Abby's Promise

by Rebekah Dodson

  So here I stood on the porch of my mother’s house, a week after the incident with Malachai. He’d live, Knowles had assured me, but he’d go away for a long time. Our nightmare of the last two weeks was over—and no charges had been filed against Joey, or me, for that matter.

  But was the nightmare really over? Or had it left us with perhaps disastrous consequences all the same?

  My mother’s blue car wasn’t in the drive this morning, as I hoped, and my father was at the bank, as he always was. I had dropped Zoey off at daycare early, and it was still two hours until my first class.

  Two hours to decide what I would do with the next few months.

  With Joey.

  “Abby?” My sister, Lettie, opened the door, frowning. “I’m late for school. What are you doing here this early?” She looked beyond me. “Is Zoey okay?”

  “She’s fine. I dropped her off early. I’m sorry you’re late, but I really need one thing.”

  “First period starts in twenty minutes, I’ll be fine.” She ushered me in. “How are you doing with everything?”

  I shrugged. “I’m dealing. Joey, too. Zoey’s, well, she’s almost two. I hope she never even remembers this.”

  Without missing a beat, my sister pulled me into her arms. “I’m sorry Dad hit Joey. He’s a nice guy. He seems to love you a lot.”

  She really had no idea. “I have a huge favor to ask, Lettie,” I said against her shoulder.

  She pulled me back at arm’s length. “What’s that?”

  “Do you still have…” I leaned in and whispered what I needed. I was scared to say it out loud. Again.

  Her mouth gaped open. “Why would I have those?”

  I shook my head. “Don’t be coy, sister. Mom told me about that scare with your last boyfriend.”

  She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “I think I have a couple stashed away. You really need one?”

  I nodded but couldn’t keep from biting my lip. My stomach churned again, as it did often lately. I had prayed it was residual stress from Zoey’s kidnapping, but now that that was over, I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t tell my sister that, however.

  She motioned me to the back bathroom between her room and the guest room, my old room from years ago, where she opened the bottom cabinet and retrieved an old white plastic wipes container.

  “Did you…wait, were those Zoey’s?” I asked as Lettie flipped it open.

  She chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a great idea, right?” She rummaged through a few blue and green wrapped tampons and pushed aside a pile of pads before pulling out a purple box.

  I took it from her. “Is that how you hid them from Dad?”

  “He’d kill me,” she nodded.

  “He’d kill both of us.”

  “Almost did with Zoey.” Lettie added, “You know at one point he had to do the math. You’re lucky you got married when you did.”

  Not that lucky, I wanted to say, but I held my tongue.

  “If you’re going to do it, hurry up. Mom’s at her knitting circle and she’ll be home soon.”

  “I have class anyway,” I said, and she shut the door behind her.

  Ten minutes later, Lettie’s soft knock at the door sounded. “Abby? Are you okay? I have to get to class.”

  I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure I could.

  She pushed the door open a few inches. “Sis?” She glanced at the white stick on the counter. “Shit.”

  I looked up at her from my seat on the toilet. “Tell me it’s a good thing.”

  “Oh, Abby.”

  “Abby, are you ready?” Joey called down the hallway. I could hear Zoey babbling from the other room. It was amazing how we’d settled back into our same patterns after a few days apart. In fact, the last week had been one of the best of my life. I had new problems to face, but I didn’t have to do them alone. Every day with Evan had been like living in a graveyard. Hiding from his episodes, his wrath, his unstable mood changes. Joey was a breath of fresh air: stable, sweet, loving. For that, I was grateful.

  Despite everything in my world being turned upside down.

  My hair refused to cooperate today, frizzed with the spring rain we’d had lately. I managed a messy bun but couldn’t get the last tendrils to stay back no matter how much hair spray I applied. Good enough, I finally decided.

  When I emerged from the bathroom, Joey was standing in the hallway with Zoey on his hip. “Doesn’t mommy look beautiful?” he whispered to her.

  “Mommy boo-ful!” Zoey squealed.

  Joey eyed my plain gray dress over black rose etched leggings, complete with knee-high boots. “Modest, but still hot,” he mumbled. I rolled my eyes at him.

  “Why is my daughter dressed like a country bumpkin?” I tried to glare at him, but only ended up smiling. He’d even combed her sparse golden curls down, not an easy feat.

  Joey had dressed Zoey while I was getting ready, and he’d pulled a pink gingham dress from somewhere deep in her closet, complete with white patent leather shoes she’d only worn once before to an Easter service last year. It was a miracle they still fit.

  “She’s adorable,” Joey said, looking down at Zoey and kissing her head. “Aren’t you, sweetie?”

  “Mommy!” She held out her hands to me and I took her.

  “Alright, let’s go,” I said. We took my car since his truck wouldn’t fit the car seat comfortably. “Tell me this is a good idea?” I said for the tenth time today.

  “It’s fine. My mother hasn’t seen you in years. My father will be fine. I hope.”

  I groaned. “He’ll hate me.”

  “He has to like you, for me,” he said, but even I could hear the uncertainty in his voice as I pulled out of the driveway.

  Fifteen minutes later, we pulled into the huge driveway of the two-story house where his parents had lived as long as I’d know them.

  “I could describe the layout of this house, even now,” I mumbled as I killed the engine. I pointed to the small windows on the far left, marking the basement. “That was yours and Randy’s room, Mike and Kelly had the ones upstairs. Your parents were across from their room.”

  “When Kelly moved out—” Joey started.

  “Mike took his room, but only for a year,” I finished. “What does it look like now?”

  “Downstairs is my mother’s crafting room now,” he said, “but mostly it’s just boxes of yarn and fabric she’s never touched.”

  “My mother has that room at her house, too.” I smiled. “Please tell me you and Randy got rid of those bunkbeds.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, just a twin-size bed now. It’s nothing compared to yours.” he winked at me, and I blushed. Well, he wasn’t wrong.

  “Are you ready for this?” he asked me as Zoey babbled away to herself in the backseat.

  “It’s now or never,” I sighed and stepped out. I fetched Zoey from the back and we headed to the front door. “Do we knock?” I whispered.

  “Nah,” he said and walked right in. “Mom! We’re here!”

  “Brah! You made it!”

  I stepped out of the way as a tall young man barreled down the stairs that led to the main floor. He grabbed Joey around his waist and swung him around.

  “Randy?” I breathed. “Baby Randy?”

  Joey pushed him away, laughing. “He grew up, huh, Abby?”

  I whistled. “I haven’t seen you since what, seventh grade?”

  “Yup, middle school,” Randy added. “There’s six years between Joe and I, remember? And how ya been, Abby?” He winked.

  I tried not to frown as I threw Joey a look. He shrugged. “Just, ya know, teaching.” I offered lamely. Why was Randy smiling at me like that?

  “I heard! At the community college, right?”

  Joey glared at him.

  “Guess you guys see each other around campus,” Randy finished, rolling his eyes. He patted Joey on the back.

  “What are you doing here, Randy?” I asked, and Joey answered for him.

  “Randy’s a
student at the state college, up north.”

  “Prof cancelled class, and I missed Mom’s cooking,” Randy added. “The cafeteria food on campus is awful.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Joey quipped, and I sensed there was some bad blood there about their choice of, or rather lack of, colleges, at least on Joey’s side.

  “Come on, man, you gotta see what Mom’s cooking for dinner,” Randy added, oblivious to his brother’s discomfort.

  They wandered up the stairs and I followed them, hugging Zoey tighter to my hip. Why was Randy, the youngest brother, at a four-year, and Joey at a junior college? I’d never thought to ask him. I made a mental note for later. Zoey tugged on my hair, pulling more strands from my carefully crafted bun. She was busy looking around with wide eyes and promptly stuck her thumb in her mouth and sucked noisily.

  No sooner had I reached the first floor than Joey’s mom greeted me enthusiastically. She wore a faded flowered dress, buttoned up the front, like a throw-back from the 90s, and a red-checkered apron over the front. Her dark brown hair, so much like Joey’s, was grayed throughout, and her eyes held wrinkles I didn’t remember. Overall, she didn’t even look much older than I remembered.

  She wrung her hands on a white dishtowel. “Abigail!”

  “Hello, Mrs. Harrison,” I said. “How are you?”

  “Oh, please call me Jean. It’s been ages! I’ve seen you around, of course, but we haven’t formally.” She waved the dishtowel. “Oh, never mind. It’s nice to ‘meet’ you, though of course I wish we had sooner.”

  “This is Zoey,” I said, interrupting her gently through her nervous ramble.

  She blinked for a minute but quickly recovered. “Evan’s daughter?”

  “Yes.” I winced. “Can you say hi, Zoey?”

  Zoey just stared at her.

  Jean put her hand to her throat and for a minute I thought she’d say something else. Instead, she waved me through the living room and into the kitchen. The aroma of seared meat, bacon, and a green vegetable greeted me, and my normally upset stomach seemed to almost settle, finally. Even Zoey stopped her sucking for a minute. At the breakfast nook in the corner, Randy and Joey were arm wrestling.

  “Raising boys, it’s not for the faint of heart,” Jean muttered with a smile as she opened the oven. The aroma of fresh baked rolls filled the room. She looked over her shoulder. “Randy, would you set the table?”

  “Oh, I’ll get it!” I piped up. I wanted to make a good impression. I had to. “Joey, would you mind?” I motioned to my daughter.

  Joey plucked her from my arms and swirled her around. Zoey giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Do you wanna go out and jump on the trampoline in the back with Uncle Randy and me?” he asked her. She nodded shyly and the three of them headed out to the back porch.

  I looked from him to Jean. “It’s still out there?”

  Jean nodded, testing the rolls she’d just pulled from the oven. “Well, we took the mat down ages ago, but when Joey got out of the Marines, he needed something to do, and he rebuilt it. Mat and all. No one really uses it,” she trailed off with a shrug. “Mr. Harrison will be home soon, and I’ve got to get these ribs out of the oven if you don’t mind.”

  I cleared my throat and asked about plates and utensils. She pointed me to the dining room, which held a new buffet cabinet with cleanly stacked dishes. Out of sight, I pulled down plates for the five of us, then found a small bowl for Zoey. As the smells wafted from the nearby kitchen, I grew hungrier by the minute. Ribs, green beans, and rolls. My stomach craved the food it hadn’t been able to keep down for the better part of the week. I was starving.

  As soon as I had arranged the last set of utensils next to the plates on crisp, white napkins I found in a drawer, I heard the front door shut. Heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs, and a gruff voice greeted Jean. I couldn’t see anything from the dining room, but I hung back. Joey’s dad had always scared me a little—he was always very tough on Joey and his brothers, and one of the reasons Joey and I almost never hung out at his house in high school.

  “Gary, you’re late,” I heard Jean admonished him.

  Gary, I remembered Joey’s dad’s name. Or as he had liked to be called, Dr. Harrison. I was an adult now, not a kid, and I still didn’t know what to call people. Sheesh.

  I was about to step from my hiding place in the dining room when his voice interrupted me. “Is she here?”

  So vile and bitter. Nothing had changed. I also gulped, realizing he was talking about me.

  Jean knew I was in this other room but didn’t bother to lower her voice. “She’s nice, Gary, and her daughter is a real cutie. The spitting image of Evan.”

  “Evan,” Dr. Harrison spat the name. “Good soldier, gone too soon.”

  “Ahem,” I said, stepping into the kitchen. “Jean, should I fetch the boys?”

  Blushing—did she forget I was there, or what? —Jean nodded. “Yes, that would be wonderful.”

  “Dr. Harrison,” I nodded to him, as he stood there in a polo shirt and slacks, still gripping a briefcase. He didn’t even nod, just stared at me as I passed by him and ducked out the back door.

  Joey, Randy, and Zoey were getting off the trampoline. Joey sat her down on the porch and she ran up to me, sputtering and babbling in her baby talk. “Yes,” I answered her, “I know you love the trampoline!” She happily bounced up and down to demonstrate.

  “She’s so full of energy, how do you keep up with that?” Randy asked.

  I looked at Joey. “We manage.”

  He lit up at the use of ‘we’. Coming closer, he kissed me gently. “Is the food ready?”

  I swatted him away gently. “Stop that, not in front of your parents.”

  “They can’t see us,” he chuckled.

  Randy just laughed. “I’m ready for some grub. Come on!”

  Seated around the dinner table, I realized there was nowhere for Zoey. I kept telling myself I needed one of those travel high chairs, but I never thought about it when I was out running errands. None of my friends, most of whom were still single, invited us over, anyway, claiming their houses weren’t baby proof. I knew it was bullshit. My parents’ house was the only place I went these days, and they had a high chair my father had built a few years ago.

  Joey saved the day yet again by holding Zoey on his lap. I plucked a rib from the tray in the middle of the table and set about trimming some meat off it, then he busied her with a rib right away, which she gnawed on happily.

  Too late, I heard Dr. Harrison at the head of the table clear his throat. Jean was staring at me with a look of horror.

  “We always pray before a meal,” Randy whispered.

  I glared at Joey, who just shrugged.

  Damn it, we were already off to a bad start, if Dr. Harrison’s comments about me and Evan were any indication. I lowered my head and folded my hands in my lap. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I knew that. Please, continue.”

  Dr. Harrison’s booming voice echoed throughout the small room as he praised his God and asked for blessing on the food. Once he ended the prayer, he reached for the main course and began passing it around the table.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Joey leaned over and whispered, “It’s okay.”

  I frowned and felt tears prick my eyes. It’s not okay, they already hate me, I wanted to say, but I couldn’t.

  “So, Abby, what do you teach at the college?” Jean asked as the green beans went around the table.

  “Mostly U.S. History, some World History. This term, I’m also teaching Oregon Trail, which is exciting. I love that class—so much history in our area from the nineteenth century!”

  “Abby loves U.S. History,” Joey interrupted. “You should hear her prattle on in class about Abraham Lincoln. It’s her favorite historical figure.”

  “How do you know what she says in class?” Dr. Harrison interrupted, narrowing his eyes at Joey while calmly dotting his face with a napkin.

  Joey’s face turned red
and he pleaded silently with me to rescue him.

  “His business class is across the hall,” I added quickly. “And I talk loud. You should hear what the other professors have to say about how much I project.”

  “I thought you were in her class? Ow!” Randy winced as I heard Joey kick him under the table.

  Oh, oh no. This is going way, way worse now.

  Jean looked panicked but said nothing and just kept eating.

  “Joey,” Dr. Harrison said, his voice too calm, too even to be saying anything nice. “Are you Abby’s student?”

  “Yes, sir.” He wouldn’t even look at him.

  “And you’re basically living with this woman at this point? In sin?”

  “Now, hold on a second.” I threw my fork down and it bounced from the plate. “Joey’s twenty-six-years-old and he can do what he wants.”

  “Well, back in my day, children who failed out of the Marines, with no direction in their life and no college under their belt, who have to live with their parents, didn’t galivant around with whores.”

  I gasped, and across from me, Randy looked everywhere else but at anyone at the table.

  “Father!” Joey yelled, but with Zoey on his lap he couldn’t do much else.

  “Gary,” Jean interrupted. “Maybe that was too much.”

  Zoey threw her bone to the ground and her face scrunched up.

  Please don’t cry, not now, I silently pleaded, wishing my daughter had telepathy. She whimpered but didn’t cry. Not yet.

  “So, what are your intentions, then?” Dr. Harrison was still eating as if he wasn’t throwing around words like sinner and whore.

  And I was getting angrier by the minute.

  Joey looked at me. “Well, we haven’t really talked about it.”

  Jean finally found her words. “Joseph, now that this business with Evan’s brother is over, perhaps you should move back in here. For propriety’s sake.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, it’s the twenty-first century. Are we really going to act like adults don’t have sex on a regular basis?” I blurted. I felt Joey’s hand on my leg, cautioning me. I ignored it.