by Meg O'Brien
I was nearly there when I dared to look around. Roger was staring directly at me from one aisle away. When our eyes met he began to run toward me.
I nearly flew, getting to my car. I popped the front doors open with the remote, leaving the back ones locked. Yanking the driver door open, I jumped in, tossed the bag of food onto the seat, turned the key in the ignition and looked into the back. “Get up on the seat, Jade! Put your seat belt on!”
There was no sign of movement, and she didn’t make a sound.
“Jade? Honey, it’s me, Mary Beth. We have to get away. Sit up and put your seat belt on.”
Still no sound. I looked back again and realized with horror that the back seat and floor were empty. Jade was gone.
I was so shocked to find Jade gone, I couldn’t move for a moment or two. That was all the time Roger needed to get to my window and start banging his fist on it. “Open up, Mary Beth! Open the damn window!”
He’s got Jade. He took her to his car, and now he’s after me. He means to kill me.
I couldn’t let him win. I would get Jade back somehow, but I’d have to live through this first.
“Why don’t you call the police?” I yelled through the window. “Tell them how I took my daughter away from you, and why. Tell them her mother is lying dead on your living-room floor. It won’t take them long to find out that you murdered her.”
“Not me,” he shouted. “You. I’ve made sure of that. Now give me back my daughter!”
I was confused. Give Jade back to him? But did that mean he didn’t have her?
Where was she, then?
Had she followed me into the Exploratorium? Dear God, let her be all right.
I started the engine with one thing in mind: to get closer to the building, where people could see what Roger was doing. I’d make a scene, drive straight through the doors if I had to. Just find Jade.
But as the engine turned over, Roger pulled out a gun and aimed it at me through the window. I didn’t give him a chance to do anything with it, jamming my foot on the accelerator and tearing off, heading for the Exploratorium doors.
The little rental car cleared the way of pedestrians like a tank, but I felt like a crazy woman. What was I thinking? I’d be arrested, and Jade would be taken away. If Roger didn’t get her, the best I could hope for was that she’d be put in a foster home.
I was even more certain I was crazy when I imagined I heard her voice.
“Mary Beth? Help! Let me out!”
She’s inside me, I thought frantically. It’s like when I held her and felt her heart becoming mine.
But when she screamed again, the crazy feeling stopped and I knew exactly where she was—in the car’s trunk.
I tapped the brake, refraining from slamming it on and possibly hurting Jade. When I climbed out of the car I saw that people stood in a circle around us, as people will do at the scene of an accident.
I realized then that I actually had reached the Exploratorium doors.
I punched the button that opened the trunk and ran to the back of the car. At the same time I scanned the crowd, looking for Roger. It took a moment, but I saw him standing outside his car in the parking lot, the door open as if he was about to get in.
At the trunk, I picked Jade up and breathed a prayer of gratitude. “Thank God you’re safe.”
“I saw him, and I thought I should hide,” Jade said against my ear. “I pulled the latch and put the back seat down so I could get in the trunk.”
I hugged her even harder. “You are so smart, and so brave.”
“Nanny Irene taught me about the latch,” she said proudly. “She lets me put the seat down when she has groceries to put in the trunk.”
I breathed another prayer, this time for Irene.
Turning with Jade, I realized that the crowd had no way of knowing what was going on, except that my child had somehow gotten stuck in the trunk of my car and now she was free. They began to applaud, and I smiled. Carrying Jade to the back seat I put her in, as before.
“Buckle up, honey. Good girl.”
A security guard had joined the outer edges of the crowd, but I managed to get into the car and restart the engine before he could reach me. Backing away from the doors, I made a U-turn. Then I cleared the crowd and took off as fast as possible along the Marina Green.
There were only two reasonably close ways to get from San Francisco to San Jose. One was by Van Ness and Highway 101, but there was always heavy traffic that way, especially during the commuter rush.
The other way was via Nineteenth Avenue, which used to be fast, but could get bogged down when the lights weren’t paced right. The upside was that Nineteenth did lead to 280, which sometimes wasn’t too busy and would take us right to San Jose. From there I could take Route 17 to Santa Cruz, then head south to Carmel, where I had an old friend who would put us up for the night.
Provided that I managed to ditch Roger by then. And I thought I could. He would most likely be expecting us to go to the airport, and when he didn’t find us there, he’d head over to Interstate 5, since that was the fastest route to L.A.
I didn’t think he’d ever expect me to take the slowest way home, along the coast.
So while Jade munched on her sandwich in the back, I headed out of San Francisco on 280, beginning to relax remembering trips with my own mom, who smoked constantly when she drove. Secondhand smoke never bothered me back then, and in fact I had fond memories of riding in the car with her at night along a lonely highway, the old Chevy’s radio playing softly and the comforting scent of her cigarette filling the car. These days I’d be gasping for air after the first five minutes, but it was a nice memory and always would be, as long as I didn’t end up with lung cancer someday.
I wondered if Jade and I would be able to take drives like that. Minus the smoke, of course.
When I got to Route 17, I took it over the hills to Santa Cruz. The traffic was thick but moving. In fact, it was moving dangerously fast, and I remembered that this route was sometimes called Blood Alley because of all the accidents along here. My hands tightened on the steering wheel, and my eyes never left the road. It was just about dark, and as I entered Santa Cruz it was impossible to tell if any of the headlights behind me might be Roger’s.
The town, though, was alive with students sitting out in courtyards and sidewalk restaurants. I felt safer here than I would on the dark highway that was ahead of us, so I decided to pull in to a gas station and fill up.
At the last minute, something told me to park alongside the station first, where the car couldn’t be seen from the road. I sat there, waiting to see if Roger would pull in after me, or if his car passed us by. There was no sign of him, though, and after about five minutes I felt as if I’d really shaken him, and had just given in to nerves.
Driving around to the pumps, I got out and checked Jade first, to make sure she was covered. She had fallen asleep with the blanket, which I’d swiped from my hotel, pulled up to her ears. She looked like an angel, her cheeks pinker than ever and giving her a deceptively healthy appearance. Feeling her forehead, I thought her fever had gone up. That frightened me, as I didn’t know what was causing it. I wished Lindy were here. Oh, God, did I wish Lindy were here.
Closing the door and setting the gas to pump, I realized that they might have a thermometer and children’s Tylenol in the station’s convenience store. I’d wake Jade, give her the Tylenol and a chance to use the bathroom. Then I’d get her to Carmel and a safe place to sleep for the night.
Fortunately, I knew just the place. It used to be a convent called The Prayer House, and now it was known as The Abby. Located in an isolated spot off Carmel Valley Road, it was owned by a friend of mine, Abby Northrup. She’d bought it and turned it into a safe house for women who were in distress of any kind. Most of the surrounding population thought it was still a convent housing nuns, which in a way it was. But the nuns were women who’d left their original convents over disagreements with the Church, and who had �
�retired” at the Abby to follow their own beliefs.
By common agreement, no one ever talked about the battered women and children who came there from time to time—usually under the cover of darkness, and accompanied by one of Abby’s “angels.” The angels were nuns who worked on the streets and led battered women to her for overnight shelter. It wasn’t an Underground Railroad, by any means, but absolute secrecy was a promise that Abby Northrup made personally to all who sought haven there.
The drive between Santa Cruz and Carmel would take only about an hour, so I felt even more relaxed as I pulled out of town with a full tank of gas and my purchases of a thermometer, children’s Tylenol, juice and a bag of fish-shaped crackers for Jade. I’d also bought four large bottles of water, and had opened one to give Jade the Tylenol. The other bottles were to make sure she didn’t dehydrate if anything unexpected happened, like the car breaking down, or a flat.
The thought of that as a possibility frightened me, but Jade was already asleep again when I pulled out of town on Highway 1. It helped that she’d accepted the situation we were in and seemed to be trusting me to take care of her.
I had remembered this stretch of Highway 1 as an easy drive, a two-lane road along the ocean most of the way. But I’d forgotten the fog, which at this time of year was often so thick it made the front of one’s car impossible to see, especially at night. The only way to make time on this road under those conditions was to follow another car’s taillights, and pray they didn’t lead you straight into the sea.
I was relieved, therefore, when I saw a blur of red lights ahead. I sped up until I was just a few lengths behind, and then kept pace with them. I couldn’t see the car though the heavy fog, just the faint red lights. But they kept a steady thirty-five miles per hour, and that was good enough for me. If for any reason they stopped suddenly, I’d have plenty of time to step on my own brakes. Pileups in this kind of fog in California were rampant, and that was the last thing I needed now.
As I drove, I talked to Jade, who’d woken up grouchy but was much better now after her fish crackers and juice. She hadn’t mentioned Lindy even once, and I was grateful for that. But how could I ever explain Roger, her father? The psychological fallout from the years she had spent with him would probably be with her forever.
Forever. Would she be with me that long?
To have any claim on her, we’d both have to provide DNA for testing. That would prove I was her mother, but Roger could also prove he was her father. Could he wage a custody battle from prison? I doubted it, but if so, it might go on for years. And who would Jade live with those years?
The last thing in the world I wanted or would allow was for her to end up in a foster home until custody was decided. I would run with her, if I had to, and as far as I had to. If necessary, I’d keep running the rest of my life.
The drone of the car’s engine, and the slow, steady pace of those two red taillights finally calmed me down. In fact, despite the sharp ocean air hitting my face through the open vents, I had to keep shaking my head to stay awake.
During one of those edge-of-sleep times, the car ahead stopped abruptly and I almost ran into it. Fortunately, it had one of those extra brake lights just under the rear window, easy to see.
Jamming on my own brakes, I said, “Sorry, Jade. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said in that little voice I was beginning to realize she used when she was frightened but wouldn’t admit it.
“There must be something in the road,” I said as calmly as possible. “Don’t worry. I’ll just go and see what it is.”
I was opening my door and had one leg out when the driver of the other car stepped out onto the road.
My breath caught. Roger. Oh my God. I’d been following Roger all this time.
I jerked my door shut, locked all the doors and looked frantically behind us. There wasn’t another car on the road. It was pitch-dark, and we were totally alone.
I was frantic, but not too frantic to think. Roger was halfway to us when I stomped on the gas and drove straight at him. His eyes seemed to widen, like a deer’s in headlights. But he didn’t move aside.
If I’d been alone, I’d have hit him, and I wouldn’t have cared. But Jade was with me. And he was still her father. She might be afraid of him, and with good reason, but it would be horrible for her to see him killed, especially after finding Lindy that way today.
At the last minute I swerved to miss him, but didn’t let up on the gas. I kept driving as fast as possible, into the wall of fog, with only a faint blur of yellow line as a guide. Remembering this road as reasonably straight, I kept the wheels pointed ahead, even when I couldn’t see. It was the most frightening thing I’d ever done. If I drove off the road, the car could get stuck in wet sand, and we’d be at Roger’s mercy.
I didn’t see him following at first, but then headlights appeared behind us. As they grew closer and closer, my hands tightened on the wheel and I tried to drive faster. I was so terrified of sliding off the road, though, my foot took on a life of its own and refused to press hard enough on the accelerator.
Roger drew nearer and I thought he was trying to pass us, hoping to block us off. But when he drew opposite my car he deliberately slammed into my left side, at the front wheel well.
The car swerved to the right. Jade screamed, and I did, too. Roger’s child was in this car, and anything could happen. Jade could be killed.
My God, was that his intention?
I was sure of it when he ran into us again. This time I felt it more, and there was a screech of metal on metal that sounded like a thousand banshees.
“Jade!” I cried. “Do you have your seat belt on?”
“Yes,” she whimpered. I could tell she was crying. “Why is Daddy doing that?”
So, there was no pretending it was a stranger out here in the middle of nowhere, trying to kill us.
“I don’t know, honey. I think he’s sick. You just stay buckled up. We’ll be all right.”
This time my foot didn’t argue. I jammed the accelerator to the floor and took off like a bat out of hell, leaving Roger in the dust. He had the faster car, however, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before he caught up to us.
I wondered if it would help to pull off on a side road. Most of them led to farms along here. But when people being chased pulled off the main highway and onto strange roads in the movies, I usually pounded on someone’s arm and screamed, “No! Don’t do that, you idiot! He’ll catch you there!”
Funny thing is, he always did.
So I kept driving, my heart in my throat, and prayed for some kind stranger to appear on the seat beside me. Like in Touched by an Angel, or that old Michael Landon series.
Where were angels when you needed them?
Right here, I thought I heard a small voice say. I stole a quick look back at Jade, but amazingly, she was asleep again.
Then, suddenly, there were lights ahead of us. In the fog they looked strange, like an island lost at sea. But some of the patches of fog cleared and I saw what they were: Houses. Restaurants. Shops.
And a red gas station sign, riding above the mist like a ship’s mast.
Oh, thank you, I said to whatever saints might still be listening. I had completely forgotten that Moss Landing was along here.
I didn’t need gas, but with all the water she’d been drinking, I was sure Jade must need a bathroom again. The only question was, where could I take her that Roger wouldn’t find us? He must still be close behind. If we stopped and just sat for a bit, where we couldn’t be seen from the road, he might pass us by again, as he had out of Santa Cruz.
Only this time, I wouldn’t continue on Highway 1. I knew another road, 156. It would take us over to 101, and from there I could get to the Carmel Valley.
I had called Abby Northrup from the gas station in Santa Cruz, telling her what was going on and that I needed help. She said she would wait up for us, and she’d have food, milk and a warm bed waiting for Jade. For me, sh
e’d have a bottle of wine and lots of questions.
I couldn’t wait.
But first I had to take care of Jade’s needs and make sure we were free of Roger.
With fear cramping my stomach and making me feel ill, I cautiously drove up and down a few streets, making sure Roger hadn’t caught up and was trailing right behind us. When I was satisfied about that, I pulled into a grove of trees behind a gas station, and turned the engine off. The fog would help us now. I could no longer see the highway, so it wouldn’t be possible for Roger to see us, either.
Getting out of the car and opening Jade’s door, I said, “Honey, wake up. There’s a bathroom here, and you need to drink some more water.”
She sat up obediently, and I wrapped the blanket around her. She’d been sleeping with it in the warm car, and she tried to shrug it off.
“I’m hot,” she complained. “I don’t want this.”
“I know, honey, but that’s just the fever. It’s really cold out here tonight. I don’t want you to get a chill.”
God, I was beginning to sound like my mother.
The rest room was near the back, and thankfully it was open. I went in with Jade to hold the blanket and make sure the toilet had been flushed by the previous tenant, and that the floor and seat weren’t too dirty.
They were passable. Jade sat down and seemed to drift off into contemplation. “I don’t think I can go,” she said finally.
“Just try,” I said. “If you can’t, it’s all right.”
Only moments later, all the water I’d been making her drink proved her wrong. She smiled at me, a huge, beautiful smile. “I did it!” she said.
“Yes, you did it.”
I don’t think I’d ever been so happy in my life as I was in that dank, not-too-clean bathroom that night.
My child. After all these years…my child. How could I have gotten so lucky?
I wrapped her gently in the blanket again, and carried her back to the car. Tucking her in with the seat belt around her, I planted a light kiss on her forehead. “I’m so glad you’re here with me,” I said. “I don’t want you to worry about a thing, honey. We’re going to be all right. Okay?”