October Snow (34 page)

“Dad? You mad at me?”

“What? No, son. Of course not.” He tried to lighten the moment. “Why? You do something wrong? Hmmm?” he reached over and poked his stomach.

Tyler giggled. “Nooooo, nuthin’.”

“Sure about that?”

“Yeah.” Something caught his eye, and he pointed ahead. “Ice cream!”

“Hey, great.” He pulled into the crowded lot. As they got out of the car, Dave was certain that he saw Jack in the line leading to the order window of the ice cream stand. His mouth went dry as he took several steps toward the man.

As he turned, and Dave could see his face, he realized that the guy was just someone who was out on a nice spring evening, getting cones for himself and his daughter.

So am I going to see his face everywhere I look
? He now knew the worst of what Jack had done to Samantha, and that was plenty bad enough; but the fact remained, he had no idea what had happened to Tyler, and he couldn’t stand it. He understood now why Sam had pretty much given up custody, but what led to that?

“Strawberry sundae, Ty-guy?”

“Yummm. Yeah.” Tyler was hanging on to the bottom of the stainless steel window ledge, knees up, swinging back and forth. “Lots and lots of whip cream, too.”

Dave smiled down at him. “Okay, stand up and order it, then.”

“Oh.” He stood very straight, understanding that this was something that grownups did.

“Hi, cutie,” the girl behind the counter said.

“Wow! You look like my mom!” She was petite, with very long, dark brown hair, and eyes almost the same pale blue color as Sam’s.

“I do?”

“Yeah.
She’s
really beautiful, too.”

The girl looked at Dave, her eyebrows arched in amusement. “If he got his charm from you, then his mom’s one lucky woman.” She looked back at Tyler. “Whatever you order, you get a jumbo.”

They got their sundaes, and took a seat at one of the wrought-iron tables on the terrace next to the building. Tyler ate with the proficiency of a well-seasoned ice cream fan, and Dave watched him, loving him, thinking about the ferocity of a father’s love for his child.

His stomach was turning over with his thoughts, and after a few bites, he pushed his cardboard bowl across to Tyler. “Want to finish mine? I’m still pretty full from dinner.”

“
Sure
. Thanks, Dad.” He scraped the last of his treat into his father’s dish, pushing his empty bowl to Dave.

He’s still such a little boy
.

“Tyler?”

“Yeah, Dad?” He had whipped cream on his cheek, and Dave wiped it off with a napkin.

“I just want to let you know…” He struggled for a moment, not sure if he should continue. But Tyler was waiting; more than that, he wasn’t about to let Jack Seever force his son to keep secrets, so he pressed on. “If you want to tell me anything about what it was like living with Jack, I do want to know.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed and went dark, and Dave thought he would close up: he had never wanted to discuss Jack before. He was caught off guard by the anger that spilled from his son.

“I
hate
him.” He gestured with his spoon, and then his hands started to shake. “He was always being mean to Mom. He yelled at her every
day
, Dad, and that was
every day
, over stupid,
mean
stuff.” Almost violently, he brushed the hair from his eyes. His expression was pure rage. “And she got mad back once, and he said all this stuff, I could hear him in my room, he said that he never wanted me around and that for some money he’d give me to you.”

“Money?”
For two cents
…Dave could hear him in his head, and he thought again about what Jo had said, about being their rock. He hid his clenched fists under the level of the table.

“
Yeah
. And I opened my door and I went right over to him, Dad. I told him to just go ahead, Mom and me will go live with
Dad
, and he told me to go away, but he used
really
bad words to me and Mom.” His eyes became distant, tearing up as he remembered. “And then Mom, after Jack left, she said I needed to come live with you.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “I told her no, because no one would take care of her then, and she acted like she wasn’t crying, but she
was
.”

As the tears began to stream down his face, he shook his head hard, biting his lip–his mother’s habit, when she was trying not to cry. He wiped his face with the bottom of his T-shirt. “You came and got me the next day.” He was breathing too fast, and Dave got up to sit beside him, rubbing his back. “You didn’t see her in the window upstairs as we drove away. She was crying, Dad.
Really
hard.”

Instinctively, Dave wrapped his arms around him, kissing the top of his curly hair and then resting his chin on top of his head. Imagining Samantha crying at the window was more than he could stand. “Is that the worst thing you remember?” He had to know.

Tyler nodded, sniffling. “I’ve been so worried about Mom.”

“Me too.” He held him for a while. “She’s safe now, Ty.” His phone beeped in his pocket. He pulled it out, then smiled as he showed it to Tyler. “See?”

It was a text from Sam.

Love my men

See you in a few days

Call when you get home

Attached to the message was a picture: the three of them, standing at the lake, Dave holding Tyler and laughing. Sam was looking up at him; Tyler was smiling, touching her cheek.

Dave tried to speak over the lump in his throat, but couldn’t, and they stared quietly at the picture.

Finally, Tyler broke the silence. “That looks like exactly what I asked God for, Dad.”

“Yeah,” Dave managed. “Me too.”

.

chapter 15

“A
NDLEMAN
! H
EY
, J
OHN
!”

He was in his room at his desk, frowning at the text that had just come in from Matt.

No haven’t been able to reach mom all week

When last time u heard from her

John’s roommate opened the door, leaning in. “Hey, we’re all heading out to the bar. You coming?”

“Yeah, I’ll meet you there.” He snapped his phone shut, then opened it again. “Chris?”

“What?”

He changed his mind. “Nah. Nothing. Wait,” he changed it again. “Actually, I’m gonna pass for tonight.”

“Okay. We’ll be at Nick’s if you decide to show up.”

“Yup.”

He got up to shut the bedroom door again as Chris slammed out of the house they shared, then replied to Matt:

We left her those messages last monday she never responded

After he sent it, he typed another:

I’m going to swing by her apt ttyl

He didn’t want to point it out, but it had been Matt–with Shelly and their dad helping him to “express his feelings,” which John thought was wholly inappropriate–who had left a couple of messages with their mother, containing accusations and suggestions on ways in which she could turn herself around. Some of them, John thought, were pretty damned insulting, even cruel. She had never, in all the years since he had left home, gone for more than a day or two without at least trying to reach him; and now, John was getting worried.

He showered quickly, and was just getting his shoes on when his phone rang. He rolled his eyes at the caller ID.

“Yeah, Shelly.”

“Hi, honey. How was work?”

“Fine. The usual. I don’t have much time–what’s up?” For some reason, he didn’t want to tell her where he was going.

“Yes, I know.” She sounded petulant, and John felt some annoyance: she was in the habit of calling him almost every day now, and he was getting claustrophobic. “Matthew told me you’re going to your mother’s apartment.”

“He did, huh?” He wondered why he felt a pang of guilt, instead of his usual contempt for his little brother. It certainly wasn’t Matt’s place to go running to their father and Shelly, yet John felt oddly protective of his brother at that moment.

“Do you really think that’s helpful, John? For you
or
for your mother?”

“Well, it seems that you don’t, Shelly.”

“You see, John,” she paused, and John was quite sure it was for effect, “oh, never mind. You’re an adult. You can make up your own mind.”

“Good…”

“But your mother…”

John sighed loudly.

“John, please–consider whether or not she
wants
you to be chasing her around. You had to grow up with her, with almost no one else around. She controls you way too much.”

It hit his ears wrong. What she was saying wasn’t true.

“You know how manipulative she is. You shouldn’t be rewarding her for that.”

“Shelly…”

“If she’s never held accountable, what incentive does she have to grow? And to change?”

“You done?” he snapped.

She fell silent for a moment. “I didn’t deserve that, John.” Her voice quivered. “Hold on. I think it best that your father talk to you. I’ll get him.”

He heard her calling for Keith, and he closed his phone. “You do that.”

He leaned on his hands in front of his dresser, looking away from his reflection in the mirror. After a moment, he grabbed his keys and bolted from the room.

Fifteen minutes later, John was knocking on his mother’s door.

The door across the hall opened, and an elderly woman poked her head out. “She’s gone, son,” the woman said, pleasantly enough. Then, “Don’t I know you?” She wagged her finger toward him. “You’re Johnny! Josie’s son! I’ve seen your picture a hundred times.”

“Yeah. Hi. What do you mean, she’s
gone
?” His voice sounded thin in his ears.

“Oh, heavens, I meant she and her friend Maxine left for the summer. They needed to get away.” She looked up and down the hallway, then stepped out of her apartment. John could hear a cat wailing someplace behind her. “I heard some psycho was stalking her,” she whispered, scanning the hall again.

“What?
Who
?”

She saw the stricken look on his face, and hurried to reassure him. “No, son, don’t you worry. I never met a stronger woman than your mother. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“You know where they went?”

“No, I sure don’t. I’m sorry. She never mentioned it to you?”

“No.”

“Well, all I know is, she and Maxine took off about two weeks ago. Quit their jobs and all, packed up, said goodbye, and left. Landlord says they paid up rent through the summer, though, so I’m sure they’ll be back. Okay?” She was concerned–he seemed very upset by the news.

John tried the doorknob once more, looking at the little sign that hung on the outside of her door.
Home Sweet Home
, it said, in faded red paint on a yellowing plaque. It was the same one she had placed on the front door of every new place that his father had moved them to. He touched it lightly, then turned back to the old woman. “Thanks,” he said.

“If I see her, I’ll tell her you were here. Okay?”

“Thanks again.”

He trudged down the hallway, squinting to make his way to the front door of the building. Half of the lights were always burned out. “I don’t care,” his mother had said. “At least it’s harder to see how shabby the carpeting is.”

He smiled, remembering how she made him laugh, thinking about how Matt had inherited her weird, irreverent sense of humor.

She had something of an overdeveloped sixth-sense, as well, which he had inherited from her: she often knew things she had no logical way of knowing. “It’s more a curse than a blessing sometimes,” she had often said. Time had proven her right about that. That was why he was looking for her now, instead of enjoying the day with his friends.

He realized, with some disbelief as he thought about it, that it was now the first time in his entire life that he didn’t know exactly where his mother was. He didn’t even have an idea where he should look; and the hell of it, he thought, was that it had been two weeks before he even knew
that
much.

For the first time in years, he felt pain, right in the middle of his gut. He missed her. And he was worried.

The sixth sense that he had gotten from her was on full alert, and he stepped out of the dilapidated old house knowing one thing for sure: it wasn’t so much that she had left, or that he hadn’t looked for her until now; it was his knowledge, deep inside, that something more, much more than a psycho-stalker was chasing his mother.