That One Night (That One Series Book 1)

by Josie Wright

  Remembering my manners, I ask him to come in, watching him take in our house when his eyes fall to Archer, who’s playing on the floor. For just an instant, it seems like something changes in his gaze, but when I look again, it’s gone, so I dismiss it. I’ve never met the man, so I have no clue what his normal kind of gaze would be.

  “Do you want something to drink?” I invite him to sit down at the table, when he follows me into the kitchen.

  “Yeah, water would be nice. Thank you.” He takes the glass and looks at me for a moment.

  “So, you’re the famous Frankie that has my son wrapped around her little finger?” He looks at me in a way that makes me uncomfortable. I can’t describe the look. I mean he’s joking and charming, but something about the look in his eyes is creeping me out. I try and shake off my thoughts, wondering if I’m just too biased when it comes to him, subconsciously siding with Judith and Ron.

  “Yeah, that would be me,” I say, smiling at him. “And you’re Ben’s father, I would guess?”

  He nods, seemingly somewhere else with his thoughts.

  “Please, call me Noah. My son speaks very highly of you. I thought it’s about time to meet his little family.”

  “He’s going to be delighted to see you. He doesn’t know you were coming?” I already know the answer; sure that Ben would have told me.

  “Nah, I thought I surprise him for my grandson’s birthday.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

  Before I can intersect, Archer waddles over to him, fascinated by the stranger. He’s an outgoing little rug rat, never scared of strangers, and not a little bit shy. I guess that’s a given with Ben and me as his parents.

  “And who might this young man be? Are you Archer?” Noah says before he lifts Archer up onto his lap. Archer is delighted to get some attention, a new person to fall under his spell. He starts examining Noah’s watch and glasses and I’m thrilled to see that Noah doesn’t seem to mind being drooled on.

  I start telling him about the birthday party and how everything is nearly prepared. I’ve taken off of work and so has Ben to celebrate his son’s birthday. I elaborate what a great father Ben is, putting Archer and his needs first no matter what. I just babble away, while assembling the lasagna before I put it in the oven. I gush about Ben like a lovesick teenager, telling his father how proud he is of Archer and how he’ll drop anything he’s doing if he’s needed.

  I’m turned with my back to Noah, therefore don’t notice anything at first, until out of nowhere he starts saying weird things that don’t make sense.

  “You know, the longer I listen to you the more I realize you’re all fallen into the trap and don’t even know it. Children ruin your life.”

  At this, I turn around, noticing the distant and detached look on his face. He’s still holding on to Archer and I want to make my way over to get him, not feeling comfortable with what he’s saying, but he continues.

  “They take away everything you worked hard for. You’re probably also more than keen on neglecting Ben, just because Archer needs you.” He spits the word “needs” and I see his grip on Archer tighten. I’m about to say something, to try and steer the conversation in another direction, not liking where this is going, when he says that he doesn’t want this for his son. His words don’t make much sense; he’s contradicting himself as he goes on, seemingly more and more confused.

  “Let me take him, Noah. I’ll put him down for his nap.” I stretch my arms out, walking toward them. Archer sees me and reaches for me, but Noah pulls him back harshly.

  “No, you won’t make it all about him. This has to stop.”

  Archer starts whining, no doubt from the tension emitting from Noah as well as the tight hold he has on him. Noah’s face contorts into an angry mask at Archer’s whining and he gives him a light shake. My heart stops beating in my chest. I want to run over and yank my baby out of this man’s arms, but I’m scared of his reaction. He seems to be a completely different person than Ben described.

  “Noah, he’s just tired. Let me put him in his crib, and then we can have some lunch and get to know each other.” I force my voice to remain quiet, despite the alarm bells going off inside my head.

  His voice stays calm, eerily calm, devoid of any emotions other than determination and conviction.

  “See, you can’t even hold a conversation without thinking about this kid. Better if he’s gone. Then you’ll realize what’s important.”

  I want to scream and cry. I want to break down. Most of all, I want to hold my son, making sure he’s safe. Fear is coursing through my blood stream, setting me on edge.

  When I make another move toward him, he turns his body so Archer is further away from me.

  “Aren’t you listening, Judith?” Oh God, he thinks I’m his wife and that he’s holding Ben. He’s completely lost it.

  I try to stay calm, trying to even out my breathing before I start to hyperventilate. Keeping an eye on the two, I again suggest to make him something to eat, hoping it’ll make him forget about Archer for a minute and let him go. Then heaven or hell won’t be able to hold me back.

  I hate letting them out of sight for even a second, but I don’t know how else to get help. I force myself to go to the fridge in order to pull out things for a sandwich. While I’m behind the open fridge door, I pull out my cell phone from the front pocket of my Detroit Tigers sweatshirt, sending of a text to Ben.

  “HELP. Come home now!”

  Then I dial 911, slipping the phone back into my sweater, praying to God that the dispatcher won’t hang up on me and will be able to hear what’s going on.

  Quickly assembling the sandwich with my trembling hands, I take it over to Noah. The phone in the living room starts to ring, but I ignore it, not wanting to leave Noah alone with Archer if I can help it. Not wanting Archer to be out of my reach.

  “Here…here’s a sandwich. Why don’t you put the baby down, so you can eat something?”

  He laughs, but it’s not a nice and happy laugh. It sounds menacing.

  “So you can take care of him, ignore me. Just like Judith did. Bitch didn’t care about me once he was born. I should have finished him off. But I won’t let him go through this too. Once the baby is gone, you’ll be his again.”

  At this point my hands are shaking and my knees nearly give out, forcing me to hold onto the kitchen counter for support. The fear for my son consumes me, making it hard to think logically. Fear paralyzes me as I struggle to come up with the next step. I try to pull myself together, knowing I have to stay calm, to think rationally and look for a chance to get Archer out of his arms. Somehow I have to get his attention away from Archer.

  I try a different approach, although it’s hard for me to speak, the words feel lodged in my throat.

  “How about we sit down on the couch, get comfortable? Ignore the kid for a while? Just you and me.”

  I grasp at straws, but I have no idea what to do. I don’t want to startle him, don’t want to give him any incentive to hurt Archer. It’s hard to reason with someone who seems to have long abandoned any logical, healthy thoughts.

  “You’re the same whore as my wife was. Bending things the way you want to, telling lies as soon as you open your mouth.” His voice is laced with venom and anger; his eyes have a wild look to them. “You’ll promise to spend time with me, but then as soon as he cries, you’ll go running.”

  I’m not sure how long I can remain calm and not fall to the ground crying and begging him. The only reason I’m not doing it, is because I don’t think he’d care. If anything, I think it would just confirm his insane beliefs.

  “No, I promise. Please don’t hurt the baby.” I’m praying to God that 911 is getting that, and that they are sending help.

  It’s then that Ben storms through the door, not bothering to close it behind him. He comes to a sudden halt when he notices his dad.

  “Dad, what are you doing here?”

  I can tell by the look he shoots in my direction that he
’s puzzled why I would be scared of his father. But then he notices the hold his father has on Archer. It’s threatening, no love or care evident, while Archer is still whining in his arms.

  “Ben, why don’t you sit down with your dad and I’ll bring some drinks.”

  I try to use the distraction Ben has created in our favor, hoping his father will relent.

  Instead, he gets louder, the hate and anger polluting the room, the air—making it even harder to breathe.

  “I was sitting here, telling Frankie how this kid will ruin your life, everything you worked for. He’ll take everything that’s yours.”

  Ben looks taken aback, before he moves towards his father, but stops when Noah’s hand goes around Archer’s neck.

  “You know how easy it is to break a baby’s neck. It’s like breaking a twig in two.”

  His voice sends chills down my spine, the way he says those words matter-of-factly, and with no sign of any human emotion. I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth, trying to keep myself from screaming. Horror is marring Ben’s handsome features, mixed with confusion and pain.

  “Dad, what are you talking about? Let’s sit down and have a beer. Why don’t you give me Archer, so Frankie can take care of him?” I can hear the amount of effort it takes him to keep his voice even. But Noah doesn’t even give it a moment of consideration.

  “So he can ruin you, make your life unbearable, make everything about him. No. I won’t let that happen. I should have stopped it with you.” His eyes look manic, he seems far away, but his hold on Archer’s neck is unwavering. “You were crying all the time. So she stopped sleeping next to me. Instead, she slept next to you, saying you were little, and need your mother. She always put you first. I hated you. I don’t want you to go through the same thing.”

  I’m holding onto the kitchen counter to keep me from collapsing, my knuckles white as I dig my nails into the wood.

  “You know, I tried it. It would have been just a few more seconds and you’d be gone. It was so easy. You didn’t even see it coming when I pressed the pillow to your face, smiling up at me.”

  I can’t believe the words I’m hearing, and I can see Ben struggles for air. He takes a step back, as if he’d just been delivered a physical blow. But he holds it together and I know the only thing keeping him from falling to pieces right now is Archer.

  “If your mother wouldn’t have come in, we’d still be happy. You’d be gone and I’d have my wife back. But she totally flipped out, running away, calling the cops. They put me in with the crazy. I’m not crazy. She was. We had everything, we were happy until you came along.”

  I try to inch closer while he talks, hoping I can do something, anything, to get my baby out of his arms. This man tried to kill his own son. I don’t even want to imagine what he’ll do to our baby.

  There is no reasoning with him, nothing we say can keep him spiraling further out of control.

  In that moment I see movement at the door, realizing it’s a police officer. He motions to me to be quiet, not to alert Ben’s dad to his presence. While his dad was talking, Ben managed to move a little closer to him, but is still too far away to do anything without risking Archer’s safety.

  “I’ll just kill him and then you can be happy again.” He moves his other hand onto Archer’s neck, now holding him with both hands as if to strangle him.

  “Oh God, please, let him go. Please,” I wail. I see Ben lunge towards his father when I hear a loud noise, like an explosion. Blood is suddenly everywhere, drops falling onto my clothes. I feel them hitting my face.

  It takes me a moment to take in the situation, the shock clouding my senses. Ben is sitting on the floor, cradling Archer in his arms, crying. His father is only inches away from him, blood pooling around him from the wound in his shoulder.

  I fall to my knees and crawl over to Ben, frantically patting down Archer’s small body, making sure he isn’t hurt. I look at Ben and I see a broken man in front of me. He seems unscathed too, at least physically. I clutch both of them, sobbing uncontrollably.

  My mind spins out of control as I consider what would have happened if Ben hadn’t lunged for Archer, if he didn’t put himself in harm’s way. He chose Archer over his father, even over himself. He saved our son’s life. My hold on him and Archer gets stronger. I need to convince myself they are both here, both uninjured. I don’t pay attention to the officer putting handcuffs on Noah, who is still breathing, though doesn’t appear conscious. I don’t care about anything or anyone else other than the two people in front of me—Archer and Ben.

  ***

  The next few hours are a blur. We are taken to the hospital where they check Archer over, from a CT scan, to x-rays, to other tests. I’m thankful they are so thorough. But it all feels like a bad movie, it doesn’t seem real. The doctors ask a lot of questions, making sure not to miss anything. They also want to watch him for a few hours to make sure that he really is okay.

  The police take our statements, having us recount the terror we experienced. I feel numb. I can’t allow myself to feel anything else or I’ll shatter. A nurse brings me and Ben some clean scrubs and it’s only then that I really notice how we look. My pants are smeared with blood from when I crawled over to Ben and Archer. Both of us are sprayed with little red droplets that look like an abstract painting on our clothes. While the doctors take Archer to the CT, where we aren’t allowed, Ben and I change and clean up a bit. It does nothing to make me feel better. I won’t until the doctors tell me that Archer is okay.

  Dean and Mrs. Walsh have joined us at the hospital, to be with us and to drive us home, while the rest stayed home with the police and the cleaners.

  As soon as we can, we are back in the room with the doctors and Archer. He looks tired, but seems excited about all the lights, people, and shiny equipment. Ben and I don’t talk. Not because we don’t want to, because we can’t. We’re holding onto each other’s hand though, not letting go. It keeps us grounded; helps us not fall apart.

  When the doctor finally tells us we can go home, and that Archer is fine, I have a hard time accepting it. I want to make sure. Thankfully, he’s a patient man, explaining to us that Archer will have some bruising on his neck from the hold, might experience a bit of an ache when swallowing, but it’ll pass in a day or two. Otherwise, he’s healthy and good to go home.

  Before we leave, there is one question that is burning my mind with its urgency, although I know that there is no clear answer. But I want some reassurance. I need it.

  “Doctor, will he remember it? Will he carry any psychological trauma?”

  Giving me a sympathetic look, the doctor shakes his head.

  “It’s nothing we can say for sure, but at his young age it’s very unlikely. It’s not continued abuse and neglect, but a one-time experience. I don’t think you have to worry.”

  With that, we’re allowed to leave and go home.

  Chapter 34

  Broken Into Pieces

  When we come back from the hospital around midnight, everything has been cleaned up. There is no sign of the horror that transpired in our kitchen mere hours ago.

  Everyone gives us hugs, letting us know they are here for us. They’ve prepared some food and tea, but I can’t think about eating. In a stupor, I thank them, heading upstairs with Archer in my arms. I lay down on the bed, with him next to me, not bothering to bathe, or shower, or even change out of the scrubs. I’m lying on the bed, watching Archer fall asleep; his breaths slowly evening out. They did all the tests possible and I’m trying to believe them and not worry, but every time Archer moves or breathes a bit differently, I feel fear rising up in my chest.

  A shadow falls over us, alerting me to someone standing in the door. I look up to see Ben hesitating to come in. He looks so lost. Like a ship on a stormy sea.

  I motion to the other side of Archer on the bed. “Come lie down with us.”

  His gaze flicks around the room, like he’s looking for something. “Do you even want me here?” />
  I’m thrown by his question, not realizing what he means, and in the state I’m currently in, I can’t even attempt to try and analyze it.

  “Of course. Please, I need you,” my voice breaks, tears rising to the surface. He walks over slowly, kicking off his shoes as he goes and pulling his shirt over his head. Then he gently lies next to Archer, facing me. His eyes are closed for a moment and his jaw is clenched. When he opens his eyes and looks straight at me, he looks pained and I don’t blame him. As painful and tragic as this experience was for me, it must be even worse for him. To find out the things he’s been confronted with today—I don’t think there is a way to repair the damage it does to someone’s heart. I reach out, touching his hand and bringing it up to my lips, I then kiss each knuckle gently.

  “I’m sorry, Frankie. So sorry.” Even in the dim light of my lamp, I can see the tears streaking down his face. It hurts me to see him like this. I didn’t think my heart could break any more than it did earlier today, but it does.

  “Ben, it’s not your fault. Do you understand me? It’s not your fault,” I say it with as much conviction as my fragile state allows.

  His eyes flick up to mine, but he doesn’t seem to believe me. There is doubt written all over his face.

  Archer stirs, trying to find a comfortable position it seems. Seeing this helpless beautiful boy, the baby I nearly lost today, I don’t understand how anyone could ever want to harm him. How anyone could ever hurt a child. Looking at him, I can’t stop the images from spilling into my head of what could have happened, how bad things could have gone. The feelings are so strong, so violent, I suddenly can’t breathe. I feel dizzy and light-headed, my hands growing clammy. Even in my haze, I can tell I’m in the midst of a panic attack, but there is nothing I can do about it. My heart beats frantically; I’m convinced everyone in the house can hear it. I try taking deep breathes, trying to calm myself, but I can’t. Just as Ben asks me if I’m okay, the bile rises in my throat and I stumble to the bathroom just in time to retch uncontrollably for what seems forever until my body has nothing left to give. I slump next to the toilet on the cold hard floor and sobs wreck my body. I shake like a leaf in the wind, wailing with the ache and terror I feel.