Uncharted Fate (3 page)

In a sudden spurt of restless energy, Anna shoved the racks back in and slammed the dishwasher door shut. She rifled through the cupboards until she found a chocolate cake mix. Her fingers flew as she got out the Mixmaster, the cooking oil, the last three eggs, the utensils, and mixed up the batter. She poured the batter into two square pans instead of the big pan she most often used because it was easier. She'd drop one at the senior center tomorrow.

Once the cake was in the oven, she added the mixing bowl and spoons and beaters and the measuring cup to the dishwasher. “There. Now it’s full.” She shook in some soap and pushed the door closed, pressing the ‘start’ button.

Later, Anna got Brian out of the rec room and told him and Mallory to do their homework. Exhausted from not sleeping for several nights in a row, she told them she was going to bed, and took the newspaper into the bedroom.

When she slipped into her nightgown and reached into the closet for her robe, she noticed Mike’s flannel bathrobe hanging on its peg under an old pair of his jeans. It seemed to beckon to her and her eyes filled with tears as she pulled it off the hook and wrapped it around her body. The tears ran down her face as she held the softness close to her cheek, breathing in its fragrance. It still smelled like him—his familiar scent of aftershave, smoke, and . . . just Mike. It shook her, like a tiny essence of him clung to her. She wondered how long it would keep smelling of Mike if she didn’t wash it.

She tied the belt and lay down on top of the bedspread, folding the paper to the crossword puzzle without reading the news. She and Mike always quarreled good-naturedly over who got to start the daily crossword. Often they would sit up in bed, shoulder to shoulder, after the kids were asleep, working on it together, laughing and competing on some words, cooperating on others. Now there was no one to quarrel with over the puzzle, and no one to cooperate with.

After a while, when she got stuck and there was no one to help her, she lost interest and threw the paper on the rug beside the bed. For a long time she stared at the wallpaper, unable to do or think anything, certain she couldn’t sleep either.

When 11:00 came, she was still awake, so she decided to watch the late news, hoping it would put her to sleep. The remote control was on Mike’s side, since he was usually the one watching the news before he fell asleep. She reached for it and held it in her hand. It felt heavy. Her eyes started to tear up again, and she felt impatient with herself. Wiping them with a handkerchief she found in the pocket of the robe, she pushed the button for channel 12.

The face of the newsman came into focus and she stared at him without really seeing him. Then slowly, the words he was speaking began to sink in, and on the screen, there flashed a picture of Mike. Next came a picture of Mike’s car. She'd never seen it.

Feeling as if someone punched her in the stomach, she stared at it, horrified, mangled and snow-covered on the side of the road. She caught the words of the newsman.

“. . . was indicted by a Grand Jury today for a number of felonies as a result of an accident that claimed the life of Lockheed Martin design engineer Michael Lamoreaux. Smith was charged with robbery, assault, and manslaughter after he was apprehended and arrested yesterday by city detective Jeffrey Thomas as a result of a robbery and assault in a convenience store followed by a high speed chase which ended in the death of Lamoreaux. A trial date will be set for January of next year . . .”

Anna jammed her thumb on the control unit, missing the button in her distress as the screen showed a film of Smith being led out of the courtroom by police. She jammed it again and again until the set finally blinked off. Then she rolled over and cried herself to sleep.

When the alarm woke her up the next morning, Anna moaned and stumbled out of bed, still dressed in Mike’s bathrobe. Last night she’d sunk into an exhausted, restless sleep. Her dreams had been twisted and tormented with images of Mike and the tangled wreckage she’d seen on the news. It left her nearly as tired this morning as she'd been the night before.

Getting Mallory and Brian off to school was a hassle. Mallory dressed in a brazen manner, her day-glo ‘OZZIE’ tee shirt and decrepit jeans an outfit Anna had forbidden her to wear to school. There wasn’t time to make her go change. Brian silently nibbled his way through a piece of dry toast, without bothering to put peanut butter on it as he usually did.

Anna breathed a sigh of relief when Brian headed out to the corner to wait for the school bus. She made a pot of coffee and poured it into the red mug decorated with white hearts that she’d given Mike two years ago. For a long time, she sat at the table and sipped her coffee, trying not to think about the mug. It didn’t work because she couldn’t bear not thinking about it. It only took a glance at the coffee cup to remember the day she’d given it to him.

“It’s Valentine’s Day," he'd said. Reaching into his pants pocket he'd pulled out a small box, wrapped in silver paper with a blue bow on top.

“Oh,” she had grinned, “looks wicked. You open your present first.”

He tore the red paper off and opened the box, pulling out the red mug. “Hearts? I love it. Honey, I don’t care if I ruin my macho reputation. I’m taking it into work, anyway. It’ll remind me of you while I’m there.” He’d kissed her again. “Thanks. Now open yours.”

He smiled when her eyes lit up as she opened the box and saw a cultured pearl pendant and matching pearl stud earrings. The delicate gold of the chain glistened on its velvet bed as it caught the light.

She had stared at him in amazement. “Michael. You’ve never given me anything like this before on Valentine’s Day. This . . . is beautiful. Oh, Mike.”

She ran around the chair and threw her arms around his neck, a surge of love and joy sweeping through her. They had kissed, long and tender, and she leaned back for a brief, shining glance at his loving face. “Oh, I love you.”

“If I’d known I was going to get this kind of reaction, I’d have given you jewelry sooner.” This time when he’d kissed her, the tenderness turned to passion, and they stood, swaying, in the middle of the kitchen floor.

Big, slow tears coursed down Anna’s cheeks as she remembered how wonderful the morning had been—a magic time stolen out of the humdrum routine of everyday life. She ran her forefinger around the rim of the shiny red mug. Most of Mike's things that had been delivered to her by a colleague from his office were pedestrian and thrown out right away, but a few, like this mug, she had kept and would cherish.

A sharp knock on the back door startled her. Shuddering, Anna pulled herself out of the past and into the present. She pulled Mike’s handkerchief out of the pocket to blow her nose as she rose and went to the door.

Rose, her next door neighbor, stood there. She hesitated, fingering the handle of her purse. “Do you want me to come back later, Anna?”

“No, please. Come in. I need some company.” Anna noticed Rose’s light blue wool suit with its matching hat covering her gray hair. “You look as if you’re on your way somewhere. I don’t want to hold you up.” She blew her nose again and stepped back to let Rose in. “Forgive me, I must look awful.”

“I’m meeting Harry for lunch later. I have plenty of time to chat.” Rose patted her hand to reassure her. “You’re going through a rough time. No one expects you to look like a fashion model.”

“No, a human being would be nice, though.”

Rose frowned. “Are you holding up okay?”

Anna shook her head wearily. “Barely. It’s really hard. This hit me like a Mack truck. I wasn’t prepared for it.”

Rose gave Anna’s hand a squeeze. “No one ever is. We always think these things happen to other people, not to us.” She stood and moved to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee and refill Anna’s mug. “How are the kids doing?”

Anna raised her eyes skyward in distress. “They could be better. It seems as if we’re all reacting differently and each of us is rubbing the other the wrong way. Brian walks around the house like a zombie, and Mallory is like a wild child. There was a blow-up this morning because she didn’t like seeing me in this.” She flipped the collar of the robe with her thumb.

She looked at Rose, a worried expression wrinkling her brow. “Do you think I’m off the wall doing these things—for wearing his bathrobe and using his cup?”

“Of course not. I’d probably do the same thing. In fact, I always wear Harry’s bathrobe when he’s away on a business trip. It makes me feel closer to him.”

Anna unclenched her fingers from the mug and relaxed. “I’m glad you told me. It makes me feel better.”

“Just remember, these things are crutches. If they’ll help you cope with your grief during these difficult days, use them.” Rose’s worried eyes pleaded with Anna. “But listen, Anna, don’t let something like this get out of hand. Crutches are okay when you absolutely need them, but they can become a handicap if you use them too long. It would really be tragic if you were still wearing his bathrobe six months from now. If these things upset Mallory, though, it might be best to wait until she’s in bed or at school.”

Anna nodded. “Oh, I know. I won’t let it happen again.” She looked around at her ultramodern kitchen. “You know it’s funny. Everything is kind of weird. On one hand, I derive comfort from surrounding myself with his things, and on the other hand, some familiar objects are so painful I almost can’t stand them.”

Anna’s eyes closed and her hands started to shake as they clutched the mug. “I saw on the news last night about how the man who caused Mike’s accident has been indicted for vehicular manslaughter. I hate him. I hate him for what he’s done to us. He took my husband away from me and he took my children’s father away from them.” She stared vacantly. “I wonder if he knows, really knows, what he’s done.”

“I think he knows.” Rose tapped her fingers. “The paper said he’s been overcome by guilt. Apparently, the robbery went way wrong when the clerk tried to rush him, so he hit the guy to lay him out so he could take the money. That's when Mike came in. The robber just panicked completely. He'd been out of work for two years or something and he needed money for food. He intended to take mainly food but your husband fled and he didn't have a chance to grab anything. Not even the money.”

“He should be overcome with guilt. I’m sorry, that doesn’t sound charitable. I’m not feeling very charitable these days.”

Rose looked at Anna, obviously trying to decide whether to tell her another bit of news. Finally, she nodded her head. “The police determined that the man was at Mike’s funeral, Anna.”

“He was? I don’t believe it. What gall. I didn’t see him there.” She dropped her forehead into her palm.

“You weren’t looking for him. And he kept out of the way. But the police attend the funerals of victims in case the perpetrator is there, and he often is, out of a sense of guilt or bravado. That’s why I came over. I was afraid if you saw it in the paper, or if someone told you in a less-than-kind way, it would upset you.”

Anna rubbed her temples. “We don’t get the morning paper anymore. I saw him on the news last night.”

They sat for a few minutes, sipping coffee, not saying anything. Then Anna leapt to her feet and put her cup in the sink. “I’m going to take a shower and get dressed. I have to go to the grocery store. We’re out of milk and eggs and stuff.”

Rose stood, too. “I could go for you, if you want me to.”

“Thanks, I’ll go. I’ve got to get out of this house. Plus, I think I'll stop at the police station and see if I can talk to the detective about how they caught the man and what's going to happen next.”

After dressing in something attractive because she was sick of sitting around in jammies, Anna went to the station and asked for Detective Thomas. The desk clerk directed her to an office in the back corner of the first floor. She knocked on the open door and he looked up.

"Mrs. Lamoreaux. Come in. Have a seat. What can I do for you today?"

She sat in a plastic chair in front of his desk and fidgeted nervously for a moment. "I—ah, saw on the news last night that you caught they guy that killed Mike. It kind of threw me."

"Damn. I was afraid you'd hear that way. I'd have been there last night to tell you what happened but I got called out on a case and couldn't go. Then, I was going to take a long lunch and stop by to make sure you were okay."

"I don't think I am, really. I've had a hard time holding back tears since I saw the news. It was pretty awful."

He got up and came around the desk to her, taking her hand. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. I should have been."

His hand felt warm and solid but it also made her feel guilty to accept his comfort. She pulled hers away. "Please. Just tell me what happened."

He did, in gentle tones, but she wanted more.

"Do you have a picture of him? I want to see what he looks like."

"You didn't see him on the news last night."

"No, I turned it off."

"I'm not so sure it's a good idea for you to see him. It might prove to be very traumatic."

"I have to see him, Detective. It'll help give me closure. I know it'll be painful, but in the long run . . ."

He gave her a long look before pulling the man's mug shot from a folder on his desk.

Anna stared at the man, and could see he looked thin and gaunt. He had long scraggly hair and glasses held together by masking tape across the top. She guessed he was about forty years old.

She didn't even notice that her breathing was getting fast and frantic, but Detective Thomas apparently did.

He gently pulled the photo out of her nerveless fingers and she didn't realize at first he’d taken it. Tears coursed down her cheeks and she leapt out of her chair, throwing a glance back at Thomas, who was sitting with his elbows on his desk and his eyes looking sad.

"I'm sorry. I have to go. Thanks . . ." And she flew out of his office and ran to her car, collapsing in a puddle in the front seat, sobbing with great wrenching sounds as her head rested on the steering wheel.

The passenger door opened and Detective Thomas slid in. His strong arms pulled her over the console, onto his lap, and he sat with his arms around her as she cried her eyes out on the front of his dress shirt.

Neither of them said a word.