she breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, God.”

  The trio rode in silence for most of the way. Claire didn’t want to pry, and Lena wasn’t bubbling over with details. Claire knew there would be time for that later. So Claire just sat and prayed, watching Lena as she stared straight ahead, quiet except for an occasional sniff.

  When John reached over and placed his hand on hers, Lena jerked her head over to see. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “It’s going to be fine now.”

  Claire watched as he squeezed her hand before returning his own to the steering wheel.

  The tension seemed to melt a bit once they reached Brighton city limits. John switched on his CD player. “L’amata mia éandata via.”

  “Give the girl a break, John. After everything she’s been through, she doesn’t need that kind of torture.”

  Her comment broke the strain of the moment. Lena smiled. “It isn’t so bad. Not Garth Brooks or anything, but it’s okay if he likes it.”

  John snapped it off. Claire could see him rolling his eyes in the rear mirror as he mumbled, “Not Garth Brooks.”

  “Are you hungry?” Claire asked.

  Lena shook her head. “I made a special dinner for Billy Ray.”

  John smiled. “Burn the roast or something?”

  Claire couldn’t believe he’d make a joke. “Cerelli!” She touched Lena’s arm. “Men!”

  Lena joked, “That music probably affected his head.”

  Claire laughed at that one.

  “Very funny.” John paused. “Where am I going?”

  “Take a left and travel Vine Street up behind McGuire Hall.”

  “It’s on campus?”

  “Across the street. It isn’t marked.”

  “Do you have family, Lena? Anyone we should call?”

  “No.”

  “I know the lady who works the shelter. I used to volunteer there as a medical student. You’ll be able to stay there until things settle down. Should I call your employer? I don’t have to give details. I can just say you’re under a physician’s care and will be needing some time off. The details are confidential.”

  “I can’t go back to work.” She looked out the window, her expression flat. “He would find me there.”

  “Where did you work?”

  “The shoe factory.”

  Claire nodded. “I’ll take care of things there for you. It’s my uncle’s business.”

  Lena turned back to her as if she was just putting the names together. She nodded her understanding and spoke softly, “McCall. McCall Shoes. Of course.”

  “Do you need some money? You shouldn’t use a credit card if you don’t want Billy Ray to know where you are.”

  “I have enough,” she said slowly. “I can get some money.”

  “Cathy Rivera runs the shelter. She will expect you to attend some counseling sessions and group discussions. You won’t have to pay room and board until you have a job. She has some contacts around Brighton.

  The bus line stops a few times on the university campus so you shouldn’t need a car.”

  “You’ll like Cathy,” John added.

  Claire patted John on the shoulder. “She hates opera.”

  Lena cast a sideways glance at John. “Then I suppose she’s okay.”

  In another five minutes they were standing on a sidewalk in front of a building that looked very much like many others on Greek Row, the area across from Brighton University where fraternity and sorority houses predominated. The only thing conspicuously absent were the universally ugly letters of the Greek alphabet on the front lawn or roof. It was a two-story colonial, all brick with deep green shutters and two-story white columns supporting a roof over the front porch.

  Before approaching the building, Lena turned to Claire. “Dr. McCall, I need to ask you something else.” She looked at John. “Uh, it’s medical.”

  John nodded and walked on up to the porch as Claire reached for Lena’s hand. “Call me Claire, Lena. I’m not really your doctor out here.”

  Lena kept her eyes on the sidewalk. “There’s something else I need from you.”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “I need an abortion.”

  “I’ve got to hand it to you, Harvard,” Leon spoke into the phone, “it’s going just like you suggested. Sugimoto faxed me the initial offer tonight.”

  “Well?”

  “I’ll have to see what the board thinks.” Leon smiled to himself. He knew what they would say. And he knew his attorney was dying to hear the figure. He just liked the feeling of being one step ahead of Alfred D. Pittington.

  “When does the board meet?”

  Leon pulled hard on a Cuban cigar that his wife only let him smoke on the back deck. “We’re having a special called meeting tomorrow. I’m going to present Mr. Sugimoto’s offer.”

  “A sellout takes unanimous vote from every member of the board.”

  “We’ve got it. I’ve polled everyone separately. I’ve spent more money on steak dinners and champagne than I’d like to think about. Everyone will vote with me.”

  “What about Elizabeth? She’s still active on the board. She’ll never go with this.”

  Leon tapped a thick rim of ash from the tip of his cigar onto the wooden deck, then pushed it between the boards and out of sight with his McCall penny loafer. “I’ve got her resignation letter on my desk. The first order of business will be to vote to accept her resignation. Then we’ll look at Sugimoto’s offer.”

  “He will need legal counsel after the takeover.”

  “Don’t worry, Harvard. You’ll have plenty of work with the new firm.”

  “What’s the time line?”

  “If we accept the offer, Sugimoto will come back the fifteenth of next month to review the agreement. Then he will hand-carry the contracts back to Tokyo for the CEO to sign. He told me to expect a transition team on site within sixty days of a signed contract.”

  “Sugimoto certainly spent a lot of time looking at the community. He must have asked me three times what the local concerns were, whether there are current town or community projects that need support.”

  “It’s all part of their company image, Harvard. If it didn’t result in more dollars, they wouldn’t be doing it.”

  “What will you do?”

  “I’m an automatic co-chairman of the transition committee. My job is safe.”

  “You won’t need a job. Your biggest problem is going to be whether to winter in Aspen, Maui, or the Caribbean.”

  Leon leaned back on his padded deck-lounger and laughed. He could hear Alfred tapping his fingers on his desk. Leon looked out at the night sky over the Blue Ridge and smiled. Here he was enjoying a pleasant summer night, and his attorney was still at his office. Alfred needed to get out more.

  Alfred’s tapping sped up. “Okay, McCall. I’m going to see the figures soon anyway. Is there a crime in telling me before the board hears it?”

  “It’s not a crime.”

  “Okay, let’s review. You bought all Elizabeth’s stock for two-hundred-thousand dollars. You’re now sitting on ninety percent of the company’s shares. You’re selling to the most successful athletic shoe maker in the world. Are you happy with the offer?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve got work to do. No more games, McCall. What’s the initial offer?

  Triple? Quadruple?”

  “More.”

  Pittington sneered. “McCall!”

  Leon broke into a broad smile. “Twenty million dollars.”

  It was just after midnight when Claire’s cell phone chirped. She wasn’t asleep. The events of the day were too fresh in her mind to a
llow that. She expected John, perhaps even Lena. After all, the first few nights alone are often the scariest part of a new life away from an abusive man.

  Claire jumped from bed and picked up her phone. She answered professionally, in case a patient was calling. “Dr. McCall.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, so she repeated her name. “Dr. McCall, may I help you?”

  “Dr. McCall.” The voice was male, but not one she could place.

  “Who is calling?” She looked at the digital readout of her caller’s number. She couldn’t place it.

  “I should have known this would be your number.” Claire strained to characterize the gravelly voice. It was male. Country accent. Slow with some slurring with prolongation of the “sh” sound.

  “It’s my number all right. Who is calling?”

  “What have you done with Lena?”

  Billy Ray! How did he get my cell phone number?

  “Mr. Chisholm, how did you get this number?”

  “Lena left it here by the phone. Nice of her actually.” He paused. “I need to know where Lena is.”

  “She’s in a safe place. That’s all I can say.”

  “You can’t believe everything she says. She lives in fantasyland. I’m really not a bad guy. What’d she say about me?”

  “Nothing. She really didn’t feel much like talking.”

  “You can’t believe her.”

  Claire’s patience was growing thin. “Billy Ray, why did you call me? It’s after midnight.”

  “I’m just trying to find Lena. I didn’t really know who I was callin’, see? ’Cause I found this number by the phone so I just called to see who Lena might have called to help her out. But this all makes sense now, because I saw you and that city slicker comin’ down the road. What’d you do? Stuff Lena in the trunk?”

  He didn’t see her! Why does he call John acity slicker? Must be the car?

  “I’m a doctor, Billy Ray. I merely responded to a plea from a patient.”