Come Back To Me

by Julia Barrett

  Micah would never allow Cara to leave, but she didn’t tell her mother that. When her mother offered to come there, Cara hedged. She didn’t want to expose her mother to any danger.

  As Jerry had predicted, Micah’s behavior was becoming more erratic. She could sense that he barely managed to keep himself under control even on his good days. On a bad day he was capable of anything. He’d said as much when she’d uttered the words, “Then divorce me.”

  “I’m fine, mom,” Cara said. “Maybe I’ll fly back to Iowa at the end of the summer.” She knew full well that any such visit was unlikely.

  Before she could stop herself, Cara asked, “Mom, um, how . . . ? How are . . . ? Have you heard from . . . ?”

  She stopped James’ name from leaving her mouth. What would happen if he knew about her situation? Would he fly to her rescue? Or would he shrug and say, “Well, that’s Cara for you.” She suspected the latter and she couldn’t say she’d blame him after the way she’d treated him.

  God, she was hardheaded. Look what it took to wake her up, a monster named Micah Welsh, her husband.

  Instead she asked, “How’s Phil? How’s the weather?”

  Before she hung up, Cara said, I love you, mom.”

  She meant them, the four little words. It felt good to say them aloud. The way Micah was behaving she might never have another opportunity to tell her mother how she really felt.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Louise Jackson called Will. She’d promised to do so whenever she heard from Cara.

  “Cara’s pregnant,” she said. “But something’s not right.”

  “Pregnant?” Will had a hard time getting past the word. He vividly remembered her last pregnancy.

  “Yes, she’s about two and a half months along, but I’m worried. I haven’t seen her in over a year and when I ask about a visit, she says no.”

  “I wouldn’t worry. I think she’s avoiding us. She made it clear she wanted a clean break. Did she ask about James? Or me?”

  “No, but I got the feeling that she wanted to.”

  “What gave you that impression?”

  “There was a moment when she started to ask a question, but then she hesitated and she asked about Phil instead. I got the distinct feeling she was going to ask about James. She never talks about her husband, you know, Micah.”

  “What does he do again?”

  “Honest to god, I’m not sure. That’s another thing she doesn’t talk about.”

  “Did she say anything else?”

  “Not much. She told me she loves me.”

  That gave Will pause. Cara wasn’t sentimental or affectionate where her mother was concerned.

  “Well,” he said. “She’s pregnant. That can make a woman emotional.”

  Louise said, “Will, not Cara. I can count the times Cara’s said she loves me on one hand, on half a hand. There’s something wrong. I’m going to try to see her this summer. Phil has a two-week vacation coming up in August. We can take a drive out to Utah.”

  “Don’t you think you should ask her first?”

  “I’ll let her know when we’re on our way. She’s my daughter. It’s her first child and I’ve never even met her husband.”

  “All right then, just keep in touch and let me know if she calls again.”

  “Are you going to tell James?”

  “No,” said Will. “He’s got a new girlfriend. He seems pretty serious about this one.”

  “It’s a darn shame,” she said. “James and Cara were meant for each other.”

  “You don’t have to tell me. Goodbye, Mrs. Jackson.”

  Will hung up the phone and stood in silence. He hoped Cara wasn’t in trouble. If she was there wasn’t much any of them could do. He didn’t plan to tell James about her pregnancy. That would be cruel. He didn’t even plan to mention the call unless James specifically asked.

  James was just starting to pull out of his melancholy. He’d nearly completed his cardiology fellowship and he’d accepted a locum tenens position at a family practice clinic in northern Minnesota, in Grand Marais. He was scheduled to start in a couple weeks. Three, four months ago James had begun dating again. He’d recently hooked up with a real looker, a society babe. Jennifer Bates. She worked as a part-time fashion model and a features’ editor for some magazine. Will had met her a few weeks ago when he’d been out to the East Coast.

  There was no question that Jennifer was beautiful and brainy. But she wasn’t Cara. Will had found her to be somewhat superficial. She was the country club type, but if she made James happy then what Will thought of her didn’t matter, so he’d kept his opinion to himself. James deserved some happiness.

  Will was the one who found himself at loose ends. He’d decided to stay on in Iowa City and continue his work in cancer research. He had no shortage of dates, but not one of the women he went out with was what he was looking for. He was looking for someone like Cara, someone complicated and creative, a woman who came with a little angst, but who possessed a quirky sense of humor. He wanted a woman who wouldn’t worry about her hair or how her butt looked when she was in bed with him.

  Maybe it was his age. Will was beginning to feel like he should get serious. Fall in love with some woman, marry, and start a family. Serial dating just didn’t cut it anymore. He wondered if there was a woman out there for him.

  Louise Jackson had nailed it when she said James and Cara were meant for each other. That worried him. Look what had happened to them. They’d both suffered and Cara had compounded the tragedy by refusing to turn to the man who loved her. Will understood her reasons, but that didn’t make the situation any more acceptable.

  He was surprised at how philosophical he’d become over the past year and a half. Maybe it was the shock of seeing Cara like that, broken and bloody. He’d always blithely assumed that life would work out, that love would work out. That if you screwed up a second chance would be waiting for you right around the bend. If there was one thing Cara and James had taught him, it was that he couldn’t take love for granted. Sometimes you didn’t get a second chance.

  August 13, 1978

  Cara drove to the restaurant. She needed to talk to Micah, but she was terrified of his reaction. She wanted to have the conversation in a public place. There might be consequences to pay later, but perhaps she could mitigate the worst of it. The past couple of months had been relatively quiet. A good part of the reason was that Micah wasn’t home much. If he did come home he ignored her, that is he ignored her when he wasn’t yelling about what a fat pig she’d become. Cara always did her best to look contrite, reassuring him that after the baby was born she’d get her figure back quickly. The only good thing about his disgust was that he had no interest in sex—at least in sex with her.

  Micah’s words were ironic. She’d just been to the doctor and he was concerned about the fact that Cara was underweight. She’d only gained ten pounds in five months. The doctor believed her when she claimed her morning sickness hadn’t abated. The truth was somewhat different. When Micah was anywhere near Cara became incapable of eating. Just the thought that he might show up at home kept her out of the kitchen. It was as if she lost the ability to swallow the instant he walked through the door.

  Cara knew she needed to eat for her baby. She tried. As soon as Micah left for the restaurant or one of his clubs, and she was absolutely certain he wouldn’t be back, she’d prepare herself a well-balanced meal and force herself to eat it. She took her prenatal vitamins and her iron tablets religiously. It was only when Micah was out of town that Cara managed to relax enough to eat like a normal pregnant woman should.

  Cara couldn’t help it. When she opened the door to the restaurant her eyes automatically sought out Jerry. She kept expecting to see him behind the bar.

  This new manager was cold and calculating. She had to be careful around him. He didn’t miss much. His name was Brian. Cara didn’t know his last name.

  She said, “Hi. I need to speak with Micah. Is he in?”

/>   “He’s up in his office. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  “Thanks.”

  Cara sat down to wait. After a few moments Brian returned. Cara couldn’t miss the odd look on his face.

  “Mr. Welsh says to go on up.”

  Cara rose from her chair. She had been hoping she’d be able to say what she had come to say in front of an audience. She didn’t relish the idea of being alone with Micah.

  She climbed the stairs to Micah’s office. The door was closed. She knocked, as was her custom, before entering. At first, the sight that greeted her didn’t register. Then Cara began to focus. Micah sat on the edge of his desk, eyes narrowed, grimacing. His fly was open, and one of the new cocktail waitresses—what was her name? Natalie?—knelt before him, her hand on him, her mouth around his erection. She was giving him a blowjob. Cara let out an involuntary gasp and reached behind her for the door.

  “Stay,” Micah gritted out through clenched teeth. “Watch and see how a real woman gives a man head. Maybe you can learn something.”

  Natalie pulled her mouth away long enough to giggle, then she returned her attention to Micah. Cara ignored Micah’s words and grasped the doorknob.

  “Stay, bitch, or I’ll fucking kill you.”

  Cara removed her hand from the knob and faced Micah. She forced herself to watch, her face a bloodless mask, as Micah tugged at the young woman’s top and toyed with her breasts. Finally, Natalie, or whatever her name was, brought him to climax. As he groaned his release, he shut his eyes.

  Cara was grateful that he did or he would have seen the pure hatred written all over her face. By the time he opened his eyes again she had managed to compose herself. Micah patted the woman on the head.

  “Thank you,” he said. “You are much better than that piece of ice over there.” He pointed at Cara.

  Cara didn’t respond. Standing there, watching the show, she’d come to a crucial decision. She couldn’t wait any longer. Next week, she would either be gone or she would be dead. The young woman pulled down her top and straightened her skirt. She flounced toward the door. Cara moved out of her way. She even opened the door and held it for her. She left it open. She waited for Micah to zip his trousers.

  “You enjoy that?”

  “It appeared you did,” Cara replied, before she could stop herself.

  “Damn right I did. That girl knows how to make a man feel like a man, unlike some people.” Micah frowned at her. “What the fuck do you want?”

  “I came by to let you know that my mother and her husband will be in town next week. My mother is coming by to see me. We haven’t been together in almost two years.”

  “Oh, hell no! Hell no. I don’t want her in my house.”

  “Micah, please, I’m talking about my mother. She only plans to spend a day or two. I’m pregnant. When a woman is pregnant she wants to see her mother. Please Micah. You won’t have to do anything.”

  Recognizing the expression on Micah’s face, Cara braced herself. Whatever he planned to do was going to hurt. She wrapped her arms protectively around her swelling abdomen. Suddenly, there was a body behind her.

  “Boss,” Brian’s voice came from over her shoulder. “Boss, we need you downstairs, now. There’s a problem with one of the deliveries.”

  Micah gave her a shove as he passed by. “We’ll finish this conversation later.”

  Cara waited until she heard their footsteps fade away before she crumpled into a chair. She didn’t know how much more of this she could take, but she had to make it another week at least. Until her mother and Phil could get here. She wanted witnesses. If she was going to die she wanted someone to know she was dead. She refused to vanish.

  Cara remembered what Jerry had said, “Don’t call the police.”

  She hadn’t, so far. Over the past few months, she’d devised a plan. It was risky and it could get her killed, but then anything she did or didn’t do could get her killed. The police were essential, but not yet. She couldn’t call them yet. She prayed for the sake of her baby that she could survive one more week, just one more week.

  Cara looked around. She realized she was alone in the office. It was the first time she’d ever been alone in Micah’s office. This might be the only opportunity she’d have to help herself. She tip-toed over to the desk. Micah kept a pad of expensive linen notepaper next to his phone. Cara tore off the top piece. She folded it and slid it into her purse, listening as she did so for the sound of footsteps.

  She quickly checked the desk drawers to see if they were locked. They weren’t. She found the gun Jerry had told her about. It was shoved into the back of a drawer beneath a file. She emptied it of bullets, dropping them into her purse too. She wiped the gun clean with her skirt, then returned it to its original location and shut the drawer, wiping the desk clean as well. She didn’t want to leave any fingerprints.

  Cara returned to the restaurant. She made a point of chatting with the busboys as they set up for the dinner crowd. Micah and Brian were nowhere in sight.

  She climbed into her car and drove towards the ranch, eyes on her rearview mirror. Nobody followed her. Micah was too self-absorbed to even consider the possibility that she might have a working brain.

  Cara stopped her Jeep on the bridge over the creek near their property. She dug the bullets out of her purse and tossed them over the side of the bridge into the water below. Once they’d plopped beneath the surface they were no more visible than the little pebbles.

  She hoped Micah wouldn’t check to see if the gun was loaded. He had no reason to. He had no idea she knew about it. Besides, Brian probably kept another gun stowed beneath the bar. Micah would expect Brian to act as enforcer just as he’d expected Jerry to. Brandishing a gun around would attract unwanted attention. Micah wasn’t that stupid. The only person Micah might actually use the gun on would be her.

  August 21, 1978

  Dread settled in the pit of her stomach. Cara knew she had to approach Micah now. Her mother and Phil would arrive in Salt Lake City today, in the late afternoon. Phil planned to attend a two-day conference and Cara’s mother was insisting upon staying with her. Micah seemed to have entirely forgotten their previous conversation about her mother’s visit. Cara hadn’t brought the subject up again. Now she had to tell him. She couldn’t risk surprising him. She didn’t want to endanger her mother.

  She woke up early. While Micah slept, she took a quick shower, did her hair and applied a little make up. She dressed in her prettiest silk nightgown and robe. Cara stepped outside onto the deck. The sun was already up and the redwood planks felt warm beneath her bare feet. Birds sang in the pines and the breeze ruffled her hair. It was a lovely morning. Cara rubbed her belly, feeling the baby kick against her palm, and she smiled. It would be nice to relax and enjoy the pregnancy, but she didn’t have the luxury.

  Cara returned to the kitchen. She retrieved the can of frozen orange juice she’d left in the fridge overnight to thaw, poured it into a glass pitcher and added water, then stirred it and returned it to the fridge. She filled the coffee maker and switched it on, making sure the coffee was strong; the way Micah liked it. She set the table with two placemats, determined to try to eat some breakfast with him even if she threw it up later. Micah had always like omelets. Cara had eggs, tomatoes, green onions and white cheddar cheese. Perhaps if she took the time to make him a special breakfast, she could improve his mood.

  As she stood beside the counter slicing tomatoes, Micah walked into the kitchen.

  “Good morning.”

  Her greeting went unacknowledged. He opened the refrigerator door.

  “I was hoping you might have time for breakfast today.”

  He reached for the glass pitcher of orange juice.

  “Why?” He looked at her suspiciously as he opened a cabinet and grabbed a juice glass.

  Cara hesitated. This wasn’t an auspicious beginning. “I-I wanted to remind you that my mother is coming today. We talked about this last week.”


  “And I said ‘No’ last week, as I recall.”

  “But Micah, she’s on her way. She’ll be here this afternoon. She’s going to spend a couple of nights with us. It’s important. She wants to see . . . She wants to see how well I’m doing and I . . .” Cara didn’t get to finish the remainder of her sentence.

  Micah slammed the glass onto the countertop, breaking it. Slivers of glass flew all over the kitchen. Cara jerked out of the way, but she was too late. One of the larger pieces sliced into her forearm. She grabbed for a kitchen towel to try to stop the bleeding.

  “Fucking bitch,” Micah hissed. “Look what you made me do.”

  “I’m sorry Micah . . . I’m sorry . . .” Cara stammered. She began to pick up pieces of glass with one hand while trying not to step on any with her bare feet.

  When she least expected it, Micah charged her like a prizefighter coming out of his corner. He wrapped his hands around her upper arms, squeezing until she cried out in pain. He forced her onto her knees in the middle of the glass-covered floor.

  “Pick it up,” he yelled. “Pick it all up.” He let go of her with one hand and reached back for the glass pitcher full of orange juice. He held it above his head and then let it drop. Despite his iron grip on her arm Cara managed to duck. The heavy pitcher missed her head, but it glanced off her left shoulder. Cara grunted with pain as the pitcher crashed to the floor beside her, shattering into a million pieces and splattering everything in the kitchen with juice.

  “Look what you did.” Micah laughed. “Look what you did now. Damn, you’re clumsy. Better clean it up before your mother gets here. Wouldn’t want her to know what a slob you are.” As he stalked out of the kitchen, he called out, “Don’t wait up sweetheart, I’m going to be late.” Then he stopped. “Oh and Cara, one more thing, if you’re thinking of leaving with your mother, think again. I’ll kill you. I will fucking hunt you down like a dog and kill you both.”