He Loves Me Not: Lily’s Story, Book 1 (24 page)

I
tried
to enjoy the short drive to Rob’s shop—I hadn’t been out on my own in quite a while. I took in the sight of all the people I saw, living their normal lives. I wanted to be one of them, not some cowed woman who was afraid of her husband, willing to do whatever he asked.

Do I have the courage to leave Trevor for good?

A wave of nausea reminded me that I had more than myself to think about now. Swallowing the sick feeling, I turned into the parking lot of
Rob’s Auto Body
and pulled into a parking space. Gathering my courage, I climbed out of my car and strode toward the door, and as I entered the tiny lobby, I glanced around, looking for someone to show me to Trevor’s locker.

“Can I help you?” an older man asked as he entered through a side door. He wore dirty coveralls and had a two-day growth of beard.

Suddenly nervous, I stammered out my answer. “I’m . . . uh . . . Trevor Caldwell’s wife.”

“He’s not here.”

“I know.” My heart raced. “He sent me to get something out of his locker.”

“What’s your name?”

“Lily. Lily Caldwell.

“If you’re his wife, how come I never heard of you?”

“I don’t know. I guess he just never mentioned me.”

What if he doesn’t let me go to Trevor’s locker? Then what?

“I think you’d better come back when Rob’s here,” he said before turning away.

“When will that be?”

He spun around and scowled. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen him in a couple of days.” Then he went back through the side door.

Where’s Rob? Could he be with Trevor? Is that why Trevor asked
me
to open his safe and get whatever’s inside? Because Rob can’t?

I walked to the door where the man had gone, then pulled it open and peered inside. The man was the only person around. I slipped through the door and stepped into the large shop, then started walking toward the man, who was now bent over a car.

“Excuse me,” I began.

“What the . . ?” He straightened and looked at me, then started flailing his arms around. “You’re not supposed to be in here. I told you you’ll have to come back later.”

Through another door at the other end of the room I saw a bank of lockers and knew I was too close to finishing my errand to allow failure. Drawing on all the courage I could muster, I said, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m going to have to insist that you let me into Trevor’s locker.”

He scowled again. “Look here, missy. No one tells me what to do. I’m in charge here today and I’m not going to allow a stranger off the street to be snooping around the employee lockers.” He stood up straighter. “How do I know you’re not one of them undercover cops?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Why? Do you have something to hide?”

His scowl was replaced by a look of complete innocence. “Absolutely not.” He stared at me for a moment. “Do you have any proof that you’re Trevor’s wife? Some identification?”

My driver’s license still showed my maiden name, and I didn’t have anything else to link me to Trevor. “We just got married a few months ago. So no, I don’t have any proof.” I wondered if there was any way to call Trevor, but he had specifically said I was to wait to hear from him. Besides, I had no idea where he was.

“Then I’m going to have to ask you again to leave.”

The opportunity to make my escape seemed to be slipping away. Fueled by desperation, I felt a surge of boldness. “And what if I refuse?”

The man’s mouth fell open as if he wasn’t used to being so blatantly disobeyed. “Then I guess I’ll just have to call the police and have you arrested for trespassing.”

I decided to call his bluff. “Then that’s what you’re going to have to do, because Trevor sent me here and I’m not leaving until I’ve gotten what he sent me for.” At this, I rushed past him and toward the open door on the other side of the room.

“Hey,” the man yelled from right behind me. “Hold on.”

My heart jackhammered with fear, and just as I entered the room with the lockers, the man’s hand clamped onto my shoulder. I cringed, waiting for him to harm me—after all, no one was around, and I didn’t know what he was capable of.

What am I doing? I could get hurt or killed. This isn’t worth it.

I spun around to face him, forcing his hand to drop from my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to come in here uninvited.” My voice shook as tears filled my eyes. “I’ll leave now.”

The man sighed as his eyes softened. “I know how Trevor is. If he sent you here and you came away empty-handed, it will be all my fault.”

Fresh hope pulsed through me. “Are you saying you’ll let me into his locker?”

“Yeah. Why not?” He stepped toward the locker on the far end. “It’s this one.”

Suddenly giddy, I grinned. “Thank you.” I went to the locker, and as I pulled it open, the man stayed right next to me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him perusing the items in Trevor’s locker, including the safe bolted to the floor.

I can’t open the safe with this guy watching me.

I smiled at him. “I think I can take it from here.”

His scowl was back. “What if I want to see what old Trevor has in his locker?”

“How do you think Trevor would feel about that?”

The man looked thoughtful. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

I watched him walk away, and once he was out of sight, I squatted in front of the safe, pulled out the slip of paper on which I’d written the combination, and unlocked the door.

Glancing around to make sure the man wasn’t lurking nearby, I pulled open the door of the safe and saw the gym bag Trevor had mentioned. I lifted it out, curious what was inside, but after taking one last look at the empty safe, I closed the door and spun the lock, then stood and closed the locker.

As I walked back through the shop, I smiled briefly in the direction of the man, who stared after me.

Once I was safely in my car, my curiosity got the better of me, and I slowly unzipped the bag, half expecting a snake to jump out and bite me. When I saw what was inside, I gasped.

It looked like Trevor had put every last dollar he had in the bag. Warmth rushed through me as I realized this was the inheritance money he’d taken from me. It was mine and it would finance my freedom.

Now I had to decide if I would go back to the apartment to wait to hear from Trevor.

T
hough tempted
to flee with only the clothes on my back, I feared that Trevor was watching me to see what I would do.

I have to be extremely careful. This could just be an elaborate test—a test where failing could cost me my life.

A few minutes later I was back in my apartment, stuffing what I could into my suitcase, wanting to be ready to flee the moment that seemed right. After I’d packed the essentials, I looked in the closet for the box that held my school books. Gazing at the stack of partially read textbooks, despair washed over me.

What if Trevor catches me trying to sneak away? What will happen then?

Shaking my head with forced confidence, I unloaded the box and took it into the kitchen, then after carefully wrapping the few pieces of my mother’s china, I placed them in the small box and closed the lid.

I set the box near the front door, then set my suitcase and laptop beside the box. I took several deep breaths before opening the front door and walking to the mailbox. Trying to pretend I was just out to check my mail, I surreptitiously glanced around, on the lookout for Trevor, Bronson, or anyone else who might be spying on me. I didn’t see anyone, so I grabbed the mail and hurried inside.

A moment later I had my keys in one hand, my suitcase in the other, and my laptop bag slung over my shoulder. With a feeling of urgency, I strode to my car, placed the two items in the trunk, then closed it, not wanting someone to see that I was preparing to leave. I went back for the small box of china and the gym bag and placed them in the trunk as well.

Just a few more minutes.

I rushed back into the apartment to get my purse, but just as I shut the door, the phone rang.

With my heart banging against my ribs, I looked at the phone, uncertain what to do. My palms dampened with sweat.

What if I don’t answer and he gets tipped off that I’m leaving? What if he’s watching right now and saw me loading my car?

Frantic to make the right decision, I was paralyzed. I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to focus, then I opened them and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?” I tried to control the shaking in my voice.

“Lily?” Trevor asked. “Did you get it?”

Unable to speak, I nodded.

“Lily! Answer me!”

Snapped out of my stupor, I swallowed my fear. “Yes. I got it.”

He exhaled audibly. “Did you open it?”

“No,” I said, almost too quickly.

“Good girl.” He paused. “Now, what I need you to do is bring the bag to the county jail.”

I drew a sharp breath.

He
is
in jail.

“What happened, Trevor? Why are you in jail?”

“That doesn’t matter now. What matters is that you come through for me, honey. Just like I came through for you when you were so sick. Remember that? Remember how I’ve cared for you all these weeks?”

More like kept me prisoner
. “Of course I remember.”

“You’ll do this for me, won’t you, honey?”

Freedom was so close I could feel it, and I tried to keep my voice steady. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay.”

I was about to hang up and race for the door when Trevor made a statement that changed all my plans.

“I know how you can get lost, so Bronson is going to come over and make sure you get here safely.”

“Right now?” I asked, glancing toward the door, despair once again crashing over me.

“Yeah. I called him a while ago. I’m surprised he’s not there already. Now, he doesn’t know about the gym bag, so keep it to yourself.”

“What does he know?”

“Just that he’s supposed to take you to the county jail to see me.”

Pounding on the door made me jump.

“I guess he made it,” Trevor said, obviously hearing the loud banging. “Let me talk to him.”

“Sure. Hang on.” I set the phone down and went to the door, cracking it open.

“Hi, sweetie.” Bronson leaned against the door frame, then pushed through the door. “You ready to go?”

“Trevor wants to talk to you.” I tried to keep a neutral expression on my face as I pointed to the phone on the kitchen counter.

He nodded and headed toward the phone.

The moment his back was turned, I walked to the open door, picked up my purse and hurried outside. As soon as I’d stepped onto the porch, I ran toward my car and yanked open the driver’s door, but just as I was about to slide behind the wheel, Bronson appeared at my side and held onto my arm.

“You weren’t going to leave without me, were you, sweetie?” he murmured in my ear.

Startled, I nearly screamed. “Of course not. I knew you were right behind me.”

“Good. We wouldn’t want to disappoint Trevor. He’s looking forward to your visit.”

Trying to force my breathing to return to normal, I started the car and glanced at Bronson, who watched me closely. Unnerved by the attention, I tried to distract him as I pulled away from the curb. “It’s too bad about Trevor getting arrested, don’t you think?”

He tilted his head. “I wouldn’t want to be him.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I just think he’s landed himself in a whole lot of trouble.” He turned toward the window and said almost to himself, “I tried to tell him crime doesn’t pay.”

Surprised by his comment, I wondered how much he knew about Trevor’s crimes. “I’ve found he pretty much does what he wants.”

Bronson looked at me with narrowed eyes. “What do you know about it?”

“I know he works late hours and that there have been a lot of cars stolen recently.”

He didn’t respond. After a moment he told me to turn right at the next light.

A moment later the county jail was in front of me and I still didn’t know how I was going to get away.

T
he moment
we pulled into the jail parking lot, Bronson became fidgety and nervous.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. “This place just gives me the creeps.”

“You’ve been here before then.” I steered into a parking stall and turned off the engine.

“You could say that.”

I pulled the key out of the ignition and placed it in my purse. “Were you an inmate here?”

Bronson shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. “Look. You go and see Trevor. I’ll wait in the car.”

I felt like I’d just been handed a gift. “If you’re sure.” I reached for the door handle, then stopped. I pulled a twenty dollar bill out of my wallet—money I’d taken from the gym bag earlier— and held it out to Bronson. “This might take a while. Why don’t you grab something to eat while I’m inside?”

He eyed the money and pressed his lips together. Suddenly snatching the money from me, he smiled. “Sure. Why not?”

“Just lock the car when you leave,” I said with a smile. “I might be in there a while,” I repeated for good measure.

I climbed out of the car, shut the door, and took a deep breath before walking to the entrance of the county jail. Controlling myself to not look at Bronson to make sure he was leaving, I walked steadily to the door and slipped inside. I waited thirty seconds, then walked toward the door and peeked outside.

Bronson was trotting away from my car and toward the street.

Taking several deep breaths to slow the pounding of my heart, I waited until Bronson was out of sight, then hurried out the doors and ran to my car. A moment later I sat behind the wheel. I jammed the key into the ignition and was relieved when the car started right up.

A moment later I pulled out of the parking lot, my gaze darting in every direction to make sure Bronson wasn’t around. I got on the freeway at the first opportunity and headed west on I-80, having no idea where I would go, but feeling better than I had in a long time.

T
he longer I drove
, the less afraid I felt, and the fear that had been a constant low hum, always on the verge of breaking into something more, was beginning to fade. Even as I put more distance between myself and Trevor, I couldn’t help but wonder when he would get out and come after me. I didn’t want to think about his reaction when he discovered I’d left him in jail and taken my money back.

Proud of myself for having the courage to leave, I also felt anxious—anxious about what the future held, anxious about having my baby, anxious about how I would support myself. But my overriding feeling was one of relief—relief in knowing I could move forward with my life. Though I would have to be cautious, I could at least choose what to do next.

It didn’t take long before I’d crossed into California. I continued driving and passed Sacramento. After a while I turned south onto Highway 99.

As the evening turned to night, I pulled off the freeway and checked into a hotel. It felt strange, though exhilarating, to know no one knew where I was. After a good night’s sleep I drove to a nearby drug store and bought a few supplies before coming back to my room.

I gazed at myself in the mirror, admiring my long black hair one last time. Sadness filled my eyes as I picked up the scissors and angled them toward the clump of hair I'd gathered in my left hand. My vision blurred and I had to set the scissors down to wipe my eyes.

I don’t know if I’m ready to do this.

I hadn’t cut my hair since before my mother had died.

Thinking of my mother led to thoughts of my father.

Dad, are you disappointed in me? I got married too soon and now I’m pregnant and on the run from Trevor. I’m afraid, Dad. Afraid he’ll find me, afraid I’ll fail.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I grabbed a handful of hair, then opened my eyes and picked up the scissors. Large hanks of shiny black hair fell to the floor as I wielded the scissors in controlled movements. When I was done I gathered the hair from the floor and threw it in the trash can.

“Not bad,” I said out loud as I fluffed my new short hairstyle. Fresh hope in my future replaced the sadness I’d been feeling. “Now for the finishing touch.”

I read the instructions on the box of hair dye before carefully going through each step. When I’d finished, I hardly recognized myself—my once long black hair was now auburn and a short pixy cut.

If I can’t recognize myself, maybe Trevor won’t recognize me either.

I checked out a short time later and pulled back onto the freeway. Overwhelming peace flooded me, telling me I was doing the right thing. As I continued driving south, my excitement grew as I pictured the possibilities for my new life.

I’ll find a home and make it a place of refuge, a place where I want to be. Not a prison, but a sanctuary for myself and my child.

The thought brought warmth and comfort.

After a while I stopped to fill my gas tank, and as I stood next to my car pumping the gas, I noticed a cell phone store across the street

I need a new one to replace the one Trevor took from me.

A short time later I’d bought a pay-as-you-go phone with no contract. I didn’t know what my future held and wasn’t at all ready to commit to anything for two years, even a phone contract.

Back in my car, I angled my rear view mirror so I could check my new hair style again, blinking as I looked at my reflection. Every time I saw myself it was like looking at a completely different person. Though saddened by the circumstances that had forced me to so drastically change my look, I wasn’t unpleased by the effect the new cut had on my face. The short style made my brown eyes more prominent on my heart-shaped face and accentuated the soft curve of my lips.

Moving the mirror back into position, I sighed before pulling away from the cell phone store and reentering Highway 99, heading south. With no idea where I wanted to go, I hoped that I would find a place where I would be safe and could make a life for myself and my baby.

Thinking of my baby, I rested my hand against my flat stomach and smiled. Difficult as it had been to leave my last home, I knew I was doing the right thing.

I drove through the San Joaquin valley until nausea made driving too uncomfortable. Seeing a motel not far off of the freeway, I took the exit and checked into a room.

I thought about the stops I’d made since leaving Reno and wondered if Trevor would be able to follow my trail.

Maybe I should change my name.

I plugged in my laptop, and using the motel’s Wi-Fi, began researching what was involved in legally changing my name. It didn’t take long to realize that was not a viable option. Not only would I have to provide the reason for wanting to change my name—which I had no desire to do—but as part of the process, I’d have to publish that information in one of the approved newspapers once a week for four weeks in a row.

No way was I going to do that.

As I thought about my options, I realized that even though legally changing my name was not feasible, I could still introduce myself as something other than Lily Jamison.

Kate. I’ll go by Kate Jamison. That was Mom’s nickname. Short for Katherine.

Feeling better, I checked my email, but there were no new messages.

I wonder if Trevor’s still in jail.

I put my laptop away and turned on the TV, watching a movie until hunger forced me to get up and find some food. I drove to a nearby fast food place and brought the meal back to my room, then watched TV until I was too tired to stay awake.

W
hen I woke
the next morning, I thought it would be interesting to drive around the small town where I’d spent the night. Not yet sure what my next move would be, I didn’t check out of the motel.

As I passed through different neighborhoods, I found myself on the outskirts of town, and with my poor sense of direction, I’d become turned around and wasn’t sure where I was.

Pulling over to take a look at the map I’d purchased when I’d stopped to fill up my car earlier—my cell phone plan didn’t include data, so I had no GPS—I glanced around, trying to figure out what street I was on. There were almond orchards all around me and I didn’t see any street signs.

Sighing heavily, I climbed out of my car and leaned against the hood, trying to calm myself before choosing a direction to turn. As I gazed into the distance, I noticed a gravel road leading to a small house and decided to drive to it.

Maybe someone there can tell me how to get back to the motel
.

I got back into my car and drove toward the gravel road, turning left up the unpaved drive to the house. No cars were around, and I wondered if anyone was home.

Hoping someone would be home, I turned off my engine, got out of the car, and approached the house. I immediately saw the For Rent sign in the front window. Taking a chance that someone still lived there, I followed the stone pavers to the front porch and knocked on the door. No one answered.

The curtain on the front window was open and I cupped my hand and pressed it to the glass as I peered inside. The place was vacant.

I stepped off the porch and stared at the house, taking in the blue shutters, the colorful pansies blooming in the flower garden, and the overall coziness of the house. Warmth rushed through me as I realized this was where I wanted to live.

I pictured myself living there with my baby, happy and safe, and as I imagined myself sitting on the porch, my baby in my arms, I knew I could make a life for myself and my child—a life filled with joy. I knew there would be challenges, but I believed the good in my life would overcome any bad I might face.

A contented smile curved my lips.

Yes. This is where I need to be.

L
ily’s story
continues in
Don’t Look Back
.
To purchase, click
HERE
. To read the first chapter of
Don’t Look Back
, turn the page.