by Ann M. Noser
Abby shudders. “But you’ve no idea how I’ve cursed him in my head! I’ve wished horrible things upon him! And look at this―look at what happened!”
“It’s not like it’s your fault,” I offer.
“That’s easy for you to say.” Abby wipes her eyes.
“I don’t think you should blame yourself, either.” Mike glances between me and Abby. “What are you going to do now?”
“About what?” Abby asks.
“I think you should call his parents,” Mike says.
Abby scoffs. “Oh, yeah! I’m sure they’d just love to hear from some girl whose own parents disowned her because she got pregnant. They’d probably think I was only after their money and demand a paternity test.”
Just then Claire breezes into the room. “I’m back!” She stops short at the sight of all of us gathered around the bed. Then she clears her throat. “Abby, have you named that baby yet? He needs a name.”
“He has one,” Abby announces. “His name is Steven James.”
“That sounds wonderful, dear.” Claire smiles. “Now, I’ve got an errand to run, but I’ll stop by later tonight.”
“How about I walk you out?” Mike speaks in a muffled voice.
After Mike and Claire leave the room, I turn back to find Abby watching me.
“You believe me, don’t you?” she asks.
“Of course I do!”
“Why?” Her eyes narrow. “It’s such a crazy thing to say―that some guy I just found out drowned is the father of my kid. He’s dead now. He can’t even argue with me.” Her face reddens. “Maybe you shouldn’t believe me. I know I haven’t told you much and every time you asked about Steve, I shut you down.”
“Maybe because it wasn’t my business to pry.” I reach for the water pitcher, desperate to distract her with anything I can find. “Are you thirsty? Or maybe you’re hungry―do you want me to get you something to eat?”
“No! I don’t want any of that!” She bursts into tears again. “He’s gone! Steve’s really gone! Some stupid little part of me really thought he’d be coming back.”
“Oh, Abby―I’m so sorry!” I try to pat her shoulder, but she yanks me into a hug.
“I don’t want to hurt the baby―” I protest.
“Oh, just shut up and hug me!” Abby sobs into my neck. “I know I’m invading your sacred space bubble, but this time you’re gonna have to make an exception.” She pulls back and smiles weakly. “Now give me a Kleenex.”
I turn to grab the box and discover Mike entered the room sometime during our conversation. His eyes widen.
Abby wipes her face again. “If you two don’t mind, I could really use some time alone to think.”
“Certainly.” I nod. “We’ll be back later.”
Mike doesn’t say a thing, his face pale.
On the ride home, Steve takes over the body to tell me about Claire’s plan. “She nosed through Abby’s things and found her parents’ address. She’s driving there right now to confront them. Did you see that stack of baby pictures in her hands?” He taps his knee in agitation.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” I ask.
“I’m not sure, but Claire won’t waste any time telling them what’s what. She said, ‘If I was being as stupid as they are, I would want someone to tell me’.”
“Whoa. Has she told Abby what she’s up to?”
“Nope.”
“Well, if they don’t respond, then Abby won’t know the difference,” I reason.
“At least not for a while.”
As soon as we get home, Steve grabs some paper and a pen. “Emma, just throw away that letter I gave you for my parents. I’m writing a different one now.”
I watch him scribble away.
His gaze never leaves the page. “Instead of staring at me, you could do something useful, like finding me an envelope and a stamp.”
“Sure thing.” I dash off to collect the necessary supplies.
After he labels the envelope, he stuffs the letter into a pocket and heads out the door.
“I’m coming with you.” I pull on a jacket.
Steve eyes me. “I thought you’d want to study after all this time spent away from your books.”
“It will have to wait. I’m too nosy.”
“All right, then. Come along. But hurry.”
I slip on the ice as I try to keep up with Steve’s quick strides across the bridge to the library. He bounds up the stairs to the sixth floor and weaves between the silent stacks. There doesn’t seem to be another living creature on this musty floor. Steve walks his fingers along the thick, faded books, finally grabbing one off the shelf.
“Here it is. This is the one I need.” He slips the letter between the pages and takes off for the stairs, book in hand.
When Steve hits the first floor, he marches up to the checkout counter.
The librarian peers at him over her horn-rimmed spectacles. “May I help you?”
Steve turns on the charm, sounding very concerned. “Ma’am, I found this letter inside a library book. I wondered what I should do with it.”
He hands it to her along with the book.
The librarian tries to hand it back. “The closest mailbox is in the student union.”
“Yes, I know. But I recognized the name on the return address, and I wouldn’t want to give anyone a shock.”
The librarian examines the letter more carefully. “Oh my gosh, you’re right! This was written by that poor boy who drowned last fall. They just found his body. It’s been in the paper all week. I wonder…”
She scans the book and turns to her computer. “He checked out this book last summer.”
Steve’s face remains blank as the librarian grabs the phone.
“Who are you calling?” I ask.
She taps her fingers on the counter. “The campus police. I think this is a matter that should be dealt with very delicately.”
Officer Walker shows up ten minutes later. He pretends he doesn’t know us, but his left eyelid keeps twitching. “Thanks, kids. I’ll take care of this from here.”
We leave the library.
I shake my head. “Steve, you’re so smooth it’s scary. You remind me of Jake.”
“Jake was smooth?” Steve smirks as we pass through crowds of college students in the bright sunlight. “That’s Mike’s concern, not mine, by the way. I’m sure I don’t care.”
I shoot him a dirty look. “Just tell me what’s in that letter.”
“I dated it so it looked like I had written it right before my death. I told them I’d started dating a girl named Abby Murray over the summer, and I wanted them to meet her. Since I never introduced them to anyone else I ever dated in college, they’d know she was important. And now with Charlie on the case, Mom should arrive any minute!”
“Do you think it will be awkward for Abby?” I ask.
Steve shrugs. “Maybe, but there was no other way. She wasn’t going to tell them, I could tell. And she needs their help.”
wo days later, as we pull into the parking lot, a middle-aged couple stands in front of the apartment building, staring at the “For Rent” sign in Abby’s window.
Steve elbows me in the ribs. “Those are my parents!”
“Okay... got it!”
Mike and I hop out of the car and walk up to them.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
Steve’s mother glances at her husband before speaking. “Yes, I’m Carolyn Lawrence, and this is my husband, Jerry. We’re looking for someone who used to live there. Her name is Abby Murray. Do you know her?”
I begin to spin my web, just as Steve coached me. “Yes, we’ve been friends since last fall. Abby was released from the hospital today. She and the baby are going to stay with Claire.”
“There’s a baby?” Carolyn gasps, zooming towards me like a hungry bird.
This is going to be so easy. “Yes, he’s the cutest little boy.”
Steve’s mother practically drools. His
stunned father doesn’t speak, move, or even blink.
Then I drop the bomb. “His name is Steven James.”
Carolyn grabs my arm, then relaxes her hold, as if scared by her desperation. “We must find Abby. Can you help us?”
“Sure.” I pull my cell phone out. “Just let me see if they’re home yet and give them a head’s up.”
I keep my eyes on Steve’s mother. Poor thing, she’s trying so hard not to cry in front of me.
“Claire…is everybody home?” I ask, after she picks up on the second ring.
“Yes.” She sounds breathless. “We’re just getting settled in. Abby’s feeding Stevie at the moment.”
“I have some visitors who would like to see them.”
There’s a moment’s pause. “Okay. I had to move to where Abby couldn’t hear me. Please tell me it’s her parents. We haven’t heard a word from them since my visit.”
“No… I’m sorry. It’s Carolyn and Jerry Lawrence.”
“Oh my. It’s amazing how well Steve’s managed to make everything to work out according to some master plan. He could have been the president, if, well…you know.”
“Yeah.” The idea surprises me. “You’re right.”
“Bring them right over. I’ll tell Abby.”
Steve’s parents follow us in their car. After pulling in and bolting out of the vehicle, they hesitate at Claire’s door.
“Why don’t you come inside?” Claire welcomes them. “Abby and the baby are waiting for you. And I’m just getting supper started.”
She ushers the Lawrences into the living room, then puts out an arm to block us from following them. After she slides the door shut, she whispers, “I know you started this, but you must let them build on what you’ve begun.”
Steve glimmers to the front. “Do you think we should leave?”
“No, of course not. I’m not saying you can’t see your parents. I’m just saying you shouldn’t interfere. Besides, I need help in the kitchen.”
A long fifteen minutes later, Abby joins us―without her baby.
I must give her a questioning look, because she quickly explains. “Carolyn is rocking Stevie.”
“Is she a relative, dear?” Claire hides her face as she tends the stove.
“Um… No. That’s what I came out here to talk to you about. Carolyn and Jerry are Stevie’s grandparents…on his father’s side.”
Claire spins to face Abby. “And how are you taking this?”
“It’s so strange,” Abby says in a daze. “We talked about everything… Even Steve’s death.”
“Yes. We were just discussing that article you found in the paper.” Claire shoots me a significant look.
Abby takes a shaking breath. “Last fall, when Steve disappeared, I couldn’t figure out what happened. I even called his parents once, but they acted so suspicious of me that I hung up and never called back.”
Abby paces the kitchen. “If Steve and I hadn’t been so secretive about our relationship, I probably would’ve met his parents before the accident. Instead, I wasn’t even brave enough to tell them who I was when I called. I just thought he was being a jerk and avoiding me. I feel horrible about thinking such bad things about him.”
Claire pats Abby’s shoulder. “There now, don’t blame yourself. Steve’s death is such a mystery. I sure hope the police figure out what happened.”
“Me, too.” I nod, keeping a close eye on Mike.
Claire smiles. “Why don’t you invite them for dinner?”
Abby bites her lower lip. “Are you sure it’s okay?”
“There’s plenty for everybody. And this way, we’ll get to know them a little better.”
“I’ll ask them.” Abby heads back into the living room.
Steve shimmers back into view. “Thank you, Claire.”
An hour later, we all sit down at the dining room table, except for Jerry, who runs around with his cell phone on the camera function.
“Jerry, will you please sit down and put that camera away?” Carolyn Lawrence gestures for him to take a chair. “You must have taken a million pictures already. Abby will never allow us to visit again.”
“I don’t mind,” Abby says. “Actually, I’m relieved you want to be part of our lives. I wasn’t sure what you would think. My parents don’t want anything to do with me. Or him.”
Carolyn presses her lips together, apparently stifling a negative comment. She reaches over and squeezes Abby’s hand. “How scared and brave you must have been. I only wish we had known sooner. Then we could have been of more assistance.”
“How about a group picture?” Jerry asks.
Mike jumps up out of his seat. “I’ll take it. Everybody say ‘cheese’.”
After the crazy events of the last six months, my life turns tranquil for a couple of weeks. I get caught up on my schoolwork. My grades suffer only minimally, despite all the distractions.
Laura and I continue to write back and forth. Although I love hearing from her, the sight of her letters in my mailbox always reopen my old ache for Jake. Will there be a picture to make me catch my breath or a story from their childhood to remind me of all I’ve lost?
Her latest letter recalls a memory from when Laura was in junior high and just starting to express interest in boys.
I was making a list of everything I wanted in a spouse, and asked Jake to do the same. He protested, of course, but eventually gave in. I spent a half hour composing my list, but he finished in five seconds, then sat around pestering me with: “Aren’t you done yet? Aren’t you done yet?”
He forced me to read my list first and made annoying comments the whole time.
He must be tall. (“Of course, you don’t want to have short kids, right?”)
He must be cute. (“Just remember, no one’s ever going to be as cute as your brother―try not to be disappointed.”)
He must be smart. (“I’m also smarter than everyone else. Sorry about that.”)
At this point, I forced him to show me his list. There was only one line. I can still see it: “My wife will be AWESOME.”
Apartment life is quiet now that Steve and Mike are over at Claire’s most of the time. Whenever the phone rings, the noise startles me. I’ve become used to the silence.
All of Steve’s plans seem to be working. Claire is delighted to have a baby in her home. One day I stop by with some of Abby’s mail. When no one answers my knock, I enter to find Claire slow dancing and singing along with the radio with little Stevie in her arms, a blissful smile upon her face. I know Bernard would be pleased.
Abby’s parents continue to be a no-show, but Steve’s parents are willing and eager to help. They visit often, and Steve manages with some difficulty to stay away from his dad’s camera.
Officer Walker stops by frequently to brainstorm with Steve. I have no doubt he will do everything he can to solve the murder case. Everyone has been taken care of. That is to say, everyone except for Mike, but that’s his decision, not mine.
In fact, for once in my life, I stop worrying about everything, including the cycling of the moon.
One night, Steve and Mike don’t come home. I don’t get too concerned, because I assume they’re staying at Claire’s to help with the baby.
The next evening, my tutoring sessions run late. I hurry home under a cloudy sky. Tired and hungry, I dump my heavy backpack on the floor and head straight for the fridge in my darkened apartment.
Those damn boys better not have eaten all the leftover pizza.
As I open the refrigerator door, its light stretches across the room and lands on Mike sitting alone on the couch, bloody and bruised.
He looks like he’s been in a bar fight.
race over to Mike’s side. He cradles his head in his hands. His hair is mussed and dirty, like a little boy fresh from the playground sandbox. A puffy bruise forms on the right side of his face.
“Mike, are you okay?” Part of me wants to touch his cheek, but I stop myself.
He won’t eve
n look at me.
Someone knocks on the door, and I jump.
Mike waves me away. “I’m fine. Go see who’s at the door. I’ll hide in my room if I have to.”
I peer through the peep hole to find Walker’s magnified head. “It’s just some really nosy cop.”
I fling open the door, and Walker strides inside like he owns the place.
“Why’s it so dark in here?” He flips on the light and crosses the living room toward Mike. “What happened to your face? And where’s your costume?”
Mike leans over the side of the couch and holds up the rubbery, vacant body.
“Oh, that’s right, there’s a full moon tonight.” Officer Walker nods.
It annoys me he always seems to know what’s going on. I guess that’s what comes from him coming over to talk to Steve almost every day these last few weeks.
Walker looks at me. “Where’s Steve tonight?”
I shrug. “Beats me.”
Both of us turn to Mike.
“He’s gone,” he says.
From his defeated tone, I know what gone means. Blinking back tears, I pick up the limp, naked body.
“I don’t like it when this thing stares at me.” Just the sight of it makes bile creep into the back of my throat. I hide it into the hall closet and shut the door.
“Well, Steve’s gone, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” I want to kick something but know I’d only hurt myself, so I pace instead. “We can’t tell Abby because he asked us not to, we can’t tell his parents because he wouldn’t like that, either, and we can’t bring him back.”
I spin toward Mike. “I’m assuming the river took him.”
Mike nods.
“Tell me everything,” I demand.
Mike examines the palms of his hands, perhaps searching for life’s answers. “Steve just let it happen. He didn’t even fight it. He said it was time for him to leave. I offered to go instead, but he got furious with me.”
“You offered to go instead?” My mouth turns dry. Mike would leave me without saying goodbye?