Fourteen Days

“Would you like to come in?”


“No it’s all right, I’m fine,” Carl replied, shuffling timidly. “I’m really sorry to drop in on you unannounced like this. But I needed to see you—to thank you.”

Richard held onto the doorframe nervously, his expression blank, his stomach tied up in knots. “There’s no need to thank me. I did what anyone would have done.”

Carl shook his head. “No, you did much more than that. And I’m really sorry for what I said to you—and what I did. I should never have lost my temper and threatened you like that. It was stupid. Really stupid. And not me at all.”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t blame you, Carl. No one would. You were hurting. It’s understandable.”

“No, it was wrong of me. I should have listened to you—instead of acting like a prick. You were just trying to help me. And I…”

Richard smiled tightly. “It wasn’t the easiest thing for someone to try to believe. My own wife thought I was crazy. Hell, even I thought I was crazy. But I knew I had to do something. I couldn’t just leave it. And there wasn’t much chance of convincing the police until I was one hundred percent certain.”

“But that bastard could have killed you, Richard. He had a bloody shotgun pointed at you.”

Richard nodded as he recalled the incident with revolt. “I know he did. But I’m still here, and you’ve got your boy back.” He peered inside the buggy at Dean as he slept soundly. “How is he? How’s his hearing?”

Carl smiled, looking down at him as well. “He’s great and his ears are fine. He’s a very happy little boy, always grinning and laughing. Just like his mother. He even looks like her. He has the same eyes, same mouth.” Carl looked like he was fighting off a bout of tears. “He’s amazing. I can’t believe he’s here. Safe.”

“I’m glad. At least he’ll never remember what happened. At least his first memory will be of you.”

Carl nodded as he adjusted his son’s blue blanket, which was draped over him. “So anyway,” he said, looking back up at Richard. “I just came to say thank you and to ask if there’s anything I can do to repay you for what you did.”

“You don’t need to repay me, Carl. All I wanted was to get him home safely to you, and I did. I don’t need anything else from you. Honestly.”

“There must be something I can do. Anything. I owe you so much.”

Richard shook his head. “There’s nothing, really. Please, just look after him and be happy again. That’s all you can do for me. You’ve both been through so much. Just keep him safe.”

“All right. Thank you.” He let out a long breath. “Right, well, I’ll leave you to get back to your life. You know where I am if you change your mind, or even if you just want to chat. Or see this little one. You’re always welcome. And I promise—no baseball bats.”

Richard smiled and shook Carl’s hand. “Thank you. I might take you up on that offer one day.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll see you then.”

“Thanks for coming ’round. I really appreciate it, Carl. Take care of yourself.”

“I will. No worries.” He turned away and started to leave, pushing the buggy in front of him. Richard began to close the front door, his stomach still in knots. “Is she still here?” Carl said from the pavement.

Richard turned to him. “Sorry?”

“Christina. Is she still here? In your house?”

Richard paused, unable to think of a suitable answer.

“I’m sorry,” Carl said, as he wheeled the buggy back over to the door. “I just need to know.”

Richard shook his head. “No. I’m sorry—she’s gone. She left when you got Dean back.”

Carl’s chin started to quiver. “That’s good.” He rubbed a tear from his eye as he sighed. “I’m glad. I just hope she’s found peace. I hope she’s happy.”


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