Surrogate (9 page)

     "You might want to eat before it gets cold."  He picked up a knife and fork, and handed them to her.

     "Thank you."  Her fingers awkwardly wrapped around the silverware.  Clearly, she wasn't sure what to do with it.

     Frowning, he pulled out a chair and waited for her to sit before pushing it in.  He opened the waffle iron and pulled out his own breakfast, setting the fresh waffles on a plate.

     Sitting beside her, he watched her struggle with the knife and fork, holding them in ways that made no sense, and he wondered again about a head injury.  There had to be some kind of explanation for this.  People didn't just forget everyday things.

     "Here, let me help."   He looked at her hands, which had gripped the silverware all wrong, and gently corrected her grip before demonstrating again how to use them by wrapping his fingers around hers.

     His fingers lingered there, reassured by her skin under his, and for a moment, she looked at him--really looked at him-- as she had the day they were married, when he promised he would move heaven and earth to keep her safe.  He swallowed hard and realized just how badly he'd failed and how much that haunted him.  She deserved so much better than she had in him, and he would find a way to be that.  Somehow.

     Lost in her eyes, he dared not move; he wanted to keep this moment alive for as long as possible.  No, it was Carrie who slowly moved closer until he could feel her breath on his cheeks, warm with life.  She stared at him with a longing he cherished amid all the doubts plaguing him.  And then, when she had eased beyond all the distance between them, her lips found his.  Granted, the kiss was clumsy and inexperienced, not like Carrie at all, but Robbie didn't care.  All he could think about was the fact that she had approached him, and he lingered there with her until she finally drew back, her expression burning with so many things--confusion, love, fear, hope.  He wanted to address them all, but he didn't know where to start.

     "I love you, Carrie," he whispered.

     A flush crept into her cheeks.  Normally, she would have responded in kind, but nothing had been normal for days now, and he didn't see them going back to making sense any time soon.

     Although Robbie wished she had said the words and would have given anything to hear them, he knew better than to push.  She needed time.  He couldn't believe that whatever was going on with her would change how she felt about him.  It might cause her behavior to shift, but the bond was unbreakable.  He had to believe that.

     "You'd better eat before Beth gets here."  He let go of her hand and focused on eating, but he still felt her watching him.  More than once, he looked up to her, but she always glanced away.

     The quiet that settled between them was disturbing, but he figured trying to force small talk would only feel worse somehow.  Instead, he finished eating and carried his plate to the sink, where he rinsed it off.

     Almost as though he'd timed it, the doorbell rang, forcing Robbie to glance at the clock hanging in the dining room.  A wry grin touched his lips as he realized Beth was right on time, as usual.  Actually, it was close to a miracle she hadn't been early.  Beth usually bounced from place to place--Tigger had nothing on her.

     At the sound, Carrie looked around, seemingly disoriented. She only had two bites left on her plate, which was a good thing.

     "Looks like the fun is about to begin.  You might want to finish up."

     She frowned and took another bite while he walked to the door, reaching for the knob as the bell rang a second time.  As he tugged the door open, he spotted Galen standing there with his arm wrapped around his wife.  Although they had been whispering, the moment Robbie opened the door, they both turned suddenly to face him, a pinched look on their faces.

     Robbie looked from one to the other before opening the screen and greeting them. "Well, it looks like you made it.  Come on in."

     Galen shook his head.  "Did you really think Beth would forget?  She called you last night to make sure it was okay."  He ushered Beth into the foyer.

     "How is she?" Beth asked, brushing the long blonde hair from her face. 

     "She's good."  Robbie plastered a smile on his face, hoping to look more convinced than he felt, considering just how topsy-turvy his world had become.

     "I can't believe how lucky she is," Beth said, her tone hushed, her gaze averted.  "That car."

    
Yet another person who saw the damned car,
Robbie thought, gritting his teeth.  Had anyone in town
not
seen it except him?

     Beth started to "bounce " toward the living room when Robbie caught her arm.  "Just take it slow, Beth.  Physically, she's fine, but she's...different."

     Although Beth's mouth opened.  She was about to ask a barrage of questions, she looked into Robbie's eyes and quickly pursed her lips, which had to be a first.  Beth never gave in that easily, and Robbie felt his shoulders tense--just another symptom of things not normal.

     "Beth?" he said her name, hoping that if she did have questions, she'd ask them.  He hated this limbo feeling.

     "I got it, Robbie."  She peered toward the living room.  "Don't get your panties in a wad."

     With that, she headed for the living room, leaving him standing with Galen.  His best friend smirked and patted Robbie's back.  "Well, looks like it's just you and me."

     "Yeah," Robbie replied distantly as he stared in the direction Beth had gone.

     "You need a break, Rob.  Beth will take good care of her."  Galen nodded at the door and Robbie reluctantly headed that way, in no hurry to leave his wife, no matter who might be taking care of her.  The last time he hadn't been there, she'd had the wreck.  He wasn't up for thinking about an encore.

     As they walked out, Robbie tried to focus on the present, but it was hard.  As he slid into the seat, he heard Galen ask, "So what are we gonna do to pass a few hours?"

     Robbie peered out the window, and although the glass was smeared, he focused on the ledge that overlooked the lake Carrie liked so much.  They'd spent all last summer out there--having dinner, swimming, enjoying the fireflies.  It couldn't have been more perfect.  Now, this year, things couldn't be been more terrifying.

     "Earth to Robbie.  Come in."  Galen waved  his hand in front of Robbie's face, trying to get his attention.

     "What?" Robbie asked, shaking off memories of the previous year.

     "Do you want to go fishing?  I got poles and tackle in the back."  He thumbed to the truck bed.

     "No.  I'd rather go to the junk yard."

     Galen had just turned the key and started the engine but when he heard that, his fingers jerked and turned the key again, making a horrible grating sound.

     "No, Robbie, you don't want to do that.  Trust me.  Nothing good is going to come of giving Carrie's car a once-over."

     Robbie suddenly turned, his expression hard.  "But you have, haven't you?"  He paused a moment, waiting, and when Galen nodded, Robbie smacked his hand on the console.

     "Goddamn!  I'm the only person who
hasn't
seen the car, and everyone keeps telling me Carrie should've died.  I want to know what happened."

     "You won't find out from the car."  Galen backed up to turn around before heading down the driveway.

     "I still want to see it," Robbie snapped, resuming his stare out the window.  "It's the least I can do for her."

     Galen straightened, taken aback.  "What?  So somehow Carrie's wreck was your fault?  C'mon, man--you know better than that.  It was horrible, but there's nothing you could've done to change it.  There is nothing anyone could have done."

     "I still want to see the car, so either drive me or stop so I can get my own truck."  His voice was low and angry.

     "All right, all right," Galen said, staring at his friend via his peripheral vision.  "We'll go to the yard.  Just calm down."  He kept watching, expecting Robbie to suddenly explode, but when that didn't happen, he focused on driving the ten miles into town and turning down Main Street where Clint's Salvage sat on the corner.

     Once Galen had parked, Robbie stepped out and headed toward the building, Galen in tow. Robbie strode into the building and stop short at the front desk where Rhonda Clements, the secretary, sat.  Although she was on the phone right when Robbie walked up, she quickly finished the conversation and turned her attention to him.

     "Oh, hey, Robbie--what can I do for you?" 

     The way she averted her gaze told Robbie that she knew why he was here without asking, and it made her uncomfortable.  It made him feel like the worst kind of coward because he was the only one who hadn't seen it yet.

     "Hi, Rhonda.  I want to see my wife's car.  Could you tell me where it is?"

     Rhonda gave Robbie a pained stare.  "Robbie, that's really not a good idea."

     "I told him that, too," Galen chimed in from behind, "not that he listened."

     Robbie gritted his teeth and tried not to react.  It appeared everyone else was doing enough of that for him.  "Look, I appreciate you trying to look out for me, but this is something I have to do."

     Rhonda and Galen exchanged glances, and Robbie folded his arms across his chest.  If they believed he would just waltz back out that door and leave, neither of them knew him at all.  He'd come for a purpose, and he'd stay until it was done.

     "Can we get on with this?" he growled, fed up with waiting.

     Rhonda shook her head.  "Just go out that side door, and you'll see it.  You can't miss it."

     "Thanks," Robbie said, already moving that way.  Even as he pushed open the door, Galen was hot on his heels. 

     "Robbie," Galen said, his tone more a warning than anything else.

     Robbie glared and held up his hand as the two stepped out into the yard.  "I get it, Galen.  I know what you're thinking, but if this had happened to Beth, you'd do the same thing."

     At that, Galen stumbled backwards a step, uncomfortable with the spin Robbie had put on the conversation, and while Robbie had a lot more to say, he took that opportunity to turn back to the yard. 

     Although the sunlight glinting off all the metal in the yard made seeing difficult, Robbie shielded his eyes and kept searching until he'd found what he was looking for.

     Rhonda had been right: there was no way anyone could miss it, and at the sight of its crumpled body, Robbie felt his heart rate double.

     "What the hell?" he muttered, feeling the color drain from his face.  Although he intended to step closer and get a better look, his feet seemed fixed where they were.

     "Why don't we go back inside?" Galen suggested, laying his hand on Robbie's forearm to guide him back to the door.

     "No."  Robbie jerked free and stepped toward the remnants of his wife's car.

     Although the badly crunched front end left him feeling light-headed, the side was worse.  It had been mangled, though in a different way.

     "How could Carrie have gotten away without injuries if they had to use the Jaws of Life to get her out?"

     Galen stepped up next to him.  "They didn't use them.  They found her walking along the road, Robbie."

     The words didn't sink in right away, but when they did, Robbie slowly turned.  "What?"

     "She wasn't in the car when the first responders arrived."

     "How?"  Robbie whispered as he leaned forward and studied the destroyed metal, which looked to have been ripped away, and the damage wasn't something his wife could have done, not by a long-shot.  "It doesn't make sense." 

     As he leaned closer, a ghastly surprise greeted him--the blood-stained seats.  Upon sight of the large, rust-colored stains, Robbie gasped, his mind struggling to take it all in.  How was it possible she had lost so much blood and still remained alive--especially seeing as how she didn't have any real wounds?  Where had all the blood come from?

     "There's nothing you can do here," Galen said, laying his hands on his best friend's shoulders.  "Let's go get some coffee and see if the fish are biting."

     Robbie wanted to answer but couldn't.  He just kept staring at the blood, trying to piece together the last few minutes before the wreck, yet all he could come up with was that the minutes before didn't matter.  Just looking at the wreck, he knew everyone was right--his wife should have died.

Chapter Seven

     "Carrie, honey--we really need to come up with a list of people you want to invite to the shower."  Beth sat on the couch next to her best friend while holding a pen pressed to a pad, waiting for input.

     Carrie was staring off into space; she hadn't heard a word Beth had said.  Carrie usually had a million things to say, but this morning, Beth had stumbled over trying to keep the conversation going.