That One Night (That One Series Book 1) (22 page)

Today is the 20th of February and Archer’s birthday. My baby is going to turn one year old. It’s crazy, but what’s even crazier is that his daddy is celebrating with us. We’re really excited, going a little nuts with the party plans and preparations. But I guess all parents do when celebrating their baby’s first birthday. It’s special, and needs to be treated accordingly.

We’ve been busy all morning, decorating the living room, and basically cuddling Archer every few seconds, ruffling his hair and telling him that he’s a big boy. If he could talk, he’d probably tell all of us that we lost the few remaining marbles we had.

Neither Dave nor my parents managed to make it out here for his birthday, mainly because they are fighting about Dave dropping out of college. Yes, they finally found out, and not by Dave’s choice, so the reaction was less than favorable.

While I’m busy in the kitchen with some last-minute cooking, Ben is out getting some last bits for the party. Viv has gone over to pick up Marge and Vince, while Dean and Alex are getting what they call the coolest gift ever. So much about us not spoiling Archer. We all fail miserably at that resolution when it comes to his first birthday.

I’m licking icing off the spoon, looking at the cute cupcakes I’ve made, when there’s a knock at the door. I wonder if it could be Mrs. Walsh, but she usually comes in without knocking. I don’t think anything of it. Instead I blow a kiss to Archer who’s playing on the floor. Maybe Ben has his hands full and can’t open the door himself.

I swing the door open, a smile on my face. “Stop making such a ruckus.”

I stop short when I see a stranger standing in front of me. I’ve never met him in person, but recognize him from the pictures I’ve seen—Ben’s father. I’m surprised, and don’t say anything for a moment, wondering how he can be here. Then I remember that Ben told me, his father checked himself into the hospital because of his depression and suicidal thoughts, that he hasn’t been committed. He can leave anytime he wants. Him showing up still comes out of the blue. He hasn’t mentioned anything on the phone about visiting us, and it’s not the shortest trip from Tucson to Northampton.

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.