He looks surprised. “I don’t know her last name. I mean, yours is Nash, but she’s divorced. I’ve always called her Lindsey at my house, so I thought it was okay.”
“I don’t think she likes it.”
“Whatever.” He shrugs. “I’ll stop.” He’s staring out the window, so I can’t tell if he’s embarrassed, but I decide to move on. I’ve got bigger things to worry about.
* * *
We drive around town for a bit, stop at my house so I can grab a few things that I forgot to pack earlier, then decide to go to the Muddy Bean because they have free Wi-Fi and their food is good and lots of kids from our school hang out there. We’re sitting at a table, scrolling through our phones and sipping our coffee, when I feel someone standing behind me. I look up. Andrew.
I make a little noise and drop my phone onto the table. Before I can say anything or move, he pulls over a chair and sits down between us.
“What’s going on, Sophie?” His eyes are angry, his voice almost vibrating, as if he’s trying to hold everything inside. I want to run away, but I’m blocked by his body, the force of his energy. It makes me feel like a little kid who’s gotten caught doing something horrible.
“I don’t want to talk to you.” I shoot a look at Jared. His eyes are wide as he stares back at me.
“You said you would come over. I sat around waiting.”
“I never said I would come over. You just assumed I would.”
He flinches, then shakes his head. “Okay, maybe you’re right. But why are you ignoring my calls?”
“I told you I couldn’t see you anymore. You broke our deal.”
“So now we can’t even talk?”
“I know what you did,” I say. “I know you drugged Angus.”
He looks stunned, completely, absolutely stunned—and confused. He blinks for a couple of seconds, like he’s still trying to figure out what I said. “Who’s Angus?”
“I think you should get out of here,” Jared says. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.” My dad holds up a hand, stopping him from talking.
“Who the fuck is Angus?”
“Our dog! I told you about him.”
He makes an angry sort of laugh. “You think I drugged your damn dog?”
“It was you. He ate pills. The vet said it was Ambien. You tossed them over the fence in meat. He’s still in the clinic—he almost died.”
“Why would I do that, Sophie?” His voice is upset, almost pleading, but angry too. I want to stop talking to him, want to get up and leave, but I’m too far gone.
“Because you’re so mad at Mom for not falling for your stupid present.”
“Yeah, I can see how killing her dog would make her want to be with me again.”
“You’re sick and twisted,” I say, tears running down my eyes. “You aren’t better at all.”
He rocks backward, closes his eyes like he’s absorbing the blow, then shakes his head and leans closer across the table.
“I did not drug your dog. But if someone did, then you have big problems, little girl.”
“You’re my problem,” I say. “How did you even know I was here?” When he doesn’t answer, I say, “You were following me again.” He must have been sitting outside our house, waiting. I never should have stopped there.
“I’m your father. I’m worried about you.”
I stand up. “Just leave me alone!” Jared also stands up on the other side of the table.
Andrew grabs my forearm. “Listen to me, Sophie. Someone is screwing around with you and your mom. Maybe you should stay with me for a few days. I can protect you.”
I laugh. “You’ve never protected me.”
“I was there for the first seven years of your life and I made sure no one ever hurt you. I was the one who taught you to swim, to ride a bike, everything.”
“You hurt me,” I say, my voice breaking. I can feel people watching us, but I don’t care anymore. “Don’t you get it? You’re the one who hurt me—and now you’re stalking me!”
“Come on, Sophie,” Jared says. He’s standing behind me now. “Let’s go.”
I stare down at my dad’s hand on my arm, and he slowly lets go, drops it in his lap. He looks sad now. It doesn’t make me feel guilty anymore. Mom was right. It’s all an act.
“Stay away from me,” I say, then walk away with Jared. When we climb into his car, I see Andrew still watching from inside the coffee shop. I turn to Jared. “I want to go back to Greg’s. Drive fast. I don’t want him to see where we’re going.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
LINDSEY
I squirt soap into the sink until the suds rise, then dump our plates, salad bowls, and cutlery into the water and scrub at the melted cheese and tomato sauce. I can see out of the window into the dark of Greg’s side yard. I reach up and tug the blinds down. Greg is moving around behind me, putting away the leftover pizza. I’ve been to his house many times, but I’m uncomfortable tonight and not sure why. It could be because he keeps telling me to “make yourself at home,” or because of the look on Sophie’s face when Greg implied we might stay indefinitely. I glance over at him as he shoves the pizza box into the recycling.
“You okay?” he says, catching me watching.
“Yes, just thinking about Sophie.” I give him a smile. “Thanks for all this.”
“It’s my pleasure.” He stands straight. “So, what would you like to do now? Watch TV?” He’s uncomfortable too, I realize. Whenever we spend time together, it’s a “date,” or we go straight to bed. Neither of us knows how to just be around each other. We’ve never had weekends puttering at home or evenings spent doing our own thing under the same roof.
“Sure, TV sounds great.” It will come, in time, I tell myself. But I still have an itchy wanting-to-run feeling. I’m not ready for this. Not ready to play house with him.
Greg finds an action movie and I say it sounds good, but I don’t really care what we watch and would have agreed to anything. I’m distracted, wondering about Sophie and Jared. Maybe I should have told her to stay home, but I wanted to see her smile again.
Headlights pull in the driveway and cast streaks of light on the wall. I stand to look out the window and recognize Jared’s car.
“Sophie’s home,” I say. My relief is short-lived when I see the silhouette of their two heads coming together for a kiss. I move away from the window.
Downstairs I hear Sophie softly closing the front door, unzipping her coat, pulling off her boots, then light steps as she walks up the stairs. She leans against the entranceway of the living room, wraps a strand of her hair around her finger.
“What are you guys watching?”
“Iron Man,” I say. “Want to join us?”
“Thanks, but I’m tired.” She gives us a small wave and disappears down the hall.
I try to focus on the movie, but I can’t get into the plot. “I’m pretty tired too. Think maybe I’ll just go to bed.”
“Yeah? You want me to—”
“No, no, stay and enjoy your movie.” I get ready for bed, washing my face and applying cream, brushing my teeth. When I’m done, I hesitate for a moment about whether to place my toothbrush beside Greg’s in his holder. In the end, I tucked it into my overnight bag.
I walk down the hall to Sophie’s room, knock gently, but she doesn’t answer. I want to go in and talk to her but decide to give her some space.
When Greg comes to bed an hour later, I’m still awake, staring at the ceiling. I hear the rustle of clothes as he moves around the bedroom, the water running in the bathroom, his electric toothbrush. I should feel happy about these domestic noises, maybe even comforted, but I miss my bed at home, miss the weight of Angus on my feet. Greg slides into bed beside me and drapes his hand across my stomach. I slowly roll onto my side, away from him. His hand drifts over my hip, pulls me against his body while he kisses the back of my neck.
“Not when Sophie is in the house,” I whisper.
“She can’t hear
from her room.”
“That’s not the point.”
He lets his breath out in a sigh as he rolls onto his back. “It’s not about Sophie.”
I roll over too. “What do you mean?”
He props himself up on his elbow and turns to face me. “This isn’t going to happen for us, is it?”
“It just feels strange with Sophie in the house. I’m sure after a few days—”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
I’m quiet, looking up at his face in the shadows. “I don’t know,” I finally say.
“Yes, you do,” he says. “I can tell when a woman is crazy about me and when she isn’t.”
“I like you a lot, but—”
“It’s okay, Lindsey. I’ve been around the block a few times. You don’t have to give me the speech.” He doesn’t sound angry, more resigned.
“Do you really want this either?” I say. “Are you ready to be a stepfather to a teen girl? She’ll always be part of our lives. She’ll come home on weekends, vacations.”
“I like Sophie.”
“I know.”
“But I was also hoping we could start our own family in time.”
“I’m almost forty years old.”
“Lots of women have babies in their forties.”
“I have a daughter who’s turning eighteen in weeks. I just don’t think I can start back at the beginning again.” Why didn’t I tell him that when we first started dating? Probably because I knew it would be the end of things. “We should have had this conversation before. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t want to ask because then I’d have to hear it out loud. I guess maybe I was hoping in time…” So I wasn’t the only one who’d been avoiding reality.
We lapse into silence. I feel like I should say something, but any words of comfort or attempts to explain further would just be patronizing.
“I’ll call Jenny in the morning,” I say. “We can stay with her.”
“What about your brother?”
“It’s the first place Andrew might look. He doesn’t know where Jenny lives.”
“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?”
“Of course not. It’s your bed.” I pause. “Should I sleep on the couch?”
“Stay here,” he says. “We might as well be comfortable.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Me too.” He rolls closer. “We can still cuddle, right? Gets cold in here.…”
I laugh. “Sure.”
* * *
When I wake, Greg is already showered and sitting in the kitchen. He’s friendly over coffee, though maybe a little overly polite as he offers me cream and sugar twice and asks if I want anything to eat. I glance at my phone, check my e-mails. When I look up, he’s watching me.
“I’m waiting to hear back from Jenny,” I say.
“If you can’t get hold of her, I’m sure we can work something out for a few days.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate that.”
“Hey, just because it’s not Lindsey and Greg forever doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.” But his smile isn’t meeting his eyes and he keeps taking sips of his coffee, like his mouth is dry, or he’s trying to keep his hands busy. I’m definitely leaving his house, even if Sophie and I have to get a hotel. His cell rings and his face tenses when he sees the number. “I better take this.”
“Problem?”
He shakes his head. “Just work stuff.” But he answers his phone abruptly, then walks downstairs as though he doesn’t want me to hear the conversation.
Sophie’s still in her room and I decide to wake her while Greg is busy so I can tell her the change of plans in private. I knock on her door. “Sophie, honey, can I speak with you?”
“Yeah.”
She’s still in bed, her sketchpad braced against her legs as she works on a drawing.
“Everything okay? Why aren’t you getting ready for school?”
“I wanted to finish this.”
I look at her drawing, the dark strokes of leaves and gossamer butterfly wings taking flight into an upward spiral, reaching for something out of sight. I remember what she’d said weeks ago, about the butterfly effect, and the coffee burns in my stomach.
“So there’s been a change of plans,” I say. “We’re going to stay with Jenny for a few days. We’ll pick up Angus and take the ferry down to Vancouver after your last class.”
She stops drawing, looks at me. “Why are we leaving Greg’s already?”
“We talked last night and realized things aren’t going to work out between us.”
“You broke up? But why?”
“We’re just very different people. We should’ve figured that out sooner, but I guess we were both hoping … I’m sorry to drag you through this, honey.”
Now she looks annoyed. “Yeah. You’re making me leave again.”
I’m not sure if she means when she was a kid or when we left our house yesterday, but either way, she’s right. For years I never even brought a date home until Greg. After living all over the place when we were hiding from Andrew, I hadn’t wanted to put her through more upheaval. Now I can’t seem to stop shaking up her world. Each day is a new earthquake.
“I know,” I say. “I’m sorry. We’ll talk about it later, okay? I’ll help you pack.”
“I have school this week. I can’t go to Jenny’s.”
“It’s just until the police can talk to your father and hopefully arrest him. I’m sure your teachers will understand and we might be able to get your lessons e-mailed.”
“What if they can’t prove it was him? Will we have to stay in Vancouver?” She’s getting more upset, her face red and splotchy, her hand wrapping around a strand of hair.
“I don’t know. If your father finds us at Jenny’s, we’ll have to go somewhere else.”
She sets her drawing to the side, tosses her pen on top as though she’s giving up. “He came into the coffee shop last night when I was there with Jared. He sat down with us.”
My eyes widen before I can stop them. That’s why she went straight to her room. I’m upset she didn’t tell me, but I don’t want to scold her. Not now.
“What did he say?”
“He was angry because I’ve been ignoring him. He followed me there, Mom.” She looks really scared. “I don’t know how to make him leave me alone.”
“That is exactly why we have to get out of Dogwood.”
“What about Jared?”
“You can call, Skype. Maybe he can come visit on the weekend, but I don’t know, honey. Your dad could use him to follow us.”
“He kept insisting he wouldn’t hurt Angus—and he sounded so convincing. It was like he even believed himself.” She leans toward me. “I don’t want to ever see him again.”
“You won’t. I’ll make sure of it.” I stand up from the bed. “Why don’t you shower, and I’ll drive you to school. I’ll talk to your principal and we’ll work it all out.”
“Can I at least tell Delaney and Jared where we’re going?”
“Tell them we have to leave, but don’t mention Vancouver.”
“Do you think we’ll be back for my birthday?”
“I hope so, baby.”
“This is so surreal.”
“I know, but it’s going to be okay. I promise.”
I pour myself another cup of coffee and listen to the water running in the shower. I wonder what my daughter is thinking. I can’t imagine what this must be like for her—scared of her father, unsure of her future. I promised her everything was going to be okay, but I don’t know how I’m going to deliver on that promise. I just have to get her away from here.
* * *
Greg has been outside for a long time. I check the bedroom, but he’s not there. I walk down the stairs, noticing a cold draft. The front door is open. “Greg?” I almost trip over him sitting on the front steps. He’s holding his hand to the side of his head, his fingers red with blood.
“Greg! What happ
ened? Are you okay?”
He looks up at me, wincing. “I was shoveling the top of the driveway, bending over, you know? And I heard a vehicle coming up fast. I tried to move out of the way, but it hit me, in the shoulder—must have been the side mirror.” He takes his hand away, looks at the blood. “I smacked my head on a rock when I fell.”
“Come inside and let me look.” I help him to his feet and we slowly walk upstairs, where I sit him at the table, grab some ice from the freezer, and wrap it in a towel. He flinches as I gently press it to the wound. “I think you’re going to need stitches,” I say. “Did you see the car?”
“Sounded like a truck. By the time I looked up it was already around the corner.”
Sophie comes into the kitchen, dressed in school clothes and with her hair wet. She stops abruptly when she sees us. “What’s going on?”
“A truck hit Greg when he was shoveling the driveway, but it took off.”
“Do you think it was Andrew?” she says, and I nod.
“It could have been an accident,” Greg says. “It’s hard to see through the trees at the end of the property. I should have been wearing my reflective vest.”
I give him a look. “You have to talk to the police—and we’re taking you to the hospital.”
“I just need some Tylenol.” He stands up and walks toward the bathroom, but he looks unsteady, his face pale. I follow after him, Sophie close behind.
“You definitely need stitches,” I say. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
He’s looking in the mirror, gingerly touching the wound. “I can take my truck.”
“That’s crazy. You can’t drive right now.”
“You should let her drive you,” Sophie says. “At least that way blood will get all over our car, not your truck.”
“She has a point,” Greg says. He’s smiling, but he’s not meeting my eyes, and I wonder if it has something to do with our talk last night. I can’t do anything about that, but I’m getting Sophie out of this house and far away from Dogwood before Andrew can make his next move.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
LINDSEY
On the way to the emergency room, I call Corporal Parker, who comes to the hospital right away. She speaks with Greg while Sophie and I go for coffee in the cafeteria, then comes down and meets us. I wait while she stirs sugar into her coffee. She licks the spoon with a little smile of satisfaction before setting it to the side. She catches my surprised expression.