Captive: a Paranormal Romance

by Marisol Logan

“We...who's we?” he asked, catching my slip up. “And how do you have enough money for a freakin' au pair?”

  “I never would have guessed you knew what that meant,” I mumbled.

  “Don't be funny,” he said, his voice verging on stern and paternal, which was odd for me because that would imply he cared about me, something his actions had never really conveyed. “Is this about that Casey guy?”

  “That Casey guy?” I echoed. “The father of my child? Yes. It is.”

  “Is he getting you in trouble?” my dad asked.

  “The opposite, actually,” I replied, a bit more tersely than I intended. “I'm getting him out of trouble.”

  “Sounds about the same to me, Alligator,” he drawled disapprovingly.

  “Well, it's not,” I defended, though I had to admit to myself, he had a point. “This is for Carly. It's better for her in the long run if I help her father right now.”

  “And what about you?” he asked.

  Geez, when did my dad start caring? I wondered.

  “I want to help him,” I said softly. “It's better for me, too.”

  “You love him?”

  I could not believe I was having this conversation with my dad, who I hadn't talked to in years, at the back of a Waffle House, at nine o'clock in the morning. I was surprised he was awake at nine in the morning...

  “I care for him,” I answered, “A lot. And...I think there's something there. I need the chance to find out.”

  “Alright,” he said plainly, “Wanna meet me in St. Lou-ee? Meet me in St. Lou-ee, Lou-ee,” he started to sing.

  “Is everything a song with you?” I laughed.

  “Usually,” he answered. “Not typically Broadway, but you never know! Anyway, as long as I'm back to Nashville by four pm, I can meet you halfway. At the Arch or something? She'll like that. Kids love the Arch.”

  “That sounds wonderful, actually,” I replied, caught off guard that he was offering to drive halfway, and that he was thinking about what little kids would like. “Maybe...Friday? We could get there around ten am?”

  “Five hour drive back to Nashville,” he thought out loud. “It'll be close, but I can swing it. As long as this fancy nanny is ready to go, or else Carly is going to be having her first dinner in Nashville at a divey country bar.”

  “I will make sure the fancy nanny is ready,” I chuckled.

  “Al, it was good talking to you,” he said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It was. It was really nice. And thank you.”

  “I owe you,” he declared firmly. His voice sounded emotional. “A lot.”

  I choked up and didn't know if I'd be able to speak. I hadn't realized until that moment how much I had wanted, or needed, him to acknowledge what had happened in the past. Maybe because I just needed to know that he had taken me into even the slightest amount of consideration when making his decisions, or thought about me afterward. He was always one to hide his thoughts and feelings, and put on a happy face—the life of the party. But sometimes they popped up when I least expected them.

  “Anyway,” he said when I didn't respond, “I cannot wait to see you on Friday, and I can't wait to meet Carly. You were hilarious when you were four, so I'm sure she'll be a hoot.”

  A single tear escaped my eye and rolled down my cheek. “Thank you,” I whispered. “See you Friday.”

  “Be careful, baby.”

  “Bye.”

  I hung up the phone and wiped away the warm, wet tear, and took a deep breath.

  We were one step closer to being free. And for the rest of the steps, I had to be strong...

  Carly had not been happy that I was canceling her preschool birthday party on Saturday—which had only had three RSVPs, but that's obviously not something you can convey to a four-year-old—for a 'trip' that I couldn't give her any details about...just to be safe. I spent most of Thursday packing, several bags for her, and one for me, just to be ready. I had no idea when I would get the message that we had a window of opportunity, so I wanted to be prepared. My bag had clothes, and toiletries, first aid supplies and emergency items.

  Carly's bags had her clothes but also my one photo album, that had not only my only photos of me and my mother, but Carly's baby photos. I also packed the most valuable and sentimental jewelry items I owned in a small pouch and tucked them into a pocket inside one of her suitcases. Also, I packed a few items that were special to me with Carly's things to go to Nashville: my baby things and hers, a small box of memorabilia and cards, and a small bag of toys that were her favorite, and some that were passed down through my family. They could stay with my dad until we had things figured out.

  On Friday morning, I awoke before dawn to pack the car, and managed to transfer Carly, still in her pajamas, to her seat without waking her. With a cup of coffee and a full tank from the gas station, we were on the road. We were half way to St. Louis by the time Carly woke up to the sun, bright in the sky and beaming in through the car windows.

  “Where are we going?” she groaned.

  “St. Louis,” I answered.

  “Why?”

  “Because, we're going to visit someone.”

  “Who?”

  “It's a surprise,” I said, knowing that she wouldn't be very impressed with the truth. Your grandpa who you've never met before and who is going to be asleep or singing at a bar the whole time you're staying with him!

  She had never been away from me and Casey. I prepared myself for a hard sell, and a rough goodbye, when we got to St. Louis and left her with a man she'd never met—and I couldn't tell her when I'd be back for her, because I didn't know myself. All I could say was 'soon', and hope it was true...

  Finding Dory on the portable DVD player and a pile of snacks from a Starbucks drive-thru kept her occupied for the last stretch of the drive. The caffeine from my venti iced vanilla latte from the drive-thru certainly kept me going, on relatively few hours of sleep. I didn't know how I was going to turn right around and make it home without a nap, or more caffeine, which would be a lot for one day. I yawned just thinking about it.

  Soon, we were at the Gateway Arch, which I hadn't seen since I was probably nine-years-old, on a road trip with my parents that ended in Nashville, and started my dad's rekindled interest in a music career. I hoped maybe I could pick out his car, or him, somewhere in the lot, as I didn't want to haul Carly's three bags up to the visitor area only to have to haul them back to his car. But, I wasn't necessarily confident that he'd be on time, either. I drove up and down every row once, finally seeing him sitting on the tailgate of a black, shiny, new-looking Chevy truck. I waved as we passed, and I saw him jump off the tailgate as I pulled in a few spots down from him.

  “Where are we?” Carly asked.

  “The Gateway Arch!” I answered as I jumped out of the car and opened her door.

  Carly unbuckled herself and I helped her down to the ground. She immediately looked up at the Arch.

  “Whoa...” she muttered in awe.

  “Whoa, indeed!” my dad's voice boomed as he approached us. “Look at how big you are!”

  I dropped to one knee in front of Carly and put my arm around her as she surveyed my dad, a six-foot-tall man with tan skin, scruffy black hair and a salt-and-pepper goatee in full country rock garb, including a cream-colored Stetson hat and black snakeskin boots, with caution.

  “Carly, baby, this is your grandpa. My dad, and you get to go spend a little bit of time with him in a very exciting city called Nashville. There's lots of music, and—”

  “Is there a quarium?” she asked.

  I looked at my dad for an answer, because I certainly didn't know.

  “Uh, there's the Aquarium Restaurant,” he answered as we both looked up at him. “You sit and eat like a normal restaurant, but you're surrounded by aquariums full of fish.”

  “That’s where I want to eat every night,” Carly declared plainly, and my dad laughed.

  “Well, I'll definitely take you,” he said, “but I don't know
about every night.”

  “Mommy, are you coming with us?” she asked, turning to me, her face starting to show concern.

  I struggled to swallow through the rock that had formed in my throat as the time to leave her swiftly approached.

  “Uh, no, not right now,” I said, my voice straining through the tightness. “I have a trip I have to take. Just a short one, that's why Grandpa Jake is going to spend some time with you and show you where he lives. And then when I'm finished with my trip, I will meet you at Grandpa Jake's house and we can do some fun things together. All of us. Sound good?” I kept a smile on my face and my voice as peppy as possible so she didn't pick up on anything worrisome.

  “How long?” she asked.

  “I'm sure not long enough for us to do all the fun stuff in Tennessee!” my dad exclaimed, swooping down and scooping her up in his arms. She giggled as he spun her around in a circle. “The time will fly by, and we'll all be having lunch at the Aquarium Restaurant before you know it, right Mommy?”

  “Right,” I nodded, and as soon as Carly had fixed her gaze back on the Arch, I mouthed 'thank you' to him.

  “Carly, do you want to go see that Arch up close?” he asked.

  “Yeah!” she shouted excitedly.

  “Don't you need to get back?” I asked cocking my head, shielding my eyes from the bright mid-morning sun as I stood from my crouched position and lost the protection from it granted by the car next to us.

  “Country's Man of Steel took a night off,” he said, and my mouth fell open.

  “Really?” I questioned, feeling a warmth in my heart for my dad I hadn't felt in many years.

  “I didn't want to put her right back in the car for five hours. And, you know, every little kid should get to go inside the Arch.”

  “You can go inside it?!” Carly asked, whipping her face to look at his.

  “Yes,” he stated, tapping his finger on her nose and she giggled.

  “Let's go!” she said, throwing an arm around his neck and pointing to the Arch.

  “Well, how 'bout you give your Mommy a big hug and say goodby while I put your bags in my truck?” he suggested, handing Carly to me, who jumped willingly into my arms and immediately wrapped herself around me.

  “Bye bye, Mommy,” Carly said, and her voice was squeaky, surely because she was on the verge of crying.

  My dad pulled her two pink suitcases, her duffel bag and her Dory backpack out of my trunk and effortlessly hauled the load to his truck a few spots down.

  “I'm going to miss you,” I whispered in her ear. “But you are going to have so much fun I'm sure you won't have time to miss me,” I added.

  “I will miss you, Mommy,” Carly said, squeezing me tightly with her little arms around my neck. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” I took a deep breath so I wouldn't cry. It was going well so far. No tears, no fits, and she took to my dad and the whole idea so well...I couldn't ruin it now. “You listen to Grandpa Jake. And there will be a new friend, Miss Ariel, at his house to watch you while he's working. It will be kind of like your preschool class, but just you and Ariel, okay? So listen to her, too. She's going to teach you some French, and math, and some cooking, and a lot about the ocean—how does that sound?”

  “That sounds awesome!” she squealed, wiggling with excitement in my arms. “As long as we don't cook fish,” she added, punctuating her declaration with a finger in my face.

  “I think she's been given that note, but I'll double check,” I laughed. I kissed her on the cheek as my dad came back to where we were standing, and I handed her back to him. “I'm serious. If you don't listen to Grandpa Jake—”

  “Can we use a different word than Grandpa?” he groaned.

  “—and Miss Ariel,” I continued, not responding to his interruption except for a smirk, “they will call me, and I will not be happy. Got it, girly?”

  “Yes ma'am!” Carly said dramatically, giving me a facetious salute.

  “Oh, she's feisty!” my dad laughed, raising his eyebrows and grinning at me. “We are going to have a great time.”

  “Hey,” I said, pointing at him, “you be good, too, Grandpa Jake.”

  He rolled his eyes at me over the usage of the word 'grandpa'. “To the Arch?” he bellowed.

  “To the Arch!” Carly shouted back, pointing ahead of them.

  “Alright, off we go!” my dad exclaimed, galloping away like a horse with a wink back to me.

  “Bye, Mommy! Have a good trip!” Carly called over his shoulder as she bounced in his arms.

  I waved and blew her a kiss, and felt the tears forming in my eyes, and the sobs pressing against the wall I'd built in my throat to keep them in. I rushed back to the driver's seat and jumped in the Land Rover, just in time for the wall to break, and the sobs to escape their confines. They tumbled out of me violently, uncontrollably, and the tears that accompanied them streamed freely from my eyes at such an alarming rate that there was enough salt on my cheeks to make them tingle with dryness.

  Still sobbing, I pulled out my phone and messaged Casey that the transfer was done and had gone smoothly.

  For everyone? he asked, as if he knew somehow that I wasn't handling it well.

  For Carly, I replied.

  Hang in there, beautiful. It will be over soon.

  I would have given anything for him to be there with me, holding me in his arms, saying those words to my face in that moment.

  CHAPTER 11

  It was about four in the afternoon when I got back to my house, and after messaging Casey that I was home and turning on the television, I sprawled out on the couch and fell asleep almost immediately. When I awoke, it was completely dark outside, except for streetlights and moonlight, the latter of which was filtered through a gauzy layer of silver clouds. I looked at the time on my phone, and it was seven thirty. I must have gottten even worse sleep the previous night than I realized, because naps were rare for me, and three and half hour naps were pretty much unheard of.

  I hauled myself off the couch and made a beeline for the kitchen, my stomach alerting me that I hadn't eaten a thing since the small bag of teriyaki beef jerky and a banana at a truck stop in the middle of Missouri at noon. Luckily, I had leftover gumbo in the fridge, and I dumped it into a pot on the stove and set it to simmer. Knowing it would take at least ten minutes before it was heated thoroughly, I decided to jump in the shower for a quick rinse. I felt sweaty and gross from sitting in the car for a grand total of eleven hours.

  When I got out of the shower, which completely rejuvenated me from my post-nap grogginess, I wrapped my plush bathrobe around me and went to check the gumbo on the stove. It billowed steam and had started to bubble slightly, so I turned the heat down and served myself a bowl, grabbing a hunk of french bread from the loaf on the counter to go with it.

  Plopping down on the couch with my bowl of gumbo, still in my robe, a towel twisted like a turban on my head to dry my long hair, I surfed the channels for something to watch on television, knowing there'd be relatively little I'd be interested in on a Friday night. I did come across a ballroom competition on one of the public access channels, and was immediately sucked in. Fortunately, it was scheduled to go on until eleven o'clock at night, and start back up in the morning and go all day again. I reveled in the fact that my TV watching was set for the weekend as I happily gulped down my spicy, okra-and-shrimp-laden gumbo, alternating between spoon and french bread as my utensil.

  In the middle of the Rumba quarterfinals, which were insanely sexy and had me wanting to sign up for Rumba lessons immediately, my phone started buzzing wildly on the table. When I picked t up, I saw it was Casey messaging in the Howler app. I also saw that it was nine thirty at night. I couldn't believe two hours had gone by. I was still sitting in my robe, hair wrapped in a towel. The ballroom competition had sucked me in hard.

  I swiped open the app and read Casey's frantic succession of messages.

  Half an hour.

  We have a wind
ow.

  Ruby just went out to meet Dr. Barron at his office, and Rex just took a sleeping pill.

  My heart started to pound as I read the messages.

  He thinks I don't know that's what it is, and tells me it's an antacid, but I've hacked his Rx records at every pharmacy in town, and Ambien is the only one he has.

  He had a glass of wine at dinner.

  He'll be out like a light in 20-30 mins.

  We've got to go now.

  Alex?

  Quickly, I responded.

  I will be there in thirty.

  Then I tossed my phone on the table and rushed to my room to get dressed, pulling on the first pair of yoga pants I could find, then threw on a white tank top and a worn-looking, but super comfortable, charcoal gray zip-up hoodie from my old Pilates gym. I ripped the towel turban off my head and my hair, still slightly damp, fell out into long, twisting, dark chocolate waves over my shoulder. I combed through it quickly and twirled it up into a sloppy bun at the back of my head.

  I had left my emergency bag in the trunk of my car, so I didn't have to worry about that. I slipped on socks and sneakers, then went through the house and shut everything off. Glancing across the open room of the main floor, I took it all in. If everything went according to plan, I probably wouldn't see this townhouse—the only home Carly had ever known besides Casey's, the only house I'd had since moving out on my own after she was born—for a very long time, possibly forever.

  Trying not to get too sentimental about it, I swiped my phone off the coffee table and grabbed my purse from the floor by the couch, then rushed to the garage and hopped in the car.

  I tried to drive right at the speed limit the entire way to Casey's house. Getting pulled over now would kill the window of opportunity. But, it made me realize how much I normally drove over the speed limit, or maybe it was just the urgency of getting there quickly, because the drive to Casey's house, which I had made almost every weekend for four years, seemed to take twice as long as usual.

  Finally I arrived, my heart pounding hot adrenaline through my entire body. My hands shaking and sweaty, I messaged him: