When I'm Gone: A Novel (13 page)

“It’s okay. Be happy,” Luke mouthed. Little pools of tears gathered on her lower eyelashes, and when she smiled, one tear fell down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly and laughed again when Will made exaggerated kissing sounds.

Jessie rapped her knuckles on the table. “Hey, guys! I have some party hats I brought for us to decorate. Let’s get started while we wait for the food?”

“Yay!” May shouted. Will rolled his eyes but was a good sport, putting Clayton in his booster seat before sitting next to Jessie, whom May was hugging while saying over and over, “Jessie, you’re the best.
The best.
”

“Do you think Jessie is ‘the best’?” Annie asked, turning her back to the table and straightening her smudged lip gloss with her index finger. Luke turned to face Annie. This close he could make out the color of her eye shadow, a light shimmering blue, and see the mole on her right cheek that she always tried to cover up with makeup. Today she was covering more than the mole. Luke could make out a dark spot on Annie’s cheek, covered by a heavy dose of concealer. He leaned closer; something about the coloring was familiar to him.

“Well, probably not the way I’d put it, but yeah,” he answered, distracted. “She’s been great.”

“So, you know she’s pretty sick, right?” Annie rolled a piece of paper towel between her palms. “Will said she can’t eat certain foods, takes all kinds of medicines, and I hate to say it, but sometimes she comes off as a little immature. Do you really think she’s up for taking care of these guys?” She folded her arms, waiting for Luke’s reply.

Luke cocked his head, trying to get a better look at what he was now sure was a bruise. It wasn’t just the mark on her face that startled him. Annie usually saw the best in people; her concerns about Jessie seemed very out of the blue.

He answered in slow, fragmented sentences. “She looks tired sometimes, but she’s good with the kids. Maybe a little immature, but she’s an only child and her mom died when she was twelve. She’s a grown woman. I’m not going to start telling her what she can and cannot handle.”

“Hmm, okay. I mean, nothing against the girl. She seems like a very genuine person, but I just want what’s best for the kids.” Annie turned to watch the kids at the table again. Jessie, wearing a
Wicked
T-shirt today, had five bottles of glitter, two bottles of glue, and a stack of multicolored paper. The kids were all in various stages of hat making, and Jessie was busy covering her fingernails in glue and glitter.

“Well, maybe she’s a little spacey and
childish,” Luke agreed, “but . . . what happened to your face?” Luke reached out and brushed the discolored spot on Annie’s cheek. She flinched back.

“Nothing; I just slipped in the shower. I hadn’t put the rubber mat down . . .” She covered the side of her face with her hand. “Is it bruising badly?”

“No.” Luke shuffled closer, inspecting the injury with his experienced eye. As he searched for swelling, all those memories he continually tried to push away rose to the surface. His father’s booming voice shaking his bedroom door, his mom crying and begging him to stop, the garnet and gold class ring his dad wore on his left hand that left welts on his mom’s arms and legs and occasionally her face.

He dropped his hand. He didn’t like to let himself think about his father or how he had destroyed their family in that little house on Winter Lane. “Does it hurt? What about your head—any headaches or blurred vision?”

Annie shook her head. “Nope, I’m fine, really.” She swooshed her hands in front of her body like she was wiping the concerns away and then turned around, ending Luke’s inspection. “Here, can you tighten this?” She pointed to the buckle behind her neck that had never been adjusted. This time, Luke didn’t let himself think; he yanked the tail of fabric through the clip with a snap. Annie spun around. “By the way, don’t think I didn’t notice the letter you were clutching when I came in.” Annie raised her eyebrows, and Luke read the accusation in her pursed lips. She was deflecting any more scrutiny of the bruise on her face.

“I could tell you noticed.” Luke picked up the spatula Annie used to frost the cake and tossed it into the sink with a thud before turning on the water and grabbing a damp sponge. “I’m not trying to hide it from you. They help me, and I don’t think I should be ashamed of that.”

“I’m not trying to shame you,” Annie said as she appeared beside him at the sink. “But shouldn’t you at least
try
to find out where they are coming from?”

Luke breathed out slowly. These conversations with Annie were his least favorite. No matter how many times she said she wasn’t judging him, it still felt like she was.

“I visited the post office, talked to the manager. There’s no way to trace them. What else can I do? I’m not going to stop reading them, and I don’t know why you’d want me to.” Annie had come to the party with plenty on her mind and wasn’t holding back.

“I’m not trying to be cruel, Luke. I just don’t want you to get hurt or delude yourself into thinking Natalie is somehow still here.” She grabbed a neon-green sponge and scrubbed the spatula, rinsed it, and placed it into the drying rack before starting on the bowl, encrusted with cake batter.

“Well, maybe Natalie knew that someone as logical as me could use a little illusion or delusion or whatever you mean. The letters aren’t hurting me,” Luke said with finality. “And if we’re going to talk about someone getting hurt, let’s talk about—”

Annie wouldn’t let him finish. “Okay. I get it,” she said, passing him a bowl to dry. “I won’t bring it up again.” She blew at a bit of hair that had slipped out of her bobby pins, and pulled her shoulders back as she washed. “So, what were you and Brian chatting about over there?”

“He was asking me to be a reference for the new job.” When she didn’t say anything, Luke checked her face, wondering if the job was what had her acting out. “What? You’re not excited about it? I know, you’re worried you’ll miss getting out of tickets once your husband isn’t a police officer anymore, aren’t you?” Luke elbowed her side, trying to bring back playful Annie.

“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent driver.” She laughed halfheartedly and flicked a few soap bubbles at his face.

“Hey!” Luke held up a glass. “I’m working here.”

“I . . .” Annie cleared her throat, growing serious again. “I’m surprised he talked to you without me.”

“It’s not a big deal, Annie. We only talked for two minutes, tops. He seems really excited about this job.”

“Oh,
he
is.” She dried her hands with the dish towel and then threaded it through the drawer handle. When she looked up Luke tried to recall the meaning of her expression from his ever-growing dossier of Annie’s emotions but drew a blank. “I’m not. Moving away would be breaking my promise to Natalie. Those promises are very real to me. I can’t turn my back on them because he suddenly decides he wants a new career.”

The hair on Luke’s forearm stood on end. Move? Brian never mentioned anything about moving.

“Wait. What are you talking about? Where is this new job?”

“He didn’t tell you? Ugh. That man.” She started to push her fingers through her hair until she realized it was pinned back and ended up patting the swollen spot on her face instead. “DC,” she whispered. “The job is in Washington, DC.”

Luke felt his knees start to buckle. So this is what had Annie on edge, why she was worried about Jessie’s competence, his overreliance on Natalie’s letters. She was preparing to leave them.

Luke steadied himself as nonchalantly as possible, one hand on the counter, the other in his pocket. Washington, DC. Annie was right; this was definitely not in Natalie’s plans. He shook his head and took a deep breath. Why had he let himself become so dependent on her? Because Annie begged him to let her help? Because he needed someone in his life to help him and to talk to, who could share the day-to-day challenge of parenting grieving children?

God, now Clayton, who barely slept when he was home, had no problem sleeping when Annie put him down for a nap. And Will, who hardly showed his face outside of his room, much less made actual speaking sounds in Luke’s direction, texted with Annie daily and lit up when she walked in the room. And poor May would lose her only remaining mother figure. Who would she talk to about boys and puberty and . . . all those other things Luke had no idea about?

She could do all those things when she lived five minutes away, but not if she lived in DC. He couldn’t say any of that. This shouldn’t matter to him. Annie could move to Mongolia, and he should be happy for her.

“Don’t you worry about us.” Luke took a step back and put on his “I’m okay” face. He’d had lots of practice with this one and hoped it was convincing by now. “Natalie would want you to be happy.” Luke reached out and lightly patted Annie’s upper arm.

She shook her head. “Really? You’re fine with it too? I knew Brian wouldn’t get it, but I thought for sure you would.” She pressed her lips together till they blanched white. “I promised her, Luke. I’m not following some instructions in a letter.” She gave him a cutting look, and the words hurt like she’d scratched him with a knife. “I sat at her deathbed. I looked into her eyes, and I swore I’d be there for you guys.”

“Natalie is gone.” Luke sliced at the air. Annie was right; he played games with his own grief by indulging in the mysterious letters, but he didn’t want to condemn Annie to that prison. He looked around to make sure all the kids were involved with Jessie’s art project and then lowered his voice. “She is
dead
. She doesn’t
care
about us anymore because she doesn’t exist anymore.”

The words came out more bitter than he’d intended, and Annie recoiled. Damn it. Luke crunched his eyes closed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, almost hoping when he opened them she’d be gone. But she was still there, staring at him like she was trying to figure out what was going on inside his head.

She leaned toward him, whispering, her voice clogged with tears. “I don’t believe that. She’s watching over us; I know she is.” His arm was warm where she pressed against him, her biceps softer than he’d expected. He opened his mouth to tell her belief doesn’t change fact, but the front door slammed, making May squeal and Luke jump.

“Pizza!” May yelled, and a flurry of activity broke out across the room around the table; markers, glitter, and stickers were tossed into boxes and dropped on the floor to be picked up later. Brian stomped into the kitchen and tossed the stack of pizza boxes on the table.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Luke said, turning away from Annie to grab a spatula to serve the pizza. He could feel her watching him. He’d hurt her feelings; she wanted him to care that she might be leaving, might be breaking her promise to Natalie. He did care, but he couldn’t show it.

Instead, he busied himself by counting out seven paper plates from the dwindling stack on the counter and placing them on the table. Remnants of glitter were stuck to the wooden surface, and he didn’t bother to wipe them off. May would think they were festive.

As the room filled with the warm scent of garlic and melted cheese, each person settled into his or her own spot at the table. Annie was the last person to join them, dragging out the chair closest to Brian. Clayton climbed on her lap, reminding Luke of a needy little dog. Annie casually wrapped one of her arms around his midsection. Clayton put his head on her shoulder and gently patted Brian’s arm. Luke had to look away.

May smiled through the rest of the party, and Luke tried to find comfort in that. He’d told her she was allowed to be happy; he had to pretend to be happy too, but he was far from happy.

Part of the heaviness holding him down came from all the reminders of Natalie. Yet that ache wasn’t as profound as he’d feared it would be, almost as though he was adjusting to the pain, like when your eyes adapt in a darkened room. Underneath this understandable sadness was a simmering anger.

It had been five months—five. He was finally starting to get the hang of life, or at least parts of it, and Annie was a big reason behind the transition. Natalie knew Annie was integral to their survival. That’s why she’d acquired promises, sent Luke letters, made plans. How dare Brian go and mess that up? Luke was also mad at himself. Why did he tell her it was okay to go?

And then of course there was that last worry, the one he’d been telling himself was nothing, the one that had to do with the mark on Annie’s face that he couldn’t stop looking at. Was Annie’s reluctance connected with the reason for her injury?

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke watched Annie as she shoveled a giant bite of cake into Clay’s mouth, frosting smudging on his chin. She erased it with the quick swipe of a napkin. He chewed slowly, his cheeks puffed out like a squirrel gathering nuts. Once his face was clean, Annie gave him a little peck on the top of the head, and he snuggled on her shoulder, swallowing loudly. Brian’s arm draped around the back of Annie’s chair, absently stroking her arm as he read through his phone.

Annie caught his eye and gave him a morose smile, and Luke knew—she was going to leave. Even if he asked her to stay, it wouldn’t make a difference because no matter how much Annie loved Natalie and the kids, she’d never go against Brian. Never.

CHAPTER 13

Luke carefully slipped the pile of mail into his over-the-shoulder workbag, the Velcro scratching as he ripped the front flap open. On top of the pile of outgoing mail, he placed Natalie’s most recent letter. They’d become more sporadic, but he still pored over every one, searching for clues for his ongoing investigation into the Maranatha House, Andy Garner, and the elusive Dr. Neal.

The past two weeks had been strained between Luke and Annie. Annie kept a wall up whenever he brought Clayton over in the mornings, had turned down an invitation to join the Richardsons for dinner after May’s spring concert, and avoided coming inside when she dropped off Will after taking him on a shopping trip to the mall.

Luke knew what Annie wanted. She wanted Luke to tell her to stay. She wanted him to refuse to give the recommendation Brian had requested at May’s party. She wanted him to acknowledge the necessity of her presence in their lives. But how could he do those things? Brian was her husband, this was her life, and if she didn’t want to move, she’d have to stand up and say so. But she wouldn’t. So the stony silence continued.

When he dropped Clayton off at her house Monday morning, they ran through the same script they’d been stuck in since the party.

Annie opened the door. “Hi, Clayton!” She went automatically to her knees. Luke gently guided him across the threshold and tossed the heavy black duffel on the floor beside him. Clayton wrapped his arms around her neck as she picked him up.

“I missed you, Annie.” He’d dropped the “Miss” in front of her name months ago, and Luke decided not to care.

She pressed her nose against Clayton’s. “I missed you more,” she whispered and gave him an Eskimo kiss, pretending to drop him a few inches before setting him on the floor. When she looked up, Luke’s gaze flew to his shoes.

“Well, thanks.” He flipped his keys around on his pointer finger. “You two have a fun day.”

“We will,” she said in the same overly chipper voice as always, flicking the door closed with her fingertips. Luke stomped to the car, looking back to see if they were watching from the front window. It was empty, like it had been for the past two weeks. He shook his head once and headed down the tulip-lined brick path to his car.

So far no one had called him for a reference, and he couldn’t help but be relieved. He had all his selfish reasons to keep Annie here, but there were an increasing number of more pressing ones that he was having a hard time ignoring and they all had to do with Brian. How had he missed the warning signs for so long? Brian had always been controlling and condescending with Annie, but in the past few weeks Luke couldn’t help but notice a fading bruise on Annie’s hip when her shirt flipped up as she leaned over to get Clay’s shoes and another on her upper arm just a day ago when she wore short sleeves for the first time in a week. He’d been telling himself that they could be from a stray weight at the gym or a fall while running.

Had there been signs all this time and he’d never seen them? Did Natalie know? Probably not. Whenever they had a double date with the Gurrellas, Luke always knew the first words out of Natalie’s mouth at the end of the night: “Brian’s such an ass.” Luke agreed—Brian was an ass. But was he a physically abusive ass?

Luke flopped his head back against the headrest. Maybe he was being paranoid. Brian was their family friend and a police officer. If anyone should know better, it would be Brian.

But what if I’m wrong?
How many people had been wrong about his father? How many could’ve done something sooner and saved his mom? Luke didn’t hesitate. He made a sharp U-turn at the next green light. Clayton couldn’t spend another moment in that house until he knew for certain.

Luke pulled into Annie’s driveway minutes later. Mid-May the grass was finally turning green, and Brian’s lawn was neat and orderly as always. A row of yellow and red tulips traced the curved brick path, glowing against the freshly turned black soil. It always amazed him how something that is broken on the inside can look so perfect on the outside. Nearly running now, Luke leaped up onto the front porch and pounded on the door with the side of his fist. Annie opened it, eyes wide, Clayton hiding behind her legs.

“Oh, Luke, it’s just you!” She tossed the dish towel she was holding over her right shoulder, hand covering her heart, giving him a clear look at the bruises on her upper arm. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Hey, guys. Sorry to come back so soon. I . . . uh . . .” He should’ve thought this through a little more clearly before rushing back. What was he supposed to say now? “Can we talk for a second?”

Annie stepped back. “Come on in.”

“It’s okay; I don’t want to stay long. I realized Clayton has a doctor’s appointment today.” He leaned against the doorjamb, trying to act casually so he didn’t frighten her off like an injured animal. Annie’s nose wrinkled, folding several freckles in half.

“Oh,” she breathed out, even her fake smile fading fast. “I’ll go get his stuff.” A trail of toys led from the door to the family room, where Annie and Clayton spent most of their time. His plan for a fast escape seemed unlikely. Luke stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“Let me help.” He picked up a mini-teddy bear with blue fur and an unopened box of markers and tossed them in the open duffel bag. Annie dumped another armful in right after him, and some electronic toy started talking in a whiny British accent.

“A says ah, A says ah . . .” the voice sang.

“God, I hate that toy,” Luke grumbled as he searched through the bag for the white ABC tablet, opened a hidden panel on the side, and flicked the power switch off.

“I have been trying to turn it off for the past six weeks. I don’t know what kind of batteries you put in there, but they never die.” Annie laughed, crouched down beside him.

“Only happens on the annoying educational toys.” Luke smiled back, meeting Annie’s eyes for the first time in two weeks. “Batteries on the fun toys run out after two days, I swear.”

“I’m calling conspiracy on that one.”

“I’m thinking lawsuit. We’ll be millionaires.” Luke threw the toy back in the bag along with a few others and then zipped it up. He stood, the bag clanking with all the random toys flopping around inside. He was enjoying the friendly banter with Annie that had been missing in their recent interactions.

Once he reached his full height, he offered his hand to Annie. She hooked a chunk of short blonde hair behind her ear before placing her hand in his. Her fingers were long and cool, so thin he was worried he could crack them if he pressed too hard. Luke couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt Annie.

“Annie. I’m sorry . . . about May’s party . . .” He fumbled as he searched for the right words to say. “I know I hurt your feelings.”

“It’s okay.” She pulled her hand away and glanced around his shoulder at Clay. “You were right. Just because Natalie thought you guys needed me, it doesn’t mean you do.”

“Is that what you thought I meant?” he asked, then readjusted the bag on his shoulder. He’d been trying to protect Annie, but he was hurting her instead.

“Mm-hm.” She nodded.

Luke shook his head and stepped closer, reaching out to touch her but stopping halfway.

“We need you, Annie. A lot.” He swallowed a few times. How much was too much to tell her? “I didn’t want to make you feel guilty for leaving. That’d be selfish. You deserve to be happy.”

She wrapped her arms around her torso. The flecks of brown in her eyes darkened like they could reflect her mood.

“Yeah. Happy.” She said the word like it was from a foreign language.

Luke took a step closer, seeing his opening. “
Are
you happy?”

She squeezed her body even tighter, biting at a spot on her lip. An old scar. Wondering where it came from made it hard for Luke to be patient. “Are you safe?”

She looked up, squinting. “Wait—why did you really come back today?” Even though they were inches apart, there was suddenly a wall a mile thick between them. “Clayton doesn’t have a doctor’s appointment, does he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about . . .” Luke replied, glancing around for Clay. He’d made a tactical error, said a little too much. Once, soon after moving in next door, Terry had come over to have a talk with Luke’s mom. In her matter-of-fact way, Terry told Luke’s mom that they’d heard his dad’s outbursts and were worried about her bruises. His mom smiled, thanked Terry for her concern, and then walked her out without so much as a cup of tea or doughnut.

“It was one of those letters, wasn’t it? What did it say, Luke? Tell me.” He’d never seen her this aggressive. She leaned in till they were almost touching.

“It wasn’t a letter.” He slapped at his thigh, wanting to back away but feeling like it would make him look weak. “I’m worried, that’s all. I want to help you.”

“Help me with what?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“Brian. I’m worried that he’s . . .”

Before Luke could finish his sentence, a door opened to one of the upstairs bedrooms. Brian came around the corner, groggy. Annie let out a little
“eep”
and jumped back.

“Hey, Luke. Thought I heard you down here.” He leaned over the banister, shirtless in police department sweatpants, crossing his arms casually, obviously unaware of the tension. His right bicep bulged, highlighting a tattoo of barbed wire. Another tattoo scrawled across one of his pecs, one word, but Luke couldn’t make it out from so far away.

“Hey, Brian. I was about to leave.” Luke shifted the strap on his shoulder and waved to Clayton, who’d been curled up on the stairs stacking and restacking a bucket of Lincoln Logs.

“I don’t want to go to the doctor. I hate shots.” Clayton cowered against the carpeted step he was resting on.

Luke took Clayton’s little hand. “Don’t worry; no shots. Just ice cream when we’re done.” He might have to actually go to the doctor after all this buildup.

“See you tomorrow?” Annie asked, leaning against the wall, as far away from Luke and Clayton as she could possibly be.

“Uh”—Luke hesitated—“I’ll call you later.”

She tipped her head to one side like she didn’t completely understand what he was trying to say.

“Sounds good,” she answered in an incredibly normal voice.

When Luke turned to leave after waving his good-byes, Brian called to him.

“You get any calls yet? They said they’d be done with the background check in the next week or two.”

Luke didn’t turn around. The idea that he was leaving Annie in the house with a man who might also be her abuser killed him. Now that man was asking him for favors.

“Nope, nothing yet. I’ll let you know if I hear from them though.”

“Hey,” Brian called after him as he stepped out the door, “maybe they won’t call you at all!”

When the door slammed behind him, all Luke could think was,
Let’s hope.