Evidence of Life

by Barbara Taylor Sissel

  “Oh, but she and Adam aren’t divorced, dear,” the woman said.

  Abby’s breath shallowed. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course, I’m sure. I’ve lived here forty-three years. I brought the Sandovals an apple pie the day they moved in.”

  “So they’ve moved out now?” Kate asked.

  The woman looked at her. “Don’t you keep up with the news? Adam Sandoval is a wanted man. He and his wife have left the country, you mark my word. He went first and she followed him. I told the police when they were over here snooping around that they’re probably sipping cocktails on the Riviera about now, living on all that loot Adam stole from those poor children. I’m telling you, you would never have known Adam was that sort from his—”

  “Did you ever see this man over here?” Abby pulled the family photograph she had shown to Peg, the waitress at Griff’s, from her purse and pointed at Nick. The woman looked closely at it.

  “I might have. There was a man with hair that same dark shade over here a few times. Drove a yellow Corvette. It might have been this fellow.”

  Abby’s breath stopped. She could see it, that Nick would rent a car so he wouldn’t be recognized. A Corvette would suit him. Hadn’t he talked occasionally about owning one? “How—how tall was the man you saw? Do you know?”

  “Abby, no. Come on.” Kate slipped her hand under Abby’s elbow. She thanked the woman. Abby didn’t protest when Kate put her into the passenger seat of the BMW and said she would drive.

  “That woman is nothing more than a neighborhood gossip,” Kate said as they drove away. “It’s no good listening to her.”

  Abby didn’t answer; she rested her head against the seat back. Nick had lied to her about the Sandovals. They weren’t divorced; there hadn’t been money woes, and somehow, knowing this made all the rest of it plausible—that it was Nick the neighbor had seen driving the yellow Corvette, that it was Nick with Adam on the surveillance tape outside the bank. He could have done it, driven here to San Antonio and back home in a day once, twice, a hundred times, and she’d never have been the wiser. You had to pursue it; you wanted to know. A voice in her brain taunted her. But she felt sick and so afraid. Suppose he was involved with Adam and she uncovered the proof of it? What would she do then? Turn him in, her own husband?

  * * *

  “Please come with me,” Kate said.

  They had left San Antonio without shopping for groceries the day before, and Kate was insisting Abby accompany her now, but she said no, that she hadn’t slept well and wanted to lie down for a bit. In truth it was another idea entirely that had taken form in her mind, one that she ought to have acted on long ago. She would have shared it with Kate, if she thought Kate would have been open-minded, but she wouldn’t be, not after yesterday. “I think I’ll have a nap outside on the deck while you’re gone,” Abby said.

  “You’ll sit out there and brood. I know you.”

  “No. I promise I won’t.”

  Kate pulled on her jacket. “Okay. But you can sit by yourself too much. You can think yourself blind.”

  They shared a stubborn silence.

  Kate broke it. “You can read meaning into circumstance that isn’t there. That could have been any guy that woman saw, Abby. Just think how many dark-haired men there are in the world.”

  Abby dried her hands. “I know, but it just seems as if Nick was doing a lot of stuff I didn’t know about.”

  “Like what else?”

  Abby shrugged, turned her back and looked out the window at the saddle horses grazing in the pasture. She let her gaze travel from the corral along the drive to the barn that housed the livestock, and the hot bite of resentment she felt against Kate was as burning and unexpected as a sharp stick in the eye. Abruptly, Abby jerked her glance inside to her hands. She was gripping the counter’s edge so hard her knuckles were white.

  “Abby?” Kate prodded. “What else have you found out?”

  But Abby only shook her head, anxious now for Kate to leave. “It’s nothing.” She made herself smile. “Go on. I’m fine. I’m not brooding. I swear.”

  “Cross your soul and never cry?” Kate lifted her foot and traced an X on the bottom of her shoe.

  Abby did the same. “Never cry,” she repeated. It was the oath and sign they’d made up in their school days.

  They walked out together, and Abby waited until Kate’s taillights had disappeared completely before retracing her steps, going straight through the house, first into the bedroom to get her purse, then down the hall to the study. Sitting behind the desk, she pulled a sheet of white business paper from the stack on the table beside the fax machine. She uncapped a pen and wrote FAX at the top edge. Beneath that she copied the number from the inside cover of the matchbook.

  She started to write To: and the name Sondra, and then didn’t. She pressed the capped end of the pen to her mouth, and after a moment’s thought, she bent over the desk and wrote: My name is Abby Bennett. My husband is missing. He had this number. But something didn’t feel right. She crumpled the sheet, tossed it into the wastebasket, drew out a fresh sheet. My name is Abby Bennett, she wrote, and after that: I’m sorry to trouble you. But some instinct again said no, and she crumpled that sheet, too.

  She headed another sheet, again introducing herself. Then: I hope you can help me. I’m trying to locate a man named Nick Bennett. He’s missing. A record of this fax number was among his possessions. If you have any information about him, will you please call….

  She lifted the pen before she could jot down her cell phone number. Instinct warned she shouldn’t give that out. It was somehow too personal, and she copied down the fax machine’s phone number as the method of contact instead. Of course, now she ran the risk of George and Kate finding out what she’d done, and if they did, which was likely, she would have to explain that she’d sent off a fax to a total stranger asking the whereabouts of a man they believed to their cores was dead. But at least they would agree that she’d been prudent about it. A person could be harassed on their cell phone, but who, other than advertisers, harassed anyone by a fax machine?

  Abby loaded the page and sent it before she could reconsider. Even so, the urge to wrest it from the machine was immediate and overwhelming. She had no clue what kind of trouble might be on the receiving end. Borrow sugar, not trouble. Her daddy’s advice played through her mind. She picked up the message she’d faxed and tore it in half, then into quarters, letting them drop into the wastebasket.

  Chapter 14

  During their sophomore year of college when Kate insisted on setting up Abby’s blind date with Baylor Gates, Abby resisted. She said she had to study.

  “Bullshit,” Kate said.

  Abby made another excuse. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “Try this.” Kate emerged from their tiny dormitory closet and tossed a scrap of black silk at Abby. “It’s too small for me and looks better on you anyway. Only blondes look great in black.”

  Abby fingered the silky material.

  “Come on, Abby. This is college, where you are—believe it or not—supposed to have fun.”

  A pause fell. Abby felt Kate’s gaze; she felt the weight of Kate’s concern for her, and it made her feel anxious and guilty.

  Kate stamped her foot. “Holy Jesus Christ, Abby. You sat at home all through high school, then you sat in the dorm all last year. I can’t stand it anymore. You live like a nun, and it’s making me look bad.”

  Abby laughed and donned the little black dress; she slipped her feet into the impossibly high-heeled sandals and didn’t think twice about it. She and Kate had been friends too long for trust to be an issue. And as badly as it would end, Abby would never believe Kate meant to do it. She didn’t purposely set Abby up with Baylor to then betray her. What Kate wanted was for Abby to relax and have fun. She had n
o patience for it when Abby said dating made her nervous.

  It was no different that evening meeting Baylor, but then he took her hand, and she grew dizzy at his touch. She felt as if she would float out of the hated shoes, yet at the same time she felt a longing to press herself against him that was all-consuming, unlike any sensation she had ever experienced before. And from that night on, Baylor’s pursuit of her was so tender and careful that when they finally made love, it was Abby who initiated it.

  Except for their class schedules—Baylor was a business major, Abby was studying elementary education—they were inseparable. For the first time ever, Abby felt she belonged somewhere. She had always been Kate’s friend, accepted because of Kate, but as Baylor’s girlfriend, she was part of his crowd. It was the same as Kate’s crowd, the one that, since grade school, Abby had only skirted the outer edge of.

  But dating Baylor, her confidence grew. It was as if she had stepped into a warmer climate, thrown off her old shy self like some old coat. She couldn’t imagine life without Baylor, friends, plans, a steady date. She was finally somebody. One of the It girls, the special girls, who got flowers for no reason and late-night, miss-you phone calls.

  It seemed only natural when they began to discuss marriage. Abby couldn’t believe her luck, and she assumed Baylor felt the same joy in their discovery of one another. It didn’t once occur to her that his commitment to her wasn’t as deep.

  * * *

  Junior year, their crowd made plans to go to Cancun for spring break. Abby and Kate had packed their bags, and they were waiting for Tim—Kate’s latest and greatest, and last, or so she claimed—and Baylor to pick them up, when someone down the hall hollered that Abby had a phone call.

  “Don’t tell me it was the guys,” Kate said when Abby reappeared.

  She touched her brow, struggling to marshal the words. “It’s Daddy, he’s in the hospital. He had a heart attack.”

  “Oh, no.” Kate hugged Abby and, releasing her, looked her over anxiously.

  “I have to go home,” she said and, eyeing her suitcase, added, “At least I’m packed.”

  “Shorts and T-shirts, a strapless sundress and two bikinis. Not exactly hospital attire. Besides it’s cold out.” Kate lifted the suitcase and tossed out the contents on the bed. She went to Abby’s drawers and returned with assorted sweatshirts and pullover turtlenecks. Abby added jeans and flannel pajamas. She changed her sandals for socks and tennis shoes.

  “What’s this?” Baylor spoke from the doorway. Tim was behind him.

  “My dad had a heart attack,” Abby said. “I have to go home.”

  Baylor and Kate wanted to drive Abby into Houston, but Abby refused. She didn’t want their trip to be ruined on her account.

  * * *

  The first heart attack was mild, scarcely more than a warning. Her father was up and walking the day after Abby’s arrival and discharged from the hospital a few days later with a new cholesterol-lowering diet and exercise regimen. He and Abby took walks together around the neighborhood, and she told him about Baylor, about loving him. Her dad was misty-eyed and held her hand. He was more sentimental since the scare with his heart. He said, “Just yesterday, you were having me in to tea with your dolls. I had to wear your grandmother’s hat with the floppy rim and big flower. Do you remember?”

  Abby squeezed his arm and bent her head to his shoulder. “Maybe soon you’ll have a granddaughter to invite you to tea.”

  “I hope there’s going to be a wedding first,” her daddy said drily.

  Abby laughed. “Of course. It’ll be something small and elegant. In the afternoon, I think. You and Baylor can wear gray. It’s a much softer color than black.” Abby could see it in her mind. The images were as clear as photographs, so clear, it was as if they were already gathered into an album. One so real to her that even years later, when the pain of remembering was only a worn stain on the floor of her mind, a moment would come when she would catch herself wondering what she’d done with it.

  * * *

  Abby was waiting in the dormitory lounge on the day Baylor and the others were due home. She imagined he would be sunburned and hungry.

  “Baylor is always hungry,” Abby had said this to her mother. She had said she wanted to copy the family recipes. She thought she would purchase those three-by-five cards, the ones with the cute kitcheny designs, and a recipe box to match. She would need a Joy of Cooking, too, like her mother’s. Abby looked up when the door to the dormitory opened, expecting to see a crowd, anxious to see Baylor, but it was only Kate who was there, and her face when she saw Abby seemed to freeze, except for her glance that darted everywhere as if Abby was the last person she wanted to look at.

  Abby felt a whisper of dread, the narrowest ribbon of cold premonition, unfurl from her stomach. She stood up, bringing her hands together. Her mouth opened. The word, “What?” was poised, a question that blistered her tongue. She wouldn’t ever be certain if she spoke it out loud.

  But Kate answered as if Abby had. “We didn’t mean for anything to happen,” she said, and it was a protest, a plea; it was all Abby needed to hear to know that the “anything” Kate was referring to meant that everything between Abby and Baylor was over.

  Abby hugged herself hard and shrank from Kate’s touch.

  “I’m so sorry,” Kate said, and Abby despised the tears in Kate’s voice.

  “I knew we were attracted to each other,” she said, “but I was with Kevin and then I—I met Tim. I guess I never thought—”

  “What?” Abby fired the word like a bullet. “That I’d fall for him? I was just supposed to keep him amused until you were between guys? Have you been keeping an eye on him? Watching for signs of boredom? Figuring the instant you were ready and I wasn’t paying attention, you could crook your finger and he’d drop me flat? How could you?” Abby slapped at her own angry tears.

  “It just happened. I—I don’t know.”

  “But you’ve had feelings for him all along, haven’t you? Which you never bothered to mention to me. Naturally. It’s just like you.”

  “I never thought—”

  “You never do.”

  Abby stared at Kate a moment longer, and then, stumbling, she turned and ran.

  * * *

  They never shared their room again, nor did they speak. Abby caught sight of Kate with Baylor sometimes on campus, and the pain was so intense, she thought that, like her father’s heart, hers, too, was under attack. The wedding was in summer after graduation. Abby wasn’t invited, not that she’d have gone. She had moved home, lacking a better plan, and she was there to help her mother nurse her father when he was forced to undergo heart bypass surgery. It was Abby’s mother who told her Kate had moved with Baylor to Chicago.

  Good riddance, Abby had thought. She couldn’t imagine that she and Kate would ever speak again. But then one day, a few years later, on the occasion of Abby’s engagement to Nick, Kate called to offer congratulations and her hope for Abby’s happiness. Abby was gracious; she could afford to be because she was happy, happier than she had ever been in her life. And it was in the wake of saying this to Kate that it dawned on her she had Kate to thank for it. As grievous a betrayal as it was, if Kate hadn’t taken Baylor away, Abby might never have met Nick. She might have missed finding the love of her life.

  She and Kate both recognized the irony.

  Chapter 15

  Late in the afternoon, they started dinner. Kate washed a chicken, patted it dry and seasoned the cavity. Abby cut limes into quarters and stuffed them inside. They tied the legs with twine, covered the dish with plastic wrap and put it in the refrigerator. Kate went outside to clean and light the grill, and Abby snapped the fresh green beans Kate had bought that morning.

  “There’s enough here for an army,” Abby said when Kate returned to the kitchen.


  “We can make green bean sandwiches for breakfast,” Kate said.

  “Layer them with a fried egg.” Abby grinned.

  Kate put her hands together. “Add grated Swiss cheese, slap it all between two pieces of wheat toast and voilà.”

  Abby laughed. They’d used to do it on purpose, see who could come up with the most outlandish breakfast sandwich combination. Pulled pork barbeque on day-old waffles layered with coleslaw, meatloaf and bacon on a croissant. Peanut butter and sweet pickles sandwiched between pancakes. The air was thick with their silly memories.

  Abby said, “Sometimes everything feels so ordinary, you know? As if they’ll walk in the door and everything will be the way it always was when we came for a visit. Jake will be hunting through the pantry—”

  “Foraging.” Kate had no trouble following Abby’s train of thought.

  “Lindsey will have straw in her hair from playing with the cats in the barn.”

  “That kid would live in the barn if we let her,” Kate said.

  Abby pressed the backs of her wrists to her eyes, and Kate came and circled her shoulders. She bent her head until it touched Abby’s.

  “Sometimes I let myself drift—” Abby resumed breaking the beans, stem end, blossom end “—way up. I go higher and higher until the earth is just a tiny glowing speck, and it’s as if it never happened.”

  Kate brought a small mesh sack filled with new potatoes to the sink and started washing them.

  Abby leaned her hip against the counter, giving her room. “What was Nick really doing in Bandera?”

  “I told you.”

  “I want to know what you think, what exactly you saw.”

  “Him. I saw him on the courthouse sidewalk. That’s all.”

  “I don’t believe you. I know you think you’re protecting me, but you aren’t.”