"No, please don’t, I'm afraid that the pastor might call Eric before we get out of here and I really can’t deal with him today.”
“Oh, he wouldn’t do that.”
“I’m afraid to take a chance. No one is going to convince me to stay here, not Eric and not the pastor. You know, this isn't the first time he's done something like this, but I'm determined that it was the last."
"I’ll talk to him and promise you that he won't call Eric."
"Well...all right. Maybe it's for the best anyway. I don't want this to be swept under the rug. Eric should have to pay for what he's done somehow. But I'd rather you wait until later, maybe after supper.
They ordered pizzas and coke and had them delivered. They were a hungry bunch by the time they arrived and everyone was glad for the welcome break. Emily was hungry but her face was sore enough that eating wasn’t easy, although she managed to eat a little. While they were cleaning up the pizza boxes, Jan made the call to the Pastor. He couldn't believe what Jan was telling him. "This is impossible. Eric Thompson is one of the finest men I've ever met. He isn't capable of something like this. You must be mistaken."
"Pastor, I'm right here at their house looking at Emily. I think you should come over here and talk to her yourself."
"I'll be there in about half an hour."
"I promised Emily that you wouldn't contact Eric until she is gone. She’s really afraid of what he might do. Please, promise you won't call him."
"Well, I don't like secrets but under the circumstances I don’t think that I would be wrong in waiting until I’ve talked to Emily. I can promise you that I won't contact him until after I have spoken to her."
"Fair enough. Thanks, Pastor. Bye."
By the time Pastor York pulled into the yard and parked behind the rental truck, almost everything that Emily had planned to take was packed and on the truck, and it was still only about 2/3 filled. He entered the house with a troubled look on his face and seeing Gary coming toward him with a box, asked for Emily. “She’s in the living room packing some stuff.”
The pastor’s face registered absolute shock when she put down the vase she had just finished wrapping and turned to him revealing her bruised, swollen and battered face. "My dear, I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry.”
"This isn't the first time, Pastor. All those Sundays when Eric went to church without me, I was at home because he didn't want anyone to see my face."
"I had no idea that he was capable of doing something like this.”
“My biggest problem right now is cracked ribs. He knocked me down and put the boots to my chest. I have two cracked ribs thanks to him. If it wasn’t for pain medication, I wouldn’t be able to move.”
“All this time, you have been a member of my church and I had no idea this was going on. I failed you.”
“It’s not your fault. Eric is responsible for this. Nobody else.”
“Where are you going?"
"My Dad has come for me and I'm going home to Toronto with him."
"How do the children feel about all this?"
"To be honest, Eric hasn't really been that much of a father and the boys are just feeling excited about the trip."
"Eric always appeared to be such a devoted father."
"Pastor York, Eric always appeared to be a lot of things. The truth is that he is a mean, vicious man. He has hit and kicked me, time and again, and been cold and cruel with the boys. I am terrified of him and so are they. None of us have good memories associated with Eric."
Pete came into the room as they were talking and added, "He put a lot of effort into separating her from her mother and I. Until yesterday, I had no idea where she and the boys were. Her mother died in the spring, without being able to see her only daughter because of that man. He has made life a hell for a lot of us for too long."
"I'm really sorry that I haven't been more help to you but I honestly didn’t know any of this was going on."
"I know. This was a very carefully guarded secret."
"What can I do for you now?"
"I know Eric. He will convince himself that this is all my fault and that he’s a poor victim. I don't want him to get away with this. He has hurt the boys and I, physically and mentally, but nothing compares to what he did to my parents. He told them that we were living in Winnipeg, tormented them until they got an unlisted number and destroyed all the letters I wrote to them. My parents didn't know where I was and my mother died without us finding one another and without her ever knowing her two youngest grandsons. I know the Lord expects us to forgive one another but I don't know how I can ever forgive him. It's important to me that you know the truth. When you talk to Eric, you can weigh what he says with what you know to be true. Talk to Jeanie. She took me to the hospital. Talk to Sam. He knows what his father is like. Just don't let him walk away from this like a hero. That’s what I want you to do for me."
"That's certainly not asking too much, my dear. Now, let me help you load that truck."
Pete spoke up, "I guess you’ve figured out that I’m Emily’s father.” He reached out and the two men shook hands. “And I’m tired enough that I would be mighty pleased to have you help load. Curley-top, that load will ride a lot better if the truck is packed full. What else do you want from here? We have room for some of the furniture. Let’s get your grandmother’s table for a starter."
They removed the table legs and loaded it and the chairs. Then they put in the washer and dryer, the dressers and the coffee table and end tables.
"That's about all the room we've got." said Pete. "Take a last look around before we close it up."
Emily called Sam and together they walked through the house checking for things they might have missed. When they were satisfied that there was nothing more they wanted, they went back to the living room where the others were waiting.
"I guess that's it,” said Emily.
Jeanie went next door to get the children while Pete and Gary went outside to close up the truck. Just as they started, Sam remembered the bikes in the garage and ran out to tell his grandfather, who managed with a bit of re-organization, got the bikes and Danny’s stroller stowed in the truck. Pete checked his watch. It was 9:35.
Ten minutes later, they were all standing in the yard waving good-bye as grandfather and grandson began the long trip to Toronto. Pete planned to drive for a couple of hours and then stop at a motel and try to get a good night’s rest, for he had done about all he was capable of for one day. He had tried unsuccessfully to rest the night before, because he knew that this would be a busy day, but he had tossed and turned all night, watching the hands on the clock slowly move forward, while he wanted so desperately for morning to come so he could get on the plane that would take him to the only family he had left since he had lost first his son, Mark, and then Angie.
All stood silently watching the big truck drive slowly down the long lane and turn left onto the road. Only when it was out of sight did anyone move. Emily and the three boys made one last check of the house to be certain that they had left nothing of importance behind. Then Jan started the car while Jeanie and Gary hugged the boys and helped them to get settled in the back seat. Emily shook hands with the pastor and thanked him for his help. She then turned to Jeanie and Gary and for a moment was unable to speak past the lump in her throat. Finally, she swallowed and spoke, “What would I have done without you two? Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
Gary stepped forward and gave her a gentle hug, “You just take care of yourself and those kids.” His voice caught and he quickly turned away and climbed behind the wheel of his car. Emily turned to Jeanie and the two women hugged, both shedding tears and unable to speak. They stood together for a few moments, then pulled apart, both realizing that there was nothing more to say. The friendship they had shared was one that would continue for life, even though they would be thousands of miles apart. Jeanie reached for Emily’s hand and squeezed it gently, "Write when you get to Toronto."
“I’d love to be a mouse in the corner and hear what he has to say,” laughed Jan as she stepped on the gas and left the big, brick house behind.
About an hour later Scott and Kyle were in the double bed in Jan's spare room with Danny beside them in another make-shift crib, while Emily was lying on the couch, talking with Jan and trying to wind down, so she could sleep. She looked at her watch and realized that it was 11:00.
"Well," she said, "This is it. Eric is just getting off work. He'll be home in 15 minutes and man, is he going to be mad."
"What do you think he'll do?"
"I'm not sure but you can bet that he’ll do something. I'm afraid that Jeanie and Gary will face the worst of his anger, and I can’t do anything to prevent it. I hope he doesn’t find out that we are here. I don’t want to make trouble for you plus I can't face him tonight."
"I can understand that. But I’m sure that you’re safe here. Mr. Thompson would never think of you being here. I don’t think he’s ever noticed that I’m around. Anyway, on a more pleasant note, I like your Dad. You're lucky to have him to help you. He sure seems like a nice man."
"My Dad is so special. Funny, now that I’ve seen him again, I don't know how I ever thought that he would have cut me out of his life. I must have been nuts."
"Or you were listening to your husband."
"I guess so."
"How about a cup of tea? That might help us to settle down."
"Sounds good to me."
She returned before long with the steaming cups of tea as Emily checked her watch again, 11:05. Eric would be on the road heading toward the house by now. She couldn’t help but picture what would be happening in a matter of minutes at the big brick house she had called home for the past eight years. As she reached for the cup of tea she realized that she was incredibly tired but so on edge that she wondered if tea could possibly help her 'settle down'.
Chapter 13
The heater finally managed to get the interior of the car to a comfortable temperature as Eric turned off the highway and started down the road that led to the farmhouse where he lived. He looked at the clock on the dash of his car. It was exactly 11:10.
"Right on time," he thought with satisfaction.
Eric was definitely a creature of habit. Whenever he worked the afternoon shift, he would turn off the highway at 11:10, pull up to his door at 11:15, where he insisted that the porch light be burning, enter the house at 11:16, then relax with a beer until 11:45 when he would climb the stairs to bed.
He was apprehensive about going home tonight for he knew that Emily would be in an uproar. Yesterday had been an upsetting day for them both. He had been so angry, as a matter of fact, that he had decided not to go home last night. It served her right if she had spent the night worrying about his whereabouts. “Maybe she’s had time enough to think about what’s going on that she'll begin to realize that she's to blame for this. Things could be so different if she could learn to be a good wife and would give me a little respect at home."
His thoughts turned to Rita. She was the kind of woman a man needed. She made no demands on him and was always available whenever he had time for her. He had called her last night from work and she had invited him to her apartment. She had been waiting up for him and had done a really good job of taking his mind off the problems he faced at home; and he did have problems. That was becoming more and more evident. Right now, the biggest problem he faced was Emily breaking family rules and airing their dirty laundry in front of the neighbors. Thinking about it was making him really angry and he clenched his teeth as he decided, "I'll have to convince her that it's healthier to keep her big mouth shut. I should have shut her up before she got that woman next door involved. I can't believe that skinny broad had the nerve to come into my house, giving me orders and then taking the envelope addressed to Emily's folks. I’ll bet their tongues did some wagging over that. Now the bitch is gonna have an attitude and the whole thing is gonna blow up again." He could feel the anger growing inside him as he anticipated the fight he was convinced he would soon have with his wife. The more he thought about the letter, the more wounded he felt, "What right has she to be mad about that letter? She's the one who wrote it asking for help to take my children away from me. It's a darn good thing that I read it. Now I can see to it that she doesn't rip the family apart and make me look bad. What would Pastor York and the others at the church think of me if my wife were to leave me? A man has to have some pride. But you never know what nutty ideas will be running through her head now that she knows about that envelope. Son of a bitch! Shit probably figured out what happened to the other letters. If she has, I'll just deny it. She can't prove anything. I was careful."
He turned into the driveway. “Good.” He relaxed. “The porch light’s on; everything’s back to normal.
Two minutes later, Eric opened the kitchen door and flipped on the light switch. His mouth dropped open in shock as he looked around the room, which was empty of all but the fridge and stove. "What the..."
He stared for a moment at the spot where the table and chairs had once been, then walked into the living room. He shook his head in amazement. The chesterfield and chairs were about all that remained in the room. He stood and stared, unable to comprehend what had happened. "What is going on here?" He called out, "Emily!"
No answer. "Emily!"
Only silence answered him.
He ran up the stairs and into Danny and Kyle's room. It was empty except for Kyle's bed, which stood bare, under the teddy bears that danced across the wallpaper. Both of the boy’s dressers and Danny’s crib were gone, just as though they had vanished. In the room across the hall, there were only Sam and Scott's beds, for their dressers, too, were gone. He was furious. He stormed into the master bedroom. Emily's dresser was missing; the rest of the furniture remained where it had always been. This bed, unlike the others, was made up as usual; complete with the little lace cushion that Emily always leaned against the pillows. By this time he was so furious that he was beyond speech, his hands shook, his eyes bulged and his face was crimson. He needed to do something to relieve the tension that had built up in him or he would burst. He stormed across the room, grabbed the bedding and threw it in a heap in the corner of the room. With one swipe, he cleared off the top of his dresser, strewing everything across the room and then he pulled it over onto its front before running back downstairs and into the living room. The only thing left in the room that he could pick up was the large begonia sitting in its usual spot in front of the window. He grabbed it and threw it, pot and all, across the room, spilling plant and dirt across the rug. His fury took him next to the drapes, which he grabbed and pulled down, along with the curtain rod, leaving small holes in the plaster where the rod had been secured to the wall. As quickly as he had started, he stopped, sitting on the nearest chair, his anger spent.
"This isn't possible," he thought, "She wouldn't have guts enough to leave me. Or money enough."
He tried to imagine where she could have gone. She didn’t have that many friends, but she certainly had one. "Jeanie!" He spat out the name.
He went to the telephone, which hung on the wall in the kitchen, and phoned next-door, where his call was picked up on the second ring. "Hello."
"I want to talk to Emily."
"She's not here."
"I don't want to play games, Gary. Put Emily on the phone."
"She's not here."
"Look, I just w
ant to talk to my God damned wife."
"I told you before, she's not here."
"All right, you win. Just put Jeanie on the phone."
"Jeanie won't tell you any different. Emily's not here."
"Put Jeanie on the phone now." The cold fury in his voice worried Gary. The women were right. Eric could be dangerous.
"I'm sorry but it's late and Jeanie is getting ready for bed."
"If you don't put her on the phone, I'm coming over there and I'll find out where my wife is, one way or another."
"What makes you think we know where she is?"
"I know that your wife knows. She's had her nose stuck in my business over here for a few days now. She probably put her up to leaving."
"Eric, it's late. I'm going to hang up and go to bed. I'm sorry but there is nothing we can do to help you."
"I want to know where my damned wife is. She’s my wife and I have every right to know where she is."
"Can't help you. Sorry." The phone went dead in Eric's hand. He stared at it in fury, and then pounded the receiver against the wall until he had made a hole in the plaster, before slamming it back on the hook. He began to pace around the kitchen. Suddenly, he stopped, returned to the phone and dialed. This time the phone rang seven times before it was answered sleepily, "Hello."
The anger was gone from his voice and replaced by fear and desperation. "Is Emily there?"
There was a hint of annoyance in the voice that answered him, "Mister, you got the wrong number."
"Dorothy, its Eric. Emily's gone."
"What? Where are the kids?"
"I don't know. They're gone too."
"Jeez, I’m sorry but I don’t know where she could be. I haven't heard from her in a few days. Do you think something happened? Like, I mean a breakdown?"
"Probably. I don't know. Everything was fine when I left for work this morning and I just got home and they're gone."
"Is there anything we can do?"
Leaving Sharpstone Page 10