The Good Provider

by Debra Salonen

  “Definitely not. Baby or no baby, there’s no way the girls and I will be on that plane this afternoon. I plan to call my lawyer from the café and ask her to talk some sense into him. I didn’t break any law by coming here and neither did you.”

  “I wasn’t worried about me, but from what you’ve told me, he’s a master manipulator. He might convince you to change your mind.”

  She turned to face him. “You’re disappointed in me, aren’t you?”

  He blinked in surprise. “Why do you say that? You stood up to him magnificently. You even tried to protect me. I was touched. But, for your information, that INS threat was completely empty. I have dual citizenship.”

  Oh. “I meant because I slept with him.”

  He looked at his watch. “You were right about me needing to leave. My plane is ready and I’m not even loaded.” He scratched the side of his nose and shifted his feet. She’d never seen him appear so awkward and uncomfortable. Finally, he said, “Relationships are complicated, I know that. I’m in no position to judge you. I only hope whatever hold he has over you is gone now. For your sake.”

  Daria sensed a chill between them that had nothing to do with the ambient temperature of the room. Despite his supportive words, she knew she’d let him down. He didn’t understand how she could have slept with Bruce. Neither did she, but it had happened. Once. And she vowed it would never happen again.

  “You’ll be safe in a public place,” he told her, reaching for the doorknob. “You have your cell phone—call 911 if he loses it. The girls are with Cal.”

  She nodded. “You’re free to go.”

  In fact, she wanted him to leave. She needed to prove to herself she could stand up to Bruce without a safety net. “Oh, wait. Here’s that copy of the message tape we talked about,” she said, walking to the desk where she’d left it right before she’d gotten sick.

  She quickly dropped it in a manila envelope and scribbled her name across the front. “I’m reasonably confident you’ll never have to use this, but you know what to do if…” She couldn’t complete the thought.

  He took it from her without letting their fingers touch. “Ruin him. I can do that.”

  There was a fierceness in his tone that made Bruce’s bluster sound hollow and pompous. It reminded her that she actually knew very little about this handsome, compassionate stranger…and she needed to keep things that way. At least until the ink was dry on her divorce papers.

  She looked at the wall clock and let out a small peep. “Ten minutes. Bruce will be starting to fume. Could I beg one more small favor? Give me a lift to the café?”

  WILLIAM DROPPED Daria at the corner establishment where he’d dined several times. The place looked busy. She’d be safe. As long as she didn’t let the jerk play on her emotions.

  “She slept with him,” he murmured under his breath as he headed toward the highway.

  The idea turned his stomach. Even seeing the guy in person didn’t help him understand why she’d do such a thing. Granted, Bruce was no ogre—full head of black, wavy hair, Brooks Brothers suit, three-hundred dollar tie. The start of a midbelly paunch, but nothing outwardly repulsive.

  Maybe she is a drama queen. Maybe her assertion about abuse is bogus. He glanced at the business-type envelope sitting on the passenger seat.

  Spotting a familiar landmark—a giant teepee—he pulled into Native Art’s parking lot and popped the tape into the van’s player. Daria’s voice filled the cab.

  “Ahem. To whom it may concern, this is Daria Fontina.” She gave the date and explained the circumstances behind the recording she was about to share. William leaned forward, rested his arms on the steering wheel and cocked his head to listen.

  His blood pressure began to climb the moment Bruce’s voice came across the tape. The messages he directed toward Cal started off fairly sanitized. Bruce confirmed Daria’s allegation that he’d known about and approved her travel plans, but when she didn’t call him back right away, his tone changed. By the time he thought Daria should have been at Cal’s he didn’t mince words—mostly swear words—as he told her exactly what he thought of her and what he planned to do her the next time he saw her.

  William hit eject and dropped the tape back into the envelope. The man might not be a psychopath, but he was a major control freak. Living with someone like that would surely be a special kind of hell.

  His first impulse was to swing the van around and go back. She couldn’t face this ass alone. She’d cave. She’d do something stupid—like sleep with the cretin. But as he watched the traffic pass, the thinking part of his brain kicked in. She’d asked him to leave for a reason. His presence would only antagonize her ex, who obviously had jealousy issues.

  Was Bruce astute enough to guess that William was extremely attracted to Daria? William didn’t think so, but why take the chance?

  Attracted? How about infatuated? At least, he had been until she told him she might be pregnant with her ex-husband’s baby.

  He took a deep breath, recalling what his uncle had said about William’s tendency to categorize things as either black or white.

  The simple facts were pretty straightforward. William wasn’t Daria’s boyfriend. He wasn’t even her friend, really. He felt a strong connection to her and wanted to explore where that might take them, but there was a good chance that all stemmed from his guilt over not having done more to help Bianca.

  He put the car in gear and pulled onto the highway. As he drove, he noticed that a glum-looking cloud cover had pushed in over the Black Hills to obscure the sun. Notty was wrong. William had no fear of gray areas—he would be flying into one as soon as humanly possible, and he honestly couldn’t wait.

  “LOOK,” BRUCE SAID, using the plain white mug in his hand to make a sweeping gesture. “Look at what I saved you from, Daria. All this could have been yours if you’d moved back here instead of marrying me.”

  His sarcastic tone made it clear what he thought of The Tidbiscuit, Sentinel Pass and, probably, the Black Hills. Daria flushed with embarrassment, hoping none of the diners in the neighboring booths were listening.

  “I was expecting more since that TV show was filmed here. Nothing.” He took a gulp of coffee. “Not even a Starbucks.”

  “Why did you come here, Bruce? And don’t tell me because my lawyer gave you my final settlement offer. You had to know that was coming. Did I time it to my not being in town? Yes. Because I knew you’d react poorly.”

  His face contorted with rage, and his fists shook with the effort it took to control his temper. Daria was glad to see him try. Maybe, she told herself, he would change once they were apart. Maybe.

  “After what happened between us at Christmas I thought things had changed. Yeah, yeah, we had that discussion, but you can’t tell me you don’t have feelings for me, Daria.”

  The thought of her nausea that morning crossed her mind but she pushed it away. “I care about you, Bruce. You’re my daughters’ father and that will never change. But I can’t live with you ever again,” she said simply and firmly. “If you love me—if you ever loved me—you’ll make this divorce as painless as possible.”

  He slammed the cup on the table. “When exactly did you grow a backbone? Does this have something to do with your Euro trash boyfriend? Did you play the simpering, abused wife card on him?”

  She pushed her cup aside, untouched. “I mailed a copy of the voice messages you left on my grandfather’s machine to my lawyer. Between that and the phone conversation you had with her, she’s convinced I shouldn’t have any trouble whatsoever getting sole custody of the girls.”

  His normally tanned skin paled.

  “And if that’s the case,” she continued, “there’s no reason for me to remain in Fresno. I’ve already talked to Cal about moving here permanently. I plan to research what I need to do to get my teaching credential before we return home.”

  She watched as he struggled with his rage, knowing he couldn’t say what he wanted to say to her in publi
c. After a few seconds, he leaned across the table and whispered in a raspy hiss, “You will fry in hell for this. I’m a good father, and nobody’s taking my girls away from me. Nobody.”

  Then he got up, tossed a ten on the table and left.

  She sat for several minutes, waiting for the chaos in her mind to settle. She replayed everything that had happened that day. Her only true regret was telling William that she’d slept with Bruce. The look on his face when she’d admitted her mistake had reminded her of Hailey when Miranda had told her Santa wasn’t real. Miranda had apologized later and said she was kidding, but Daria knew Hailey’s glossy, pristine picture of old St. Nick would never be the same.

  When the waitress came to refill her cup, Daria handed her the ten and said, “Keep it.” Then she stood up and pulled on her coat, noting that the sun, which had moved the thermometer up a few degrees, was now tucked behind a thick layer of clouds.

  She walked fast to stay warm, but her pace slowed when she spotted two cars in her grandfather’s drive. Cal and her daughters were back early. And Bruce was there, too.

  “Damn,” she muttered.

  She picked up her pace, as too many emotions—anger, fear, regret and worry—vied for top place in her head. As she approached the house, a sharp piercing pain exploded in her side, making her bend over. Not again, she thought, her fingers pressing against the burning spot under her ribs. This felt very similar to what she’d experienced the previous summer.

  That episode, too, had triggered nausea, she thought, suddenly seeing a connection she’d missed. Maybe she wasn’t pregnant. That was the good news—the bad was that she couldn’t show any kind of weakness in front of Bruce. He’d railroad her into going to the hospital, then ride roughshod over Cal and the girls until he ruined everything.

  She paused a moment, trying to formulate a plan. If the side door was unlocked, she could slip into her grandfather’s room. As an ex-pharmacist, Cal kept a well-stocked medicine cabinet, with an excellent array of painkillers.

  Once she had her side ache under control, she’d join the family and try to mitigate whatever damage Bruce had done.

  The door opened for her, and she hurried inside. She could hear voices coming from the kitchen and living room, but she didn’t want to see anybody while she was doubled over. She scanned the various bottles in his medicine cabinet as quickly as possible, swallowing two pills from a bottle labeled: For Pain. Then she quickly tiptoed to her room to wait for the pain reliever to take effect.

  She curled onto her side and closed her eyes, focusing on her deep breathing the way she’d learned in her birthing classes.

  She was now positive she wasn’t pregnant. She’d over-reacted. Probably partly out of guilt. Talking about her mistake had been cathartic. Unfortunately, she’d chosen the wrong person to tell.

  Poor William, she thought.

  She didn’t know why, exactly, but she had a feeling he was used to people disappointing him.

  That was her last clear thought before sleep overcame her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  H ell would be an improvement over this, Daria decided somewhere over Utah. Middle seat. Last row, so there was no way to recline. An overly fragrant octogenarian on one side of her, on the other side, an unwashed teen twitching to the beat of the overly loud music escaping past his ear buds, which were barely visible past an assortment of rings, studs and greasy black hair.

  The kid was going to need hearing aids by the time he was twenty, she thought. “Where’s your mother?” she wanted to ask, but what if his answer was, “She and my dad split up and my dad took me and now I’m an angry body-piercing freak with poor hygiene”?

  She shifted uneasily, swallowing the thick taste in her mouth. Painkillers. The right kind—not the kind that included a sedative, like the ones she’d taken the day before. Her grandfather had pointed out the difference when he was finally able to rouse her. Too late to be of any help, of course. The minute Bruce realized Daria was sound asleep—for whatever reason—he’d hustled the girls into his rental car. “Screw this,” he’d reportedly barked, “I’m taking you home where you belong.”

  “Don’t blame yourself, Daria,” her grandfather had said, trying to comfort her. “He was determined to leave. If you’d been standing between him and the door, he might have done something we all would have regretted.”

  She’d managed to book a seat on the earliest flight out of Rapid City, and Cal had supplied her with drugs that eased the pain without knocking her out. She felt miserable and nauseous, but at least her body managed to confirm that she wasn’t pregnant. PMS and cramps were the least of her worries.

  “Are you feeling okay, dear?” the elderly woman beside her asked. “You look pale.”

  “A bit of flu last week,” she lied. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for asking.”

  At least she knew the girls were okay. Bruce had called several times—probably to forestall her impulse to contact the police and put out an Amber Alert. He’d calmed her down by telling her that the girls regarded the impromptu road trip as an adventure. Miranda had backed up his claim, although the tremulous wobble in Hailey’s voice had nearly killed her.

  “My inhaler’s almost empty, Mommy. What do I do if I need it? Will Daddy know what to do?”

  Of course not. Bruce wasn’t the one who slept on the floor beside Hailey’s bed when she was having a rough night. He didn’t fill the humidifier or know how to operate the nebulizer. “He can go to any pharmacy, sweetness,” Daria had assured her. “They’ll call your doctor and get it refilled. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. I promise.”

  “When are you coming home, Mommy? I miss you.”

  “Soon, baby. I’ll probably be there before you get back. Everything’s okay.”

  No. That was a lie. Everything was not okay. She felt as though she was back to square one, but her lawyer had assured her they had options. She needed to return to Fresno, regroup and put any other plans she had on hold.

  “You can’t fight the devil with a water pistol,” she’d told her grandfather that morning at the airport. “Thanks for trying to help, Grandpa. I’m sorry I turned your life upside down for nothing.”

  He’d insisted she’d done nothing of the sort and that she was welcome to return sooner rather than later.

  “We are beginning our descent to Fresno,” a voice said over the loudspeaker. “The flight attendant will be making one last sweep through the plane to collect any trash. Thank you for flying with us today. It’s been a pleasure….”

  Home again. Not really. It wasn’t home without her daughters—nowhere was. Her pain returned on cue.

  Once the plane had come to a complete stop, she pulled her backpack out from under the seat in front of her and edged sideways to escape the confines of her horrible seat. She slowly made her way to the front of the plane, the pain in her midsection radiating outward until it felt like someone was twisting a knife in her back. She gripped the handrail tightly as she descended the metal steps.

  The sky was the dull color of lead, high fog totally obscuring the sun. The bite in the air felt every bit as cold as the Black Hills winter she’d left that morning, despite a forty-degree difference in temperature.

  Another passenger held the door for her as she hurried inside. She smiled her thanks, scurrying to the main corridor where she knew she’d find a water fountain. She’d meant to ask the flight attendant for a water bottle but had forgotten.

  She found the fountain, but a piece of yellow tape across it informed her it wasn’t working. “Damn.”

  She considered buying a bottle but decided she needed to save her cash for the taxi ride home. The sooner she got there, the sooner she could call her lawyer and figure out a new plan.

  She turned on her phone to check for messages.

  “Please enter your password, then press pound.”

  “Daria?”

  She stared at her phone a full second before realizing the voice wasn’t coming from her in-box. She lo
oked around. There, a few feet ahead, standing beside one of the artificial giant Sequoia trees that were part of the newly remodeled lobby, was William.

  “Daria,” another voice said, far more sharply and imperiously.

  “Hester?” The pain in Daria’s belly got worse. Bruce’s mother stood a few feet to William’s right. Two strangers meeting the same person? Didn’t that kind of thing only happen in the movies?

  Hester turned to look at William. Her eyes narrowed, identical to the way Bruce looked when he was preparing to rip someone to shreds, verbally.

  Daria hurried forward to try to keep whatever was going to happen from happening, but her body suddenly froze as a punishing pain as great as childbirth ripped through her. “Oh,” she cried. “Oh, no.”

  She staggered, one step, two. Strong arms caught her before she fell. “William,” she gasped. He helped her to the closest bench. She leaned against him, afraid to move. “I think I need to go to the hospital,” she hissed on a low groan of fear and pain.

  Hester had pushed her way close enough to hear the last word. “Hospital? What’s wrong with you? Are you pregnant? Oh, my God, you’re having another miscarriage.”

  “No,” Daria tried to say, but all she could do was groan.

  “How far along are you? Does Bruce know? Of course not. He would have told me. In fact, we just spoke and he didn’t say a thing about—” Her jaw dropped. “It isn’t his baby, is it? That’s why you ran away. What have you done?”

  Daria’s body started to shake, whether from shock or embarrassment or anger, she couldn’t say. William cradled her tighter, obviously sensing her impending implosion. “You,” he said, pointing at Hester. “Back the hell off.” To the TSA guard who rushed to help, he ordered, “Call an ambulance.”

  “Already on its way, sir.”

  Other airport personnel appeared out of the woodwork, along with a few Good Samaritans. “I’m a nurse,” a woman in a pink jogging suit said. “How can I help? Try to breathe slow and steady. Help will be here soon.”

  Daria tried to focus on the woman’s voice, but her true lifeline was William, who only moved when the paramedics appeared. Even then, he remained close by, holding her hand.