Natalie hurried down an aisle that felt like the length of a New York City avenue. In her mind, the shelves on either side of her grew tall as those skyscrapers, boxing her in. God, how big is this Walmart? The answer was big enough for Natalie to dare a second glance behind her, because she wasn’t going to evade him.
Sure enough, Camo Man was still there and closing in fast, now taking quicker strides. Only twenty feet separated them. As he continued his approach, a flash of movement drew Natalie’s gaze to the man’s right hand, which had slipped innocently enough inside his jacket pocket. What was in there, she wondered? A knife? A gun? His piercing stare bore into her.
Natalie saw no chance for escape. He was gaining too much ground, coming too fast. Best she could do was scream for help. Coming to an abrupt stop, Natalie pulled her children in tight like a mother bird wrapping her wings around her chicks. She turned them a hundred eighty degrees so that they were now all facing the threat head-on. Her legs felt heavy, immobile. Watching with growing horror, Natalie observed the man slowly remove his hand from his jacket pocket. She caught a flash of silver, believing it to be the steel from some weapon. She felt a scream begin to materialize like a hurricane taking shape. She pushed the kids behind her—she would protect them at all cost.
Then she saw it. Not a knife, but the silver wrapper of a stick of gum. Camo Man removed the wrapper with one hand and slipped the gum into his mouth. The crumpled wrapper went back into his pocket. Natalie was stunned to see him walk past her, his face utterly placid, devoid of any hint of danger.
What the hell?
She was sure she’d seen it in his face, felt a threatening intent, but the beard now gave him a genial quality, almost like a gentle giant type. He looked right past her and the children, settling his gaze on the selection of detergents. Eventually, he grabbed an orange plastic jug of Tide from off the shelf, tucked it under his arm like a football, and headed contentedly on his way.
It wasn’t possible, Natalie told herself. She had watched him come at her with unmistakable hostility. What other motive could he have had but violence?
Still, she had to admit, perhaps she’d imagined it, just as she may have imagined Audrey’s odd expression at seeing Michael’s picture.
Sleep. God, she needed sleep.
“Anyone hungry?” Natalie asked, fake cheer in her voice.
Her breathing came in sputters as she tried to cool her engines. The kids had no idea she’d been alarmed. As far as they were concerned, their mother had brought them to the detergent aisle for no reason whatsoever, because they departed empty-handed. Now, they headed to her original destination—the beauty aisle.
“I want a cherry slushie,” said Bryce in answer to Natalie’s question about food. He’d spied the vending machine on their way into the store, already asked once, and got his answer.
“Slushies aren’t real food,” said Addie, parroting something she’d heard Natalie say in the past. Bryce was about to protest. If he raised a ruckus that might mean attracting unwanted attention. That couldn’t happen.
Camo Man might not have been the threat she perceived, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t constant danger.
“It’s fine,” she said to Bryce, feeling herself snap back into her body. “I’ll get you that drink on the way out.”
Addie sent her mother a look of indignation.
“Well, I want one too,” she said, exhaling a huff of air.
“Yes, of course,” said Natalie, remembering the pizza and Cokes she’d already fed them.
Mother of the year, chided a voice in her head. But then she remembered: I’m keeping them alive. I’m doing this for a purpose. She knew the truth about Michael. Some secrets changed everything. It was like she’d taken a bite of the forbidden apple: one taste and there was no going back to the garden, ever again.
What she’d done was right. She had no choice. They had to run.
With bouncing steps, Addie and Bryce headed for the slushie machine, but Natalie called them back.
“We’ll get the drinks on our way out,” she said firmly. “First, we’ve got shopping to do.”
CHAPTER 14
MICHAEL
Morning sun splashed into the bedroom, rousing Michael from a fitful night’s sleep. He had drifted off, hoping for a different outcome before daybreak—a phone call or text message, something from Natalie that would bring an end to his nightmare. No such luck. He got up. Showered. Shaved. He didn’t want to look scraggly when he broke the news to Nat’s parents. The thought of that visit was already filling him with dread.
The day was going to be an eventful one, so Michael fortified himself by forcing down some scrambled eggs and toast. The coffee tasted bitter and failed to vanquish his lingering fatigue.
He asked himself: Is this how Natalie felt all the time?
Regrets hit him like punches.
I should have been more attentive. Done more to help. I should have known she was teetering. We should have doubled the marriage counseling.
Three things.
Today I got us all packed and ready to go.
I wish I’d done this sooner.
I’m grateful for the truth.
On the kitchen island, Michael placed the note he’d found in Nat’s shoebox. Grateful for the truth. She’d found out. Dammit. Damn him. He’d been unfaithful to his wife, deceitful, and Natalie knew, Lord help him, she knew the truth. Sort of. He prayed with all his heart that she hadn’t learned all the facts. A flash of blood hit Michael, his mind seeing what he’d never forget, and what he now feared Natalie had discovered.
Michael finished the breakfast dishes while ruminating on the excuses he’d used to justify his affair: they’d gone months without sex (really without physical intimacy of any kind); Natalie blamed work pressures, but he thought the children had become more important than the marriage; then he fell prey to temptation which roused Natalie’s suspicions and started the sleep difficulties that only grew worse.
By then Michael had felt trapped in his lies. He was desperately lonely in his marriage, in his life. He lived a grand fa?ade, an illusion. How many nights had he touched Natalie’s shoulder, only to feel her shrug away, reject him? It happened with such frequency that approaching her felt like navigating a minefield.
Life became a grind. Work. Kids. Dinner. Rinse and repeat. The less Natalie slept, the more she pushed Michael away. Marriage took work, a lot more than he’d bargained for when he said “I do.” Unhappiness and dissatisfaction with a spouse was as common as a cold. But still, it wasn’t like he’d struck up a conversation with another woman thinking he’d end up in her bed.
It was innocuous, he told himself, in the beginning, back at the start of it all. Eye contact leading to a smile, leading to an offhand comment about the dearth of free weights on the bar; a little self-deprecating humor that allowed him to seem endearing instead of creepy.