Come Back To Me

by Julia Barrett

  He laid her down and fucked her, showing her just what he meant. He knew she loved him now, because she cried while he did it.

  The next morning he flew with her to Vegas. They were married in a small chapel on the strip. The ceremony was witnessed by an Elvis impersonator and a drag queen. What did it matter? The marriage was just a formality to be gotten out of the way as quickly as possible. Within the hour they were back on a flight to Salt Lake City. Micah had called ahead to the restaurant in Park City to give Jerry the news. He told him he expected a wedding cake and plenty of iced champagne on their return. As usual, Jerry grumbled about the extra work, but nothing could dampen Micah’s mood. In a cheerful voice he told Jerry to go to hell. Now he could sell that damn townhouse and move her into the ranch. He wouldn’t have to worry about John or any other rat-faced son of a bitch sniffing around her. As far as the business went now wasn’t the time to think about it. Now was for celebrating his beautiful young wife.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  The deed was done. Once Cara had spoken with her mother, said the words aloud, the act became real. She was a married woman, Mrs. Micah Welsh. Even as she smiled at Micah sitting next to her on the plane, even as she reached for his hand, she felt herself retreat inside. Breaking down last night had been a terrible mistake, and now she’d compounded the mistake by marrying him. But she couldn’t let Micah know how she felt.

  It will be all right, she told herself. Micah will manage everything and I can stop thinking. That is what I want, isn’t it?

  Thanksgiving 1977,

  New York City

  James laughed out loud. “You’ve got to be kidding. Cara? Married? If this is your idea of a joke, it’s not funny.”

  “No Mack,” replied Will. “I’m not joking, and I don’t think it’s funny either. I spoke with her mom last week. Cara’s married, to some rich guy out in Park City, Utah. She just did it, in Vegas.”

  James practically fell into a kitchen chair. He felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. The news had knocked the wind out of him. “It’s been nearly a year. It was just last Thanksgiving we were at my mother’s house, that we set the date. That she got pregnant with my child.”

  “It’s not getting any easier, is it?” Will pulled out a chair and sat down across the table.

  “Hell. No. Who did you say she married?”

  “Some rich guy. Louise said he’s older, early forties maybe. Owns a couple of restaurants or something.”

  “Has Louise met him?”

  “No,” said Will. “She hasn’t even seen Cara since she moved out there. I got the impression Louise thinks the man’s, well, controlling, for lack of a better word.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Micah Welsh. Why?”

  “So I’ll kill the right man.”

  “Hold on, Mack, this was Cara’s decision. Nobody held a gun to her head.”

  “The hell it was.” James growled as he rose from his chair, giving it a kick, sending it crashing to the floor with a loud bang.

  “Hey!” Will jumped up. “Where are you going?”

  “Utah.”

  Will hurried to step in front of him, block his way to the door.

  “Move out of the way, Will. Get out of my way.”

  “No Mack. I can’t let you do this.”

  “Get the fuck out of my way, Will!” James shouted at him, his right hand clenched into a fist.

  “Six months ago I told you to go after her. Do you remember? I begged you to go after her before she did something stupid, something like this. You refused. Remember? You refused. And now you have no right to interfere. You have no right to go after another man’s wife. Do you hear me? It doesn’t matter that you love her. It doesn’t matter. She’s married Mack. She’s married, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

  “Move away from the door, Will.”

  “No, I won’t. Go sit your ass down and cool off. There’s nothing you can do, Mack. There’s not a damn thing you can do.”

  James turned on his heel and strode to the closest window. It overlooked a busy street, but when he stared down he didn’t see a damn thing. Somehow he had imagined . . . James didn’t even know what he’d imagined. That Cara would come to her senses one day? That she’d come back to him? That some spring morning he’d open the door to his apartment and there she’d be, waiting for him? Her arms open wide, welcoming him?

  He’d been a bloody fool. Will was right. He should have gone after her when he had the chance. He should have made her listen to him. He’d known, better than anyone, how fragile Cara was, how Ezra Payne had broken her. The only excuse James could come up with, and it was pretty meager, was that he’d been hurting too. He’d blamed himself for Ezra Payne as much as she’d blamed herself. He hadn’t been there when she’d needed him the most. He felt as responsible as Payne for her suffering.

  James had been aware, even when he’d walked out of her hospital room, that Cara still loved him the exact same way he still loved her. But now, to hear that she’d married another man? James knew to the depths of his soul that another man would never make her happy. Another man could never take his place. Yet Will was right. He didn’t have a choice. He had to let her go. If it was possible, if he was ever going to find any happiness for himself, he needed to let Cara go for real this time.

  How the hell am I going to do that?

  February 1978

  “Get rid of him,” Welsh said. “I don’t want him around Cara. He talks too much and I’m sick of his whining.”

  Jerry sighed. He’d seen this was coming. The kid was a royal pain in the ass. When Micah had called him up to his office, he’d been hoping it had to do with the raise he’d requested. No such luck.

  Jerry didn’t mind playing the role of enforcer on occasion. He didn’t take it too seriously. He’d never caused anyone a permanent injury. As bouncer he’d tossed out drunks and he’d protected the girls in the back from abuse, unless the abuse came from Micah. There wasn’t much he could do about the stuff Micah dished out, except offer a shoulder to cry on and suggest that a girl find another job.

  Micah had more or less left the girls alone since Cara showed up in Park City. Now she was the one Jerry worried about. He hadn’t noticed any obvious bruises, but if he knew Micah, it was only a matter of time. One day Cara would say no. Micah would show his true colors and blow his stack. Some of the girls could handle Micah, a couple even liked it. Jerry didn’t think Cara could survive him.

  It was a dangerous thing, to care about the boss’s wife. Jerry was convinced Cara was more than she pretended to be, a whole lot more. He’d recognized it the first time he’d looked into her eyes. It seemed to him that something had happened to her and she was running from it. Whatever it was must have been pretty bad. She was a classy girl with an education. She was as smart as a whip and those eyes of hers missed nothing. In Jerry’s opinion, Micah underestimated her. Jerry figured that either Cara was a great actress or she was heavy into denial. She had to know Micah Welsh wasn’t on the up and up.

  Jerry prided himself on his ability to read people. It was one of the reasons he was so valuable to Micah. Jerry could spot a cop a mile away. He could smell an alcoholic before a man even ordered a drink. He knew which patrons would be trouble before they lifted a finger. Jerry saw Micah Welsh for what he was—a cruel, heartless, son of a bitch, narcotics distributor who liked to beat on women.

  He’d heard the rumors about his ex-wife, Dominique. How after one particularly rough night that landed her in the emergency room she’d threatened to rat Welsh out. Welsh sicced one of his goons on her and the man shredded her pretty face. After that, she’d agreed to a quiet divorce quick enough. Jerry hoped she’d at least gotten a big settlement, but he had his doubts.

  Jerry had never laid a hand on a woman and he never would. That was where he drew the line. He wished he’d had an opportun
ity to warn Cara. Right before she’d left with Welsh for Los Angeles, she seemed to be pulling away. Jerry hoped she was reconsidering her situation and she’d take off before it was too late. But then she’d come back married to the bastard. Damn. If things went bad, Jerry could maybe help her disappear, if he could get to her in time, but that was about all he could do.

  Welsh waited for an answer.

  “I do it my way,” said Jerry.

  “Do whatever you like. Just make sure he doesn’t come around here anymore.”

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  After they closed the restaurant, Jerry asked John to take a ride with him. “Let’s go someplace we can talk,” he said.

  Yes, I’m finally getting what I deserve. John was excited. He’d wanted a piece of the action ever since he figured out how the boss really made his money. That’s why he’d put up with the waiter bullshit for over two years. Because of Cara, he finally had his opportunity.

  Caught up in thoughts of his good fortune, John didn’t stop to wonder where they were going. When Jerry merged onto the freeway and headed towards Ogden, John figured they must be going to see someone else, someone outside the restaurant. He leaned back in the seat and relaxed. His life was about to get interesting.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Jerry pulled the car down an alleyway near the railroad tracks and parked. Ogden was about as rough as it got in Utah, which wasn’t saying much. It was a former railroad town and people from all over the country had settled there. Jerry figured a mugging would be more believable if it happened in Ogden. Park City was out of the question. The place was as quiet as a tomb.

  “All right kid, we’re here. Let’s go.” Jerry climbed out.

  “Great,” said John. He opened the car door with enthusiasm. “So who are we meeting? You gonna hook me up with distribution or sales or what?”

  “Neither. Let’s talk for a minute.”

  “Yeah, sure.” John walked over to Jerry’s side of the car.

  “Look kid, it’s nothing personal. I just want you to know that. And I want you to know something else. If I don’t do this now, tomorrow or the next day or the day after that someone will show up at your door and it’ll be a whole lot worse.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” The kid looked confused.

  “Welsh doesn’t want you around anymore. You show your face again and he’ll mess you up. You rat him out and you’re a dead man. Listen to me. This is important. When the cops ask you what happened, say you don’t remember. You got it? Do you understand what I’m saying to you? You don’t remember anything. Now drink this.” Jerry handed him a bottle of vodka. It was about a third full. “And John, I’m sorry.”

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Micah spent more and more time away from home. He flew off to either New York or Los Angeles nearly every weekend. Cara didn’t know what to do with herself. Micah wouldn’t allow her to work. He didn’t even like her to appear at one of his restaurants without him. Aside from running errands or visiting a salon, she was a virtual prisoner in his—their—home. Micah didn’t hesitate to show her off when his business associates were in town. In fact, he expected Cara to be in attendance, looking her best, at her most charming.

  Gathering her courage, she mentioned to her husband that she was bored, that she wanted more to do, but he dismissed her complaints and told her to shop. In a testy voice he said, “You reason for being are very simple, look beautiful and keep me happy.”

  In late February Micah left for a four-day business trip to New York. Cara decided to take advantage of his absence to visit John. She stopped by the restaurant first. She hadn’t seen him there for weeks and she was concerned. He might be a stoner, but he never missed a shift. She found Jerry at the bar.

  “Hey, have you seen John around?”

  Jerry’s answer surprised her. He shrugged and said, “I need to unpack a delivery in the back.”

  He left her standing alone at the bar.

  Now Cara was really worried. She decided to drive over to John’s rental house and find out for herself what was going on.

  There was no car in the driveway, but Cara walked up to the front door and knocked. There was no answer. She turned the knob, but the door was locked. She walked around the back and peered through the kitchen window. The kitchen was spotless. There weren’t any dishes stacked in the sink. The table sat empty. The countertops were clear of cereal boxes and cans of soup. Even the salt and pepper shakers were missing.

  She peeked through John’s bedroom windows. The closet door sat ajar, the closet was empty. His bed had been stripped of sheets and quilts. Not a stitch of clothing lay on the floor. John was gone. Why? Cara figured John might quit his job as a waiter, but he loved to ski. He wouldn’t leave his friends, not in the middle of ski season. What if he’d been in an accident? Nobody had said a word to her, not even Micah.

  Cara drove to the ski resort to see if she could locate some of his friends in the ski school. She managed to find one of his friends, Spencer, working behind the counter of the rental shop. She waited for him to finish with a rush of rental returns. At last everybody cleared out and they were alone.

  “Hey, Spencer, where’s John? I haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks. I went by the house and it looks like he’s moved out.”

  Spencer looked like he wanted to shake her. “Oh, like you don’t know what happened. Give me a break.”

  “Don’t know what?” Cara asked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “I mean John got the crap beat out of him in Ogden. Three weeks ago. Got his jaw broke. His parents came out here and took him back to California.”

  “Jesus.” Cara felt sick. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry. Do the police know what happened? Do they know who did this?”

  “No, they don’t know anything and John can’t remember. At least he says he can’t remember.”

  “What on earth was he doing in Ogden?”

  Spencer stared at her. “Maybe you should ask your husband.”

  “Why on earth would I ask my husband?”

  Spencer shrugged. “Just saying . . .”

  “No, I want an answer. Why would I ask my husband?”

  “Are you stupid or are you blind, deaf and dumb? What do you think your husband does, Cara?”

  “He owns several restaurants . . . and he has a few clubs . . . and . . .”

  “Get real, Cara. I swear you must be an idiot. He sells drugs. He’s a fucking drug dealer.”

  Cara laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Yeah right and I’m the president of the United States.”

  “You think it’s funny? Go ahead. Laugh. John’s sucking down food with a straw and you’re laughing. Don’t you get it? John wanted in. He wanted to be a high roller too. Why do you think he invited you to come out here? Do you think he cared about you? He talked about it all the time, how if he could hook you up with his boss, he’d have it made. You were bait. And Welsh took you, didn’t he? He took the bait. But Micah Welsh doesn’t share. It’s a family business. He’s not gonna let some punk like John work for him. So John pushed too hard and it landed him in the hospital.”

  Cara couldn’t think of a response. Her mind was reeling. She ran out of the rental shop, slipping and sliding her way to her vehicle, the new four-wheel drive Jeep Micah had bought her as a wedding gift. The Jeep where Cara had hidden a cardboard shoebox filled with mementos of another man.

  My god, it all makes sense now, all of it. Everything I’ve ignored for months. The secrecy, the meetings, the backroom deals, the trips to New York and Los Angeles. Cara pressed her forehead against the steering wheel. What will I do? What the hell am I going to do? She pulled out of the parking lot. Driving on autopilot, she turned the car towards the interstate, completely oblivious of the heavy snow coming down.

  As the reality of her situation set in, Cara sped up. All she could think about was getting away from Micah. Suddenly her Jeep skidded sideways on the icy road. She’d forgotten to engage the four-w
heel drive. When she tried to correct, the vehicle spun completely around and flew off the road.

  Cara banged her head on the window, knocking herself senseless. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw someone tugging on the driver’s door. She heard the woman speak, but her words were garbled. It sounded like she said, “An ambulance is on the way.” Cara wanted to laugh. Yeah, sure. Call an ambulance. Take me to the hospital because I’ve overdosed on stupidity. Again.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  “Really Jerry, I’m okay. It’s just a bump on the head. I promise you I’m all right.”

  Jerry helped her up the front steps and across the snow-covered porch. “You were unconscious when that woman found you. It’s more than a bump on the head. You probably have a concussion.”

  “No, I’m okay. I’ll be all right. Just get me inside. Micah will be home tomorrow.” Cara was feeling a little nauseated, but she didn’t want to tell Jerry. She needed some time alone to think, to plan.

  “Depends on the snow,” Jerry said. “I told him I’d stay with you tonight so I’m staying. How the hell did you lose control like that anyway? There’s a reason Mr. Welsh bought you a Jeep.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember. I guess I forgot to engage the four-wheel drive or something.”

  “See? You don’t remember. You have a concussion. I’m staying.” He removed her coat and hung it in the front closet. “C’mon, Red. I’ll take you to your room. You want anything? A glass of water? A cup of tea?”

  Cara realized she wasn’t getting rid of him. “A cup of tea and maybe some crackers,” she said.

  “All right, you got it. You want some help getting into bed? You want to take a shower or something?”

  Cara looked at him. “I don’t think Micah would like it if you helped me into the shower.”

  Jerry laughed. “You got that right. But I can turn it on for you and bring you a stool to sit on or something.”

  Cara laid a hand on his arm. “Jerry, thanks for your help. You’ve been great. You’ve been very nice to me. I appreciate your concern.”