by K. E. Garvey
Amy returned to the bed and sat. “The night of the storm.”
There they were, the words Sali had feared she was going to say. She had spent most of her life trying to spare her sister the knowledge of what had happened in that house only to find out she had known all along. “Go on.”
Amy’s face was expressionless. “I had never heard thunder that loud. I tried hiding under my blanket and covering my head with my pillow, but it sounded like it was getting closer each time it clapped. I got so scared I went into dad’s room and asked if I could sleep in his bed. He said no. Instead of going back to my room, I went to yours.”
“But I never saw you there.”
She shook her head, and continued. “You looked like you were asleep. I was going to slide in next to you, but before I could I heard dad coming down the hall; so, I hid under your bed. I thought he was checking on you and would leave as soon as he saw that you were asleep, but he didn’t.” Amy lowered her head and closed her eyes. “I heard everything, although I didn’t really know what I was hearing except for the bed squeaking and the things he said, which didn’t make sense to me. Not at the time anyway. You were sobbing so hard when he left, and I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to crawl into your bed and hug you, but I thought you’d be mad that I was hiding in your room.”
“All this time. You kept that to yourself all this time?”
Amy raised her hands and let them fall into her lap. “Not exactly. I fell asleep under your bed while I was waiting for you to fall asleep. The next morning, I woke before anyone else and snuck back to my own room. A few weeks later, it stormed again, and again, I was scared and didn’t want to sleep alone. I ended up telling Mom everything about that night in the hopes she’d feel sorry for me and let me sleep with her.”
Sali wiped a single tear from her cheek. “What did she say when you told her?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing at all? Was she mad? Didn’t she believe you?”
“Sali, I was eight. I didn’t know exactly what I had heard. At the time, it sounded like you and dad jumping on the bed and I was mad I didn’t get to play with you. But when he left, you were crying so hard I knew I had to be wrong even though I didn’t know what the right answer was. It confused me. It was years before I fully understood what had happened that night, but by then he had been gone a long time, and you had moved out when you got your first teaching job. Everything had changed. I had no one to tell, and even if I had, there was nothing left to do.”
“You could have told me. You’ve always been able to tell me anything.”
“You’re right and I should have. But I couldn’t imagine the emotional pain you endured that night, and I thought that if you had wanted to talk about it you would have come to me. I couldn’t be the one to force you to revisit something so horrific if you had managed to put it behind you.”
Sali stood. “Behind me? Something like that is never behind me. It lives all around me. It plays a role in every aspect of my life. I can’t date a man if he displays a single characteristic that belonged to Warren. Even during the years when we thought he was dead, I’d become frightened if I got a whiff of his cologne in a crowd. Sometimes, I think I hear his voice and it takes my breath away.” She let out a sob. “And Mom died without me ever telling her how sorry I was.”
Amy threw her arms around her. “Sorry for what? You didn’t do anything wrong. He was a sick man who stole your childhood and you should never feel guilty for that. Oh sweetie, I’m the one who should be sorry. I pushed it all away and lived on the hope you had been able to work through it. I never asked you if you were OK even once I was old enough to grasp what he had done.”
Several moments passed without speaking. Sali found comfort in Amy’s embrace, but knew it would be short-lived. Warren was still out there and she knew in the pit of her stomach he wouldn’t give up easily.
“Detective Johnston is still in the living room. I should go back out.”
Amy released her, and said, “I’ll go with you.”
“Everything alright?” Detective Johnston asked as they rejoined him.
Sali said, “We’re fine.”
“I had a moment, but I’m good now,” Amy added.
He looked between both women. Seemingly convinced they were indeed alright, he said, “Warren borrowed a car from a man he worked with, so he’s mobile. We have an APB out on him and the car. It won’t be long before we find one or both.”
“Until then?” Sali looked at Amy, and then back to Johnston. “Are we safe here or should we go somewhere else?”
Johnston leaned forward, rested his forearms on his thighs, and interlocked his fingers. “Going somewhere he would be unfamiliar with would be ideal, but if he realizes you’ve left, he has no reason to stick around. That would make my job harder.”
“Are you saying we should stay put like conspicuous targets?” Amy’s voice broke as she spoke.
“Not at all. We’ll use the media to slip information to him, things we want him to know. If he believes you’re close-by, he’ll stay close-by. Beginning tomorrow, you’ll have an officer at your door 24/7 until he’s in custody.”
“No!” Sali stood. “I get what you’re saying, but I’m not about to let a glorified bouncer with a gun be the only thing standing between him and us.”
“Sali!”
“No, Amy, I’m sorry. He’s put me, us, through so much already. He’s not getting another chance.” She looked to Johnston, and said, “I’m sorry. No disrespect intended, but I’m not about to let my sister act as bait in order to lure a madman. I’ll stay. You can use me to trap him, but she goes. That’s final.”
“Sali, I’m staying. I can’t let you do this alone.” Amy stood and grabbed hold of her hands. “I’m through hiding under the bed.”
There was a determination in Amy’s eyes she had never seen before. No fear. Just resolve and strength. She looked at Johnston, and said, “I guess we’ve come to an agreement.”
She could tell he wasn’t convinced their idea was best, but he offered no resistance. He took a deep breath before he spoke. “I’ll have an officer here first thing in the morning. When he arrives, do not open the door until you hear from me. Although it’s unlikely, I don’t want you to open the door to someone posing as an official.”
She switched her attention to Amy to see how she was holding up. She sat erect and focused on Johnston, which was a good sign.
He continued. “Is there anything I can do, anything I can get you for now? I saw your car parked at the market down the street. I don’t want you walking there just in case he is in the area. We can’t protect you if you go out, so if there’s something you need I’d be happy to pick it up for you.”
She looked to Amy who returned a subliminal nod, and said, “I think we’re good.”
After a moment, he stood. “OK then. Remember, lock everything, stay inside, and don’t answer the door. Wait for my call in the morning even if you hear my officer outside.” He headed toward the door, and suddenly turned, and added, “Be safe.”
Chapter Forty-One
Sali - 2018
By the time darkness had pushed the last ray of sunlight from the sky, and they were ready to read the journal, Amy decided to leave it with Sali and head to bed. Reading it without Amy had felt wrong somehow, but she couldn’t wait a minute longer to find out what their mother was unable to tell them in her own words before her death.
She returned to the couch with a cup of tea and a napkin to set it on. With one leg curled underneath her she lowered herself onto the couch and picked up the journal opening it to the page she had left off…
“Next, I’d like to tell you, no, the truth is I have to tell you about Douglas. I wrestled with whether to tell you about him or let him rest in peace, but in the end, an omission is nothing more than an invisible lie. I first met Douglas at the diner I worked at when your father and I were newly dating. He was rather quiet, never complained, and always left a decen
t tip. Had your father not walked into the diner only a few short weeks before Douglas, my… our life might have turned out much differently. Or so I thought at the time.
“It wasn’t until after your father and I announced we were getting married (due to our unplanned pregnancy) that I heard Douglas speak anything besides his order. He simply said I was selling myself short by settling for the life I was being offered instead of waiting for the life I deserved. There was genuine kindness in his voice, so I was unable to be upset at him, and when your father and I lost that baby and began having problems, that concern stayed with me.
“I don’t recall if Douglas asked about my situation, or if I offered the details willingly. That isn’t important now. What is important is the fact I turned to him. Your father and I had only been married a short time, and had recently lost the baby that had precipitated the marriage when already I knew I had made a mistake. Douglas became my sounding board. My shoulder to cry on. And eventually, my lover. Telling you in this way spares me the humiliation I would surely have felt had I told you in person. I apologize for my cowardice.
“Too ashamed to admit my poor choices, I stayed with your father while carrying on an affair with Douglas. The affair didn’t eliminate the issues in my marriage, but the time I spent with Douglas, and the time I spent looking forward to being with him, made the unhappiness of my marriage bearable. For a while.
“For a woman with a set-your-clock-by-it menstrual cycle, two days was all I needed to be sure. And knowing it had been a solid month since your father and I had had relations was all it took to determine the paternity of my unborn child. I told Douglas first. I’m not sure what I had expected from him, but as the father he had the right to hear the news before anyone else. I suppose I should have waited until we were alone to tell him, but I was a bundle of nerves and couldn’t help but to tell him across the counter on his next visit to the diner. Again, I wasn’t sure what to expect when I told him, but I had somehow expected more than I got. He glanced around the diner as if to be sure no one heard what I had said. He remained calm, even smiled at me and brushed his knuckles over my hand, but said nothing until he had eaten his lunch and stood to leave. He asked me if I had told your father yet. When I said no, he said there was no sense putting it off, paid his check, and left.
“I don’t know if it was naivety or wishful thinking, but I took his words to mean that we were going to be together and as hard as it would be, I had to let your father know. And I did. That night, when he returned home from work, I sat him down and told him about Douglas and the baby. He quietly set his fork on his plate, rose, and disappeared out the door.
“The following day, Douglas never came in for lunch and your father hadn’t come home from the previous night. The next day, I saw neither of them. I began to think that somehow, they had run into each other, compared notes, and made the joint decision to walk out of my life. On the third day, once again Douglas didn’t come to the diner for lunch, but your father did return home that evening. I expected him to either demand I leave, or beg me to stay. He did neither. The days passed, one into another. Neither of us spoke of Douglas, and Douglas never came into the diner again. I was devastated that he had run out on me while I was carrying his child, but I was also confused because the man I thought I knew wouldn’t have done something so reprehensible.
“One Saturday, in my eighth month, I was sitting on a glider on your grandparent’s front porch while the rest of the family finished with dinner. The screen door squeaked open and I turned to find your father standing in front of it. Somehow, I knew he’d been watching me. The expression on his face was almost indescribable. It was a mix of pity, knowing, and gloating. He said, ‘I see that faraway look in your eyes, and I can tell you with certainty—he ain’t coming back.’ Although I had no idea what his cryptic statement had meant, his words caused my insides to harden. Any hope I may have had, any fantasy that Douglas would return for me and our baby died within me that day.
“The first of my two children was born three and a half weeks later, and your father happily signed the birth certificate a day after that. I foolishly allowed myself to believe he had made the noble and selfless decision to accept another man’s baby and raise it as his own. I was wrong. Very wrong.
“By pretending to accept the baby, he had put himself in control of the marriage, of me. I was afraid to go out on my own, and he knew that. Paralyzed by fear, I stayed. Days turned into months, months turned into years. As time passed, he became more controlling and less aware of my unhappiness. Life became a little more bearable when I announced I was pregnant with baby number two. The fact I hadn’t left the house without him in years was assurance enough that he was the father, and for the first time, he exhibited genuine happiness at the prospect of fatherhood.
“I don’t have to tell you how he felt about each of you. Everything he was, everything he did, everything was my fault even if it was indirectly. Had I left when I first realized my mistake none of it would have happened. I didn’t know what was going on in my own house until that fateful night. I had suspicions, but didn’t feel suspicions were enough to base my actions on. Once I knew, I acted. I may not have made the best choices, but I regret none of them. I saw them as righting the wrong decisions I had made to that point. I saw them as protecting both of you for all the times I hadn’t in the past. I saw them as putting an end to your suffering, Sali. Enough about that.
“Once your father went to prison, I tried to find Douglas. My wishes were simply to give him an opportunity to see the child we had created; my hope was he’d want to be a part of your life even if it were a small part. But during my quest I learned he had been killed in an accident at work many years earlier. It took some time to put the pieces in chronological order, but I learned he was killed the day after I told him of my pregnancy. Had I learned of his death back then, I would have mourned him and eventually his memory would have faded as I accepted the finality of it all. But learning of his death when I did left me with questions and the inevitable what if’s. Not one to give it all to coincidence, yes, I found myself wondering if your father had played a part in Douglas’s death. I’ll never know the truth, but I will always believe in my heart he had.
“Sali, I can’t change the past. I can’t erase it. I can’t even comfort you because we have never openly talked about it. I always thought if you wanted me to know the details I could only guess, you’d tell me. I talked myself into believing that maybe silence somehow helped you to cope. I thought I was helping you to cope when I made the decision to tell you your father had died in the accident. I hope I was right. I’m sorry we never talked, but even as I write this, I don’t know where I would have begun. I could blame my reticence on my upbringing as my mother and I were never able to share, but that would be an excuse. You were always good at holding things in and that made it easy for me to do the same. I can’t apologize enough for that.
“Warren was not your biological father and although that doesn’t change what he did or the emotional pain you’ve suffered, I hope that somehow, in a small way, that knowledge will serve as the single ray of light in the dark cloud over your childhood…
~ Amy ~
Almost an hour had passed since Amy last heard Sali shifting on the couch or turning pages of the journal. At one point she almost joined her, but decided anything her mother had to write in a journal to say to them was either a pretty truth or an ugly lie and either way wasn’t worth hearing.
She slid out from underneath the sheet and touched her feet lightly to the floor. The old house had its share of creaks and she was hoping to miss stepping on them. She took small steps, pausing briefly between each one. When she reached the door, she slid four fingers in the sliver of an opening and pulled it open further. As she had expected, Sali was asleep on the couch, the journal clutched to her chest. She lengthened her steps hoping to get to the kitchen and back before her sister woke. Holding her breath, she touched the floor softly with each foot until
she reached the archway leading to the kitchen. Spotting her cell phone on the far counter, she tiptoed across the linoleum floor, unplugged it, and tiptoed back to the edge of the carpet pausing only long enough to ensure Sali was still asleep. Pulling the phone to her chest, she hurried through the living room and closed the bedroom door behind her, holding the knob and releasing it slowly to quiet the click.
She lowered herself onto the bed and took several deep breaths before turning her phone on. She typed P-A in the search bar and clicked on the first name in the list that appeared.
Just about to hang up, she pulled the phone back to her ear when she heard a groggy voice say hello. She froze. Thoughts of him had kept her up for the past three hours, but now that she had him on the phone, she didn’t know where to begin. He repeated his greeting, his voice now awake.
“Hi.” She shut her eyes tightly, disappointed in herself and wishing she had given more thought to the call before she dialed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called so late.” She glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table, and said, “I suppose you’re right, it is early.”
She took in a big breath. He obviously wasn’t going to make this easy for her. Unable to get her words out, she hoped he would pick up the conversation, talk about himself, her, the latest news in the art world, the weather, anything to fill the uncomfortable moments until she could work up her nerve to tell him why she had called. Finally, he asked her how she’d been.
One question, four words—how have you been—that’s all it took to open the emotional floodgates. She began speaking before her mind had made a conscience decision to do so, and didn’t stop for a proper breath until she had told him everything that had happened since the day of the shooting. She didn’t know how long she had been talking, but her throat was tight and dry when she finished.