The Lion's Den (Faraway Book 2) (15 page)

“I didn’t miss Liv and James, did I?”

“No. Kindergarten just went by. You’re good.” Jenna had a coffee cup in her hand, and I wondered what was in it. She’d always had secrets. It was one of the reasons I loved her in the first place. It made me believe she could keep mine if I had any.

“Did you ever see me with a lot of cash?” I asked.

She stopped drinking and studied me. “What do you mean?”

“Did I ever seem to have a wad of cash on me or stashed someplace in my house?”

“No.” She shook her head, confused. “You did have a bunch in your purse when we took the kids to the waterpark last year.” The waterpark I couldn’t remember.

“Did I say what it was for?”

“I think you said you were saving for Brad’s Christmas present.”

That made sense. I’d hide the cash in a place Brad would never look. I’d bought him a suitcase for Christmas. It could have been expensive. I should have felt better. It should have put my mind at ease, but it didn’t. If I used the cash to buy the suitcase, what was in the tampon box? I couldn’t stop thinking about the dead feeling I had around Brad.

“Was I ever . . . afraid? Of Brad?”

Jenna searched my eyes for the answer I wanted to hear, but what I needed was the truth. I trusted her to give it to me. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because I can’t remember anything, and the things that are coming back are scaring me.” My voice cracked on my last words. I was cracking.

“About Brad? Did he hurt you?” Jenna was winding up. She was moving past our conversation to a sheer anger at Brad.

“No. Not that I know of. Did I ever seem afraid of him?” I tried to diffuse her, but I still needed answers.

“No. I would have done something. I told you, you were a lot of things last year, but I didn’t get the sense you were afraid.”

I sighed and let the relief flow through me. This was crazy. I wasn’t afraid of my husband. Brad would never hurt me.

“But you should ask your boss about it.”

“What?” I asked without thinking.

“After you fell, the chief came to my house, asking questions about you and Brad. Did I think he could hurt you? How was your marriage?”

“He did?”

“He seemed to think Brad hurt you.”

I knew the colonel had so many answers, but he wasn’t telling me anything. And for some reason that I couldn’t explain even to myself, I knew I shouldn’t ask him.

“And he seemed pretty pissed off about it,” she added. “So maybe he knew something.”

“I’ll ask him.”

Liv walked by, and I jumped in front of the crowd and snapped a picture of her. She was a pregnant bowler. I thought it was inappropriate, but I couldn’t find the words to convey why to her and she loved the idea. She wore saddle shoes, plaid pants, and a polo shirt with a pillow stuffed under the front of it. She carried a bowling ball made out of papier-mâché in her hand and smiled brightly with her seventies sunglasses on. She loved the eyeball necklace hanging from my neck.

James walked by and stopped his two friends so I could take a picture of all of them together. They were the see-no-evil, hear-no-evil, speak-no-evil monkeys. James was hear-no-evil, and I could tell his arms were getting tired. Liv had told him they would.

“Do you know where Vince is?” Lynn Pratt was standing next to me. I recognized her from the few parties we’d worked together at the school and from her wedding portrait in the colonel’s office.

“He was here. There was a problem. He said he was going to try to make it back in time.”

Lynn rolled her eyes. “Typical.”

“He was a block away. I know he wanted to be here.”

“I know.” She softened. “Are you headed back there?”

“Actually, I need a ride. I came with him and Thompson.” I searched the crowd for Jenna.

“I can drop you off. It’s right on my way,” Lynn offered, and my instincts told me to say no, but to do so would have been obvious of some discomfort in her presence that wasn’t even obvious to me . . . yet.

Lynn smiled, and we walked to her car, easily making conversation about Liv and Allison and their Halloween costumes. She seemed to have a much higher tolerance for Liv’s costume than some of the other mothers did. I loved her for it.

When we were locked inside her car, with our seatbelts on and the windows up, Lynn asked, “How does he seem?”

“The chief?” I asked, knowing exactly who she meant but not willing to talk about him to his wife.

“Do you know?”

I didn’t know what to say. The colonel would know, but I was alone and I didn’t want to hurt her any more than I wanted to hurt him. “Only because I stupidly asked him if you guys might be interested in buying my house. Brad and I are moving.”

“What did he say?”

“That you two had separated.”

“Did he say why?” she asked. She was pushing, and I could sense her desperation, but I couldn’t help her. She knew her husband better than I did.

“He didn’t. He didn’t say much at all, but we’re not that close.” I scrunched up my face, mirroring the awkwardness of this conversation.

“He’s always had a great deal of respect for you. I thought he might have.” Lynn was lost in her own words. They trailed off as if replaced by other thoughts before she could even speak them. She was talking to me, but her mind was a million miles away.

“I don’t think he’ll tell anyone something he hasn’t told you.” I peered out the windshield. The colonel was a gentlemen. He wouldn’t speak out of turn about his wife or his marriage.

“I know this is putting you in a bad spot.” I braced myself and cursed myself for accepting the ride. “But has he seen anyone or has anyone called him?” I turned to Lynn, who was intently watching the road, not facing me on purpose. “A woman,” she said, finally showing her hand.

“Not a soul. I swear.” It was at that moment I realized the colonel had left his wife, not the other way around. He’d left her with nothing but questions.

Lynn stopped her car at the back door of the station and made no move to get out.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said and collected my bag. “I hope things work out.” I didn’t offer to help. I didn’t tell her “anything you need,” because I couldn’t. Not only did I work with her husband but also I dreamed of him, too.

SOMETIMES I DREAMED OF BRAD
, but many of those were nightmares. He was yelling at me. He was chasing me. He was angry. The last one was the only one of the three that I saw while I was awake. I needed some perspective in order to sort everything out. The fragments my mind released, combined with the dreams and the things I found around my house, were driving me to the brink of insanity.

With no other ideas of how to reconcile everything going on in my head, I took my family to church. Since it wasn’t Scout Sunday, both of our children were signed into Sunday school, and Brad and I could relax during the service. We sat a few rows from the front. Brad put his arm around my shoulders. It was cold in the church, and I leaned toward him, seeking some heat.

The colonel and Lynn came in with their oldest son. They sat directly in front of us, their son between them. I smiled to Lynn when she turned around before she sat down. It was the kind of tiny gesture women gave each other when their kids were melting down in Target. It said, “I’m sorry,” without saying another word because we knew the other woman didn’t want to hear our shit, or anyone else’s.

The colonel rested his arm on the back of his son’s chair in front of me, and I studied the cuff of his shirt. The sight of him buttoning it and his bare chest from the day I’d walked in on him half dressed in his office played again in my mind and warmed me. His hand was large and tan, like the rest of him. His wedding ring was silver and still at home on the fourth finger of his left hand. He was married.

I was married.

The congregation stood and prayed together. When we finished The Lord’s Prayer, I added my own.

Dear God, Please let me stop dreaming about the colonel. Let me love my husband. Let me live the life I have and be happy.

When I opened my eyes, Brad was staring at me. More like inspecting me. He would ask me later what I was praying for. He would want to know what I found so important that I would talk to God about it, and I would lie.

The pastor talked about family, support, and character. He cited the Book of Daniel from the Old Testament and the lion’s den. The colonel squeezed his son’s shoulder and looked across at Lynn. The Pratts were exceptional. To the outsider, there was no contempt, no hatred. They were a united team with their child between them, solidifying one more support system for their torn family.

My brother, Pink Floyd, and a giant bag of weed had been my support system when my parents had split. We’d never gone to church. I’d never seen my parents smile at each other after my father had moved out. They barely could speak to each other to arrange a ride for the two of us. Their relationship had been toxic.

Brad shifted in his seat. He took back his arm and checked the time on his watch. He’d had enough of Daniel. I’d barely heard a word. How could I understand words and concepts with the sweet smell of mahogany so close? I lowered my head and inhaled slowly. There was a way to release myself from the hold the colonel had on me, but apparently, it wasn’t with God.
Figures.

The sermon ended, and Liv and James ran into the sanctuary, excited to share everything they’d learned in Sunday school. They each grabbed a cookie from the table in the back and endured Brad’s complaints about them eating in his car.

As soon as we were all buckled in I said, “Okay, so tell me what you learned in Sunday school.” Brad watched for pedestrians and pulled onto the road without listening to a word the kids and I were saying.

“We learned about Daniel and the lion’s den,” James said.

“So did we,” Liv added. She was in a different class than James.

“So did we,” I chimed in, and James was thrilled we were all on the same page. “What specifically did you learn?”

James thought for a minute. “That our character has consequences.”

“Oh. Interesting. Do you know what our character is?”

“It’s what we believe in,” Liv said, and James turned to her, mad she was butting in on his explanation.

“It’s not just what we believe. It’s the things we do and say because of what we believe.”

“Whatever.” Liv was done with the conversation. She stared out the window and sang the wrong words to a pop song that would now be stuck in my head for a week.

“So how does our character have consequences?” I asked, trying to appease James.

“If you’re honest, people will trust you,” James said.

“Oh, I like that. I want you both to be honest.” I turned in my seat and looked both of my children in the eyes to solidify my point.

“And the consequence for lying is punishment.” James was so severe with the statement. Although, he’d just spent an hour learning about Daniel being thrown into an actual lion’s den to be eaten throughout the night. Not much of the Bible was sugarcoated.

Brad shifted in his seat. He’d been sitting too long. He was uncomfortable.

Liv stopped singing and added, “My teacher told us sin is like a disease. When we sin, it’s passed on to others. It doesn’t ever just affect us.” She sat back in her seat, satisfied with her contribution. “Oh, and she said, ‘we have to be disciplined,’ but I didn’t know what that meant.”

“You should ask if you’re not sure what something means,” I told her.

“I was busy making a cross out of yarn and Popsicle sticks.” She held up a neon-colored cross and smiled as if crafts were the real point of church.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, not meaning it.

“It’s awesome,” Liv corrected me. “I feel bad there are so many families in the world without an Olivia.”

I turned around in my seat as Brad took out his phone, swiped the screen, and read something. All while he drove his entire family home from church.

“Is that an emergency?” We were less than a mile from our house.

Brad glared at his phone, periodically glancing at the road as if it were the nuisance. His anxiousness about sitting too long was replaced by irritation. “It’s work,” he said, and any serenity church had instilled in me was immediately replaced by a cold bitterness toward my husband. Two words. That was all it took.

“Sorry.” I stared out the window. I missed
not
feeling utter disappointment in the man I’d married.

Brad pulled the car into his garage bay, and the kids ran into the house, happy to finally be some place they were free to yell and run around. Brad finished reading his phone, shut it off, and leaned up to slide it back in his pants pocket. “I’ve got to go into the office for a while.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Meredith, I work. Things come up. Even you should be able to remember what it was like to have responsibilities.”

The words stung me. I sat completely still and let contempt and resentment fill me.

Brad got out of the car and went into the house, and I sat in the garage alone. He wasn’t abusive. His words weren’t even that cruel. But he hurt me. Almost everything he did hurt me in some way.

Six hundred dollars in cash made more sense. But it was nothing. If I’d actually thought about leaving my husband, six hundred dollars wasn’t going to get me very far. It wouldn’t even get me a few hours at an attorney’s office.