Handle with Care (5 page)

* * *

Chapter 6 ~ Pariah
“Are you okay?” He was careful not to offend. “I mean, do you think you can get
to the truck?” Obviously she was not okay.

Abby
nodded quickly. It would be hell to wait for a cab in the parking lot, everyone
would stare at her. She was better off getting back to the houseboat, lickety
split. She’d have to figure out from there what her next step would be. Craig
picked up the bags at their feet and slid an arm loosely around her waist to
help her toward the vehicle, shielding her from the onlookers’ stares. He
stowed the groceries in the back, climbed into the driver's seat and started
the engine. He was about to put it into drive when he reached over, grabbed her
seat belt, drew it across her and clasped it without ever looking at her.
Putting the transmission in gear, he then drove out of the parking lot.

The
silence on the way back was deafening, interrupted only by Abby's rattled
breathing. She tried to even it out, but the more she attempted to control it,
the jerkier it became. Craig cracked a window to let some fresh air into the
truck. The noise seemed to drown out her awkward breathing. Abby felt as if she
were right back in Philadelphia, reliving it all. She knew, without hesitation,
it would not be long before the whole world knew where she was and reporters
would again be at her door.

* * *

“It's
normal to feel that way,” she had murmured, so soothingly. A million times
since that morning she had wished she could go back and change those words. If
she had told him how atrocious and horrible it was for him to fantasize about
such things, maybe that would have been enough to steer him off the path his
twisted mind had placed him on. Hindsight was cruel.

* * *

“Abby...
I'm sorry,” Craig said quietly.

“For
what?” she responded in feigned ignorance, her voice shaky.

“For
trying to force you to tell me,” he glanced her way. “I didn't realize what you
were dealing with... I kept asking so many questions. Forgive me.”

Abby
turned to stare out the window, bracing herself for the inevitable. She tried
to hide her concern that he would never want to ask her another question. She
knew rejection all too well. But before she could set up her defenses, Craig
did ask another question. One he expected an answer to.

“What
actually happened?”
He tried to give her
privacy to answer, keeping his eyes on the road.

“You
saw the article,” she countered.

Craig
shook his head, cocking it slightly to one side. “Right. You coaxed a damaged
man into committing mass murder. Am I supposed to believe aliens had Elvis’
baby, too?”

Abby
felt uneasy he could make a joke so easily about such a tragic event. “It
doesn't matter.” She shrugged listlessly.

They
were nearing Winchester Bay. Abby was aching to get out of the truck, away from
Craig and his questions. But most assuredly, away from his assessing eyes.

“Abby,
you don't really believe any of that do you?” His tone changed. He slowed the vehicle
down, almost to a stop, as he looked over at her.

“All
of America does.” Her laugh was brittle as she held her hands up slightly, as
if to say she couldn't disagree.

“Abby,
it's not your fault. You know that, don't you?” Craig tried to meet her eyes
but Abby refused to look directly at him.

“If
not mine, then whose?” she tested.

Craig
was stunned by her reaction. In the article he had read, very briefly, it
detailed how Abby experienced a nervous breakdown after the explosion. Since
being released from a mental hospital, she had disappeared without a trace. He
had assumed it was to hide out from the press, but now, as he watched another tear
meander down her cheek, he realized it was because she believed everything they
said. When he pulled into a parking space beside the marina, she practically
fell out of the passenger door in her haste. He opened the back, ready to carry
her groceries in for her, but she refused.

“Please,”
she said, too ashamed to look at him, “I need some time by myself.”
She cleared her throat and then added quickly,
“Thank you for driving me.” After taking the groceries from his hands, Abby
hurried off to her uncle's boat. She could feel Craig’s gaze trailing after her;
its subtle caress clung to her back.

As
soon as the door closed behind her, Abby abandoned her groceries and began
pacing the length of the little floating house. The urge to get on a plane and
fly as far as she could was strong. But, there would be no place she could go.
The truth was her patient committed a heinous crime. The world needed someone
to blame, and she happened to be it. Abby joined them, blaming herself as well,
which made evading the situation even harder.

She
picked up her phone, prepared to book a ticket on the next flight out of town,
when she noticed the bottle of wine Craig had selected for her, peeking out of
the top of her grocery bag.
The memory of
his kindness calmed her raging emotions, and she put the phone down.
Maybe I
just need to relax tonight and see how I feel in the morning?
The sun was
setting and the marina was quiet, but for the lapping of the water against the
boat. It was her time, her space, her refuge... for now. There weren't a dozen
media vans surrounding her, as there would potentially be if she went to the
airport.

* * *

Abby
saw Bill a few weeks ahead of schedule, as per his request. She had no idea
what she was walking into. He was particularly distraught and tense. His brow
was furrowed over squinted eyes as he restlessly paced around her office.

“They’re calling me a hero. They want to give me a medal. And for what?
Senseless slaughter?” His tone was angry. “Will this nightmare ever be over?”
Abby tried to calm him; assure him that this too would pass. It was a
patronizing part of the political process... renewing society’s hope the cause
was honorable. But as it turned out, that really wasn’t what had upset Bill the
most.

“They came to offer me a job today, but I turned them down,” Bill revealed.

Abby knew he had been between jobs and really wanted something steady soon. It
concerned her he declined an opportunity.

“What? A job? Who offered you a job?” she probed for more details. “And you
turned it down?”
Bill tried to regain some composure. He leaned against her mahogany librarian
desk, looking down. He took a deep breath in and slowly released it, blowing
air out through pursed lips. His head dropped with a negative shake. A few
seconds passed before he took in another deep breath, then looked up at Abby
and spoke.

“I don’t know who they really were – they use fake names, fake credentials -
but they said they represented a recruiting arm of Blackwater.”

“Black who?” Abby asked.
Bill didn’t know if he should say more, but continued anyway. “They said they
were pretty impressed by what I’d done in Iraq, and wanted me to work for
them.” He paused, tears welling up in his eyes. “Impressed? Impressed were
they?” His tone grew louder. “I’m a soldier. I’m no fucking merc. I don’t kill
for hire.” Bill was becoming angry, belligerent.  

“Who do they think they are?” Tears rolled their way down his cheeks. “I’m no
monster,” he professed through sobs. He had often talked about seeing the faces
of his fallen comrades. Their bodies with holes blown in them, blood gushing
out, and body parts missing. It disturbed him. All that death and killing
didn’t make any sense. War didn’t make any sense.
Abby focused on containing the session, holding a calm space. Her job was to
anchor Bill and give him a safe place to release. She felt a kernel of
satisfaction once his anger seemed contained, and the anguish subsided.
“I grew up caring for people, for my country. How dare they!” Bill felt it was
the ultimate insult.

“Is this how they see me?” Bill looked at Abby, tilting his head and furrowing
his brow. Abby remained silent and allowed him to vent.
His expression then turned quizzical. “Wha... what if they know
something I don’t know about me?”

“Could they have done something to me, turned me into something that is... not
me?” Bill shuddered to think that were possible. He had heard of mind control
experiments and thought it was all hocus pocus, sci-fi crap. But now he wasn’t
sure.
Could we all have been government sponsored lab rats?
Bill became
uneasy as paranoia took root in the pit of his stomach. His mind raced,
recalling the hundreds of hours of “programming” and myriad of vaccines he had
received.
Only God knows what shit was in them
.
But could that
possibly be true? Could it?
A feeling of
dread swept over him yet he decided not to verbalize his fear. As he looked at
Abby, her expression was indulgent, but patiently detached. She clearly hadn’t
a clue about what he was saying.
The session wound down. Abby set another appointment for Bill in a few weeks’
time. He felt it was sufficient. He knew she had another client waiting,
another soldier. As he was leaving, obviously disgruntled and perturbed, but in
a better space, he thanked her for her time. As she went to pick up the ringing
phone, he looked around her office, as though seeing it for the last time.
Under his breath, Bill quietly muttered, “If they want to see a monster, I’ll show
them one.”

* * *

Chapter 7 ~ Shadows in the Dark
Winchester Bay had been a good reprieve. Abby cherished her time there. She
feared gossip would spread like wildfire and cause her haven to turn to hell.
But, maybe she could squeeze one more night of anonymity out of the town. She
turned on some soft music and poured herself a large glass of wine. Incentive
to coax her into putting the groceries away. While tucking the ice cream in the
very small freezer, she noticed she had two half-gallons. Craig had somehow put
his in with hers. Actually, she thought with a warm memory of haphazard
pigtails, it was Chloe’s ice cream.
Drat! I’d hate for her to miss out on a
special treat because of me.
Abby sighed. She really didn’t want to go out.
But, she wanted Chloe to enjoy the ice cream her daddy had picked. She could
easily walk it over to Craig’s place. The town was small, and on the walk to
the lake Chloe had pointed out which street their home was on. She had been so
adorable reciting her house number and street name, more evidence of Craig’s
thoughtful parenting.
Wouldn't that be the right thing to do, after all he
has done for me?

* * *

Paul
stood on the porch with Craig, running his fingers through graying hair. “And
you're sure it's her?”

“Yes,
of course.” Craig’s tone was emphatic; frustrated he shoved his hands deep into
his pockets. “I saw her face. Her name’s on the front of the paper.”

“Well,
I'll be,” Paul shook his head slightly. “I never made the connection. Some law
man I am.” He chuckled.

“There's
nothing funny about this,” Craig insisted. “We have to do something to protect
her.”

“Protect
her from what?” Paul asserted as he glanced down the deserted street. “It's not
like folks around here are going to string her up or anything. These people
understand the poor woman’s been through enough.”

“Maybe
not,” Craig said, “but someone might decide to tell the press where she is.
Then reporters will flood this place like piranhas.”

Abby
paused beside the porch. She had walked up to the house from the side of the
street. Confirming her memory of Chloe’s recitation, Craig's last name, Port,
was proudly displayed on the mailbox. However, when she heard voices, she
paused, wondering if she should turn back.

“Well,
there's not much we can do about that,” Paul replied, adjusting the gun on his
hip. Abby could see his uniform in the porch light.
Has Craig called the
police about me?
Suddenly she wished she had never left the boat. The ice
cream was melting fast and her heart was racing.

“There
must be something we can do? We can't just let this happen!” Craig said with
concern in his voice. “This is our town, and we protect our own, don't we?” he
asserted.
 

Abby
misinterpreted his words to mean he wanted to protect the town from her
presence. Her mind spun.
How stupid of me.
She thought of how she had
been taken in by Craig’s kindness. But it was all an act.

“Craig,
calm down,” Paul warned. “You don't want to get Chloe upset. She doesn't need
to know about any of this. I'll see what I can do at my end. But really, there
isn't much I can do until something happens.”

Abby
started to turn away, not wanting to be caught listening in. She didn’t want to
pollute their town with her presence. As she walked away, she stepped on a dry
twig. Its cracking signaled her presence and caught the attention of both men.

“Who’s
there?” Paul called out sharply, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. Abby
winced. She knew if she bolted off now, she would run the risk of being shot.
At the very least, she’d get tackled.

“It's
me,” she said quietly, before reluctantly stepping into the soft glow of the
porch light. She held out the barely frozen ice cream in front of her. “You
forgot this,” she said in explanation. Craig rushed down from the porch and
relieved her of the squishy box.

“Abby,
I'm glad you're here,” he said quickly.

“Don't,”
she protested and shook her head. “You don't have to pretend to be nice. I'm
going to leave in the morning. So, really, there's no need for you two to worry
about the town.”

“What?”
Craig’s
confusion surprised her. He knew who
she was.

“Here.
Let me take that inside,” Paul offered knowingly. He carried the dripping ice
cream into the house, leaving the two of them alone in the front yard. Abby
started to turn away once he was gone, but Craig moved swiftly, blocking her
departure with his body.

“Why
would you leave?” he asked, looking hurt.

“Obviously
I'm not wanted here,” Abby was desperately trying to hold back tears of
disappointment.

“What
makes you think that?” Craig demanded, raising his voice slightly.

“You
two talking -”

“About
protecting you!” Craig emphatically clarified with both hands in the air.
“Abby, I was asking if there was a way he could shield you from media
attention, that's all. You must have heard us wrong.” He reached for her hands
when she started to cross her arms, pulling her closer to him. “Abby, you can
do what you want, whatever you feel comfortable with. But this town will take
care of you. I will-”

“Daddy?”
Chloe rushed down the steps of the front porch, already in her pajamas. Her
hair was wet from a bath. “Is that Abby?” She squinted through the darkness.
“Are you going to have ice cream with us?” she asked excitedly.

“Is
she?” Craig asked, just as eager, turning to look back at Abby. She smiled tentatively,
having been through too many different emotions for one day. The truth was, ice
cream sounded really good to her. Compared to Craig’s warmth, and Chloe’s
enthusiasm, the houseboat seemed very lonely.

“Maybe
a quick bite.” Abby finally nodded, making Chloe squeal with happiness. She
charged back into the house, nearly knocking Paul over as she rushed past him.
Paul laughed and tried to pat her head, but she was too fast. He descended the
steps of the porch and paused beside Abby and Craig.

“Listen,”
he said quietly to Abby, “I know you're in the middle of some kind of mess. But
as long as you’re in this town, it's our job to protect you. So, if anyone
gives you any trouble, you let me know, alright?” He met her eyes boldly.

Abby
had never met this man before tonight, and yet here he was, offering to protect
her, like she mattered to him. She did not know exactly what to say. All she
could come up with was, “Thank you, sir,” in a stumbling voice.

“Okay,
very good. You remember... any trouble, you call me.” He slipped her his card
and gave her shoulder a light pat before heading down the road.

“See?”
Craig pointed out, hoping she would get the message she was welcome.

“Craig,
when people find out... ” she shook her head. “No one can forgive such a
thing.”

Craig
parted his lips as if he had a lot more to say, but then he seemed to change
his mind. “Abby, let's go eat some ice cream.” He offered her his arm. It
hovered in the air for a few seconds before Abby hesitantly took it. After what
had happened in the grocery store, she had never expected her night to end like
this. But, being here was a lot better than a lonesome bottle of wine.

* * *

For
a few minutes, while they chatted together over ice cream, Abby was able to
forget who she was. That time meant the world to her. By the time Chloe fell
asleep on the couch, she and Craig had polished off the
remainder of the
ice cream. She felt a little embarrassed when she realized it.

“I'll
have to buy you some more,” she said apologetically.

“Sure,”
Craig grinned as he leaned against the counter, “only if you promise to share
it with us.”

Abby’s
smile reached her eyes this time, adding a lovely twinkle to their warmth.
“Maybe,” she playfully hedged.

“Do
you want to crash here tonight?” Craig offered, knowing she had walked. Even
though the town was safe, he would never leave Chloe alone to escort her back
to the marina.

“No,”
she shook her head. “No, I do my crashing alone,” she joked, but it was an
honest answer. She also had a bottle of wine waiting for her. “I'll be fine,”
she promised him.

As
she walked home in the crisp night air, she noticed the stars above her. They
carpeted the sky and shimmered perfectly, as if positioned just for her. She
could not help but think of all the times she had lost herself in the night
sky, imagining romance as young women do. Once, she had allowed herself to
dream that one special person out there existed for her. All the movies told
her so. All the storybooks did, too. She had been convinced her one perfect
mate would show up and sweep her off her feet. But, at some point, she had come
to realize it only happened in movies and books. The more she learned about
psychology, the more misleading she found those movies and books to be. Still,
some part of her subtly ached for that dream to come true. She wanted to have
hope again.

Distracted
with her thoughts, she did not see the flashlight beam bouncing as someone ran
away from the marina. She didn't notice the paper tacked to her door until she
was turning the handle. It was the tabloid from the grocery store. Scrawled
across her picture, in bright red lettering, was a message for Abby.

“No
killers in this town!” it read. The note seemed to have been written in
lipstick. Abby's hand shook as she pulled the paper down. Intellectually, she
knew she should not let it get to her, it was to be expected. But, she could
not stop the tears from flowing. She dropped the paper on the deck, rushed
inside the cabin and locked the door behind her.

* * *

The
problem with staying on a houseboat is it isn’t easy to pretend you’re not
home. Abby didn’t have many places to hide.
Any
movement she made could easily be heard from outside the door. Craig glanced
down and saw the newspaper. He picked it up and read the hateful note. That
someone in his town would do such a thing annoyed him. But kids were kids and
old biddies were old biddies everywhere. There wasn’t much he could do.

“Abby.”
He knocked hard on the cabin door. “Abby, I'm not going to let you hole yourself
up in there. You need to come out. Let's talk about it.”
Abby rested her forehead against the door, letting his voice wash over her.
Unlike before, his words did not soothe her; they enraged her. She had created
a nice safe space. She had built a wall protecting herself from the outside
world. But dammit if he wasn’t determined to push his way through. The bottle
of wine she had polished off the night before had done nothing but make her
feel slightly woozy this morning.

“I
don't want to talk anymore,” she said back through the door. “Leave me alone.”

Craig
set his own forehead against the outside of the door, hearing how close she was
to it. “I can't do that, Abby. I need to know you’re okay.”

Abby
abruptly pulled the door open, causing him to stumble and nearly fall into her.
“Are you suggesting I might hurt myself?” she asked, glaring at him.

“I
just… ” he swept his gaze over her pale face and rumpled hair, “I wanted to
make sure you were feeling okay.”

Abby
laughed as she sank down into a small chair beside the door and swept her hair
up from her shoulders. With her hair in her hands, she used her right hand to
slid
e
the black scrunchie from her left
wrist over, quickly tying up her hair.

Feeling
tipsy, she wagged her finger to accentuate each of her words. “The key is not
to feel, Craig. Haven't you figured that out yet?”

Craig
frowned in a paternal manner as he noticed the empty bottle of wine on the
small kitchen's counter.

“I
was hoping to share it with you,” he gently critiqued.

“Right.
Because in your pretty town, with your pretty smile, everything is made better
with good intentions, isn't it?” She smirked and shook her head. “Craig, this
doesn't get swept under the rug. What happened won’t ever change.”

Craig
narrowed his eyes. “I know all about things never changing, Abby. But I also
know about not letting the things I cannot control ruin my life.
I chose to move forward, not look back.”

Abby
wanted to be angry with him. She wanted to order him off the boat. But she couldn't.
There was something about him that soothed her, in a way no one ever had. His
presence, though irritating at times, offered her solace. The way he, and
Chloe, made her feel was the peace she sought when she came to Winchester Bay.

“It's
a little more complicated for me,” she said defensively.

“Really?”
he shot back. “Because I don't think there's much more complicated than a
little girl growing up without a mother.”