I placed the bags by the back door, peered through the side window to see if Chris was at the end of the driveway, and watched for the flashlight. Three blinks, that’s what he’d said. Nothing but darkness.
I looked over my shoulder, listened for Andrew’s heavy stumbling steps, but the house was quiet. The roads would be treacherous—the plows always cleaned the main streets first—and I prayed Chris wasn’t stuck somewhere, wheels spinning. We wouldn’t have a second chance at this. I wished I could take our car but it was in Andrew’s name and he’d report it.
My fingers trailed against the hallway walls as I guided myself toward Sophie’s room. She was sleeping on her side, one hand tucked under her round cheek, the other entwined with a lock of hair. The doll and elephant were on the pillow next to her head. I put them in her bag. Her face was warm and smelled apple-fresh as I leaned closer to whisper in her ear.
“Sophie, wake up.”
She rolled over. I could just make out the whites of her eyes, her long lashes blinking slowly, then she sat up. Her hand touched the side of my face and she softly said, “Mommy?”
“You have to be very quiet,” I whispered. “We’re going on a trip, just you and me. Daddy is sleeping on the couch and we can’t wake him up.”
“Daddy said I couldn’t go on adventures with you. He’ll be mad.”
Yes, yes, he will.
“I don’t want to go.” Her whisper was getting louder.
I leaned closer, said into her ear, “Sophie. Listen to me. We’re going to a special place just for kids where you can color and pick out new crayons and markers, and paint all over the wall, but you have to be quiet like a mouse or we won’t be able to go. It’s all the way over in Vancouver—we’re going to stay in a hotel, then take the ferry in the morning. You remember the ferryboat?”
“Can we sit at the front? Can we see the whales?”
“We can even go outside on the upper deck, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered, pushing back her covers.
“We’re going to wear pajamas. Won’t that be fun? Just like a slumber party.” I’d gone to bed in fleece pants, dressed her in a warm pair of pajamas. I tugged her hand. She followed along.
We were at the back door. If he woke now, there’d be no excuses. He’d know. I held my finger to Sophie’s lips, lifted our coats off the hook, and eased the door open, almost gasping at the rush of clean, snow-scented air, the cold biting at my skin. The bottom of the door made a soft scrape against the wood floor. I turned to look down the hall, then urged Sophie outside with my fingertips against her small shoulders and bundled her into her coat. Our boots were tucked under the wooden bench on the porch, the fabric stiff and cold as we slid our feet inside. I grabbed our bags, slung three across my back, and hooked Sophie’s over her shoulders.
We stepped off the porch, lifted our legs high with every step through the snow that was already a foot deep. I had to help Sophie a couple of times, my own balance awkward with the heavy bags pulling my weight to the side. Adrenaline and exertion warmed me like a furnace from the inside out. Sophie kept glancing back at the house, her face worried.
“Daddy won’t be upset at you,” I whisper. “I promise.”
I was staring straight ahead, searching the break in the trees for the flashlight beam. Then, finally, three quick flashes. We’d made it.
The truck was warm, the heater blasting a hot wave at us. Sophie was sitting in the middle. She cupped her hands over the vents while I rubbed her back. “You okay, baby?”
She nodded, but I could hear her teeth chattering.
“I brought hot chocolate in the thermos under the seat,” my brother said, his face grim as he turned the truck around on the narrow road. I held my breath when the tires slid toward the ditch, the back end kicking out, but then the truck surged forward.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Had problems getting out of the driveway. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I think so.” I turned and looked out the rear window. The house was still dark. Sophie’s gaze followed mine. “Have some hot chocolate,” I said, tugging the thermos out.
“I’m not thirsty.”
I looped my arms over her shoulders, pulled her closer. “Try to get some rest. I’ll wake you up when we get to the hotel.” It was the only choice. If Andrew did go searching for me, he’d check my parents’ and Chris’s house first. I didn’t have friends anymore, and there weren’t women’s shelters in our area. Even if there were, Andrew would find some way to get to me. Sophie settled her face into my shoulder, her nose cold, and I remembered when she was a toddler how she used to insist I lie beside her every night as she fell asleep, demanded that I rest my head on her tiny chest while she stroked my hair and sang “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” After a few minutes, I heard her breathing deepen, felt her body lean heavier against mine. I nodded at Chris, letting him know it was okay to talk now.