Time Off for Good Behavior (15 page)

“
Look, Walter, he
’
s lazy. Really, really lazy. He never did a damn thing in his life that required any effort, and coming down to Tennessee from Alaska requires effort. When we were married, if I didn
’
t
purchase his ticket for him to get back and forth, he couldn
’
t do it himself. Really. Totally helpless.
”

Walter
’
s jaw tightened.
“
How helpless was he when he broke Molly
’
s cheekbone? Or when he put you in the hospital?
”

My stomach heaved. I tossed my clean
clothes on the bed.
“
Right, you
’
re right. Fine. But if I
’
m gonna be killed, I
’
d rather do it with clean hair. I
’
d hate to look like crap in all the crime scene photos.
”

Walter glared at me. An honest-to-goodness glare. Just when I thought I felt about as
bad as I could ever feel, I got a glare from Jimmy Stewart. It damn near killed me.

That didn
’
t mean I was going to make anything easy for him, though. Leopards and spots and all that.

I grabbed a sheet of paper from the night table and found a pen inside
the drawer. I scribbled a number down and handed the paper to Walter.

“
That
’
s his number. Call. If he answers, just hang up and it can wait. If he doesn
’
t, then I
’
ll call the police. Tonight, I promise. But I need to go get my toothbrush.
”

Walter looked up
from the paper in his hand and studied me.
“
You
’
re not going home,
”
he said finally.

I sighed.
“
Fine. Where
’
s the closest grocery store?
”

***

I stood in the express line with a toothbrush and
O, the Oprah Magazine
in my hands, feeling slightly dizzy. Th
e truth was, George could have been anywhere. The truth was, he might have been the laziest son of a bitch alive on an average day, but when he was pissed off, he got very motivated. The truth was, this thing between us probably wasn
’
t over.

The truth suck
ed.

My exhaustion took over for a minute, and a dizzy spell hit. My balance faltered, bumping me into a guy in front of me. He turned around and helped me steady myself. He was an older guy with a trimmed white beard. Very
Miracle on 34th Street.
He looked
kind. And he was wearing a stethoscope.

“
Are you a doctor?
”

He looked down at the stethoscope, then back at me. He smiled.
“
So they tell me.
”

I pointed at his doctor
’
s coat.
“
I probably should have known by the white coat.
”

His eyebrows furrowed.
“
Are you
okay?
”

“
Yeah.
”
I nodded.
“
I
’
m pregnant.
”

What can I say? I
’
m a big fat liar sometimes.

He smiled.
“
Great, good for you. First child?
”

“
Yeah.
”
I certainly felt nauseated enough to be pregnant.
“
Hey, can I ask you a question?
”

He smiled.
“
Shoot.
”

“
If someo
ne is told by a doctor that they
’
re gonna be dead in eight years if they don
’
t quit smoking, and they continue to smoke three packs a day, and ten years goes by... shouldn
’
t they be dead already?
”

His eyes widened and his smile faltered.
“
You know, smoking
is really bad for the baby.
”

I shook my head.
“
Not me. Someone else. I mean, shouldn
’
t he like kick the bucket at any minute?
”

The doctor stepped away from me. Must have been an unconscious reflex.
“
Well, that depends on a variety of factors... I really c
ouldn
’
t say.
”
He emptied his basket onto the counter. Three apples and a cup of yogurt. Doctors.

“
Look, I
’
m not going to sue you or anything. I just want to know.
”

“
Miss, I really couldn
’
t...
”
He smiled at the cashier. He looked a little nervous. I have th
at effect on people sometimes.

I put my hand on his arm.
“
I
’
m sorry. I
’
m not pregnant. It
’
s my ex-husband. He
’
s threatening to kill me and I don
’
t know where he is and I
’
m so scared that I
’
m this close to falling over in a dead faint.
”

The doctor
’
s face so
ftened.

“
I mean, three packs a day,
”
I said.
“
The man should be dead. Shouldn
’
t he be dead?
”

He put his hand on mine and gave it a quick pat.

“
Absolutely.
”
His eyes were sad.
“
The end should come any minute now.
”

Chapter Five

Walter was sitting on the so
fa when I got back, hands clasped in his lap. He looked tired. The door clicked behind me, and I stood frozen, waiting for him to speak. After a moment, he did, his eyes still on his hands.

“
George wasn
’
t there when I called. I know a guy, a private invest
igator. He
’
s trying to track him down.
”

There are a number of appropriate responses to someone putting his neck out for you.
“
Thank you,
”
is one.
“
Please don
’
t bother, I
’
ll be on my way,
”
is another.

I went with,
“
Got my toothbrush,
”
waving it lamely in th
e air.

Walter pushed himself up from the sofa and walked down the hallway I stood in the foyer, staring at my new toothbrush, wondering if I could run out of the house and pretend none of this had ever happened without seeming insane. I decided I could not.

Shit.

A minute later he returned with a towel. It was white and fluffy and perfectly folded in thirds. I hoped he had a maid, because any man who folded his towels in thirds was definitely a pipe dream.

But I already knew that about Walter, anyway.

“
You
decide what you want to do,
”
he said.
“
I would rather you called the police, but it
’
s your decision, and I
’
ll respect whatever you do. I
’
m sorry I pressured you about it.
”

It
’
s amazing, the amount of kindness that can be packed into a small gesture like ho
lding out a towel to someone. I took it from him. He smiled and jerked his head over his shoulder.
“
The bathroom is the last door on the left.
”

Again,
“
Thank you,
”
would have been perfectly appropriate. Me, I came out with,
“
Don
’
t stare at my ass as I walk
away.
”
He laughed, took me by the shoulders, and turned me around, pointing me down the hallway.

“
Go take your shower, Wanda.
”

I moved on down the hallway, hoping he was watching my ass as I walked, but too chicken to turn around and check.

***

Clean an
d calm, I walked into the dining room to find a dinner of steak, potatoes, and salad on the table. Walter came out of the kitchen, pulling off an apron and tossing it over the back of a chair.

“
Nice spread.
”
I grabbed a baby carrot from the salad and munch
ed it.
“
But then, it doesn
’
t take much to impress me.
”
He raised an eyebrow.
Goddammit.
I did it again. I reached over and grabbed his hand.

“
I mean, thank you,
”
I said, croaking the words out.
“
I
’
m sorry. I have some issues with sincerity.
”

He smiled that
crooked smile. My heart rate kicked up a notch.

“
I sensed that,
”
he said.
“
And you
’
re welcome.
”

I behaved like a real, live adult through most of dinner. Mom would have been so proud. When we were done, I washed the dishes while Walter polished off his se
cond glass of wine. When I was finished, I folded the kitchen towel
—
in thirds
—
and placed it on the counter.

“
Dinner was very nice,
”
I said.
“
Thank you.
”

“
You
’
re welcome.
”
He paused for a moment, watching me.
“
Are you okay?
”

“
Yeah. Fine. Why?
”

“
Well...
”
He
paused, looking around the kitchen, then back at me.
“
You
’
re being so polite.
”

I crossed my arms.
“
You
’
re saying I
’
m not usually polite?
”

He staged a sigh.
“
It
’
s amazing how quickly I can regret saying something with you...
”

“
I
’
m polite. I
’
m very fucking
polite.
”

He laughed and held up his hands.
“
You win. I take it back. I take it all back.
”

There
’
s a special kind of silence that happens when sexual tension is running the show. It
’
s full of flying glances, flickering smiles, quickening heart rates, and ha
nds occupying themselves by smoothing out sleeves or loosening collars or diving into pockets. If there
’
d been a third party in the room, they would have wanted to knock us both in the head.

Walter cleared his throat, then disengaged from The Silence by mo
ving past me to wash and dry his wineglass, placing it carefully on the wooden rack before turning back to face me.

“
My friend hasn
’
t located your ex-husband, but he called while you were in the shower to tell me that the apartment in Anchorage appears to
have been vacated.
”
He looked up, his eyes locked on mine.
“
That
’
s not a good sign.
”