Until Tomorrow

by Abbie Williams

  I reeled backwards, those words as deadly as a firmly-applied razor. Numb, more stunned than I had ever before been in my life, I grabbed my coat and purse, my scarf and keys. My fingers were so wooden that I could hardly grasp these things.

  And I left without looking back, leaking the contents of my heart all over the place.

  Chapter Twenty

  In our trailer that night after the hearing, Case and I lay awake.

  “Sweetheart, we’ll get through this,” he whispered again, our fingers linked over my belly, our daughter pushing against our hands with her energetic little feet; despite everything, I smiled a little at this. She was determined to make her presence known.

  “It’s just been one thing after another,” I whispered back, snuggling against his chest. “I’m exhausted.”

  “You work too hard,” Case said. “You always do. I’m putting my foot down. I want you to tell Al that you need a few days off from work.”

  “You’re putting your foot down?” I repeated, teasing him a little.

  “Yes,” he said, with certainty, kissing my jaw. His familiar touch was so wonderful, so welcome, and I tilted my head to give him better access to my bare skin. Case rubbed his chin against my neck, which he knew I loved. He murmured, his voice vibrating against me, “And that’s final.”

  “I know you worry about me,” I said softly. “And I know we’ll get through this. I just hate feeling so helpless. I feel like everything we hold secure is in jeopardy.”

  “No matter what, we have our family,” he reminded me. “If we have to start over somewhere else, we will. I hate that thought, I hate the thought of not living here, of losing to Yancy, but in the end he’s the one who’s lost. Truly lost, I mean. He has no one who gives a shit about him in the world, I really believe that. You should have heard him at the courthouse. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost…but not quite.”

  “You’re right,” I said, though I was in no way sympathetic to Derrick Yancy’s plight in this life. I reflected, “You reap what you sow.”

  Our daughter delivered a ninja kick to my lower abdomen, as though agreeing with my words, and Case smiled, shifting position so that he could move down my body to put his face near the baby’s movements. He tenderly kissed my breasts along the way, brushing his lips over my sensitive skin, before cupping his hands against my belly, saying, “Hi, little one. My little baby girl. You can hear us out here talking, can’t you?”

  I tucked one arm beneath my head and stroked Case’s hair with my free hand. Usually the only way our baby would calm down inside of me was if Case sang to her, which he did on a nightly basis, soft sweet lullabies and country love songs; his voice had come back slowly this winter, as his lungs and throat healed. Case rubbed me with both thumbs and continued, “Your mama and I love you so much, precious girl. We can’t wait to meet you.”

  He pressed kisses on my skin. I caressed his ear and told him for the countless time, my throat hoarse with emotion, “I love you so much.”

  Case rested his chin gently on my belly. He whispered, “I count my blessings every day, sweetheart. Every minute. When I think of all those lonely years I spent without you, longing for you. I used to lie right here and study your beautiful blue eyes in that old picture. Baby, do you know how many blue things I bought with your eyes in mind? Everything – clothes, towels, even my electric guitar…”

  My heart melted almost completely away at these words; I reflected that we did have a great deal of cobalt-blue possessions. I whispered, “I’m the one who should be counting my blessings. That you still loved me after all those years, and how I acted at Camille’s wedding…oh, Case…”

  He pressed a kiss between my breasts and whispered, “I knew that if I couldn’t be with you then there was no one for me, not in this lifetime. Tish, I love you more than I even realized I was capable of loving. And now you’re mine, my wife, the love of my life, and I could never be thankful enough.”

  “Come here, come be in my arms,” I said fervently, reaching for him.

  “For always,” he whispered, moving at once to collect me close, and I held him as tightly as I could, wrapping arms and legs around him (as well as could be expected with our baby between us), softly kissing his mouth. I thought back to him lying in the hospital bed in Bozeman, the agony of being without him. Never again. I would never let that happen again.

  I whispered, “Just being in your arms is all I need in this whole world.” I kissed his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, as he caressed my hair, stroking gently along the length of my curls, which fell past my shoulders now. “I can never get enough of you touching me.”

  Case smoothed his big warm hands down my back. He pressed little teasing kisses on my neck, tasting me, gliding his hands around to cup my breasts. I shivered delightedly. He murmured, “Just so happens that touching you is my very favorite thing in the world. Your soft skin beneath my hands…there’s no greater pleasure than that, sweetheart.”

  “Maybe just one,” I said softly, reaching down to grasp him firmly in my hand, nipping his bottom lip, and he grinned and kissed me in earnest then.

  ***

  I bowed to Case’s concern and called Al in the morning to tell him I would not be at work today. Al said, “I was going to suggest that yesterday. To Ruthann, too, but she must have subconsciously taken my advice, since she didn’t show up for work either.”

  “She didn’t call?” I asked, surprised. Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t heard from my sister either; she had been planning to drive to Landon today, I knew, much to Marshall’s obvious distress, but she had intended to call me last night to let me know what time she was leaving this morning.

  “No, but I didn’t pester her,” Al said. “I’m sure she’s sleeping in, and I hope she gets some good rest. Besides, it snowed so much last night I almost threw in the towel this morning too.”

  “I’ll try her a little later then,” I said. Before I made coffee I also shot Robbie a text, informing him, I’m taking a couple days off. Talk to u later this week. Even though I hadn’t heard from him in three days and he hadn’t explained his ‘Hot Shot in hot water’ text from Friday, I didn’t want to think about anything work-related, Yancy-related, or Dad and Christina-related, for at least twenty-four hours. But then I added, Unless of course u actually found something!

  Maybe he had – but he was prone to the dramatic and I didn’t want to get my hopes up just yet.

  Case plowed out our driveway and drove into town for groceries around noon; it was snowy enough that he didn’t bother to open our music shop downtown. School was canceled for the day and Wy called to see if he and Hannah Jasper could come grab the snowshoes he’d forgotten over here last month.

  “Of course,” I said, and then went out to the barn, waddling in my winter clothes and enormous furry boots, flanked by Mutt and Tiny, to see Cider and Buck, our rabbit Penelope, and our three chickens (I also found two eggs, feeling like real farm wife), and then checked on Carrot and her kittens, snuggled in their box in the warm, pleasant, hay-scented barn. Carrot preferred to avoid the trailer, while Peaches, our other cat, rarely ventured outside.

  Wy and Hannah arrived in Clark’s big diesel truck an hour later, and Wy surprised me by tattling, “Marsh slept at our house last night because they had a fight. He looks like crap today, Tish, I’m worried. He wouldn’t tell me or Dad anything.”

  “Shit,” I said. I decided I better call Ruthie right away. I knew Marshall didn’t like the idea of her driving to Minnesota, nor what she intended to do there. Surely Ruthann was still in town, hiding out in her apartment; I found myself hoping she had just decided against making the drive altogether.

  After the kids left I tried Ruthie’s cell phone, which went straight to voicemail. I felt a small wrenching in my gut, inadvertently thinking of things I tried very hard to mentally avoid, such as the picture of my sister disappearing into thin air before my eyes less than a month ago, right here in my kitchen. The letters that see
med to spark this horror were hidden away; we hadn’t burned them, despite Marshall’s orders, instead tucking them into a trunk, deeply buried. Ruthann would never have to see them again. I listened to her sweet voice asking me to leave a message after the beep, and my heart bumped in unmistakable fear.

  There’s nothing to be afraid of, I tried to tell myself. For one thing, people fight all the time.

  I debated calling Mom, but refrained. I didn’t want to hear more about Liam right now.

  Dammit, Marshall, I thought next, certain that he had been a jerk about his opinions yesterday; as much as I loved Marsh and considered him a brother, he wasn’t the world’s most tactful man and I knew he had a shit temper. I tried his phone next, but he didn’t answer either; I left a brief, angry-sounding message to call me as soon as humanly possible. I knew he didn’t have college classes today; where the hell was he?

  By the time Case got home a few hours later, it was late afternoon. He’d stopped in the law office to chat with Al for a spell, and as he parked the truck the heavy, overcast sky was already darkening, courtesy of winter’s short days. I met my husband at the door and he could see my concern.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked immediately, jogging up the steps.

  “I’m not sure,” I said, shaking my head. “I just have a bad feeling…”

  I explained what I thought must have happened, about Marshall and Ruthie fighting and Marshall sleeping at Clark’s. I called Clark but didn’t get an answer at his house either, growing seriously annoyed that no one seemed to be answering their phone today.

  “Dammit!” I said, tossing mine with a little more force than necessary onto the kitchen table.

  Case put his hands on my shoulder blades and rubbed me; he said calmly, “I’ll make some supper.”

  “I’m going to go see Cider for a minute,” I said. The horses always made me feel a little better, and I hadn’t lingered in the barn this morning after feeding them, as I usually did on mornings I wasn’t headed to work. I assured him, “I’ll be right back.”

  Outside, the air was crisp after last night’s snow, chilly, the sky the shade of tarnished silver. As I walked between the trailer and the barn, praying that it would still be ours at this time next year, a rogue beam of sun shot from beneath the edge of the low-lying cloud bank on the western horizon, suddenly and dazzlingly bright in my eyes, momentarily blinding me. Its scarlet-red light glinted magnificently upon everything in sight, danced over the snow with a million rubies, gilded the yard with a radiance we hadn’t seen in days, as it had been continuously overcast.

  It was a breathtakingly gorgeous sight.

  Why then, did my stomach seem to bottom out? Why did this lovely red sunburst strike me as deeply ominous?

  I heard the growl of a truck engine, coming closer. I looked down the road, already realizing that the driver was going far too fast on the snow packed over the loose gravel.

  “Case!” I called sharply, and even though the windows were closed, he heard my voice and appeared in the door. I pointed wordlessly.

  “It’s Marshall,” Case said, his deep voice rife with sudden concern, and I could see this in the next moment, as the familiar rusted-out black truck skidded to a stop across the road from the trailer, back tires fishtailing on the slippery snow.

  “What…” I faltered, my heart struck by a hard hammer of fear.

  “Wait here, love,” Case told me, and then jogged towards the truck.

  I gripped my mittened hands together and watched, uncharacteristically speechless, only able to observe as Marshall stormed out of the driver’s side. I heard him demand, “Where is Ruthann?”

  I felt a sickness in my gut then, the knowledge of something horrible and inevitable that I was about to have to face. My fingernails dug into my palms inside my mittens, my throat already closing off with dread, even as Case caught Marshall by both shoulders, halting his progress.

  Marshall threw off Case’s light grip and directed his fierce words at me. Only then did I realize he wasn’t furious as much as terrified. He begged, “Tish, where is she? Is she here? Jesus, tell me, please tell me.”

  I hurried to him, seeking his gray eyes for answers. What I saw was stark desperation, deep shadows of strain. Weakly I whispered, “What are you talking about?”

  My lips began to tremble even before Marshall spoke. Case saw the white sheen to my face, as he gathered me close at once and said firmly to Marshall, “Answer her, little bro.”

  Marshall gripped my upper arms with fingers that seemed talon-like, even through my down coat. He wasn’t wearing gloves, scarf or hat, not so much as a jacket, his jaws with a good two days’ growth of dark scruff. He said in a hollow voice that begged me to understand, “She left here yesterday, Tish, to go to Minnesota. She was going to drive straight through.”

  “Yesterday?” I interrupted, furious now, as fury was a thousand times preferable to fear. My words became a lava flow, pouring hotly forth. I said, “I thought she was going to leave today! Why didn’t she call me first? Why did you sleep at Clark’s? What did you say to her?”

  Tears streaked Marshall’s face and he choked out, “We had a fight, a horrible fight, just before she left. Oh God, and now…just now…” His frantic words fell atop one another. “I’ve tried her phone at least fifty times since then. But just now I called Shore Leave, and she never got there, Tish. Oh Jesus Christ, she never got there. She should be there by now…”

  I shoved at his chest, blindly wanting to hurt him for what he’d just forced me to hear, and Case moved swiftly, catching me close and turning us away, as Marshall’s harsh sobs scratched like ripsaws along my flesh. In my ear, my husband spoke quietly and firmly, saying, “Tish, calm down, baby. We’ll figure this out.”

  I could hardly hear him over my sobs. Case was agonized over what to do, I could sense, but he remained calm, leading me inside and seating me at the table before doing anything else. He bent close so that he could look into my eyes and said, “Stay right here. Wait for me, all right, sweetheart?”

  I managed to nod for him, because it was Case. He was so worried, and controlling it, and so I nodded again. Case jogged back outside. I saw my phone on the tabletop and when I picked it up in fingers gone nearly bloodless, I saw that I had two missed calls in the past five minutes, both from the phone at Shore Leave.

  As though sunk into tar, ridiculously sluggish, I tried to call the café. The phone fell to the kitchen floor with a dull thud. Case hadn’t closed the outer door, and through the screen I heard him say in no uncertain terms, “Marsh, tell me everything from the start.”

  It was clear to me that Marshall was in absolute torture. I fumbled onto my knees, trying to get the phone back into my grasp, but I was gripped by a dizzy rush of nausea and weakly sank to sit cross-legged on the floor. The air coming inside was icy.

  I heard Marshall choking his words out, “She left and she should have been there by now. Oh God, Ruthann should be there by now…”

  “Why did she leave yesterday instead of today?” Case asked, and I could hear how he was trying to stay calm, to get the answers before Marshall went completely ballistic. Case urged, “What happened?”

  “Did she come here? Did she call Tish?” Marshall demanded.

  “No,” Case said quietly and Marshall’s cry of anguish ripped through my heart.

  “I called the café…I talked to Joelle…” Marshall heaved out, gasping between every few words. “What if…what if Ruthie was in…a car accident…” and then I could hear him vomiting.

  “Marsh, come inside,” I heard Case pleading; I could hear the way he was controlling his terror. “Come inside, little bro.”

  “No,” Marshall gasped out.

  Case pounded back up the steps and into the trailer, where I reached my arms to him.

  “Help me up,” I whispered and he did, cradling me to his chest, pressing his face to my hair.

  “I felt dizzy,” I explained, clinging to him, but I was unwilli
ng to waste time on myself right now and so I said, “I have to call Mom…she’s at Shore Leave…”

  “I’ll do it,” Case told me.

  I explained, “I dropped my phone. Case – I’m so scared…”

  “Me, too,” he admitted in a whisper.

  My mother answered the café phone immediately. I imagined her at the familiar counter at Shore Leave, with the old-fashioned till and the toothpick dispenser-wheel.

  “Joelle, this is Case, I’m here with Tish,” my husband said, his voice again calm and steady. “Is Ruthann there? Is she in Landon?”

  “No,” Mom wept; I could hear her through the phone. “She’s not here…she never called…”

  A roaring in my ears, a buzzing in my skull. I gripped my husband as though he was the only thing keeping me from going under forever.

  Case was saying, “Marshall is here and he said that she left for Minnesota yesterday afternoon. She was going to drive straight there. She never called to tell you she was coming?”

  “No,” Mom was crying hard and then I heard Blythe; he’d obviously taken the phone from her.

  “Case, it’s Bly. I’m calling the state patrol,” my stepdad said. “Then I will call you right back.”

  “Okay, we’ll do the same here,” Case said, and he hung up. Before he could stop me, I stormed back outside to confront Marshall.

  “What did you say to her?” I screamed at him for the second time.

  Marshall was on his knees, hunched over his stomach and dry-heaving now, his dark hair falling into his face and his bare hands sunk into the snow to his wrists as he braced himself. He must have been freezing. He said brokenly, “I told her…to just go. I told her to leave…I was so mad…so goddamn jealous…oh Jesus…”

  “This is your fault!” I shrieked, grabbing his shoulders, wanting to hit him, even knowing that it was utterly unfair for me to pin absolute blame this way.

  “I know,” he rasped painfully. “I know. I didn’t mean it…I was just so angry…oh God, Ruthann…”