Silas: A Supernatural Thriller (44 page)

Without another word we walked into the hotel and took the elevator up to the third floor. We entered her room and turned on the lights, still without a sound between us, and I took off my shirt. Wendy winced when she saw the bandages wrapped around my chest.

“It’s not so bad,” I said with a smile. “The cuts in my neck hurt more.”

She approached me. I tilted my head so she could see the deep, crusted-over wounds Nick had given me with his wolf’s teeth. She traced the gash with the tip of her finger. Her lips puckered and she leaned in, kissing first the tiny remnant of a wound on my cheek, then the newer, much larger collection of slashes on my chest. It stung, but my breathing picked up and I pulled her into me. My lips found hers and we kissed, long, deep, and passionately. It’d been so long since I’d felt so close, so
connected
, to her. I savored the taste of her lips, the poke of her tongue, the smell of her skin. The lingering ache of my body melted away.

The kiss went on and on. I don’t remember her ever relishing in the touch of my mouth so much. A strange sensation came over me. It was like I’d gone away and come back as a different person, a person she couldn’t get enough of, and that’s when I realized it was true. I
was
changed, I
was
different. I couldn’t help but think that I, and our relationship, would be better off for it.

Thank you, Paul, as strange as it’s been
, I thought, and guided her to the bed.

We made love, moving with each other, in tune with our bodies and passions. Wendy was gentle with me, delicate in her touch. I focused my attention not on my own pleasure, but the bliss I could bring her to. It was a tender sort of lovemaking, the type of which I’m not sure we’d ever felt before. As her breathing quickened along with my own, we rolled over and she shimmied her hips while at the same time placing soft kisses on my cheeks. I tasted saltiness the next time our lips met, and I realized she was crying. In the past this would’ve scared me, but this time I simply draped my arms around her back, pulled her chest to mine, ignored the pain, and allowed her the moment. There was nothing else I wanted, nothing else I needed. Everything I desired was right there in front of me, and I knew it.

Afterwards we lay in bed for a while, draped all over each other. She inspected the gashes in my chest and did the same to them as she did with the ones on my neck, kissing them over and over until it felt my whole body had been covered by the sweetness of her pursed lips. I reciprocated by gently rubbing her shoulders, working close to the spine just as she liked. It was a necessary release, this savoring of each other’s forms. It had been years since we’d been so intrinsically
caring
, be it in lovemaking or everyday life.

When it came time to talk, we went on for hours. She asked me about the ordeal I’d just been through, and I relayed to her the made-up story, though not without a twinge of guilt. Soon after, the conversation moved to our life together. We discussed the troubles we’d experienced and how they didn’t matter any longer now that I was back. I asked her about the divorce papers, and she said she’d torn them up after the second day of my disappearance.

“It didn’t seem right to have them around,” she said, her lip quivering. “I was so scared. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss you if you were gone…until you actually
were.
”

“I know,” I said. “I felt it, too. I was so scared, Wendy. I’ll never be the man I was again. And that’s a promise.”

She put her finger over my lips. “Don’t promise that,” she whispered. “It’s unrealistic. Just promise you’ll try.”

I nodded. “I will. Completely. Scout’s honor.”

“I accept,” she said with a smile. “Always and forever, right?”

“Always and forever.”

By the time we turned off the light and curled up together, still naked, it was almost four in the morning. I tucked the covers beneath me while the air conditioner rattled away, telling myself I would appreciate everything from now on – my wife, my life, sleeping in an actual bed, the wonder of artificially cooled air. With that came thoughts of Silas, my boy,
our
boy. I sniffled and felt a tear roll down my cheek once more.

“What’s wrong?” asked Wendy.

“I just miss Silas,” I replied. “I’ll die if he’s not okay.” I turned to her. “I love him so much.”

“I know you do,” she said, “and don’t you worry, he’ll be fine. Now shut up and hold me.”

I did. It felt wonderful. When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed of running through a field with my wife, my dog, and a platoon of small children. And that was wonderful, too.

68

The next day we went to the veterinarian’s office. The vet told us that despite everything, Silas had come out pretty lucky. His body was starved for fluids and he’d lost a lot of blood, but they’d been able to stitch his wounds and he seemed to be doing much better. He’d fractured one of his rear legs, but it was now stable. Just hearing this put me in a state of shock. He’d been so strong, so driven to guide us away from danger, and he’d done it on a
broken leg.
It was amazing. We also found out his left eye was gone, of course. The doctor said he’d sealed it shut and asked if we wanted to insert a prosthetic. Wendy and I talked about it a moment and finally declined. He’d been through enough already, we thought. No need to put him under the knife yet again.

Two days later we picked him up. He wobbled out the front door with his right rear leg bandaged, a cone around his head, and a big, sloppy grin on his doggy face. Wendy and I knelt down and he broke away from the assistant who’d led him out. He ran toward us with a hobble, the lease flailing about behind him. We both laughed, until he jumped up and planted his front paws into Wendy’s chest. She fell over, still laughing as he licked her face.

“It’s okay, Silas,” she said when she finally got away from his huge tongue. “I missed you too.”

He then turned in my direction, only there was no frantic greeting this time. Instead he leaned his head into me, allowing me to stroke his fur and kiss his nose. He acted coy, as if there was a secret between us that no one else would ever know – which of course was true.

We loaded him in the car, and immediately he was back in Old Silas mode, pacing around the back seat and slobbering all over the windows. The cone made it a little difficult for him to get around – he constantly whacked it against the back of my seat and growled at the frustration this newfound lack of freedom caused. I put the car in reverse and backed away, watching him as he performed these same rituals over, and over, and over again. Once more I thought of him as he’d been as a boy. Would he have done the same thing here? Would his human side have flourished? Would he have stared out that window with his chin propped on his hand, watching as the world sped by? I shuddered, knowing that I’d never find out…at least not this way. I grinned, reached over, and patted Wendy on the stomach.

“What’s that for?” she asked.

“Just thinking that we didn’t use protection last night,” I replied. “What do you think the chances are that you’re…you know…”

She looked at me from below her brow as if I was an alien. “Are you saying…” she started.

I nodded.

Wendy chuckled and slapped the dashboard. She then stared out her window. I saw her reflection in the side mirror. She looked so in awe, so beyond relieved. She looked
happy.

Home, here we come
, I thought, and with one last reach-behind to give Silas a comforting tousle, I pulled onto the highway heading south.

69

Upon returning to Mercy Hills, I was greeted with a hero’s welcome. Our telephone rang off the hook as both national and local newspaper and television reporters barraged us with interview requests, wanting to be the first to land a feature on
The Savior of
Oak Street
.
We did our best to ignore their calls. Just as when I’d found the body of Bridget Cormier, I wanted no part of the attention. I was never one who believed in capitalizing on misfortune – which, though it ended well for all involved, this still was.

In the end I did choose to do one interview, with ABC news. I was told it would be a fifteen minute piece showing at the end of their nightly news magazine, but to my dismay I discovered they turned my single interview into a full two-hour special. Due to my reluctance to talk, they ended up filling much of the time with in-depth interviews with the families of the four girls.

Wendy and I watched the special, horrified at first. Our dismay slowly faded, however, when Amanda, Tina, Laura, and Molly appeared on the screen, flanked by their parents. The girls seemed amazingly well-adjusted, being back in their normal lives after such a harrowing experience. And when Amanda’s mother, whose daughter had been missing for almost two years, broke down in front of the camera while blabbering her thanks to me, I cried. I had no right to suppress this experience from them. It was part of their healing process, and I was a major component in all these families getting their daughters back alive. I would just have to come to grips with that.

There
was
a particular element to this newfound fame that made me smile. Two weeks after returning home, I heard Ricky Davenport’s voice on my answering machine. It turned out he’d told Roger Crane he had an “in” with me, and was seeking exclusive rights to adapt a screenplay based on my story. I called him up the next day and basically told him he could go screw himself. He wasn’t too happy when I said that and he pleaded with me incessantly, saying that he’d promised Roger that it was a done deal and he’d be screwed if I said no.

Oh well, I said.
Them’s
the breaks. And I hung up. Was it petty of me? Probably. But hey, at least it gave me reason to smile.

As for Will and Kaiser, I never saw the two of them again, though I did make a few calls that always remained unreturned. I imagined them living with some loving family in northern
Vermont
, going to school, making friends, and maybe even learning to ski. It was a tough image to capture, what with Will’s sternness and Kaiser’s precocious tendencies. In truth they were an odd pair, though I assumed they’d end up quite the ladies men when they got older, not to mention good fathers. That thought more than any filled me with appreciation. They’d been changed by the whole experience too, just like me.

My relationship with Joe and Jacqueline changed, as well. We weren’t necessarily close before, but we were even more distant once I came back. Joe thanked me of course, and seemed much more than sincere in doing so, but there was something reticent about his body language and his expression whenever we spoke. Wendy assumed that it was tough for him, that now he felt indebted to me in a way he could never repay. I understood that and tried not to force the issue. If I saw him outside I’d wave, if Silas broke free from his leash and ran over I tried to be abrupt yet pleasant when I went to retrieve him, but there were no deep talks, no hours standing there musing about the more profound aspects of life. It was simply pleasantries and courtesy. I guess, in some instances, life is easier to accept that way.

Silas recovered nicely from his injuries and was soon a rambunctious puppy again – though now we had to be careful about sneaking up on his left side. On more than one occasion I startled him and caught a head in the groin for it. It took a little getting used to, but smashed
nutsacks
make for quick learners.

We resumed our walks, too, though we found a farm on the other side of town to frequent. The Mancuso farm, despite its close proximity and beautiful scenery, just reminded me too much of the terrors we’d both experienced. I figured it would be better to find someplace new, even if it was a bit inconvenient to get to. Silas didn’t care. He was out in the world again, he was a puppy, and he was free. He simply pranced along, playing stick or Frisbee or whatever other game I decided to play with him. Wendy even started joining us on weekends. We became a happy family, something we’d never been before.

I started working at
The Spinning Wheel
again, though in a diminished capacity. Wendy didn’t want me overextending myself. She said my path in life wasn’t to serve as her errand boy. I appreciated the sentiment, even though I did sit her down one evening and explain that me helping advance her career was in fact what someone who loves another is
supposed
to do. It was something I finally understood, though I had to almost die to figure it out.