Vanished (The Saved Series, A Military Romance) Page 8

  “Afraid? Abby, you could have called me. I had Skyped you how many hours before, and you said everything was fine. You lied to me. You shouldn’t have been alone, yet you sent Joe and Mary-Margaret home.”

  He was right about all of it, but how could she explain it to him? Terror had taken over her brain, making her see things that weren’t real, twisting her reality. She had been sucked back into her nightmare, unable to get out. She’d been so sure Seyed was there, and even now her brain was playing tricks on her. She could feel him, she could smell him. It hadn’t sunk in until now what she’d done to her children in the middle of the night. She felt so cold. She opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn’t find one intelligent word, and her tongue stumbled. For a minute, she thought she’d choke.

  “What happened, Abby? Why didn’t you call, tell someone so they could call your husband?” Terri asked.

  Abby was startled, feeling ganged up on. How could she explain when she couldn’t understand and make sense of what had happened to her?

  “We were told you were hurt,” Terri said. “Did someone hurt you?”

  Again, Abby thought back to that night. She had sat in that shelter in a haze as a kind older woman bandaged her head. When she dabbed at the crusted-over cut on her forehead, she could relive the agony in her soul. She shook her head again. “I don’t know.”

  Terri glanced at Eric, and he was watching her now, trying to figure out what she was saying. He glanced at Terri, and for the first time, Abby didn’t know what he was thinking. She couldn’t read him at all.

  “I didn’t know what to do,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m no good for my children. I’ve never been so terrified. I had to go. I don’t know how to explain it.” She didn’t know what she was saying, and she ached from having to explain it in front of Eric, her husband, the man she loved, who appeared unusually comfortable with this other woman. That was all her eyes, her thoughts, her worry kept going to. How could she be jealous? She had no right, but that was what she kept seeing. She was barely hanging on.

  “I couldn’t call,” she answered. “I don’t know how to make you understand something I can’t myself. How are they?” Her voice shook as she asked.

  “Are you kidding me? You actually care about our children? After all this time, you want to know how they are? Who are you? Let me tell you something: Rachel was screaming for her mommy, and you have no idea the terror that went through me when I got that call from Joe, in another time zone, the other side of the world, in the middle of the night. Mary-Margaret and Joe found her and the baby screaming. They’ve been caring for them when you should have been there.”

  “Rachel just stares off sometimes,” he snapped. “I can see the worry that should never be on a little girl’s face, and she’s back in diapers full time. I lost count, the first week, how many times I had to get up in the night when she’d wake up screaming, and then she’d wake up Charlie. I finally moved them both in bed with me, not that I’ve slept much, worrying about you, searching for you every day, worrying my guts out that I was somehow responsible or had done something or missed something, that it was somehow my fault, only to discover now that you aren’t really missing. You never were. You just chose to leave. Why wouldn’t you at least have looked after my children, taking them to Joe and Mary-Margaret so they’d be safe?”

  He was in her face, but at the same time she could feel the distance between them, and it was so wide she didn’t know where to begin repairing the damage. He let out a sound of frustration that sounded more like a growl as he turned around, jamming his fingers in dark hair that was longer than usual. It was sticking up here and there, and his face was tinged with color. He was in a mood, and she didn’t know what to say, what to do to calm him down. For the first time with Eric, she felt like a stranger, someone on the outside looking in.

  “If you didn’t want to be married to me anymore, to be a mother anymore, you should have said something! But not this…” He gestured to the room she was in, and she couldn’t stop crying. She could feel the other woman’s eyes on her, watching her. Maybe she, too, had a few choice words for her about how badly she had screwed up, what a horrible, worthless person she was. “Why would you let all these people—Sister Carmen, your doctor, the people at the shelter—think it was me you were terrified of, me you were running from, that I was the bad guy? Why? All I wanted to do was protect you.”

  “I didn’t want this, Eric. I love you, I love my kids, but I can’t be there. I’m no good to anyone right now. I never told them it was you. I’m sorry I messed this up so badly.”

  “You’ve been seeing a Doctor Blaney,” Terri said, and it dawned on Abby how Eric had found her.

  “Did he tell you where I was?” she asked. She was worried about what else he had said, what he had shared, the intimate, degrading details of her living nightmare. She had never shared them with Eric. She never wanted him to know some of the things Seyed had done to her. He would see her as damaged, soiled, and he’d be disgusted. Had her doctor shared everything? Maybe she wasn’t so safe after all. “Did he tell you…” She swallowed, wrapping her arms around herself.

  “No, it’s not like that, Abby,” Terri said. “He didn’t share anything you said to him. You’re listed as a missing person. We’ve found you, and now the file will be closed. He had to tell me where you were,” she said, glancing from Eric to Abby.

  Abby could only nod. Her mouth trembled as she fought the wave of heartache that would soon have her curled up in the corner, weeping.

  “Eric, I’ll wait for you downstairs,” Terri said as she glanced again at Abby.

  Abby wasn’t sure what to make of the woman’s interest. What she did know was that this woman had made her way into her husband’s life, and Abby could do nothing about it. Through all that had happened, she had never once thought of the repercussions.

  Abby jumped when the door shut behind her. She was left alone with the one man she should have felt comfortable and safe with, but the guilt of what she’d done overshadowed all the love she’d built with this amazing man.

  Chapter 18

  Eric couldn’t believe the hovel Abby had chosen to live in. The questions in his mind were coming too fast. How was it better to live in a slum, with the worst of the worst around her, than with him and his kids?

  “What are you living off of, Abby?” was the only thing he could think to ask. He didn’t like where his thoughts were going—or the fact that the slimy caretaker downstairs had been anywhere near his wife.

  Her eyes were red and swollen, her eyelids puffy from all the crying she’d done since he had arrived. She ran the back of her hand over her nose, which was running, and then sniffed. “I got a job,” she said as she hiccupped. She gestured nervously toward the grimy window. “Just down the street, there’s a coffee shop. I’m waiting tables.”

  “Waiting tables in some two-bit greasy spoon?” he asked. He couldn’t understand how she could hurt him and their children just to be around a bunch of strangers, a bunch of men who’d be ogling her. Maybe she liked it?

  “This is all I can afford, and I had to pay rent, to eat. It’s all I can get. I’m not qualified to do anything. I know you hate me right now, but you can’t hate me more than I hate myself!” she cried out.

  “Were you ever going to tell me you were okay? Do you have any idea what I went through, freaking out and worrying that something had happened to you and I wasn’t there to protect you?” He was circling her, and all she did was stand there and let him.

  She was crying softly again. She looked so helpless that even after everything she’d done, he couldn’t stop his heart from softening. She was his wife, and, damn him to hell, he wanted her back. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering it, though: What if something happened and she hurt the children? For the first time, he realized he didn’t trust her.

  “Eric, I’m sorry. I wish I could go back and make it all not happen, but I don’t even remember everything. That’s the
God’s honest truth.”

  “Is this doctor you’re seeing helping you?”

  She nodded as she wiped her eyes. “I still have nightmares every night. They were worse for a while. I relived every moment of what I went through with Seyed.” She shrugged.

  “When you had Charlie, was that what happened? Was that when it came back?”

  Abby looked away, her lip trembling, and then shook her head. “It never really went away, Eric. It was always here. I just ignored it and pushed it out of my mind. It was always easier to do when you were home.”

  This time, when he looked into her pale blue eyes, he thought he saw something inside her that showed the damage he hadn’t seen before.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and, not knowing what else to do, asked, “Are you going to come home?”

  He had to resist the urge to hold out his hand, to touch her. When she started crying again and shook her head, he realized he already had his answer.

  Chapter 19

  The drive home went by in virtual silence. Eric kept his eyes forward, staring straight ahead, not seeing anything. He sat in a thick haze, filled with such despair that he had to dig deep to keep it together. When Terri parked in front of his house, Eric leaned his arm against the door and turned to her. “I feel like I should apologize for something,” he said.

  Terri looked at him with such understanding and sympathy that he had to look away. Eric pulled the handle of the door, and he noticed Joe step out of his house and head straight toward them. He must have been watching out the window. Terri shut off her engine. “You have nothing to apologize for, nothing at all,” she said.

  “So what happens now?” he asked, feeling as if his chest had been hollowed out.

  “The file is closed. I’m sorry, Eric, but at least you know where she is.” Terri reached out and touched his arm. “I think we also have a pretty good idea that she blacked out. You may want to talk to her doctor about it, but I’ve heard of it happening with PTSD victims. At least your children are okay.”

  Eric shut his eyes, because even though Abby remembered nothing, if she had done that to the living room, what could she have done to the kids? He felt cold and conflicted, and he said, “I’ve lost her, haven’t I?” It was his deepest fear, which he hadn’t been able to admit until now. When he looked over at Terri, she had a grim look on her face. “Don’t answer that,” he added.

  “Do you want me to come in, to explain to your friends?” she asked.

  She was being so kind, and that was the one thing he couldn’t handle right now. He wanted to hit something, for someone to hit him, anything to make this pain real and tangible. Joe was at his door and pulled it open the rest of the way.

  Eric stepped out and leaned back in. “No,” he said. “Terri? Thank you.”

  She inclined her head, and Eric shut the door. He jammed his hands in his coat pockets as he listened to the engine start up. Joe waved as she pulled away, and Eric watched as the exhaust streamed in a hazy mist in the cold.

  “How did it go? Any leads?” Joe asked.

  Eric swallowed. He didn’t have a clue where to start and what to say, and he wondered if Joe had any idea of what he had been through today. Of course not. He’d shared nothing, had never called him, so Joe must have assumed it had been just like any other day. Eric hesitated. His throat had started to tighten again with all the emotions he’d been holding on to for so long.

  “Hey, do you want to go inside and talk? Mary-Margaret is just getting dinner out. I think she’s already set a plate for you.” Joe waited, and maybe he was at a loss what to do. He set his hand on Eric’s shoulder when he didn’t move. “Shit, Eric, one of these days, there’s going to be a lead. She couldn’t have vanished just like that without anyone seeing anything. I don’t know what to say. What about Terri? Does she have anything else, any other ideas? What’s her plan?”

  Eric wasn’t really listening. He turned, gazed right at Joe, and said, “I found her.”

  Joe’s expression went from excitement to shock to worry. “I don’t understand. If you found her, where is she?” At his silence, Joe growled, “Eric…”

  Of course he was thinking about the worst-case scenario. Eric was barely holding it together.

  “Did something happen to her? Eric, come on.” He squeezed Eric’s shoulder, and Eric had to blink and look away before his friend saw all the unshed tears misting his eyes. Today had cracked open his wounds, and he’d spent the hour since walking away from Abby trying to shove it all back in, zip it up, and put it away for good. His children needed him, and, for the life of him, he needed to figure out what to do.

  “Hey, you two, are you coming in?” Mary-Margaret called. She was on the doorstep, holding his son, but she wasn’t his mother. A baby should be in his mother’s arms, feeling safe and protected. Well, at least Charlie wouldn’t remember the hurt and have to deal with the fact that his mother couldn’t hold it together and had walked away from him. Out of nowhere, Eric wondered if he’d ever be able to understand why his own mother had abandoned him.

  “My kids, I need to figure out what to do with them,” he said. He glanced at Joe and saw the tears in his eyes, and he realized then how he’d misunderstood him. He had to clear his throat to talk. “She walked out, Joe. She’s living in some shithole. She’s not coming back.”

  Eric couldn’t handle the shocked look on Joe’s face, so he started walking toward Mary-Margaret, who was now frowning as she glanced from Eric to Joe and then asked, “What’s wrong?” She looked over her shoulder to the kids and the commotion coming from inside the house.

  Eric reached for Charlie, who seemed quietly content in Mary-Margaret’s arms. He couldn’t look at her as he scooped him up. Charlie fussed a bit, but Eric needed him to know that he’d never abandon him. “Where’s Rachel?” he asked.

  Mary-Margaret appeared worried. Smart lady, she knew something was wrong. She looked to her husband, who said something in a low voice as Eric stepped into the house. He couldn’t make it out and didn’t want to make it out. He was done for now. He wanted to go home, hide out with his kids, but when he glimpsed Rachel in the kitchen, being carried around by Taylor, chewing on a carrot, he knew she needed to stay and eat. He hadn’t gone to the store, he had a house that was a mess, and his child needed to eat.

  However, the last thing Eric wanted to do was sit around a table, making polite conversation or small talk. He needed to mope and brood, to lick his wounds in private with no one around to watch him and no one to ask him questions he didn’t have answers for himself.

  Chapter 20

  Going home after dinner was exactly what didn’t happen. Mary-Margaret wouldn’t even hear him when he said they were leaving and he was taking the kids home. In fact, she had her kids take Rachel and Charlie and clean them up, and afterward, she fed Charlie his bottle and tucked him in her bedroom in a playpen she’d set up in the corner.

  “Look, I appreciate all you’ve done, but we need to go,” Eric said again as Mary-Margaret clapped her hands and shooed the kids running down the hall back to their bedrooms. She followed them, and Eric could hear her taking charge, getting them settled.

  “Eric, we want to know everything that happened. Just stay for a bit, please,” Joe said as Mary-Margaret strode in and sat on the sofa beside him. He set his arm around her, pulling her closer, and that movement sent a wave of longing through Eric as he remembered all the times he’d pulled Abby to him, loved her, and held her.

  He sighed as he sank into the blue easy chair across from them. Their eyes were glued to him as he rubbed his chin, thinking and not having a clue where to start. Why couldn’t they leave him alone?

  “Eric, Joe said you found Abby,” Mary-Margaret said, lowering her voice so the kids couldn’t hear.

  Eric rubbed his head roughly, feeling the way his hair was a little too long. Tomorrow, he’d pull out his clippers. “Yeah, we found her. She’s in South Norfolk and has a place, a job as a waitress.” He hope
d that was all he would have to say, but the shocked expressions on his friends’ faces and the way Joe was struggling to find answers as he worked his mouth had Eric wanting to get up and storm out the door. Mary-Margaret gasped and slid her hand over her mouth as she glanced over at Joe.

  “I don’t understand, Eric. What happened? The living room, the mess it was in, what did she do, just walk out?” Joe said.

  Eric let out a sound of irritation, or maybe it was frustration, but it didn’t help at all. He clasped his hands between his knees and squeezed, hoping the pressure would help focus his thoughts. He glanced toward the door, wishing he could leave without saying another word.

  Mary-Margaret, for the first time ever, was quiet and watching him.

  “She walked out,” Eric said. “She says she was having nightmares, thought she saw Hossein. She doesn’t remember everything that happened and was just walking. She said someone helped her. I spoke with a nun who found her and set her up in a women’s shelter. She’s seen some shrink, and they’re saying she has PTSD. I think they blame me for not seeing it. Hell, I blame me. I should have known something was wrong, but she wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Why didn’t she call you, tell someone?” Joe barked. Mary-Margaret was still watching him. She firmed her lips and then pulled away from Joe, getting up to go into the kitchen. He could hear her opening cupboards and then the fridge, then running water in the sink.

  Joe glanced toward the kitchen, appearing confused. He shook his head as if dealing with Mary-Margaret was something he wasn’t up to doing right now.

  “I asked her, I demanded. She just cried.” Eric gestured helplessly with his hands. “I don’t understand her.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. What I do know is I have two kids who need me, and Abby isn’t prepared to be a mother.”

  “PTSD? I never saw it, Eric. Is she getting help?” Joe asked.