False Step

by Victoria Helen Stone

  Finally she took off the gardening gloves, dropped them in the trash too, and washed her hands.

  She wasn’t turning Johnny in. That was wrong, but she wasn’t sinking any deeper than that. She couldn’t.

  No, that wasn’t quite it. She could. She’d just done it, in fact. But she wouldn’t. Not anymore.

  Her shaking legs finally gave out and she dropped down to the cold linoleum. She put her hands, cool and raw from being scrubbed in icy water, over her face. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. Something was stuck inside her, shut down. So instead of crying she just wailed into her own skin. The low, helpless whine of an exhausted animal.

  She should have left him. She should have left and put Sydney in therapy and been a stronger, better woman. After all, hadn’t she learned from her own childhood that shoving things down only made everything worse? She’d watched her parents as they’d perfected this dance of loving pretense over the years and she’d learned. How to lie and tough it out and put off happiness and ignore problems. She should have shown Sydney honesty instead.

  Now Veronica desperately needed help, comfort, and love, and she couldn’t ask anyone for it. She didn’t even deserve it.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she chanted into her hands. How would she get through today, much less years of living with this? It was too much guilt. Too much uncertainty.

  A strange buzz vibrated through her. It took her a long minute to realize it wasn’t fear or anxiety shaking loose from her bones. It was her phone.

  She scrubbed her dry face and took a deep breath before tugging her phone from her pocket. “Please don’t be awful,” she prayed.

  And it wasn’t. It was Micah. I can’t wait for Wednesday, V.

  Still no tears, but she did feel that stuck place inside her melt a little. But only a little, because there wouldn’t be a Wednesday with Micah this week. There might never be again.

  She hit the little call button and cradled the phone against her ear.

  “Hey, V,” he murmured, his voice low.

  “Hi. I won’t be able to make it this week. I’m sorry.”

  He went silent for a long moment. “Is everything okay?”

  Her eyelids fluttered until she had to close them to stop the strobing light. “No,” she whispered.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  “What’s wrong, V?”

  “Everything.”

  “Hey, you’re kind of scaring me here. Is something really wrong?”

  “Micah . . .” There were so many things she couldn’t say. So many truths she could no longer speak to him. So she latched on to the one thing she could tug free from her pain. “He hit me.”

  “What? Who hit you?”

  “Johnny.”

  “What the fuck, Veronica? He hit you? Are you okay? Are you safe?”

  “Yes. I’m safe. It was yesterday.”

  “Yesterday? You didn’t call me? I could’ve . . . I . . .” His voice cracked, and her throat closed up in response.

  “I’ll kill him,” Micah growled, and God, she loved him for it, and she felt so stupid for the bubbly gratitude that fluttered through her chest. Gratitude that he cared enough to want to protect her. Pitiful but it was true.

  “I’m fine. It was . . . He panicked and lost his temper, but I’m fine.”

  “What happened?”

  Now what? She couldn’t explain what had caused Johnny’s panicked rage. “He . . . he caught me looking at that phone. We argued and he freaked out and slapped me.”

  “Oh, Veronica. I’m so sorry. That stupid asshole. Do you need to get away? Can you stay with your sister?”

  She knew she couldn’t stay with Micah. It wasn’t even remotely feasible under the circumstances, but still . . .

  Still.

  He didn’t ask.

  Veronica nodded. “No, it’s fine. He’s contrite. I’m not going to leave right now. Not yet. I’ll work it out.”

  “Do you need me to come over?”

  Yes. She wanted him to come over. She wanted him to never leave. But this wasn’t a fantasy. Hell, it wasn’t even real life anymore. It was some weird nonsensical nightmare where she was digging holes behind the garage to bury bundles of cash.

  “No,” she rasped. “I’m going to work. I’ll be okay. I’m not hurt. I’m just in shock, I guess.”

  “Do you want me to talk to him?”

  She frowned and rubbed a hand over her eyes. “What would you say?”

  “I guess I’d try to get him to tell me it happened, so I could tell him it had better never happen again.”

  “God, Micah. No. You don’t need to be dragged into this. But I love you for offering.”

  “I love you too. And I’ll call him, regardless. He’ll listen to me.”

  He would listen to Micah. He looked up to his former roommate because Micah had made something of himself. He’d paid his way through college by working landscaping jobs, and then he’d gotten into landscape design and he’d started his own company. Now he made beautiful worlds for wealthy people, and Johnny often said Micah was one of the smartest men he knew.

  “Did you tell your family?” he asked.

  She shook her head hard. “No. I’m too embarrassed.”

  “You don’t need to be embarrassed. And it’s good to talk about things. You should talk to your mom. Tell her what happened.”

  “Maybe later. If I leave him, I’ll tell my family about it so I don’t have to listen to twenty iterations of ‘Are you sure? He’s such a good guy, Veronica. You should try to make it work.’”

  “I have to admit, I thought he was a good guy too. I never thought Johnny would stoop that low.”

  “Thank you for talking to me,” she whispered. “You made me feel better.”

  “Can I stop by tonight? Make sure everything’s okay?”

  “You’d better not,” she said slowly, forcing the words out of her mouth.

  “Okay, but . . . stay safe, V. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Micah.”

  Her throat tightened as she hung up and stripped off her clothes. Naked, she tossed her clothing down the stairs to the basement floor before heading straight for the shower to scrub her whole body down.

  It was only a matter of time, she assured herself. At some point she’d leave him. She’d be free. A few more years, that was all.

  Maybe Micah would wait for her. Probably not, but after that phone call she could almost convince herself that things would eventually work out.

  Almost.

  CHAPTER 24

  Despite her busy schedule, she had to tamp down ruthless anxieties all day, like stomping out scattering roaches. Every time she started to lose herself in her work or her patients, her guard would relax and a stray thought would skitter into the light to distract her.

  Did that car door closing just outside the rehab center belong to a police detective? Was her phone buzzing because Johnny had been arrested? Was Trey being hauled in at this very moment, Johnny’s name at the ready on his lips? Or was it actually Neesa or her husband? She needed to make Johnny tell her the truth so she could know which person she should watch out for.

  Then again, she had no control over any of it, so there was no point worrying. Better not to know more. Better to be able to claim ignorance. But no matter how often she told herself, she couldn’t make her own advice stick. She needed to know.

  By the end of the day she was exhausted and managed to issue instructions to her patients only by rote.

  Throughout the day people peppered her with questions about Johnny’s heroics. She’d hoped interest would die down soon—people moved on quickly these days—but everyone seemed reminded of the story as soon as they glimpsed her face. Each exclamation of Johnny admiration screeched like nails on a chalkboard for Veronica, but she had to grin and nod and proclaim her breathless gratitude for the wonderful man in her life.

  The queasiness carried over into the drive home, and instead of sto
pping for groceries she drove straight through. Johnny could damn well fend for himself, and Sydney would be happy with the chance to gobble down a couple of microwaved hot dogs. As for Veronica, all she needed was wine, and lots of it. And tonight he would tell her who was involved even if he had to write their names out on the Etch A Sketch.

  How had she fallen so far, so quickly? She’d started shedding threads of herself somewhere along the way and now she was willingly unraveling, tossing off tendrils and strings until they tangled around her like some warped aurora.

  Her whole life she’d assumed she was a decent person, maybe even a good person. She didn’t steal or do drugs. She contributed to society. She protected her child. She drove safely and always wore her seat belt. Heck, her entire career was built on helping people who most needed help.

  But this year, at every crossroads, she’d willingly taken the crooked path. She’d wanted that. She’d felt entitled to rewards for all the good decisions she’d made. She’d put in her time. She’d earned her right to do wrong.

  And she was doing it again. But what other choice did she have? She had to protect Sydney. There wasn’t a better option, was there?

  As she pulled into her neighborhood, she puzzled over the question. Maybe there was a better option and she was too close to see it. For instance, maybe Johnny could leverage what he knew into a bid for leniency. He could turn in his friends and claim he knew nothing of their plans. What if they hadn’t told him about the kidnapping until after it was done? What if he’d seen their request to retrieve the child as a way to help and not hurt? After all, the boy was already in danger, and Johnny had known that the child would be safe with him. So yes, he’d taken the money, but his primary motivation had been getting little Tanner Holcomb out of those woods.

  It could work.

  She’d been operating on pure panic for the last twenty-four hours, but what she needed was calm and a little distance. If they could think rationally, maybe . . . just maybe . . . they could get out of this mess for good.

  She wished there were someone else she could talk to. No, not someone else, of course. She wished she could talk to Micah. He was smarter than Johnny and more logical than Veronica. He could help.

  But it wasn’t fair to ask. It just wasn’t. She wasn’t worth that kind of danger.

  And there it was. Her greatest fear. That she wasn’t worth it. That Micah would realize that one day. That he likely already had. And somehow the fear made holding on to him seem so much more important. The fear made her hold tighter and try harder, just as it had with Johnny years ago.

  Because she knew she wasn’t really worth all this trouble. She knew she had to dress it up and make it all more pleasant, or he’d walk away. Was that the truth or just one of those insecurities she was supposed to fight against? Should she trust in her own worth and tell Micah that she needed help?

  Hell, that wasn’t even the right question. The question was why was she measuring her own self-worth based on what a man wanted? Again. Girl power: doing it wrong since age fourteen, at least.

  So the question wasn’t about Micah. The correct question was . . . what would she tell her daughter to do in this situation?

  The thought hit her hard in the gut. She almost grunted from the force of it. What would she tell Sydney to do if her husband had helped kidnap a child?

  First of all, she’d say, “Jesus Christ, girl, you are a mess.” And wasn’t that the God’s honest truth? But what else would she say?

  Veronica reached her street and drove straight instead of heading toward the alley so she’d have a few more moments to herself. And as she drove by her house, she got the shock of her life. Micah’s car was parked on the curb. Her heart leapt as she rolled by, and she forgot all her girl power and switched immediately to yearning to see him. Another swift fall among many.

  He was here. He’d come to protect her. And she felt happy.

  She was covering up a crime, stealing cash, lying to her husband, her lover, her family. And still, right now all she cared about was knowing Micah loved her. Pitiful.

  She pulled into the garage and turned off her car’s engine; then she sat there for a long time assuring herself there was nothing to plan at this moment. She wasn’t going to tell Micah anything tonight. Right now she just needed to walk in, say hello, meet his eyes, and feel his presence without throwing herself into his arms. She needed to hug her daughter, pet her dog, and do her best not to start hitting and kicking her husband for screwing everything up.

  She could do all those things. She was almost sure of it. She forced herself to get out of the car slowly and walk toward the house with a little dignity.

  Johnny opened the door before she reached it. “Hey. Micah’s here. He was waiting when Syd and I got home.” He ran the words together as quickly as possible, as if staving off an argument about having guests over when their world was in chaos. But Johnny looked like he’d already had an argument. His brow was tightly folded into a frown and his hair was a rumpled mess. In fact, his eyes looked shot through with red, as if he’d been crying or on the verge of it.

  Micah really had sat him down for a talk, it seemed. Gratefulness swelled hot and soft in her chest.

  She nodded and walked forward until he had to move aside and let her in. “Hi, Micah,” she said, the words too husky by far, but she no longer cared. He stood up from the couch and watched her, his gaze warm and bruised with emotion.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  She only nodded in response.

  “I hope it’s okay if I stay for dinner,” he said, the words a rumble of relief in her ear.

  “As long as you’re okay with Chinese food or whatever else we can pick up.”

  “That sounds great.”

  She didn’t ask Johnny. She didn’t even look at him.

  “Mom!” Sydney called. She raced down the hallway with Old Man at her heels. “Mom, can I go to Grandpa’s? Please? Pleeeeeease?”

  “What?” She finally granted Johnny a look, and he shrugged.

  “I told him it would be okay.”

  “Oh, great.”

  “Mom, pleeeeeease?” Sydney repeated.

  “Honey, I don’t even know what’s going on here.”

  “Grandpa says I can spend the night. He said we could go to the indoor water park and—”

  “It’s a school night,” Veronica interrupted.

  “I already did my math sheets and he said he’d drive me to school in the morning. Please? You’ve let me stay at Grandma’s on a school night! Pleeeeeease?”

  She wanted to say no out of sheer irritation. None of this was cool. Her dad should have run this by her. By going to Sydney and Johnny first, he was manipulating the situation. Of course he was. That was his specialty. Easier to ask forgiveness than permission.

  “Please, Mom? I already told him I have to be in bed by nine. And you know how much I’ve missed Grandpa.” Sydney’s eyes suddenly shimmered with tears, and Veronica’s heart twisted into a guilty pretzel. Damn it. She knew it was bad precedent to give in to this kind of emotion, but in all honesty she could use a break too. And after Micah was gone, she and Johnny could go for a walk and he could tell her exactly what had happened.

  “Nine o’clock bedtime,” she said firmly, and Sydney burst into an excited scream and threw her arms around Veronica’s waist.

  “Thank you, Mommy. He’ll be here at six.”

  “So it was already arranged?” she asked over Sydney’s head. Johnny shrugged.

  Whatever. Veronica was too tired to care, and she didn’t want to be a nagging harridan in front of Micah anyway. “Let’s get you packed,” she murmured.

  “I already started.”

  She caught Micah’s smile as she left and smiled right back, not bothering to hide the joy she felt from seeing him right there where she needed him.

  Did they even have to hide their involvement at this point? The marriage was over. Even Johnny must know that. He’d committed an unfo
rgivable crime. And he’d hit her. They were done. So done she didn’t even need to pretend.

  But Micah wouldn’t want to hurt Johnny, she supposed. And he probably didn’t want anyone to see him as the guy who’d sleep with his buddy’s wife. She’d have to take her cues from him.

  Sighing, she grabbed Sydney’s toothbrush and comb from the bathroom, then added a beach towel to her overnight bag. “You got your swimsuit?”

  “Yes!”

  “Be sure to listen to Grandpa and the lifeguards, okay?”

  “I know, Mom.”

  “And don’t let him feed you too much junk.”

  Her daughter didn’t even bother answering that ridiculous request. Her grandfather was great at spoiling kids. Great at swooping in like a magnificent, unreliable fairy godfather to upstage all the hard work of the women doing the actual child-rearing. He’d done it to his own wife for years. Now it was Veronica’s turn.

  Sydney would no doubt come home with a tummyache and fifty dollars’ worth of useless gifts from the gift shop. She’d rave about him being the best grandpa in the whole world, eclipsing the everyday love her mother and grandmother put into keeping her life steady. But that was part of childhood. Or it had been a big part of Veronica’s childhood, anyway. And she was doing fine, wasn’t she?

  Sydney looked up at her mom’s laugh, but Veronica just shook her head. “Underwear?” she prompted.

  “It’s in there.”

  “I’ll give you the iPad so you can text or FaceTime us if you want to.”

  Sydney offered another hug and then hauled her backpack onto one shoulder and her overnight bag on the other. “I’m ready!”

  “All right. Call me if you change your mind and want to come home.”

  “Mom, come on!”