Never Let You Go

  At least Sophie didn’t have to deal with the phone calls. She’s been at Delaney’s all day and they’re going out for a movie and pizza tonight. They won’t be home until late.

  When I walk into the living room, Marcus and Greg are standing near the table. It’s the first time they’ve met, and I’m glad to see that they seem to be having a good conversation. Greg was hoping to meet my brother but I told him that Chris decided to stay home because they’re coming up for Christmas dinner. Truth is, I pretty much ordered Chris to stay home. He’s been calling to check on me almost every day and I don’t want him pacing my house, staring out the window, and making everyone, including his girlfriend, nervous. He very grudgingly agreed.

  I say hello to a few of my guests, then loop my arm through Greg’s. He looks great tonight in a pair of jeans and a soft brown sweater that makes his eyes turn to warm chocolate. He’s letting his facial hair grown into a goatee, and I like the dark shadow on his jaw. Marcus also looks very nice, though more formal in a suit coat with a shirt underneath.

  “What are you two talking about?”

  “Marcus was telling me about his book,” Greg says. “Don’t you find all that research about death and grief kind of depressing?”

  Marcus looks startled, like he doesn’t know how to answer. I feel like kicking Greg. What kind of question is that? He’s heard me talking about how Marcus lost his daughter.

  “It’s not depressing,” I say. “It’s about the triumph of the human spirit. How resilient we can be even in the face of terrible tragedy.”

  I smile at Marcus. “It’s brilliant.”

  “You’ve read it?” Now Greg is the one who looks surprised.

  “Just a few chapters, but enough to know it’s amazing. When it’s published, all the talk shows will want you, Marcus. You’ll be on tour for years.”

  “I don’t know about that.” He laughs. “Maybe a few radio stations if I’m lucky.”

  “That could be fun. I’ll call in and ask you all sorts of questions.”

  “I can just hear it now,” Marcus says. “Dr. Copeland, were you smoking drugs when you wrote this? Dr. Copeland, can you autograph a copy for my cat? She’s your biggest fan.”

  “Stop it,” I laugh. “It’s going to be a best seller.”

  “Well, when I’m finished you can be my first reader and give me feedback.” He glances over at Greg. “Lindsey’s a great editor. She doesn’t pull any punches.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  My girl? I guess technically I’m his girlfriend, but the way he said it made it clear that he wanted Marcus to know we are together. My face warm, I loosen my arm from Greg’s, take a nibble of my cracker, glance at the table as though I’m planning my next snack.

  “So you’re a UPS driver, right?” Marcus says. “You must be busy this time of year.”

  “Yep, lots of packages.” They lapse into silence.

  Marcus wipes at his mouth with his napkin, says, “Excuse me for a moment,” and walks over to a few of the ladies from the group, sits on the hearth beside one of them.

  Greg looks at me. “The quiche is good.”

  * * *

  Okay, so Marcus and Greg aren’t going to be buddies. That’s fine, but I wish Greg had tried a little harder. It’s like he’s actively avoiding Marcus now and keeps putting his arm around my waist and whispering in my ear whenever Marcus gets up to grab another plate of snacks or comes near me. I’m having unwelcome flashbacks to the parties I attended with Andrew, how it always turned into a game where he had to show everyone that I belonged to him. I’ve caught Marcus watching us a couple of times, an odd expression on his face, part amused, part curious. For the last half hour, I’ve been talking to Rachelle, one of my employees, and ignoring both men.

  Greg is now sitting in one of the chairs, watching a hockey game on his phone. Marcus heads into the kitchen with his empty glass. I assume he’s getting another drink, but when he hasn’t returned after a couple of minutes, I excuse myself from the conversation and check on him. He’s on the floor, playing tug with Angus, who’s growling and pouncing happily on his toy, shaking it back and forth in his powerful mouth.

  “I see you’ve made a new friend,” I say.

  “He’s fun.”

  “He’s a giant pain in the ass, but I’m crazy about him.” I can’t believe Angus has only been living with us a few days—it feels like we’ve had him forever. I love how he sleeps at the foot of my bed at night, cocking his ears at a strange noise, or raising his head and woofing if he thinks it’s something I should investigate. I love how happy he is to see me every day, how his big melting brown eyes can somehow make me give him a sample of whatever I’m eating. Even his huge feet, which track in every bit of snow and mud, make me smile.

  “You okay?” I say.

  “Yeah, just thinking about Katie. This was her favorite time of year. She’d make everyone crafts, but she was terrible at it.” He laughs. “I have a box full of ornaments with shredded ribbons and sparkles falling off of them. One year she tried to make Christmas candles and ended up with blobs of red and green wax all over our floor. It took us hours to scrape it all up.”

  “It sounds like she was a lot of fun.”

  He nods, but his smile is fading, and he looks tired now. “I think I’m going to take off,” he says. “Can you say good-bye to everyone for me?”

  “Of course.” I walk him out and wave from the front door, feeling bad that he’s going home to an empty house. Then I think of Andrew, how Sophie had thought he was lonely, and glance around the dark woods. Is he watching now? I close the door firmly. Then I head down the hall to the bathroom, and accidentally open the door on Greg, who is standing at the sink.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t know you were in here.” Then I realize his hand is on the medicine cabinet as though he was just closing it.

  He gives me a sheepish smile. “I ate too much.” He rubs his chest. “Heartburn.”

  “The Tums are in the kitchen.” He waits for me in the living room and talks to Rachelle while I get him a glass of water and a few Tums, then we settle back on the couch in front of the fire. Now that I’m not watching the tension between Marcus and Greg, or scared that the phone is going to ring, I’m enjoying myself. Greg has also relaxed, and I’m not feeling as annoyed. It’s natural to feel a little jealousy, I suppose. Eventually my guests begin to leave, and an hour later they’ve all gone home. Greg helps me clean the kitchen. When we’re finished, he kisses me against the counter, his hands drifting down to my waist. “Want me to stay?”

  “I would, but Delaney is sleeping over tonight and that might be awkward.”

  “You know you and Sophie can come to Vancouver with me. They’d love to meet you.” Greg is visiting his family for Christmas and won’t be home until after New Year’s Eve. We’ve agreed not to exchange presents and instead go skiing for a day when he gets home.

  “Maybe next year.”

  “Is there a next year?”

  I hide my face in his sweater, unsure of my answer. The warm, cozy feeling the wine gave me earlier seems to have disappeared and left me with a tight, trapped sensation.

  “Things are complicated right now,” I say. “It’s hard to think that far ahead.”

  “You mean because of Andrew.”

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen. We may have to move.” I haven’t seen Andrew since he agreed to the peace bond, but the phone calls were upsetting. It’s like he knew I was having a party tonight and wanted to mess with my head.

  “I wondered if you were getting ready to run.” I feel him take a breath, his chest lifting under my cheek. “Promise you won’t leave town without letting me know, okay?”

  I hesitate. Is this a promise I can make? What if I have to leave in a hurry? I don’t want to get into details right now and start an argument. Better to just agree and reassure him.

  “Okay.” I tilt my head back and look up at him. “See you when you get back?” r />
  “I’ll make dinner at my place.”

  “Sounds great.”

  He leans closer, whispers in my ear. “But I want to wake up next to you. No sneaking out with some lame excuse.” He’s using a teasing tone, but I know he’s serious and I feel bad for how I’ve made him feel these last couple of months, always holding him at arm’s length. I think about Marcus, going home alone. I don’t want to be like that. I want a relationship—a real one.

  “I’ll bring my toothbrush.”

  * * *

  The mall is going to be chaos, with everyone doing their last-minute shopping before Christmas tomorrow, but I still need a couple of things for Sophie. Last night she texted that she was staying at Delaney’s because the roads were bad. I’m glad she’s making good choices. I get up early and remove the snow and ice from my windshield while I wait for the car to warm up. My scraper bumps over something on my windshield. With my hand, I brush away the final bits of snow. A wrapped box is tied to my wiper. Greg must have left me a surprise. Smiling, I pull off my gloves, carefully untie the red ribbon, and open the box. It’s a CD. I flip it over and look at the label on the back and suck in my breath when I recognize the songs. These are all from my wedding. One of them we used for our first dance. “Islands in the Stream,” by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers.

  I spin around, scanning the trees, the driveway. “Where are you, you bastard?” My voice sounds jarring to my ears. Angus is barking in the house. “Where the fuck are you?”

  I stand still, daring him to come out, but nothing moves. The forest is quiet. Angus would have barked if a car pulled up last night. Andrew must have parked on the main road and crept in, so slowly we didn’t hear his steps. I look for tracks, but there was too much snow during the night. I get in my car, tug off my gloves with my teeth, and call Corporal Parker.

  “It’s Lindsey. Andrew was at my house. He left me a CD. It was stuck to my car window!” My breath is cloud puffs and my whole body is shivering. I turn the heat up higher. I look around, expecting Andrew to lunge at my car and drive his fist through the window.

  “Did he threaten you?”

  “I never saw him, but the CD is full of love songs that he used to play for me.”

  “Do you recognize the handwriting?”

  “The titles are typed out. He must have used a computer.”

  “Okay, put it in a plastic bag with the box and bring everything into the station.”

  I close my eyes, take a shuddering breath. “I hate this. I really hate this.”

  “I know.” Her voice is kind, with a measured calm. I imagine that she must be good in a crisis. “I’ll take a walk around your place and make sure everything is okay.”

  “Thanks.” The ice is melting off my window in a circle. I can see the forest, my house. “I told you the peace bond won’t work. He’s never going to leave me alone.”

  “If he’s left prints on the case, we can arrest him.”

  “He’s not stupid. He knows exactly how far he can go.”

  “I still have his cell number from the last time. I’ll give him a call and make it clear he needs to leave you alone.” She sounds confident, even a little angry, which makes me feel better. “He needs a reminder of what will happen to him if he violates any conditions of the bond.”

  “He’s not scared. That’s the problem. He thinks he’s invincible.”

  “Well, he’s walking a very thin line—and he’s going to find that out soon.”

  “Don’t you get sick of it? This whole system is controlled by men. Why should we have to follow the law when people like Andrew get to do whatever they want?”

  “Trust me, there are plenty of times when I wish I could take things into my own hands. I know what you’re going through.” She pauses, and I wonder if she’s about to reveal something personal, but then she says, “I just have to believe I’m making a difference.”

  I let out my breath in a sigh. This isn’t her fault. She’s trying to help.

  “I’m tired of talking about it,” I say.

  “What does that mean?” I hear the concern in her voice and realize how it sounded.

  “It means I have to get to work. Thanks for listening.” I end the call.

  * * *

  My brother and Maddie come for dinner and we gorge on turkey with all the fixings and polish off an entire pumpkin pie. Then we play some board games and a few rounds of cards, until Sophie and Maddie stumble off to bed, complaining of a turkey hangover. Chris and I stay up to talk by the fire like when we were kids. I tell him about the CD.

  “This is getting out of hand.” He’s gripping his beer like he might throw it at something. “I should have put a bullet in his head when you first told me he hurt you.”

  “Jesus. Don’t talk like that.”

  Chris looks down at his bottle. “Sorry.” But something about the way he says it doesn’t sound all that sorry. I know my brother, know that sometimes loyalty blinds reason.

  “Hey, you won’t do anything stupid, right? You’re going to have your own baby.” I give his arm a shake. “You need to be around for her.”

  He meets my eyes. “I know. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Promise?” I hold my hand out and wiggle my pinkie finger.

  “Promise.” He hooks his finger in mine.

  In the morning Sophie and I make breakfast for everyone—waffles with lots of whipped cream and strawberries—then we open our presents. Sophie’s spoiled me with bath products, a beautiful new cream-colored throw blanket, and a pale blue knit cap and scarf. She also sketched me a funny drawing of Angus dragging me down the street. When she opens my gifts for her, art supplies, an iTunes card, and a leather portfolio for her drawings with her name engraved on it, she lets out a whoop and crushes me in a hug. “You’re the best!”

  Chris and Maddie love the quilt that Sophie and I made for their baby, and all the adorable toys we couldn’t help purchasing. They’ve generously gifted us with a new latte machine, which we immediately put to good use. All too soon they have to leave and catch the ferry. I won’t admit it to Chris, or in front of Sophie, but I felt safer with my brother at our house. I hug him hard at his car door and he says, “You need me, I’ll be on the next ferry over.”

  After they’re gone, I put on the cap and scarf Sophie gave me and we take Angus for a winter walk, then spend the rest of the day watching movies and eating all our stocking stuffers. Sophie seems distracted, though, lapsing into silence, checking her phone constantly. When I ask who she’s texting, she says Delaney, but she doesn’t meet my eyes and tucks her phone into her pocket. I haven’t told her about the present her father left on my car. I will eventually, but I don’t want to ruin Christmas for her. I keep wondering when Andrew left the CD. Was I sleeping? Walking around in the house in my bathrobe? Kissing Greg? How long was he outside?

  Boxing Day morning, Sophie gets up early to go shopping with Delaney while I’m still in bed. I was hurt when she’d told me her plans last night—the two of us always go skating on Boxing Day—but I kept my thoughts to myself. I wake as I hear the front door close and Delaney’s car drive off. I stay in bed for a while longer, staring at the ceiling until Angus whines that he wants to go outside. While I have my morning coffee, I flip through some flyers in the newspaper and consider whether I should check if Sophie actually went to the mall. She doesn’t like shopping at the best of times and it will be packed today. Is she meeting Andrew again?

  I get dressed and head down to the mall to browse around, telling myself that there is no harm in having a look. If I run into Sophie, great. If I don’t, then I just have to trust her word.

  After two hours at the mall, I’ve checked all Sophie’s favorite stores but haven’t spotted her yet. Finally I see a familiar head of violet-colored hair at the other end of the food court.

  I’m a few feet away when I realize a boy is standing next to her, their heads close, his hand grazing her lower back. I freeze, caught off guard. The boy lift
s his head and looks in my direction. Jared McDowell. When did they start spending time together?

  Jared meets my eyes and nudges Sophie, says something to her. She turns and catches me watching. Her face flushes and she moves away from Jared a couple of steps.

  I walk closer. “How’s the shopping going?”

  “Why are you here?”

  Her abrupt tone stings. She’s never rude like this, but I don’t want to say anything in front of Jared. “I’m shopping,” I say. “The Gap has some good deals.”

  “Hi, Lindsey,” Jared says. It’s not strange for him to call me Lindsey—it’s what he calls me when I’m cleaning his house—but it feels odd in front of my daughter. She shoots him a look, like she’s startled by his being so personal.

  “Did you have a nice Christmas?” I say.

  “It was great. You?”

  “Lovely, thanks.” We stand in awkward silence. “Where’s Delaney?” I say.

  “She’s picking out shoes,” Sophie says. “We have to meet her.” I realize my daughter is brushing me off and feel another stab of hurt.

  “Well, have fun. See you at home.” I turn, then feel her hand on the back of my arm. I look over my shoulder at her.

  “I’ll make dinner tonight, okay?” she says.

  “Sounds great.” I know it’s her way of apologizing, can see the conflicting emotions playing across her face, and understand that she doesn’t know why she’s embarrassed or how to deal with it. I force my face into a cheerful expression. “Nice to see you again, Jared.”

  “You too, Lindsey,” he says.

  As I walk away I have the sudden feeling that he used my name on purpose this time—like he was trying to make me uncomfortable, but I don’t know why.