Contingency Plan

by Lou Allin

  Jane had too much pride to let the project go. Together we worked all night reassembling the material. She had the resource books and knew the websites.

  When Jane brought home a C plus instead of her usual A, I thought again about the way Joe had acted that night. Maybe he’d been tired. Maybe he was trying to make Jane more independent. I had never thought about the backup. I assumed kids knew more about computers.

  Maybe that was the point though.

  She was a kid.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Over his favorite buckwheat-pancake breakfast, I told Joe that I was going to start looking for another job. “The house is, for all purposes, finished.”

  A glint of frost passed across his handsome features. He folded his serviette in six. “The house, maybe, but what about the landscaping? Don’t quit on me now, Sandra. I need your input. The jewel needs a proper setting,” he said. He gestured toward the window, at the expansive yard that tumbled away from the house. “Don’t you want fruit trees, rhodos, perennial beds, the rock garden, the koi pond?”

  All of those ideas had been his dreams. I wasn’t much for gardening. Now I felt selfish. “I know we talked about it, Joe.”

  “Don’t you want our place to be perfect? Where are your priorities? Is it a question of money?”

  “You’ve been very generous.” First class all the way was his motto.

  He came around the table and put an arm around me, drawing me close. “Don’t I work long hours to earn enough to surround you and Jane with the best? Sure, it’s an adjustment from your other…life, but is it that hard?”

  I blinked. That stung. “Of course it’s not.” A month or two. How long could it take? I swallowed my disappointment. I felt like a prisoner. Maybe working in the yard would help.

  “That’s more like it,” he said as he got up to go to work. “Start calling and make a list of contacts for these jobs by the end of this week. We can look it over together on the weekend. Hire women when you can. They don’t show up hungover or steal tools like men do.”

  * * *

  The next day my Neon died. At the garage, they told me that the repairs would exceed the car’s value. I called a dealer and was given a reasonable quote for the same basic transportation. What more did I need?

  I waited until we were having our after-dinner coffee and Jane was in her room, downloading music.

  “Another shitbox ready to collapse in an accident?” Joe asked after I’d explained my day. “You’re much more valuable to me than that, darling girl. Besides, I don’t want you driving all over when you should be home thinking about dinner. Thinking about making every meal even better than the last.”

  A burning sensation seeped into my chest. Joe was always demanding more, setting up another hoop to jump through. My jaw clenched and I looked away.

  He sighed. “If you must have one, wait until I make a couple of calls about when the new models come in. A guy at BMW owes me big-time. Once you drive a Bimmer, you won’t want anything else.”

  Getting around until then wouldn’t be easy. We lived far from a bus route. And I couldn’t bring myself to spend the seventy dollars for a round-trip in a taxi.

  As I was loading the dishwasher, another landscaper called back. After setting up an appointment, I went outside to look around and organize my thoughts. The house did look like a castle. Maybe more greenery would soften the severe effect. Virginia creeper turned so pretty and red in the fall. I’d never dreamed of living like this. But instead of being proud, I was getting anxious. Why couldn’t I make Joe happy? He’d given us everything.

  * * *

  When the summer holidays arrived, Bonnie was having a problem with driving and stopped coming over. “I’m worried about her, Joe,” I said during a commercial break in the news. “She says her vision is bothering her, but it’s more than that.”

  “She’s a busybody, Sandra. When you’re with her, you’re living in the past. With Andy. The old bat fills your head with silly ideas when you should be thinking about how to make this marriage work better.”

  I felt a chill. His words about her sounded cruel. “Work better. What do you mean?”

  He straightened his shoulders as he poured a second brandy and turned off the TV. “Don’t delude yourself into thinking that I haven’t noticed the change in your lovemaking. You’re so remote. Like it’s a chore. What’s wrong? Now that you’ve gotten what you wanted, you take me for granted.”

  His comment rocked me. The dissatisfaction was moving to another level. “You’re wrong. I haven’t—”

  With two quick steps, Joe moved in front of me. Veins stood out on his temple and his hot breath made me flinch. I leaned backward.

  “What did you say? Did I hear you right?”

  “I said you were…wrong. Please don’t talk so loudly. What if Jane comes—?”

  “I’ll do what I please in the house I bought…for us, woman. And I’ll tell you something else. I am never wrong.”

  He stormed out, slamming the door. His suv screamed up the drive, scattering gravel. Suddenly I felt very alone. To distract myself, I emptied the dishwasher. Then I watered the houseplants. I looked out the front window. No sign of his car. I ground fresh beans and filled the coffeemaker. Would he be back by breakfast?

  When Jane walked in later, I was reading in bed. Or trying to. I couldn’t concentrate. My eyes were hot and stinging from tears of frustration and worry. I could hardly swallow.

  “It turned out perfect. Not one burnt kernel,” she said, offering me some popcorn.

  “No thanks, sweetie,” I said. One hand was shaking, and I covered it with the book.

  She looked at me oddly. “Sure. Where’s Uncle Joe, anyway?” He hadn’t asked her to call him Dad. That was fine. Uncle was still respectful.

  “He…had some business.”

  “You okay?” she asked.

  I missed the times together with just the two of us. We made a good team. “A silly argument. You know grown-ups.”

  She sat down on the bed next to me. Outside an owl hooted. “He’s not the same, is he? He used to be so nice. Maybe too nice. Do you think he was pretending? Until you got married?”

  “Don’t be silly, honey.”

  Too nice. Pretending. Kids came to the point in so few words.

  Was she right?

  * * *

  Around four in the morning I finally fell asleep. I wished that I had something warm to hold. Even a cat. But Joe said litter boxes “polluted” the house.

  At daybreak, I didn’t want to open my sore eyes. Then I smelled something floral. A dozen red roses lay on the pillow beside me. Warm muffins, whipped butter and orange juice were carefully arranged on a bed table, the linen clean and crisp.

  “Sorry, my angel. I’ve been overdoing it lately. Nothing serious. Just not up to snuff. I was so wrong to take it out on you. Can you find it in your generous heart to forgive me?” he asked.

  Visions of Andy returned. He’d been grouchy in the months before his diagnosis. His burden, trying to protect us while hoping that his illness would resolve itself.

  “Joe, you’re all right, aren’t you? You’re not—”

  “A few problems at work. Comes with the territory. I let them get to me.” He stroked my arm with gentle fingers. “Let’s get our groove back. It can’t have gone far.”

  I took a sip of juice. Fresh-squeezed. And where had he gotten the roses at this hour?

  We talked it out. Things would get better. There wasn’t that much more to do on the landscaping. The cedar hedge. A twig arbor I’d seen on a gardening show. Then in the fall, outside chores would soon end. He had a lot on his mind in that high-powered job. Success came at such a terrible price.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  One afternoon a week later, I went into Joe’s office to look for a stapler. I couldn’t see it on the desk and opened a drawer. He walked through the door.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” After slamming the door, he marched o
ver. His rigid and powerful posture dared me to speak.

  “Nothing, I only wanted…a s-stap—” I fumbled my words.

  “Do I mess with your stuff ?” he demanded.

  I stared.

  “Well, do I? Have I ever rummaged through your desk?” His face was scarlet, and a pulse drummed in his temple. His fists opened and closed as if they had a mind of their own.

  What could I say?

  “No, but—”

  “Then stay away from mine.” His brows were stormy. “I hate it when things are out of order. What if I couldn’t find something? I’m a lawyer. Time is money. And I don’t want to have to tell you this again. Have some respect.”

  “Yes, Joe.”

  “What’s the matter with you anyway? Is there someone else? Is that why you’re always on that bloody computer? Your stuttering is a dead giveaway that you’re guilty about something.” He stepped back and folded his arms, assessing me. Undressing me. Stripping me to the core.

  “What? That’s ridiculous.” The idea was so preposterous that I let out a laugh.

  “You have some nerve telling ME not to be silly, missy. Do you live in some kind of dream world? You’ve never had a real job in your life, have you?”

  “You know I worked with Andy.” I kept my voice low and reasonable. What if I stuttered again?

  “Big deal.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “At some mom-and-pop business, barely hanging on. Why are you always talking about him? Andy is dead. I’m not. Stop rubbing my face in it. Do you know how you sound?” he demanded, his eyes blazing with contempt. “Do you?”

  * * *

  After the stapler issue, the more I tried, the more he criticized. If I did one thing, I should have done another. One rule, two, then more and more. He kept me off balance. I wondered if he could follow my trails on the computer. Just in case, I erased everything.

  One afternoon I was on a chat line with other women. They were talking about methods their abusive spouses used to control them. Just like Joe did. The word sociopath emerged. Until then, I had thought it applied only to criminals. Killers. But that wasn’t true. Sociopaths could be leaders. Many ran successful businesses. They could be charming. When it suited them. They said whatever worked. They felt nothing. Ordinary rules didn’t apply to them.

  I needed to learn more. This was new, but it explained so much. I didn’t dare put a password on my computer. Like before, he’d find a reason to use it. Then he’d get really mad. The walls were closing in.

  We hadn’t had sex for weeks. His punishment? I didn’t care.

  Jane returned from a school geocaching club trip to Washington State. I was glad she had gone. Our fights couldn’t be hidden anymore.

  “He’s worse, isn’t he, Mom?” she had said.

  “I don’t know, baby.” But I did. “I guess I…”

  “Mom! It’s not you. Why can’t you see that?”

  “He has changed. But maybe it’s stress at work. That affects people in different ways. Just give it a little more time.”

  “I don’t understand why you keep…” Her voice trailed off as she turned away in disappointment.

  He began ignoring both of us. That was almost worse than abuse. Like we didn’t exist. For once I stopped crawling to get back into his graces. He ate out and came home late to his own ensuite bedroom. The tension in the house made it hard to breathe. I started thinking about the heartbreaking version of his life that he had given me. What had happened to his wife? Had he even been married? Was he still married? Then who were these relatives?

  “Mom,” Jane said one night while we were doing dishes together. “I found out something. I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure.”

  “What, hon? Another project?” I tried to smile at her, but I knew my face looked gray and drawn. No amount of makeup could mask the misery I felt.

  “It’s about Joe’s mom and sister. In that little town in New Brunswick. The one with the funny name.”

  “What about them?” He never mentioned them on his own. When I asked, he repeated the same facts. Now and then he’d add another detail. Like he was making it up as he went along. Telling me what I wanted to hear.

  “I made a Facebook friend there. In Quispamsis. She knows everybody. Her people have lived in the area for a hundred years. There’s no Gillette family.”

  I turned off the water at the sink and looked at her. “What? And the B and B?”

  She shook her head. “No one by that name with a B and B or a farm or anything. Honest. It’s a small place. Like Dawson Creek.”

  What could I say?

  I felt a core of steel streak down my backbone. Enough was enough.

  * * *

  The next morning Joe looked at me over the Times Colonist. His eyes had once seemed warm and brown. Now when I searched them, I saw through to nothing. Was he even human? What was happening to me? I thought about Bonnie and the way she imagined things. She’d called twice last week about a prowler. Her neighbor had suggested that she install motion-sensor lights. A midnight deer in search of roses was the culprit.

  “Do you have something to tell me?” Joe asked. “I always know by that smirk on your face. You’re such a child.”

  I flinched. This sounded like trouble. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t play games, Sandra.” He gripped my arm across the table. My coffee spilled onto the cherry wood. Joe liked it polished with lemon wax.

  “Look what you’ve done. Stupid and clumsy.” He released my arm as if I were a leper.

  I wiped up the spill with my napkin.

  “Don’t use the linen serviette, you fool,” he growled. “You don’t deserve good things if you can’t take proper care of them.”

  “Sorry.” For the first time, I left it at that.

  “Sorry. Sorry. Another day, another sorry.” His eyes narrowed into laser beams. “And further…”

  This was bad. “And further” meant that much more was coming. He shoved me backward in my chair. I was glad that Jane had gone to school.

  “What the hell are you doing gossiping on the computer with those bitches? Nothing better to do?”

  My heart beat in an overlap. In a few seconds, I might faint. “You mean—” I had the paralyzing feeling that I’d forgotten to clear everything. Bonnie had called in the middle of my session.

  “That’s right. I saw it on your computer.” He glared at me. “Don’t lie to me. My keyboard’s batteries died. We were out. I used yours to look up a stock quote. Guess what the history said.”

  “The history. You had no right.” Another person seemed to say those words. I couldn’t take them back.

  “I have every right to know what my goddamn wife is up to. I never thought you’d be such a sneak. Why do you need strangers like that? Choosing them over me. Going around behind my back, making a mockery of my trust.”

  “Andy and I used each other’s computers, but we always respected each other’s privacy online. That’s real trust.” Deep in an untapped well, I found the strength to go even further. I stood and took a step toward him. “Speaking of honesty, why do you never hear anything from your mother? You told me she lived in Quispamsis. There’s no one with that name there.”

  “What? Are you calling me a liar?” He gave me a shake that rattled my teeth.

  But he didn’t slap me.

  My face would be unmarked. He was no fool.

  No turning back. “I’m going to leave you, Joe.” The statement seemed to come from someone else, a stranger who had had enough.

  His eyes hardened into black diamonds. His low, deliberate voice chilled me. “That’s the one thing you won’t do, Sandra. Nobody leaves me. Nobody. You are an expensive investment in money and time.”

  “I will, and then I’ll get a…a…restraining order.” There it was. As a lawyer, he knew the process. My head was light. I filled my lungs with air and stood even straighter.

  Standing up with his hands waving in a spooky mock-fear gesture, he laughed lon
g and hard. “Don’t believe what you see on television, Sandra. There’s no protection for a greedy user like you. I get what I want when I want it. I have influential friends everywhere. At all levels. Don’t be naïve.”

  This cruelty that I was seeing in Joe made me think back to Scout…What had happened to the dog? Why hadn’t I read that first sign? It had seemed so insignificant at the time.

  Was everything a lie?

  * * *

  Joe was never gone overnight. The rare time he went to Vancouver for the day, I couldn’t use his suv because he marked the mileage. He’d never again mentioned the new car he was going to get for me. My helplessness was part of his plan. Perhaps he thought I would beg him.

  One day I called a number in the phone book. Del Finch, private investigator. “Find out what you can about Joe Gillette. Don’t contact me yourself. Wait for my call.” A few hundred dollars from the household money would be the retainer.

  “Missus, say no more. I’m used to these rules. And from what I’m hearing, you take care. And erase this call. Little mistakes can cost.”

  A week later I called him back. I’d had Jane buy a cheap cell phone at the drugstore. It was hidden in the potting shed, protected from the moisture in a ziplock baggie. Limited minutes on the card, but Jane could buy more when she went to school. We had become a team again for the worst reasons.

  Finch cleared his throat before he began his report. “There have been some questions raised about his appropriating funds from elderly people. Getting them to name him in their wills. He’s skated clear so far, but…”

  “I’m not surprised.” A man like that wouldn’t have a clean, honest corner in his life.

  “There’s something else. His wife Chrissie died in a spring cross-country skiing accident several years ago in Alberta. They got off the main trails. She died of exposure. He barely made it himself. Three days went by before they were reported missing by concerned friends.”

  “Skiing? I thought she died in childbirth. He told me the name they’d picked for the—”

  “Bullshit. There was no child. She had an insurance policy for a million dollars. Nice chunk of change. According to her family, she was very cautious. She never would have left the marked trail. Joe sued the lodge, but it was tossed out of court. The facts didn’t make sense. They’d checked out, then left their car in a far lot and started into the backcountry. They obviously ignored the warning signs about keeping on the trails. And if they were lost, they did all the wrong things. Instead of staying put and making the universal distress signals, they’d kept moving. Search and Rescue was sent out, of course. Even helicopters. The tree cover was too thick. It was two more days before they found him.”