Vanished (The Saved Series, A Military Romance) Page 2

  Chapter 3

  “Look, I want to be sure Abby is okay. She just had a baby, and she doesn’t sleep very well when I’m gone. She was a little out of it after the baby was born, as if she was in a living nightmare. I’ve only seen her like that two other times, and each time I was able to wake her, but this time was different.…”

  Mary-Margaret rested her slender hand on Eric’s arm. “Stop, please.” She lifted her hand away and then yanked a dishtowel from the one of the white kitchen drawers. They stood in a typical box-like military home on base, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, and a kitchen. She handed him a checkered blue dish towel. “Here, make yourself useful. Dry these for me. I’ve got only an hour, and then the kids are going to flood through the front door as if there’s an army on their heels. My peace and quiet will be gone for the rest of the day.”

  Eric stared at this short, brown-haired woman who kept her figure trim and always dressed so neat and tidy. Mary-Margaret was the first woman to ever accept him, overbearing hardnosed quirks and all.

  “What’s wrong with the dishwasher?” Eric asked, staring at the towel in his hand and then reaching for the cup she had set in the dish drain.

  “It broke two weeks ago. Joe hasn’t gotten around to fixing it, and just ask any wife on base how easy it is to get something fixed by the military.” She rinsed a plate and then drained the stainless steel sink, wiping it out with a sponge.

  “I didn’t know. Has this always been a problem?” he asked, wondering if Abby had the same trouble. She’d never said anything to him, so maybe not.

  He realized Mary-Margaret was staring at him with an odd look.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Are you kidding me, Eric? Always, probably since the beginning of time.” She put the sponge down and set her hand on her hip. “Us wives just learn to handle it ourselves, not that you men are around to do much. If we tell you, the only thing you’re going to do is worry in the middle of some godforsaken war zone, and then your focus wouldn’t be where it’s supposed to be. Isn’t that when accidents happen? Seriously, Eric, sometimes you sound just like Joe.”

  He wasn’t sure how to even respond to that. When he started to say something, she shook her head to stop him, almost as if she was annoyed. “Now listen,” she said. “Abby just had a baby, and you even said so yourself: This time, it wasn’t an easy labor. She hasn’t been sleeping, and remember, she has a two-year-old running around. That may be fun for you, but trust me that when you’re pregnant and exhausted, running after a little ball of energy who’s hell bent on getting into everything… it’s not fun. You’re home now, but you’re still off on base every day, doing God knows what with Joe.”

  Eric tried to interrupt her, but she set her hand on his arm again and took the well-dried cup from him. “Abby is still relatively new to this life,” she said, “and you have to know that Abby doesn’t ask for help.”

  He must have given Mary-Margaret an odd look, as she took the dishtowel from him and her expression softened. “You probably didn’t know.”

  “What do you mean, she doesn’t ask for help? I told her to come to you, the other wives.…”

  She stopped him again. “Look, Eric. She won’t come to me. I figured that out the first time I saw her at the grocery store. She had a whole pile of groceries, and she didn’t have enough money. She was flushed and picking things out to put back, apologizing to the shoppers she was holding up in line behind her. I realized your pay was probably late. It happens a lot, but she didn’t know what to do, and she didn’t come to me.”

  “She didn’t say a word to me when I talked to her.” Eric felt his gut twisting into knots. He was crushed by a wave of emotions—anger, fear, as if control had just been yanked from his hands—and he didn’t like it one bit.

  “No, she wouldn’t tell you. She had already been told by the other wives that you don’t bother your husband when he’s shipped out. Oh, and get that look off your face. I picked up early on how hard it is for her to ask. I’ve tried talking to her, and she says she’ll come to me, but then she doesn’t. I made it a point of stopping in. It’s a good thing she’s next door.”

  Eric didn’t know what to think, and now he was worried about leaving. “What about the other wives? You know them. Isn’t there someone she’ll go to?”

  “Eric, come on. I thought you knew. Half the women on base have been in love with you for so long that when you showed up with Abby, they weren’t interested in being friends with her. They were interested in getting close to you.”

  “What?” he said, unable to believe he had put Abby in that position. He thought Mary-Margaret had to be wrong. “Why would all those women want to be with me? I’m unbending, not interested in drama, and I expect my wife at home. I think you’re wrong,” he said, and he couldn’t believe it when Mary-Margaret burst out laughing.

  “Go take a look at yourself in the mirror,” she said. “You’re too damn good looking for your own good, and women see you, sir, as a challenge—one they want to get their hands on. They all fantasize about being taken care of by you, and they all believe they can change you. And yes, before you say anything, even the married ones. Abby figured it out. I saw the hurt. She keeps them at a distance.” She gestured toward the living room. “Come on. Let’s go sit.”

  Eric followed Mary-Margaret and watched as she sat in a tan easy chair, curling her slim legs under her. Eric leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. He didn’t know what to think about these women and wondered about speaking to the other men, but then he thought better of it.

  “You’re wondering what to do for Abby now, right?” Mary-Margaret asked.

  “Yeah. I had no idea she was that uncomfortable. Is there anything you can do?” He was asking the one and only woman he’d had any respect for before he pulled Abby from the waters of the Persian Gulf that fateful day two years ago, saving her from the nightmare she’d lived for almost a year.

  “I’ll stick close, but you need to talk to her.”

  Eric glanced at his watch as he picked up the noise of kids outside. “Your kids are home. I’m going to go get Rachel at daycare, and then I’m going up to see Abby.”

  “Bring Rachel here, why don’t you, and spend some time alone with your wife in the hospital before she’s released. Taylor will help me out with Rachel. I know Janey loves playing with her. She’s at that age, you know, where little kids are like dolls. We’ll keep her for dinner, too, so don’t worry about rushing home.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure, that would be helpful. I was thinking Abby might want to see her.”

  “Eric, trust me. The last thing Abby wants right now is to look after Rachel, but if you take her to the hospital, Abby’s going to want to hold her even though she’s tired and sore. Rachel will want to jump all over Abby, which is not a good idea. She’ll feel guilty, and then she’ll worry. Just bring her here.”

  Eric stepped away and started toward the door just as three dark-haired kids bounced in, dumping backpacks. The boys were spitting images of their father, while Janey could have been Mary-Margaret’s twin.

  “Uncle Eric, when can we see the baby?” Janey asked, all smiles.

  Eric ruffled her dark brown curly mop. “As soon as Abby’s home, I’ll have you come over and you can see him. Okay, squirt?”

  Eric flicked a wave to Mary-Margaret and left, listening to a house that had only seconds ago been quiet and peaceful but was now alive with the children’s voices and energy.

  Chapter 4

  Abby was perched on the side of the hospital bed in a pair of frayed maternity jeans and a bulky sweater, staring at the closed door. She glanced at the small bag, packed and sitting on the chair Eric had sat in all night. Each time she had woken from a disturbing and unrestful sleep, he had still been there. Once, he’d been asleep, but he’d opened his eyes as if he could feel her staring at him.

  He’d held her hand and kissed her, making her feel safe, but she couldn’t sha
ke the anxiety building in her chest. It ached as if she were coming down with something, but she wasn’t. She had a baby. She had a husband. She had a daughter. And now she had to go home.

  The door was pushed open, and her husband strode in, all cocky and arrogant, heading straight for her. “What’s going on?” he said, taking in the dim room and the three other empty beds.

  “I’m going home. The doctor was here. He signed my release papers and said we could go home today. I was just waiting for you to come,” she said. She took in his shock and irritation, and then she glanced at the door. “He just decided.”

  “I don’t understand,” Eric said. “I thought you’d be here another night.”

  The door opened again, and this time Dr. Hargrove stepped in, taking in Abby and then Eric. He flicked down the doorstop, propping the door open. “You finally got here,” he said. “You just need to bring the car seat in. The nurse will check it, and you’ll be free to go.” The man didn’t seem to notice that Eric was a bit confused.

  “I didn’t know Abby was being released. I didn’t bring the car seat with me. Why didn’t you call, let me know?”

  “Sorry, I guess I should have called. I lost track of time,” Abby said. “They released me this morning after you left.”

  He crossed his arms, glanced at his watch, and started to say something before shaking his head. “It’s almost four.” He glanced from the doctor back to Abby and then said, “Okay, look. Let me run home, get the car seat.”

  Abby wasn’t really paying attention, and she felt Eric’s hand slide under her chin, lifting her head.

  “You okay, Abby?”

  “Just tired is all,” she said, trying to force a smile to her lips.

  “Maybe it would be best if Abby spent the night, Doc. What’s the rush to kick her out?”

  “Eric, I’m fine. The doctor checked me out already. I should have called you. I’m sorry I didn’t. Could you just get the car seat?” Abby said, wondering why she was feeling closed in all of a sudden. When she glanced up at the doctor, he was watching her, frowning.

  “It’s all right, Abby, if you want to stay another night. I’ve already released you, but I can pull the paperwork, I’m sure, if you think you need to stay another night.” He stepped closer and lifted her wrist. Taking her pulse, he checked his watch. He set the stethoscope tucked in his pocket in his ears. “Let me have a listen.” He slid it under her sweater. “Take a breath. Okay, another.”

  She responded, and then he pulled away and tucked the stethoscope back in his pocket.

  “Are you feeling okay, Abby, other than being a little sore?” he asked.

  “No, I’m good,” she said. She didn’t dare look up, as she knew her husband was watching closely.

  “Okay, well, everything looks good. Nothing to give me concern. Abby, just one more thing: Call my office, and I’d like to see you and that beautiful baby in a week. A nurse should phone and stop by your house in the next couple days, too.” The doctor started to leave and stopped in the doorway. “You two think of a name for the baby yet?”

  “We haven’t decided on anything, but I think we shortlisted Charlie and Andrew. Any ideas, Abby?” Eric asked.

  Abby flicked her gaze from the doctor to Eric and shook her head. She didn’t really care and hoped Eric would just take care of it. It shouldn’t have felt like a chore. It should have been fun, but she couldn’t explain why, this time, it wasn’t. “You decide,” she said.

  “Well, how about Charlie?” He was watching her again.

  “Sounds good,” she said.

  The doctor seemed satisfied and said, “Eric, you’re shipping out again soon?”

  Abby watched as her husband walked to the doorway and said something she couldn’t make out. The doctor glanced back at her, set his hand on Eric’s shoulder, and then left.

  Eric turned, his hand on his hip. He ran it over his short, dark hair and then gestured out the door. “I’ll go get the car seat for Charlie. Why don’t you have a nap while I’m gone? Then, when we get home, I want to talk to you.”

  She glanced up at him, wondering what was going on. He touched her again, flicking his hand over the long hair draped over her shoulders. Then he stepped away, pulled open the door, and left. Abby gripped the edge of the mattress and watched the door.

  Chapter 5

  Eric had his duffle bag packed on the bed and listened to Abby saying something to Rachel as the baby fussed. He was dressed in his tan uniform and ready to go.

  He carried the bag to the front door and set it on the floor. He glanced at the tan sofa and matching chair, the plain chipped coffee table and the small TV on the stand in the corner of the tiny living room, which was filled with a baby swing, a car seat, piles of baby clothes, and gifts brought over the week by many of the wives on base. Some of the wrapping was still there, and he noticed some of the packages hadn’t even been opened.

  He heard something shatter.

  “Rachel, no!” Abby yelled, and Rachel started crying.

  Eric stepped into the tiny box-like kitchen, which looked identical to Joe and Mary-Margaret’s, and realized Rachel had knocked a jar of jam on the kitchen floor and it had shattered. Abby wasn’t happy, and the baby was now crying in her arms, his tiny fist jammed in his mouth, suckling away.

  “Hey there, little miss Rachel,” Eric said. “What’s this? You’re getting into things and testing your mommy, causing trouble right when Daddy has to leave?”

  The kitchen was filled with the breakfast dishes Abby hadn’t finished loading in the dishwasher. Her hair was a mess—she hadn’t brushed it—and she was still walking around in her long nightgown. She had dark shadows under her eyes, and she seemed irritated and ready to snap, which was so unlike her.

  “Abby, let me clean this up. Why don’t you feed Charlie?” Abby flicked her light blue eyes up at him, and he noticed they had none of the light and passion she’d always carried. He had hoped she would’ve gotten better this week, but each day had been like this.

  She patted the baby’s back. “Eric, you have to go soon. You know that.”

  “Go feed the baby. I’ll clean this up,” he said. He bent down and lifted a sticky Rachel, taking her into the bathroom. He glanced up as Abby walked down the hall to their small bedroom in the two-bedroom house. The bed squeaked, and then the baby stopped crying. He listened as Abby soothed his son, and he cleaned up Rachel, wiping her sticky hands. “Come on, little girl. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “Daddy!”

  Eric pulled off her soiled pajamas and could already smell the heavily soiled diaper she’d gone to sleep in. It was sagging and reeked. “Come on, baby. Step out,” he said. He slipped off the diaper and then set Rachel in the bathtub and started to fill it. Rachel sat and started splashing in the warm water. Eric didn’t miss how red her little bum was. Abby had always been so on top of things, dressing Rachel in the morning, getting her cleaned up, but that was before she’d had the baby. Eric had helped every day, but as he hurried to clean up Rachel now and glanced at his watch, he realized he needed to leave soon.

  As soon as enough water filled the tub, he washed his dark-haired pudgy little girl with dark eyes. He had noticed every day this week that she resembled Abby less and less. She grinned, and Eric used the washcloth to wipe her face and soap her down. He rinsed her and lifted her from the tub, wrapping her in a blue fluffy towel, drying her off and sending her out the door. She ran naked, squealing, to her mommy. After draining the tub, Eric trashed the dirty diaper and grabbed the soiled pajamas, tossing them in with the dirty clothes in the hamper in the bedroom. Rachel was now jumping on the bed as Abby nursed the baby. She glanced up.

  “Eric, you have to go,” she said. The baby was still nursing from her breast, and her hair was a tangled mess still. She hadn’t even tried to smooth it with her hands, which she usually did.

  “I do, but you need to get dressed. Let me call Mary-Margaret. She’ll come right over and give you a hand.”
He leaned against the doorframe, taking in the queen-size bed he’d already made with the plain blue comforter that Rachel was quickly making a mess of. The closet doors were closed, the dresser was neat, as he’d just tidied it, the bedside clock was ticking, and Abby was holding her other hand up to Rachel. “Come here, you,” Eric said. He reached for Rachel and lifted her off the bed. “Let’s get some clothes for you.”

  Rachel grabbed at his tie, and Abby frowned again.

  “You don’t have to bother Mary-Margaret,” Abby said.

  “Abby, we just had a talk about you asking for help. The wives are here to do just that. You’re supposed to go to each other. I know Mary-Margaret wants to help. When you get stuck, call her. She’ll come right over. Tell me you’ll call her when I’m gone.”

  She sighed and moved the baby to her other breast. “I will call her. Now go. You’re going to be late, and it would be unseemly for the captain to be late or for his ship to leave without him.”

  “Yeah, I’ll go, but not until Mary-Margaret is here,” he said. He listened to Rachel babbling in the small bedroom she shared with her brother and then glanced back at Abby, cursing the timing of this career-changing posting. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his wife was holding on to something and was getting very good at hiding things from him.

  Chapter 6

  Today was a good day. Abby had slept relatively well, as Charlie had woken only once the night before. She’d nursed him, changed him, and tucked him back in his crib. She’d woken with the sunrise.

  The doorbell rang, and Abby strode to the front door just as it popped open and Mary-Margaret stepped in. She was wearing a black sweater and blue jeans, appearing so confident, happy, and together. She seemed balanced, something Abby wished for herself.