Husband by Choice

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  The dishes were done, dishwasher emptied.

  And the kitchen floor had been swept.

  She was home. But it didn’t feel like home.

  She was moving about freely and didn’t feel free.

  Leaving the bedrooms for last, Meredith entered Caleb’s first. The crib sheet had been changed. His blanket was folded and put on the end of the mattress just as she’d always done.

  She picked it up and the softness clung to her hands, or maybe she clung to it. As if to a lifeline.

  But in whose life?

  When tears started to choke her, she kissed the blanket, and turned her back.

  “I love you, my baby.” Her voice broke as she left the room. And on the way to her own room across the hall—the one she’d shared with the husband she adored and missed so desperately—she caught a glimpse inside the spare bedroom.

  That was when she admitted to herself that she was looking for a duffel bag. Black. With a shoulder strap.

  It wasn’t there.

  But the bed had been slept in. The pillows weren’t arranged as she arranged them.

  The spread wasn’t on as straight as she kept it, either.

  She fixed both.

  And skipped the master bedroom.

  She couldn’t go in there.

  Because she knew, standing there in that home, that she’d left for a valid reason. She wasn’t losing her mind.

  Maybe things weren’t exactly as she’d thought them to be. Maybe she had issues she hadn’t dealt with.

  But the Steve issue...the threat he posed...was real. Being in the home she’d put together, with the things she’d purchased and arranged, had quieted the confusion in her mind. Because the home she was standing in was a fantasy she’d created.

  Her reality existed only inside of her.

  She didn’t belong where she was. She was a danger to Max and Caleb. Just as she’d known she was.

  And being there was completely selfish. She had to get out, get away, and pray that Steve wouldn’t punish her by taking her visit out on the two innocent Bennets.

  The possibility that had occurred to her days ago, the idea that she’d always known she wasn’t free to share her life with Max, that she’d made promises to him knowing that she wouldn’t be able to keep them, was true.

  It was the cold hard truth.

  She’d wanted to believe Max when he’d told her she was suffering from paranoia. He was a doctor. Not a psychologist, mind you, but he’d had enough medical training to recognize fear-based delusion. She’d really wanted to believe that the threats were behind her. She’d wanted to do what Max had told her to do, which was to move on and be happy. To give them a chance to be a family.

  But she knew Steve. He’d refused to acknowledge their divorce even after the judge had signed it into fact without him. He’d followed her to four states.

  How many times had he told her she was his and he’d never let her go?

  She couldn’t go in the bedroom she’d shared with Max because her time there had been a farce. Based on lies.

  Her lies.

  To herself.

  And to him.

  And the only way she could right this most atrocious wrong, was to go back to Steve. She had to find a way to get him to let go of her, to somehow convince him that he wanted to let her go, or she would die trying.

  She wasn’t sure what her chances of success were. She might live. And she might not. But she didn’t have anything to give to anyone until she rid her life of the demon.

  Maybe she’d hoped, by going home that day, that she’d find out she’d been sabotaging her own life. That she’d prevented herself from being happy out of a sense of misplaced guilt.

  Maybe, in the back of her heart, she’d planned a welcome home dinner for her husband that night—preceded by a phone call of course so he could prepare their son. And so she could be certain she was still welcome home.

  Maybe she’d hoped that she could go back two weeks and pretend that Steve Smith didn’t exist.

  What she’d hoped was that the past two weeks had been a product of her mind playing games with her. She’d hoped that she could end the madness and crawl back into bed with the man she loved.

  She’d let emotion take over, had tried to justify giving up on her plan by telling herself that there was no need to confront Steve. She’d given in to the weakness that would probably always plague her, the need to be cared for, to not be alone. To the temptation to lose herself in the love she shared with Max, at the possible cost of his life.

  No. She could not risk being responsible for the death of another human being.

  And she knew a way to prevent herself from waltzing back into her home and taking up residence again.

  Quickly, so she wouldn’t have time to change her mind, she reached into the bag she’d taken with her, pulled out the little metal tin, and placed it where she knew for certain that Max would find it.

  And then she sneaked out the back door, and went around the shed, through the shrubbery....

  And heard the bushes move behind her.

  Turning, she thought she saw a branch move, but couldn’t be sure. She picked up her pace, taking a different route than usual, cutting through yards she didn’t know, and as she changed course, rounding a three-car garage, she saw a flash of color. Someone had just ducked behind the other side of the building.

  Someone she recognized.

  That was when Jenna stopped thinking and acted. Purely on instinct. Sliding in and out of places that should be too small for her to fit. Sucking in her breath, running without making a sound, climbing a half brick wall and hiding behind it until she heard footsteps go past.

  She waited some more. To make certain they didn’t come back. That he didn’t come back.

  Running, keeping an eye on her surroundings, staying one step ahead, was familiar.

  She’d eluded him.

  For now.

  But she knew who he was. She’d seen his face. And she was done being hunted like an animal.

  Soon, she was going to be stalking him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “MAX? IT’S CHANTEL.”

  He knew that. He might be driving, but his phone was hooked up through a device in the car that let him speak through the stereo. And the stereo displayed the caller’s ID.

  “I’m in the car with Caleb,” he said quickly, glancing in the rearview mirror at his son. He’d just picked up Caleb from day care and the boy had been listless. Was he coming down with something?

  At the moment, he was sucking on his thumb and staring out the window. The whole thumb-sucking thing. They’d broken him of it. But sometime over the past week or so he had started doing it again.

  The first time Max had noticed, Caleb had been sucking his thumb in his sleep as he lay in his crib at night.

  Max had pulled his son’s thumb out of his mouth that night. But he hadn’t bothered to fight the habit since.

  “Okay, got it. Wayne and I split up this morning, to cover more ground,” she said, injecting a note of cheer in her voice, for Caleb’s sake, obviously. “We didn’t turn up anything and I was just getting on the highway to head back to Las Sendas....” She’d taken her bag with her that morning, planning to head home after a bit more canvasing. She was on shift at noon the next day, working three twelve-hour days in a row.

  “But then Wayne called. He’d driven by the house we’d seen yesterday and...Caleb’s there, right?”

  “Yes.” Another glance at his son and he saw the boy looking at him, not quite a frown on his face, but maybe a toddler version of one.

  “Wayne was certain there was a light on inside the house,” she said. “So I turned around and came back. If...well, I didn’t know and...”

/>   With an eye on the road, Max turned onto his street, and checked on his son once more. Still sucking his thumb, Caleb was back to staring out the window, his head against the side of his car seat.

  He didn’t look sick. Or even unhappy.

  Just far too mellow for his father’s comfort.

  “So...is someone there? At the house?”

  “It doesn’t look like it. I’ve driven past several times. I’m just sitting down the street from the house right now. There’s no sign of life.”

  “But Wayne thinks he saw a light?”

  “He’s not positive, Max.”

  “But he was sure enough that he called you.” Which was sure enough for Max.

  “Yes. He also just checked to make certain that...everyone he’s been checking on...is okay.” Meaning Meri. “Anyway, I thought I’d hang around here a bit longer and then head your way, if you don’t mind. I’d rather make the drive back to Las Sendas in the morning.”

  “Of course I don’t mind.” He pulled into his driveway, hitting the button to raise the automatic garage door and pulled inside. “Have you eaten?”

  “I can grab a burger.”

  “Nonsense. We’re doing fish sticks and fruit, but you’re welcome to join us.”

  “What time’s dinner?” She sounded as if she was grinning.

  It was four-thirty. “How about six?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Max was certain she would be. And liked being able to be certain. He just wished that his wife would be there, too, to welcome his friend into their home.

  * * *

  SHE’D BEEN THERE.

  “Da, ca. Ca.” Caleb squirmed down from Max’s grasp, and ran straight for the living room, grabbing the remote. He brought it to Max. “Ca,” he said again.

  Max hardly heard him. Meri had been there.

  The house smelled like it used to smell after she’d cleaned. Like pine and flowers. Because she always sprayed floral air freshener after using the strong-smelling chemical cleansers.

  The small bathroom off the living area had definitely been cleaned. He’d noticed the pink ring around the toilet that morning, but hadn’t done anything about it.

  It was gone.

  The faucets were polished, no drops of water or any residue on them.

  “Ca. Da-Da. Ca!”

  Caleb had followed him into the bathroom and pulled on the edge of his Bugs Bunny scrub shirt. Standing on the toe of Max’s gray high-tops, Caleb reached the remote up as high as he could get it, aiming for Max’s hand.

  “Ca, Da-Da.”

  And because he was sweating and as close to panic as he’d ever been, he walked almost zombielike to the living room and set Caleb up with his favorite movie in the DVD player.

  From there he raced through the rest of the house.

  She’d been in Caleb’s room. The blanket...he’d left it folded neatly in the crib. It was still there, but bunched. He picked it up, holding it to his chest with one hand while he went into the bedroom next door.

  He could smell her there, too. And told himself that she’d reclaimed the room that Chantel’s presence seemed to have taken over.

  The hall bathroom had been cleaned. Everything shone.

  Max practically ran into their room. She’d have been in his shower, and probably scoured her garden tub, too. Cleaned their sinks and...

  Throwing open the door he was only vaguely aware of the television blaring in the other room, of the music and voices associated with the movie he’d seen bits and pieces of many times over the weekend.

  He didn’t realize, until he felt the utter emptiness of his bedroom, that he’d been picturing Meri there on the bed, waiting for him.

  She hadn’t been in the room. Everything was just as he’d left it that morning. His closet door was still open. Meri hated open closet doors. The faucets in the master bath didn’t shine. His towel was still wadded on the counter where he’d left it that morning. His dirty underwear hadn’t made it to the hamper yet, either.

  But more than the lack of Meri’s touch was the stale smell. The absence of her energy.

  She’d been home. But she hadn’t come to their room.

  Because she couldn’t? Because it had been too hard for her? Because she missed him as much as he missed her and the pain was too devastating to bear?

  Or maybe Smith had been with her. Wayne had seen a light on in the house by the beach.

  But if her ex-husband had been with Meri, why come here?

  And who would kidnap someone and then wait around while she cleaned house?

  For that matter, why had Meri come home? And why had she stayed long enough to clean but then left again?

  Leaving his room, he strode back to Caleb’s. Maybe she’d left a note. Some sign for him.

  And then he was back in his room. Maybe she’d been in there but only to get something. Maybe that was why she’d come home. To collect something she needed.

  Which still didn’t explain the cleaning.

  He tore from room to room, managing to keep enough of his wits about him to check on their son on a regular basis.

  Every time he looked, Caleb was sitting on the floor, the teddy bear Chantel had brought him clutched on his lap, staring at the television set.

  He’d have to break that habit. Soon.

  But not tonight.

  Max checked the kitchen. He checked every room in the house and couldn’t find anything missing.

  So he checked the garage. Had she been in her car? Needed something from the glove box?

  Left keys for him under the front seat—a sign that she was in trouble and needed help?

  That was it! She’d come to ask for his help.

  Running around the vehicle like a madman in Converse high-tops and cartoon scrubs, he banged his knee on the way to the driver’s side, but didn’t slow down. Grabbing the handle, he practically yanked the door off its hinges and dived for the floor. He felt everywhere. Under the driver’s seat. The passenger seat. The backseats. He even checked the back hatch.

  Everything was just as he’d left it when he’d pulled the van into the garage two weeks before.

  Back in the house, he thought about dinner. Briefly. Checked that Caleb was still content on the floor and not asking to eat, and went back to check every room one more time.

  Meri had been there. He wanted to breathe the same air. To take her breath inside him and keep her there. He needed her energy.

  Hell, he needed her love.

  He ran his fingers gently over the clean faucets and felt tears pushing at the backs of his eyes.

  She must still love him. She wouldn’t have cleaned for him if she didn’t still love him.

  Would she?

  The knocking at the front door startled him. Feeling like an idiot, practically getting ready to cry over a bathroom faucet, he turned off the light and went to the front door.

  “Am I on time?” Chantel came in, her ubiquitous duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

  “Meri was here.” He spoke softly so Caleb wouldn’t hear him.

  Chantel dropped her bag. “What? When?” Her happy expression was gone, but her frown wasn’t so much displeased as focused.

  “Today,” he said, walking with her to the kitchen where he’d failed to get dinner started. “Sometime after I left and before I got home. She cleaned the bathrooms.”

  “She dusted, too,” Chantel said, running her finger over the sideboard in the dining room just through the kitchen archway. “You could write your name in this thing last night.”

  He hadn’t noticed.

  “I think she wants to come home, Chantel. That’s why she was here. She needed to be here. Needs us. Maybe this is all coming to an end.”

 
She wasn’t smiling. “Then why didn’t she stay?”

  “Because he’s still out there. And she’s not going to put us in danger.”

  “Then why not leave you a note?”

  “Maybe he was with her. Or watching her. You said Wayne saw a light on at his house.”

  “We don’t know for sure it’s his house. And you really think he’s going to wait patiently while she cleans your house?”

  He’d had the same thought, but... “You got a better explanation?” he asked, angry, and knowing that it wasn’t Chantel’s fault. She’d been a godsend to him. And to Meri, too.

  When this was over, they were inviting Chantel for Christmas. And Thanksgiving. And...they’d go to Las Sendas and take her out to dinner. Or introduce her to a handsome resident at the hospital or...

  “I think she probably came because she needed something.” Chantel’s voice was soft. Caring. “She didn’t have a chance to pack anything, Max. I’m guessing there was something here she wanted or needed. Maybe an important paper or something. Her passport....”

  He shook his head. “She carries her passport in her purse.”

  “So it wasn’t her passport.” Chantel opened a cupboard, pulled out the spaghetti sauce. Took spaghetti off the shelf in the pantry. Got a pot out of the bottom drawer of the stove, filled it with water, and put it on to boil. “Clearly she needed something. It’s also clear that she purposely came for it when she knew you and Caleb weren’t going to be here.”

  He’d thought of that. But Meri wasn’t the type of woman who would come waltzing back into their lives until she was ready to stay. Obviously she still had some things to work out. But she was coming home.

  She wouldn’t have let him know she was there, wouldn’t have cleaned, if she wasn’t coming home.

  She loved him.

  “Maybe she cleaned because she felt guilty for leaving you in the lurch like she did. Or maybe she didn’t want her son living in filth. Maybe this was her way of letting you know you need to hire a cleaning lady.”

  Chantel didn’t know Meri.

  “Nothing is missing from this house,” he said, completely calm now. He knew his wife. She was all about leaving messages in code that only the two of them would understand. He couldn’t expect Chantel to get it. “I’ve opened every one of her drawers. Been through every room.”