Authors: Erin Quinn
A driver behind them honked, the sound a jarring invasion of their intimacy. With obvious reluctance, Sam leaned back into his own seat, casting Christie a look so full of meaning that she caught herself answering with a nod.
Angry with herself for her weakness, Christie broke away and looked out the window, trying to ignore him and the thrills pulsing through her body. Although he had moved away, her awareness of him stayed just under her skin.
She thought of the golf lesson she’d witnessed him giving that evening, hoping the remembered jealousy she’d felt in seeing his arms wrapped around that woman would douse the insidious desire weaving its way through her. But the memories that surfaced were of her own body pressed against Sam’s. Feeling Sam’s chest, warm and hard, his heart beating in time with hers. Feeling the heat of his flat belly and lean hips, making her want to arch and rub against him.
As if he’d read her thoughts, Sam turned up the air conditioner. “Okay?” he asked.
She nodded.
But a jittery excitement took hold of her, blowing through the vents, fanning the white-hot sparks smoldering between them. Uncertain and afraid of her own emotions, she made the rest of the ride in silence.
Chapter Nine
Kathy Jordan tapped her fingernails against the steering wheel, glaring at the traffic as she fought the digital clock on her dash for every minute. Five-fifty-nine. She had one minute and five blocks.
The day had gone wrong from the beginning, when Jessica spilled her cereal all over the front of her dress and had to be changed before they could leave. Already late with an important meeting scheduled that morning, Kathy’s patience had snapped and she’d yelled at Jessica. When she’d dropped her off that morning, her daughter’s eyes had been red rimmed and teary.
Now she was late to pick her up.
“Way to go, Supermom,”
the voice of guilt sneered in her head. She hated that voice, but it followed her everywhere, dogging her steps, harping on her mistakes.
The next two red lights trapped her in traffic and the clock soundlessly switched to 6:08. Damn!
She could see the school on the corner ahead, but she was already late. Melanie Blackwell had put Kathy on probation just last week, with an apologetic warning that had left Kathy feeling small and irresponsible.
Kathy parked her car, half afraid she’d see Jessica sitting alone and bewildered on the doorstep. But the lights inside were still on and her daughter’s bright little face glowed like a candle in one of the windows.
Kathy crossed her fingers as she walked to the door, sighing when it opened, the lights within silhouetting Melanie Blackwell.
“Hello, Melanie. Sorry I’m late. I had a meeting—”
Melanie folded her arms under her flat chest and gave her an embarrassed little smile. “I’m sure you have a perfectly good explanation, Kathy, but you know that six o’clock pickup is not flexible.”
“I know that but—”
“Honestly, I understand,” she said in a kind voice, “but we do have lives of our own and after we run a twelve-hour day here, it’s hard to have a personal life. I don’t like to harp on it, but I must insist that you be more punctual.”
Kathy shuffled her feet, feeling like a bad little girl with an hour of corner-standing in her future.
“You’re already on probation. I don’t want to ask you to withdraw Jessica, but if this continues, you’ll leave me no choice.”
Kathy nodded, squelching the irrational urge she had to cry. “Where
is
Jessica?” she asked calmly.
“She’s in the other room. I asked her to wait there, so she wouldn’t have to listen to our conversation.”
“Thank you.”
While Melanie went to get Jessica, Kathy stood at the door.
Too much. The entire day—lately, her entire life— had all been just too much.
How could she afford child care if she couldn’t stay late at work occasionally? With a boss who worked eighteen-hour days, she rarely had a choice but to put in the extra time.
She sighed, putting on a happy face for Jessica. Somewhere, somehow, sometime, something had to give. But it wouldn’t be here and it wouldn’t be in front of her daughter. She’d save her breakdown for later, when she could enjoy it in the soothing comfort of her bathtub, with a glass of wine. She felt better just for thinking about it.
Kathy heard the sound of Jessica’s laughter mingling with Melanie’s a moment before they rounded the corner. As always, the sight of her daughter hit Kathy like a warm hurt. She ached when she looked into Jessica’s innocent blue eyes. Eyes that sparkled with the same hues as her father’s had. Dan had been dead for three years now, but he lived and breathed in his daughter.
Jessica’s smile revealed small white teeth. “Hi, Mommy.”
“Hiya, Jess. Sorry I’m late.”
Jessica shot a worried look at Melanie. “It’s okay.”
Melanie kindly kept her thoughts concealed as she popped open her purse and removed a cracked compact and a tube of lipstick. She circled her lips in a cherry red that did nothing for her pale, blotchy complexion and fluffed the ends of her hair.
Kathy had never known her to wear any sort of makeup or be at all concerned with her appearance. She wondered what the occasion was. With a shrug, Kathy shuffled Jess out the front door and into the car.
“What were you guys laughing about?” Kathy asked when they left the parking lot.
“I can’t tell. It’s a secret.”
Kathy scolded herself for feeling left out. Good grief, she really had the blues bad this time.
“A secret, huh? Can I have a hint?”
Jessica looked up, smiling Dan’s smile. “We were just talking about the Daddy Fairy.”
“The what?”
“The Daddy Fairy. I told her I wished I had a daddy and she said to ask the Daddy Fairy to give me one.”
“Sweetie, there is no Daddy Fairy.”
“I know. But it’s fun to pretend.”
“Pretending’s fine, Jess. Just as long as you know it’s only make-believe.”
“But I might get a daddy.”
Kathy shot her a serious look. “Only if Mommy marries again. You know that.”
“But you might.”
“Yes, I might. If I meet the right man. But that hasn’t happened since I met your real daddy.”
Jessica was not to be dissuaded. “But it could happen again.”
Actually, Kathy didn’t think so. How could she explain to her daughter just how unreliable men were? She’d lost Dan and Dan, while he lived, had lost everything of worth they’d ever had. He’d left Kathy and Jessica dangling over the wicked edge of homelessness. That experience had convinced Kathy that marriage was a very risky business.
And even if she were willing to take a chance on a new man, where would she meet him? She had no social life, no friends. Her world revolved around Jessica and work. The possibility of finding Mr. Right was too slim to consider.
But she couldn’t tell Jessica that.
“You’re right, honey. I
could
meet someone else, but don’t get your hopes up. Tell me what you did in school today.”
Jessica launched into an animated account of stories read and songs sung. She proudly showed Kathy a finger that had survived the removal of a splinter and told of her victory in musical chairs. Kathy listened, happy to hear the tales of her daughter’s day, but before long, Jessica went back to her original topic like a bird to its nest.
“Emmie’s mommy is getting married.”
“What?”
“Emmie. Her real daddy died, too. Her mommy’s going to get married again. Then she’ll have a new daddy.”
“That’s nice for Emmie,” Kathy answered non-committally.
They stopped for a Happy Meal and a Big Mac on the way home. Kathy watched as Jessica frolicked on the McDonaldLand playground until it was time to go.
When they pulled into the driveway that led to their small house, Jessica was still chattering about all the children she knew who had been blessed with new daddies.
Feeling more exhausted than she ever remembered feeling, Kathy stared sadly at the chipped blue-and-white paint peeling off the wooden slats, the fried brown grass and the stiff dead flowers in the front yard. Another wave of melancholy swamped her as she thought of the house she and Dan had shared. She’d had no idea how bad their financial circumstances were until after the funeral, when even the house had to be auctioned.
Dan had been a dreamer. When they’d married, he had big plans. She shook her head sadly. She’d learned after his death that Dan had no business, no pots on the fire, no deals in the making. Just a lot of ideas, boxed and stored in some overcrowded garage in his brain. And a lot of debts.
She cut the engine and opened her door. “Let’s not talk about daddies,” Kathy said. “Aren’t we happy just you and me?”
“I guess.”
“You guess? I thought we were friends.”
“We are. But daddies build playhouses and let you pull their finger when they fart.”
“What?
Jessica, we don’t talk like that,” Kathy said, trying not to laugh as they entered the house.
“That’s what Jeff says his daddy does.”
“Jeff’s a lucky guy, I guess. Go change your clothes and we’ll see what’s on TV.”
“Mommy, do you still miss Daddy?”
Kathy sighed, looking at the dingy carpet, worn to gray threads in heavy traffic areas. Did she still miss Dan?
“Yes, honey. Your daddy was a good man.”
Jessica smiled, apparently satisfied with Kathy’s answer, and turned to skip down the hall. Kathy followed, staunchly ignoring the ugly wallpaper she couldn’t afford to replace.
She entered the master bedroom, which was little more than a glorified closet with a toilet and shower the size of a phone booth. She’d sold most of her furniture and replaced it with secondhand artifacts that fit better into the tiny house than her Ethan Allan ensembles would have.
She pulled her silky, white blouse from her skirt and began unbuttoning it.
“Mommy?” Jessica’s voice called her from across the hall. “I’m done. Can I have a cookie? Please?”
“Okay. Just one, and don’t make a mess in the kitchen.”
Jessica skipped down the hall, dressed in a
101 Dalmatians
T-shirt and red shorts. Kathy smiled, wishing she could freeze her and keep her small like this forever.
Listening to the sounds Jess made in the kitchen, Kathy kicked off her shoes and peeled off her stockings, but as she reached for her skirt’s fastening, she froze. An icy chill shivered down her spine and rooted her to the floor.
What was it? What had she heard?
A second of silence lapsed and then Jessica’s scream, childish and terrified, bounced off the walls and echoed through the house.
Jessica!
Without thought, Kathy bounded down the hall, her heart beating against her chest like a caged bird bent on escape. She rounded the corner of the kitchen, skidding to a stop as her incredulous eyes focused on her daughter. There, pinned to the floor by a strange man, was Jessica. She thrashed against the man’s grip.
“Mommy!”
Her cries pierced the momentary inertia that made Kathy wooden-legged and immobile. Enraged beyond terror, Kathy charged the man, pouncing like a tiger. She sank her teeth deep into his arm, gagging on his blood. Her nails clawed his hands, which gripped her daughter.
The sound of Jessica’s fear bounced off her eardrums and pulsed through her body. He had Jessica. Jessica, her baby.
Her jaws ached from the effort of latching onto the iron muscle of his forearm but he didn’t even whimper. Pulling one hand from the golden skin of Jessica’s neck, he backhanded Kathy across the cheek with a force that knocked her into the wall.
Kathy’s face exploded with pain and black stars sprinkled her vision, but didn’t block out the terrible sounds of him struggling with Jessica. Compelled by an instinct stronger than survival, she attacked again, going for his eyes, with her nails pointed like daggers.
Releasing Jessica at the last possible moment, the man jerked Kathy’s wrists up and away from his face, wrenching her arms backward and yanking them high up her back. Her shoulder joints bulged under her skin and she swooned from the pain. He pushed his face close to hers and his rancid breath covered her face, seeping into her pores like poison.
She kicked and flailed, jerking her panicked gaze to meet the horrified wide eyes of her daughter huddled on the floor.
Run,
she managed to mouth.
She spoke with her eyes. Gesturing wildly for Jess to break free and
run, run, run, run.
Jessica caught the message. She scooted backward and out of the room. Too late, he groped for her, but small and spry, she escaped.
With his attentions divided between them, Kathy freed one hand and clawed three rivers of blood into his face. She managed to kick at his shins, bucking her body away from his, but the advantage was his and he used it, slamming her to the floor and flattening her with his superior strength and wicked rage.
He grabbed the hem of her skirt and yanked it up.
Running his clammy hands over her bare legs, he ripped her underwear off her hips. His nails were jagged and they scratched her in horrifying places.
“What do you want?” she cried. “What are you doing?”
But she knew what he wanted. She knew what he was doing. She tried to blank it from her mind as she felt him against her bare flesh.
At least Jessica had run, but to where? Terror and revulsion fought for control of Kathy’s mind. Was her daughter still in the house? Kathy’s tears streaked down her cheeks, pooling in her ears.
Run, Jessica. Run.
* * *
Jessica pounded down the hall and darted into her mother’s room. She grabbed the phone off the nightstand and dialed. From the living room, her mother’s scream raced down the hall.
A woman answered.
“Help,” Jessica cried. “Help. There’s a man and he’s got my mommy.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s in the living room.”
“Are you in the house?”
“Yes.”
“Get out of the house. Can you do that?”