Breaking Free

by Jennifer Slattery

  He closed the Bible. “So which is it going to be? Will you let the devil steal your life from you, or will you give it God?” He held the Bible in the air. “Ask yourself this question: Have you found your life-line? Are you climbing to higher ground or are you clinging to the mud?”

  CHAPTER 40

  Austin was waiting in a green pickup when Alice got off work. He leaned out the window with a boyish smile, making her feel like a teen on her first date. What was it about this man that sent her heart racing? And was the attraction and excitement she felt a sin? Or had Trent’s alcohol and gambling released her from her vows? Were his addictions adultery—if it stole his heart and shattered any hope of reconciliation? At what point could she walk away . . . for good?

  Or had she already?

  “Hop in.” Austin slapped the outside of his door with a strong hand.

  She picked at a cuticle. “Maybe it’d be better if you followed me.”

  “Nah. It’ll be easier this way. Save gas.”

  Old news broadcasts about the Green River killer came to mind. She tossed them aside as evidence of her paranoia. Austin was nothing more than a businessman from the Midwest offering to help. She’d be crazy to turn him down. Besides, he’d been coming in the diner long enough. She knew him. His easy smile and laughing eyes. The man didn’t have a mean bone in his body.

  At one time, she’d said the same thing and more about Trent.

  The man was offering a ride, for goodness’ sakes, not a marriage proposal.

  Alice climbed in and Austin waited for her to buckle her seatbelt before turning on the engine. “Where to?”

  “Kirkland. Not far from Crestwood Park. Head to 85th and I’ll show you the rest of the way.”

  He put the truck in drive and draped his hand over the steering wheel. Hands folded tightly in her lap, Alice glanced back at her van parked in a far corner of the lot. How well did she know this man? She thought of Trent and the way he had swept her off her feet, promising to give her the world wrapped in ribbons and bows—bows that eventually unraveled into a tangled heap.

  “You going through a divorce?”

  She stared at him, mouth slack.

  “I noticed how you always tug on that ring. Like it’s eating away at your flesh.”

  Her cheeks heated. She shrugged. “Haven’t thought that far yet.”

  “Marriage can be a funny thing. Kind of like a shiny, red apple. Never know what you’re getting until you take a bite.”

  “What about you? Ever been married?”

  He gave her a sideways glance, his eyes filled with an expression she didn’t understand.

  “Once. She went missing a year and a half ago. The authorities found her car in the woods. Never did find her body.”

  She brought her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.” At the upcoming intersection, she pointed. “Turn right.”

  Austin followed her directions onto 88th. “It’s all right. I don’t mind talking about it. The cops think something happened to her, say she’d never leave her car in the middle of nowhere like that, but they didn’t know her. I say she up and left. She was wild that way.” He looked at her with cold, lifeless eyes, all traces of laughter gone. She shivered. And then, just as quickly, his shoulders relaxed and an easy grin returned.

  He settled back against the seat, continuing through neighborhoods until Alice’s house came into view.

  “It’s the gray one on the right.”

  He pulled along the curb, and Alice scrambled out. As usual, Priscilla knelt in her yard with her head stuck in her flowerbed.

  Priscilla shoved to her feet and waved. “Alice, how have you been? I haven’t seen you in awhile.”

  “Fine, Mrs. Tanner. I’ve been fine.” She crossed the yard in long strides and bounded up the front steps. A for sale by auction notice was attached to her door.

  No. Not their home. Trent, what have you done?

  Her eyes burned as she fumbled in her purse for her keys.

  Austin came to her side. “Something wrong?” He pulled down the notice and studied it. The wind whipped between them. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  She stumbled inside, moving to the couch in a daze. “What can I do?”

  Austin sat beside her. “I don’t know. Maybe you can call the mortgage company, see if they can’t work something out?”

  She rubbed her temples and stared at the carpet in front of her.

  They sat in silence for a while, cars humming by on the street outside, the clock ticking.

  Pull it together, girl. You knew this was coming. “No sense moping.” She stood and straightened her blouse. “I’m done with this house anyway.” She trudged down the hall, countless memories swimming through her mind, and entered Tim’s room. Everything looked much like it had the day she’d left. Dirty clothes scattered the floor, the unmade bed, an empty soda can lay between sports trophies on the dresser.

  She picked up a foam football sitting on the bookshelf, turning it over in her hand. “Do you have enough room for all this?”

  Austin nodded and rubbed her back. “I’ve got all the room you need. We can always take two trips.”

  Three hours later, clothes and boxes filled the truck and they headed to Alice’s apartment in Green Lake. The loss that consumed her only hours before lessened into a dull ache. There’d be time for tears later. Right now she needed to focus on rebuilding her life.

  Gertrude met them on the porch with a wide-eyed expression and a pitcher of lemonade. She looked Austin up and down, the corners of her mouth twitching between a smile and a frown. “Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” She set the lemonade on a small, round table and shuffled forward. “Is this your husband?”

  Alice’s cheeks burned. “No, ma’am. He’s a friend. Came to help me move my things.”

  Gertrude’s face gradually smoothed into a smile as Alice made introductions.

  “Pleasure to meet you, son.” She grabbed a glass off the table and filled it an inch from the rim. She patted Alice’s arm. “Glad you had someone to help you, dear.” After handing the glass to Austin, she filled another one. “I worried how you’d go about moving all your belongings by yourself. Not that you needed much, with the apartment being furnished and all. But I know how you kids are, always wanting your own things. You ask me, I say it gives you more junk to take care of.” She handed Alice a glass, then lowered into a white rocker. “My husband was like that. Always grabbing on to some gadget or other, trying to tuck it away somewhere.”

  Alice glanced apologetically at Austin, surprised to find him watching her. The intensity in his eyes drew her in and knotted her stomach at the same time.

  “I hate to cut you off, but we should really get to unloading.” She set her glass on the table and stood.

  “Oh, right. What a bother I can be.” Gertrude turned to Austin whose expression flashed from intense to boyish. “It was nice to meet you, son. I do hope you’ll come again.”

  His lips curled into a smile as he looked at Alice. “You can count on it.”

  Trent followed Ethan down the sidewalk, into his apartment complex, and up a steep row of stairs.

  “Sorry, but there’s no elevator.”

  In the dark stairwell, water dripped from large, yellow circles on the ceiling and pooled on the ground. “What floor did you say you lived on?”

  “The ninth.”

  “Bet you don’t go to the gym much.” He grabbed the metal railing attached to the wall. “Thanks again for letting me stay here.”

  Ethan turned to him with a red-faced smile. “No biggie. It’s not the Hilton, but it’s better than the streets.”

  Or my car.

  “Besides, someone gave me a couch to crash on when I was crawling my way out of addiction. Least I can do is pay it forward.”

  By the time they made it to the ninth floor, a sheet of sweat covered Trent’s back and chest, and his lungs burned. The thick stench of mold wafting from the carpet didn’t help. He swiped at his for
ehead with the back of his hand and followed Ethan down the hall to his apartment.

  They entered a typical bachelor pad, minus the dirty clothes and empty food containers. Dingy white walls and hodge-podge furniture gave the apartment a thrift store feel. A row of pictures lined a small bookshelf tucked against a far wall. Trent walked over to them and picked up a picture of Ethan and a blond woman dressed in ski gear. Their wind-burned cheeks scrunched into smiles.

  Ethan joined him. “That’s my wife . . . ex-wife.” He spoke slowly, like the words hurt coming out. “And those are my kids.” He motioned to three 8-by-10 frames to the right. I haven’t seen them in almost five years, but I keep praying.” He crossed the living room and fell against the couch. Trent set the picture down and followed.

  “Was it the drinking?”

  “Among other things. Tracy held on as long as she could. Tried to get me to go to counseling.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “But I was too stupid to pull my head out of the bottle.”

  An image of Alice flashed through Trent’s mind. “They know you’re sober?”

  Ethan shrugged. “Not sure. I tried to tell them. Left messages. Until Tracy changed her number. Then I sent cards. They always came back marked “return to sender.” I wouldn’t be surprised if Micah, my little one, has forgotten all about me. He was so young when I left.”

  Would that be Trent? Living alone in a whitewashed dive with nothing to show for the past 19 years but a stack of photos on a thrift store bookshelf?

  “So, what’d you think of the meeting?”

  “Lot of crying and hugging.”

  Ethan laughed. “Yeah, that’s how I felt at first, too. But now that I’m standing on the other side, I say, who cares? It comes down to me and the bottle and whether I’ll have enough strength to stand. There’s no shame in recovery.”

  Trent squirmed.

  “Only shame is staying locked up in that self-induced prison.” He stood. “You thirsty?”

  Trent raised an eyebrow.

  Ethan smiled. “For water.” He rounded a Formica breakfast bar separating the living area from the kitchen.

  Angry voices seeped through the walls and ceiling, accompanied by banging doors and stomping feet.

  Ethan rolled his eyes. “Ah, the joys of paper-thin walls.” Returning to the living room, he handed Trent a glass of water. “But don’t worry, most of them knock off around 11:00. Unless it’s payday. Then you might as well plan on an all-nighter, which is a bear when you got to be at work in the morning.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  Trent walked over to the sliding glass door leading to a small balcony and glanced at the adjacent apartment complex. Clothes were draped over rod iron railings and plants dotted numerous window-sills. A fat Siamese sat on top of a rusted fire escape ladder, his tail twitching in the hot summer air.

  “You got a family?”

  Trent swallowed down a lump in his throat. He shrugged.

  “You talk to them much?”

  He stared at his hand and rubbed his finger where his wedding band used to be. “No, not yet.”

  But now that he had a place to stay, he’d get himself together, get his job back, and convince Alice to come home.

  Like that would happen. She’d moved on. Had a job, and the way she flirted with that man at the diner . . . Trent clenched his jaw and shoved the memory aside.

  Ethan crossed the room and patted Trent’s shoulder. “There’s always hope, my man. Just take it one day at a time. Just one day at a time.” His face went firm. “First thing we need to focus on is keeping you sober. And out of trouble.” He returned to the couch and plopped down. Lacing his hands behind his head, he stretched his legs out in front of him. “And the best way to do that is to keep you busy. How would you like to rip up carpet for a change?”

  “For fun or cash?”

  “Cash. Paid by the day. I own a flooring company and am always looking for more men.”

  “Yeah, OK.”

  “Great. You can start first thing in the morning.”

  Trent shuffled back to the bookshelf and picked up the photo of Ethan and Tracy. He replayed Ethan’s words in his mind. “There’s always hope.” He set it back down. “I got to go.”

  Ethan’s forehead creased. “Where?”

  “To see Alice.”

  Ethan sprang to his feet. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not yet. Give her time. Give yourself time.”

  Time for what? For her to fall in love with that man at the diner? To realize that she didn’t need him anymore?

  He shook his head. “It’s been long enough.”

  Trent stomped across the room and threw open the door. He marched down the hall and narrow stairwell. Twenty minutes later, he turned onto the road leading to the diner. He checked the clock on his dash—4:30. Should he wait for Alice to get off work? He had no idea when that would be, but he couldn’t just barge in. “Hello, Alice. I’ve missed you. Can I have a cup of coffee? By the way, can you come back? Our home’s gone, and I’m crashing on a stranger’s couch.”

  Yeah, that’d go over real well.

  CHAPTER 41

  Alice’s feet and calves ached. A blister burned on the back of her heel. Pressing her palm into the small of her back, she grimaced. Boy was she looking forward to this two-day break. Working a six-day stretch was exhausting, not that she was complaining.

  It’d been her choice to take extra shifts—to save a little more money. So far she’d tucked away $490. Austin’s $20 tips helped, even if they did make her uncomfortable. She told herself he was just being nice, after witnessing her mental breakdown a week ago, but the intensity of his eyes said otherwise. And yet, it was nice to be noticed.

  “Got any hot plans for your off days?” Melba grabbed a dishrag off the bus station and shot Alice a wink.

  She pulled her purse out from under the counter. “Just more unpacking, cleaning, rearranging, that sort of thing.”

  Melba planted her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “You mean you and Mr. Curly aren’t gonna hit the town?”

  Alice blushed. “We’re just friends.”

  “Guess you better tell him that, ’cause the way he’s got his eye on you, I’d say he’s hoping for more, if you know what I mean.”

  “I think you’ve misread him, Melba.” She fished in her purse for her keys. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

  Alice hurried out of the restaurant before Melba could say anything else. The hot, muggy air outside engulfed her. She stood on the curb, blinking, as her eyes adjusted to the sun’s intense rays.

  Her van sat in the far corner of the lot. Her blistered feet protested as she made her way around station wagons, delivery vans, and compacts. She winced as a sharp pain shot up her right leg and thought longingly of her bathtub. A bubbly soak and a good night’s sleep would do her good. After she checked on Gertrude.

  A smile took hold as she unlocked her van door. Gertrude was good for her. Her sweet nature and silly jabber beat sitting alone. Plus, it was nice to feel needed. And Gertrude was as predictable as Washington rain. No surprises, no hidden agendas. Nothing but a pitcher of lemonade and fresh baked cookies.

  Alice set her purse on the floor and slid into the driver’s seat. Her tense muscles melted into the cushions as she leaned against the headrest. She inhaled, her smile widening as an image of Gertrude’s porch rocker came to mind.

  Cleaning and unpacking could wait.

  She cranked the key in the ignition. The van sputtered and jerked. She sighed. Not today. She turned again, the tension returning to her shoulders. She tried three more times, the engine responding in gasps and wheezes. Slumping forward, she rested her forehead on the steering wheel. There went the $490 she’d worked so hard to save.

  Someone tapped on her window, startling her.

  She looked up to see Austin standing over her, smiling. She straightened, tucked her hair behind her ears, and lowered her window.

  “I was getting ga
s when I saw you sitting in your van. Thought maybe you could use some help.”

  “Are you a mechanic?”

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the door, his face less than five inches from hers. Alice swallowed as his cologne filled her lungs.

  “How about I offer you a ride home until you can find someone to take a look at your vehicle?”

  She massaged her forehead. What choice did she have? Turning her key a million times wouldn’t do any good. At least she didn’t need the car until Thursday. Actually, it’d be nice to be homebound for a couple days.

  “I’d really appreciate it, thanks.”

  She gathered her things, locked her van then followed Austin to his truck.

  He opened the door for her. She slid in.

  “Now, let’s see if I can remember how to get to your apartment.” He turned on the radio. Hank Williams poured from the speakers.

  She stifled a laugh. “I never would have pictured you a country-and-western fan.”

  Austin raised an eyebrow. “You calling me a city boy?” His eyes danced as he leaned back and adjusted an imaginary cowboy hat. “I’m what you’d call an urban cowboy.” He made a tight U-turn, then headed toward the parking lot exit.

  Chewing her bottom lip, Alice glanced at her van one last time.

  “You in a hurry?”

  A familiar car approached. She inhaled sharply. Trent sat in the driver’s seat. He stared back at her, his dark eyes going from wide to defeated in an instant, as if the life had been sucked right out of them. Alice averted her gaze, a lump lodging in her throat. Oh, Trent, what’s become of you? How’d this happen?

  “You in a hurry?” Austin asked again.