"Get in the car." she ordered.
She turned back to Eric and shouted, "Let go of me now."
They glared at one another, Eric still holding her arm. Neither flinched nor let their eyes waver. She was sure that if she let her fear show, she would not get away from here unscathed. This close up, Eric's temper was definitely frightening. She wondered how she could get away from him, for he was considerably stronger and he had such a grip on her arm that she knew she couldn’t pull it out of his grasp. As her mind struggled to find a way out of the situation she was in, she realized that he expected her to pull away from him and she wondered if she could catch him off guard by moving toward him instead. It was worth a try. She pulled back and then suddenly stepped toward him and pushed. He lost his balance and while regaining it, loosened his grip on her arm. Quickly, she stepped back through the door and ran to the car.
She threw it into gear and roared out of the driveway, then drove a short distance down the highway before pulling over to the shoulder to give herself a few minutes to get control of herself, for her heart was pounding loudly and she was trembling like a leaf. A few deep breaths seemed to help her and then she turned to Emily, "Wow, that was unbelievable. I've never in my whole life been so scared. Emily, you're white as a sheet."
"I'm dead!" Her voice was toneless, "My letter isn’t here. He must have read it...and after what I wrote about him...he'll kill me for sure."
"He didn't just read it; he burned it. He was standing at the stove burning it when I went in there."
"Oh, my gosh! He must have been furious...when he read that letter. I told them that he...was beating me up...and I was asking for help...to get out of here. He’s warned me over and...over again not to try to leave. How on earth...can I go home after...he read that? I’m afraid that he’ll...get me good for this." She was beginning to panic.
"Emily, calm down. I want you to think about what I’m telling you. He was burning the letter. Do you realize what that means? He wouldn’t have read it if he was just going to mail it.” She watched her friend as the truth began to register on her. “We’ll talk about this some more later but for now let's get Danny to the sitter and you to your appointment. We can worry about Eric after that."
Chapter 9
Snow was falling steadily as Jeanie pulled away from the hospital that afternoon with Emily still groggy in the seat beside her. They drove to the sitters where they picked up Danny, who had just wakened from his afternoon nap, and started the drive home. Although the roads were snow covered, they were not slippery and the drive was made without incident and in silence as both women were deep in thought. Jeanie was trying to find the words that would convince Emily to bring the children and stay with her and Gary for the next few days to give them time to figure out a plan for them. No way could she see herself dropping Emily off to be left at the mercy of Eric. She had seen his face when he was angry and out of control and she knew that he was capable of inflicting a serious injury on anyone who crossed him. She had suggested that they come home with her as they rode down the elevator in the hospital, but Emily had thanked her again and refused. "I wish I could...but I don’t think...that’s the answer. But thanks...I really appreciate...your offer."
Emily was absolutely terrified at the thought of facing Eric and in a panic wondering what to do. No way could she face him after he had read the letter that she had written to her parents. Yet she needed time to prepare for a move. She needed money and a place to stay. And there were many things in the house that meant a lot to her and the children and she didn’t want to leave them behind. How she wished that she could go next door and just rest. But she knew without seeing him that Eric was furious and going next door would only fuel that anger. If they were to go straight home now, she would get there before him. Did that mean that she would be safe? Not likely! But, if she went next door first and then went home, she would certainly not be safe. He would do even more damage and possibly kill her. What was the best course of action? The more she thought about her dilemma, the more tense she became and the harder it was to think sensibly. As the car pulled into the driveway, they were both filled with dread. Jeanie's brown Mercury came to a stop in front of the house; yet neither woman moved to get out of the car.
Finally, Emily spoke, "I didn’t know I was...going to feel like this. I'm really afraid...to go in there. I’m terrified of him. I think, especially...after him seeing that letter...that he could kill me. Now he knows that I’m ...serious about leaving. That letter...has changed things."
"Then come home with me, please. Get a good night's rest and tomorrow we will figure out what’s the best thing to do."
"I want to...more than you could imagine, but the school bus...will be here...in half an hour. I've got to be here...to meet the kids."
"I'll take you and Danny to my house and come back for the boys. I'll wait right here until the bus comes. You have my promise that I’ll bring the boys home. "
"I’ll have to. I just can't...go in there. Don’t get me wrong...I sound like I don’t want...to stay with you. It’s not that. Under other circumstances...it would be different, but I don’t want him...to do anything to hurt you...and Gary and this is...terrible timing for both of us...with Christmas in...five days. It’s not exactly the best time...to leave home...or for you...to have all this company."
"Oh Emily, for me, it will be a relief and anyway, like you said, you’ll have to come." Jeanie knew that her friend would never understand the depth of the relief she felt at taking her and the children home where they would be safe. Saturday night, after leaving Emily and the boys at home, she had spent one of the worst nights of her life, wondering what was happening in the big brick house at the end of the long lane next door. She knew without a doubt that she would never be able to forgive herself if anything were to happen and sitting here looking at this house she had a strange sense of foreboding that convinced her that it was a matter of life and death that Emily take her children and leave while she was able.
It took only minutes to get Emily and Danny settled in the little white house next door and then she was again in the car. First she drove down the long lane to see if Eric's car was there and when she was satisfied that it wasn't, she returned to the end of the driveway to wait for the three boys. She spent her waiting time making a mental list of the things her guests would need to make the overnight stay easier. Once that was decided, she gave thought to what the next step should be. One thing was certain, whatever happened Emily and the four boys could not go back to live in that house, ever.
Jeanie looked at her watch nervously, for the bus was late. She began to worry. Had Eric picked the children up at school? Perhaps if he had, the bus wouldn't need to come out this far. What could they do in that event? "No," she told herself sternly, "Don't invent trouble. There will be enough without inventing it."
She saw a cloud of snow approaching and soon heard the rumbling of the snowplow, which was closely followed by the school bus. Relief flooded over her.
Before long the three children were safely seated in the car. After explaining where their mother was, Jeanie turned to the sober boy sitting beside her in the front. "Now, Sam, you have to help. I'm going to drive back to the house. I'll wait out front with the car running while you scoot in and get nightclothes, toothbrushes and a change of clothes for tomorrow for each of you. Your father’s car isn’t there so I’m sure he’s not at home but if, by some chance, he is there, leave immediately. Don't even speak to him, just get out of there as fast as you can. Your mother’s life could depend on it, for if he gets hold of you, he might not let you go unless she comes back to him. I’m sure he’s not home but you can’t be too careful. Anyway, I'll be watching for him. If he comes back, I'll toot the horn and you come out immediately, whether you have everything or not. Diapers and clothes for you boys come first; your mother can wear something of mine if she has to. Just toss everything in a garbage bag or whatever is handy, but please hurry. All right?"
/> "O.K."
“Remember it’s more important that you get out safely than that we have this stuff.”
“All right.”
Sam realized the seriousness of the situation and since he was also afraid of running into his father he was only too willing to do as he was told. As quickly as possible, he ran through the house, gathering the items he felt they needed and tossing them into the laundry hamper from the bottom of his closet, where he dumped yesterday’s dirty laundry. The only time he had hesitated was when he had first entered the house and stopped to decide whether or not he should remove his snowy boots. He opted to wear them despite the snow he was tracking on the floors. When he was finished upstairs, he tossed a few toys on top of the clothes along with the book he was reading and hurried to the bathroom to grab their toothbrushes. Then he hurried out the door.
During the few minutes that he had been in the house, the snowstorm had intensified and visibility was not good. Jeanie had been watching the road carefully, but was becoming more and more concerned as the heavy snowfall made it nearly impossible to see if anyone was driving toward her. She didn’t know how she would be able to get Sam out of the house before it was too late if Eric were to suddenly appear before them. Sam's arrival, with the clothes hamper heaped full, was a great relief. He stowed it in the back seat beside his brother, and jumped in the front. Jeanie immediately put the car in gear and headed home.
Scott noticed first and pointed to the driveway, "Look, our tracks are gone."
Sure enough, the tire tracks left by Jeanie's car less than five minutes before, were almost invisible. If this heavy snowfall continued, the tracks they were making now would be gone and there would be nothing to show that they had been at the house. "This just might be a help for us." Jeanie said, allowing herself to relax as she turned out onto the highway and started driving the short distance to her home.
After dinner that evening, with Danny asleep in a make-shift crib, and the other three boys occupied in the living room, Emily, Jeanie, and Jeanie's husband Gary sat down at the kitchen table with a pot of tea to try to devise a plan of action for Emily.
Once she was certain that all four of her boys were safe, she had gone to Jeanie’s spare room to lie down. She rested there until supper was ready and now thanks to the pain medication that the hospital had given her, she felt able to take part in this discussion. She began, "I want you guys...to know how much...I appreciate everything...you are doing for us."
"We couldn't sit by and not do something." Gary replied.
Practical Jeanie came right to the point. "I think you know how glad we are to have you out of that house and away from Eric but right now I think we’d do better to forget about thanks and try to figure out what to do next."
Emily sighed, "You’re right, I've been thinking...about something all day. Eric burned... my letter this morning. He must have...burned all the others...that I've written in...the past eight years. I haven't heard...from my parents...since we moved here. They wouldn't have just...stopped all contact...without a reason. I’ve always wondered...what that reason could be. Now I think I know. I have to get in touch...with them somehow. I have to."
"Forget about writing." suggested Gary, "Why not phone them?"
"Their phone number is unlisted...and I don't have it. But, I remembered...someone today. I don’t know why...I didn’t think about her...years ago. It’s Dad’s cousin. If she is still in Toronto...I should be able to get her number...from information and then she might...give me Mum and...Dad’s number."
"Of, course, she will. Why on earth would she not give you the number?" Jeanie wanted to know.
"All I know is what...Eric told me. He said that they...had their number changed...so I couldn't call...anymore. He said that they told him...they had enough of me…and my problems."
Jeanie shook her head, "I don't believe that. Eric is so full of crap. My goodness, parents wouldn't do that."
Gary spoke up, "You’ve got to start somewhere and it seems to me that your father's cousin is as good a place as any. I'll get the phone." Information gave her the number and within minutes Emily was listening to Helen McGuire's phone ring. She nervously counted the rings and after counting five, feared that no one was at home and thought about hanging up. But she wasn't sure that she would have the courage to call again, so she waited, desperately hoping that someone would answer, as the phone continued to ring. On the ninth ring, the receiver was lifted and a breathless voice answered, "Hello."
Emily recognized the voice from her past and tears welled up in her eyes. She found it impossible to speak past the lump in her throat and as she struggled for words, heard the voice on the other end of the line repeating, "Hello, hello." Hesitation. "Hello, is any-one there?"
Emily swallowed and spoke at last, "Helen, it's Emily."
Now the silence came from the other end. Finally, Helen spoke, "Where are you?"
"I'm at my neighbors."
"I mean, where are you? Your parents tried for so long to find you. Where on earth are you?"
"What do you mean? They know where I am. I wrote to them. I've written dozens...of times."
"It's like you dropped off the edge of the world. They haven't heard from you in years."
"Helen, I swear to you, I've written. I sent my address. Didn’t they get any...of my letters?"
"Last any of us heard you and Eric moved to Winnipeg. Then we heard nothing."
"Winnipeg! Where did you...get that idea? We are just outside...Edmonton, Alberta."
"Eric told your father you were in Winnipeg."
Emily felt as though her veins were filled with ice water. "Oh, God," she whispered, "How could he? Why would he do that? I’ve got to...talk to them. Will you give me...their number?"
"Emily, dear, there's something you don't know.” She hesitated.
“Oh, God, what?” Emily could tell by the tone of voice on the phone that she didn’t want to hear what was coming next.
“Your mother was very ill."
"Ill?” Her mouth was suddenly dry. “Is she all right now?"
Her question met silence.
"Is she all right?" There was panic in her voice.
"It was cancer. Your Mom died last March."
"No. No." Tears welled up in her eyes and streamed down her face.
"Give me your number. I'll call your father and have him call you right back."
Emily was unable to answer. The receiver dropped to her lap as she buried her battered face in her hands and sobbed.
Jeanie put her arm around her friend and asked, "What's the matter? Em, what's happened?"
Between sobs she answered, "My Mom, it's my Mom."
Jeanie retrieved the receiver, spoke for a few moments with Helen, gave the phone number to her and assured her that Emily and the children were all right and would be welcome to stay with her as long as necessary. She hung up the phone and held Emily while she cried on her shoulder.
Her mind recoiled from accepting this news of her mother’s death. Added to all the trauma she had suffered in the past few days, it was almost more than she could bear. She wanted to block the knowledge out of her mind, to return to the time just minutes ago before her cousin’s voice had said those words that were echoing in her mind, ‘Your Mom died last March.’ Even though she didn’t want to accept the thought that her mother was gone, she found that she couldn’t shut her mind to it and as the minutes passed, she began to accept this terrible news and her heart began to fill with an overpowering sorrow at the loss of the mother she had not seen for such a long time, and would not see again. During those same minutes she became very aware of the reason she had been denied those last few years with her mother - Eric. It was painfully obvious that all the letters she had written had never been mailed. Her parents had no idea where she had been for the last eight years. Her mother had never seen Kyle or Danny. She had been denied her grandchildren and they had been denied grandparents. All because of Eric. The hatred for him that had
been growing in her heart for so many months now bloomed into something frightening. She felt that hatred swelling inside her until she thought she would burst. Finally her tears dried up and she spoke, "I could gladly kill him," she spat, "I'd like to choke the life...out of him with my bare hands. He is going to pay...for this before I’m done. I swear, he’s...going to pay for this."
Chapter 10
Pete wasn't sure who was happier to be back inside the warm kitchen, him or Bandit. He unclasped the leash from the dog's collar and scratched behind his ear for a minute before hanging the leash on the hook by the door and removing his bulky outer clothes.
"Well, old boy," he said, "I wish that was the last time for tonight. It's mighty cold out there."
His answer was a wag of the old dog's tail.
He put his boots on the mat, hung up his coat and turned on the TV before taking his usual spot in the rocking chair. Bandit was already stretched out on the mat by his feet and had only to move his head a matter of inches to lay in on Pete's left foot.
Remote control in hand, Pete began the nightly search for something of interest to watch. He channel surfed for a couple of minutes, finding nothing that caught his attention then felt the all too familiar wave of loneliness when the voice he still half expected to hear was silent. "Pete, for goodness sake, you'll never find anything flipping from one program to another so fast. Put that thing down."
"Oh, Angie," he sighed. "I miss you more than you can imagine."
At the sound of his voice, the old dog’s tail thumped again, then all was still.
Pete looked down at the old border collie, "If you could talk, dog, this would be a much more interesting place. I get tired of doing all the talking around here and never getting an answer."
Pete Locke, once tall, slim and straight as an arrow, was now, at the age of 63, slightly stooped, although still slim, almost to the point of gauntness. The thick, wavy brown hair, that had once caught the eye of the pretty girl he would marry and spend most of his life with, was now thick, wavy gray hair, which matched the bushy gray mustache he had decided to grow two months ago.
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