Don't Blink

by L. G. Davis

  A minute or two later, her car blazes past me. Guilt gnaws at my insides. I wish I didn’t have to talk to Ralph behind her back, but I need to get to him without anyone standing in the way.

  As soon as Marissa’s car disappears into the distance, I change direction again.

  It’s only a short walk to Ralph’s house, but I’m drained by the time I reach it.

  Every step I take toward the front door, my mind tries to convince me to leave him alone, but I’ve come too far to turn back.

  Since it will take a few days for the paternity results to arrive, I’m hoping I can convince him to tell Jared the truth before he gets used to living without me. It’s worth a try. Maybe he can also help me find out who’s trying to destroy both our lives.

  He swings the door open before I have a chance to ring it. “Caitlin, what are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to talk. Can I come in?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He threads a hand through his hair, which is loose today instead of in a ponytail. “I don’t even know why you suddenly want to talk now. I’ve been trying to talk to you for a while now, and you kept shutting me down, remember?”

  “I’m sorry.” I pause. “Please, Ralph. I need your help.”

  “Look, we have to stay away from each other. The rumors about us are messing with my life. My fiancée threatened to call off the wedding if I don’t stay away from you.”

  “My life is a mess, too. We’re the only people who can kill the rumors. Jared doesn’t want to believe that there’s nothing between us. I came to ask—beg—you to talk to him.”

  Ralph chuckles. “If he doesn’t believe his wife, why would he believe me?”

  “I don’t know. I also don’t know what else to do.” I glance behind me. “Can I come in or do you want the whole neighborhood to see me at your front door?”

  He steps aside to let me enter.

  I’ve never been in his home. It’s decorated in shades of gray and black. I hope when he gets married, and Marissa moves in, she’ll bring in a splash of color. The interior feels so cold. He asks me to take a seat in the sitting room, but I refuse. I don’t plan on staying long.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  I shake my head. “I’m good. Ralph, I need to tell you something.” I’ve realized that hiding from the truth is a dangerous game to play.

  “What’s going on?” He narrows his eyes.

  “I’m not the person you think I am.”

  “I don’t understand.” He takes a seat on the couch.

  “I think the recent rumors were started by someone who’s trying to hurt me.”

  “Why would anyone want to do that?”

  I close my eyes. “Because whoever is behind all this knows my secret ... I think.” Even though I didn’t want to sit, I change my mind and lower myself into a leather armchair. I keep my eyes away from him as I prepare to tell him my story. “My name is not Caitlin. I became Caitlin because I wanted to hide.”

  “To hide from what? From who?” Ralph’s brow wrinkles. His eyes hold so many questions. I’m ready to answer them all.

  Before I lose my courage and crawl back into my hiding place, I launch into my story. I tell him everything.

  By the time I’m done, he’s no longer on the couch, but at the window, his back to me. The room grows silent for a long time after my confession.

  When he turns to face me, his eyes are bulging out with shock, and his hand is covering his mouth. “Wow,” he breathes. “I didn’t see that coming. Let me get this straight. You murdered your husband and ran away? You—”

  “Like I said, I don’t remember doing it. I don’t remember anything after the fight we had that night.”

  “But you had an argument before going to bed.”

  “Yeah. I was upset that he married me to get his inheritance.” I raise my eyes to his. “Wouldn’t you be?”

  “I don’t get it. Why didn’t you just go to the cops? Why did you run?”

  “I was afraid, Ralph.” I clutch my hands in my lap. “Too much evidence pointed to me being the murderer. I didn’t want to go to prison.”

  “Why would you be afraid if you didn’t do it?”

  “I don’t know if I did or didn’t do it. I was a sleepwalker. There were times I did things in my sleep that I didn’t remember the next day.”

  “And you think someone in this town discovered your true identity and wants to expose you?”

  “Yes. After torturing me first.” I clasp my hands together to keep them from shaking. “I know this sounds crazy, but sometimes I think it’s my brother.”

  “You said he’s dead.”

  “Sometimes I get the feeling he really isn’t. His body was never found.” I swallow hard. “He did promise to make my life hell. What if—”

  “He’s the one who killed your first husband and tried to pin it on you? You really believe that?”

  “I don’t know what to think. I’m confused. Too much is happening, and I don’t know what to believe anymore or who to trust.”

  Ralph is quiet again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If it’s your brother, why would he wait years to torture you? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It doesn’t make sense to me, either. All I know is that my life is falling apart, and Ryan loved to see me in pain.”

  Ralph sweeps a hand across his brow. “Caitlin, I don’t know what the hell to say to you. This is a lot to take in.”

  “You hate me, right?”

  “No, I don’t hate you. But I don’t know how to help you. Did you talk to Jared about this? I think he’s the one you should talk to.”

  “I wanted to, but he’s gone. And I want him back. I thought maybe you could try to reach out to him, as well. He needs to know that I didn’t cheat on him.” I pull out a piece of paper from my bag and scribble Jared’s number on it. I hand it to Ralph, but he doesn’t take it. I put the paper on his mahogany coffee table. “Please try. I don’t have anyone else on my side.”

  “The cheating rumors are the least of your problems, Caitlin. You kept your husband in the dark about your true identity.”

  “I know I did. I was afraid to lose him.”

  “I think you should find a way to tell him. He deserves to know.” He blows out a breath. “I also think you should go to the cops. You’re being stalked by a person who could be dangerous. You need to come clean, or you and the baby could end up hurt.”

  “What if I did kill him?” My voice cracks. “I could end up going to jail.” I lay a hand on my stomach. “I don’t want my baby to be born behind bars.”

  “But you have to do something. You could be in danger. I wish I could help you, but I don’t know how to without going to the cops.”

  “I’m sorry I messed up your life. If you want me to talk to Marissa, I will. It’s the least I could do.”

  “No, I’ll handle it.”

  “Will you tell her ... about my past?” If Ralph breathes one word to the wrong person, all hell will break lose, and I could end up getting arrested.

  “I can’t do that. That’s your story to tell.” He pauses. “I’m sorry about what you went through with your brother.”

  “Thanks.” I stifle a sob. “I’m sorry about your job.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I better go.” I push myself to my feet with difficulty. “Thanks for listening.” Even though there’s nothing he can really do, it helped to pour it all out.

  Before I walk out the door, he calls for me. “Take care of yourself. I’ll keep my eyes open. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know. If you decide to run again, give me a call to say goodbye.”

  “I’m tired of running.”

  “So, you’ll just wait?” His eyes bore into mine.

  “I don’t think I have much choice.”

  “At least find a safe place to stay until the baby comes.”

  I let out a dry chuckle. “The person after me is everywhere.”


  “Then think about what I said. I really think you should go to the cops.”

  “Goodbye, Ralph.” I’m unwilling to go that route again. Going to the cops isn’t an option, not when I’m pregnant.

  Back home, I find more of Jared’s clothes gone. He couldn’t even bear to look at me. I spend a whole hour sitting on the bed, wrapped in a cocoon of sorrow. I try to do a Sudoku puzzle as a way to distract myself, but I can’t focus.

  Thirst makes me get up and go to the kitchen for a drink.

  An old prescription for my prenatal vitamins that I’d misplaced a while back is on the counter, held down by an empty glass. I’m sure I didn’t leave it there.

  I pick it up and notice that someone wrote on the back. At first, I think Jared has left me a message. I’m wrong.

  I read the words and drop the prescription to the floor.

  Looks like someone’s life has expired. xoxo

  CHAPTER 41

  The moment I hear the familiar rumble of a van in the distance, I push away my bowl of oatmeal and walnuts and lift myself from the chair.

  I’m waiting in the doorway when Troy Wendel drives his van past my house. In the past, when distributing mail and packages in the neighborhood, he often parked close to our house. Not anymore. He glances in my direction and keeps going. No wave. No smile.

  He parks the van close to Ruth’s house. Determined not to let him get away this time, I hurry down the path and out the gate, my morning robe flapping behind me. The belt had unraveled when I ran out of the kitchen and fallen to the ground. I don’t care that underneath the gown I’m only wearing a t-shirt that’s too small for my belly and leaves the bottom half exposed. I don’t care that people are staring at me through their windows.

  I get to the van—breathless and dizzy—before Troy has a chance to exit. He’s jotting something into a notepad. When he looks out the window, his eyes widen. I move away just enough for him to open the door and get out.

  “Morning, Troy, any mail for me?”

  No answer. He steps around me to get to the back of the truck, where he takes out some mail and a package to distribute to the individual houses.

  “I’m expecting an important letter.”

  Still ignoring me, Troy starts walking toward Ruth’s house, a package under his arm.

  “Troy, wait.” I grip his arm.

  I used to be Troy’s favorite house to deliver to. I always go the extra mile to be especially kind to him. His mother has cancer, and he dropped out of college to care for her. At twenty-three, he has a lot on his shoulders. I sympathized with him because he reminds me of myself—the person I used to be. It’s not easy taking care of a sick family member all on your own while struggling to make ends meet.

  He always stayed a few minutes longer on my doorstep than he needed to. I know when his birthday is. I always had a small present waiting for him in order to make him feel special. I liked to think we were friends.

  Now everything has changed. The rest of Faypine have infected him with the “hate Caitlin virus.”

  Everywhere I go, people stare at me with disgust on their faces. They point and snicker when I walk by.

  “Troy, my letter ... I was told it should have arrived three days ago. Are you sure—?”

  He pulls his arm from my grasp. “I don’t have any mail for you, Mrs. Lester.” He comes to a halt in front of Ruth’s mailbox and slips two envelops into the slit. He continues his walk down the street, not bothering to even look at me.

  “I ordered other things, as well ... things for the baby,” I croak. “Where’s my stuff?”

  I tag along as he stops at three more houses, delivering a package to one.

  On his way back to the truck, I’m exhausted and finding it hard to keep up. I stop for only a moment to catch my breath before running after him.

  I wish I didn’t have to humiliate myself this way, but the paternity test results are out, and the lab refused to give them to me over the phone.

  “Please leave me to do my job, Mrs. Lester.” Troy picks up his pace, making it even harder for me to keep up, but I refuse to quit. I follow him back to his van.

  “What happened to my mail, Troy?” I ask, out of breath. “Please don’t lie to me.”

  “Maybe it got lost.” He climbs into his van and slams the door shut. Then he drives off.

  Ice spreads through my stomach. What am I doing? What am I doing in Faypine when no one wants me here? I can’t do this anymore.

  As I stand on the sidewalk, hurt and alone, I make a heart-wrenching decision. Once the baby is born, I’ll give them what they want. I’ll run again. I wouldn’t want my baby to grow up in such a toxic environment, surrounded by people who refuse to give others the benefit of the doubt. The last week has certainly left a bitter taste in my mouth.

  “Are you happy now?” I shout at no one in particular, turning in a half circle, watching curtains twitch and fall back into place.

  The only answer I get is that of someone coughing and a dog barking. I let out a bitter chuckle.

  “You must be so pleased now that you took everything away from me.”

  I must look like a crazy woman, standing out here talking to myself, but I don’t give a damn. No point in trying to hide anymore when all my problems are hung out in the open for everybody to gawk at. I don’t care if they laugh at me or run their mouths, but I’m still a resident of this town.

  The past few days, I’ve been hiding out in my house, leaving only when I really had to. I felt ashamed and dirty. But that’s about to change. I’ve been good to this town. I helped educate their children. As long as I’m still here, I deserve some respect. I deserve to have my mail delivered.

  As I walk back into the house, I can’t ignore the irony. I ran away from Corlake to avoid being a pariah among my own people. Look where that got me. The very thing I ran from has caught up with me.

  I slam the door shut and go upstairs to change into black pregnancy leggings and an oversized t-shirt. Done, I grab my handbag and head out to the car.

  Ten minutes later, I step through the doors of the local post office. Only one teller is working. Thank God for the short line. It’s getting too hard to be on my feet for long stretches of time.

  I position myself behind an old man in a flannel shirt. In total, four people stand in line before me.

  My skin crawls from all the stares. It’s hard to ignore the rage pushing up my throat. To occupy myself, I pull out my phone to see if Jared has called or left a message.

  A twinge of disappointment ripples through me.

  Why do I even bother to look? He’s been gone for over a week and hasn’t bothered to check up on me.

  The line moves too slow for my liking. The postal worker is on the phone. From the way she’s smiling, it’s a personal call. She ends it when one of her colleagues taps her on the shoulder and points to the line.

  When my turn finally comes, I approach the counter and lay my hands flat on its cool surface.

  The name on the postal worker’s tag is Elsa McAlister. From what I can see, she has to be somewhere in her twenties, no older than twenty-five. I’ve seen her before at the pharmacy across from Dr. Collins’ private practice. I guess she’s juggling both jobs. It’s not unusual for people in Faypine to have several jobs under their belts.

  Elsa peers at me through her long, greasy bangs. “We’re closing for lunch.”

  “But it’s only ten o’clock.”

  “We have an early lunch today.” She turns her back to me, placing a box on the counter behind her.

  “But I’ve been waiting in line like everybody else. It won’t take long for you to help me out.”

  She glowers at me. “I’m afraid I don’t have the time. You’re too late.”

  When she starts to walk away, I slam a hand on the counter. “Why don’t you just tell me to go away, huh?” I don’t care who’s listening. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell me the truth ... that you don’t want to serve me?”

 
“I ...” Elsa scratches the top of her head. “I have to go.” With that, she disappears through a door at the back.

  “Unbelievable,” I breathe out. I spin around to face the many faces gawking at me. My anger boils over. “What are you all staring at?”

  Someone laughs and several others join in.

  “Go on, laugh all you want.” I shake my head. “What makes you think you’re all so perfect? What gives you the right to judge others when you probably have your own secrets?” I pause for a moment. “I don’t care what you say about me. I’m a part of this town, whether you like it or not. I’m not going anywhere. Deal with it.” They don’t need to know I’m planning to leave town.

  I’m seething with both anger and humiliation as I burst out of the doors. When I get to my car, I screech to a halt.

  Someone has left a message for me.

  Adulterer is written in bold, red marker on my windshield.

  “Is this all you’ve got?” I turn around, watching the passersby watching me. Some look away, and others don’t bother to. In the sea of faces, I spot that of Dr. Fern. She looks as disgusted by me as everyone else.

  Instead of giving in to the shame, I square my shoulders. “Whoever did this can go to hell.”

  I try to wipe away the word on my windshield with the towel I keep in the trunk, but it doesn’t come off. I can’t remove the stain from my life.

  Anger roars through me as I get behind the wheel and drive off in a screech of tires.

  Another surprise awaits me at home. The nursery is trashed again, and the same words that are written on the windshield of my car are also scrolled across one wall of the room.

  That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. They win. I’m leaving.

  CHAPTER 42

  The doorbell rings as I pack. I ignore it. I’m not expecting anyone. I’m pretty sure it’s not Jared. I left him a message to tell him I’m leaving town. It’s been an hour, and he hasn’t called back.

  I toss a few T-shirts and leggings into a bag. I have no idea where I’m going yet. All I know is that I want to get as far away from this place as possible. I’ll stay in a motel in another town until I come up with a plan. I’ll get through this. I’m a survivor.