She’s silent for a long time, her gaze focused on her pizza. She’s not crying anymore, just sniffling once in a while. I keep talking, trying to make her understand things that took me years of self-help books and joining a support group to finally realize, things I still don’t truly grasp, how love can go so wrong, how I could have fallen so far off the path and lost myself so deeply. How he can be so sweet and wonderful and charming and so vicious and cruel a minute later.
“I don’t feel very good,” she finally says.
“Me neither.”
“I’m never going to be able to eat pizza again.”
“Something tells me that’s not true.” I pull her closer. “I’m really sorry, kid.”
She lets out her breath in a sigh against my neck. “Do we have to move?”
“Not yet. We’re going to be careful and see what happens, okay?”
“Okay.” Her body sags into mine and I hold her close, crave the weight of her, and remember how she used to fill my arms. She’s slight as a bird. “I just wanted a father,” she says.
“I know, baby. I know.” I think I’ve gotten through to her, but I’m still unsettled at how easily he’d crept back into our lives. I thought I’d had it all covered, hoped that if I gave Sophie enough love she wouldn’t miss having a father. But she had. And he won’t give up. Not now. Will she be strong enough to withstand him? Is she stronger than me? God. I hope so.
Friday afternoon Corporal Parker calls with news that the judge has issued a summons for Andrew to appear in court Monday morning.
“Now we have to track him down so we can deliver the summons. We aren’t sure if he’s in Victoria or Dogwood Bay. He’s fallen off the radar.”
“That’s not comforting.” Andrew has a plan, I can feel it. Even if I packed our bags tonight, I have no doubt he would find us. “He could be waiting in my bedroom with a shotgun.”
“There are safe houses, and—”
“There are no houses safe from Andrew.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “I understand your fears, okay? I really do. And I want to help you. This is a step in the right direction. We’re going to get him.”
“I hope you’re right.”
When we pick up a tree from the mall on Saturday, I park where there are lots of people and hold my key between my fingers as I walk toward the entrance. At home we decorate the tree, then I clean up the fir needles, halting my vacuuming every few minutes to listen. Greg comes over after he’s finished work and installs a dead bolt and suggests we sleep at his house for a while, but I don’t think Sophie will like that. I’m grateful for his help but I feel distracted, and pull away when he tries to be affectionate—teasing him about smelling like his work truck.
“Never bothered you before,” he says with a curious look, and I laugh it off, then lean in for a kiss so he doesn’t worry, but he’s right. I used to tell him he looked like a sexy grown-up Boy Scout in his UPS uniform, and I liked when he’d fix things around my house—but now it all reminds me of Andrew. He was always puttering around on the weekend, trying to make our house safer, which was ironic. I can’t stop wondering when he is going to move to town. He could already be here. I could run into him at the store, the gas station, anywhere.
Greg leaves after dinner and Sophie and I wrap presents and stack them under the tree and watch Elf while eating popcorn, but I know she’s forcing herself to smile and laugh for my sake. She didn’t draw all day, just flipped through the channels on TV or played on her phone.
“We need to do something fun,” I say.
“You’re taking us to Mexico?” she says. “I can be packed in five minutes.”
I feel the sting, but I know she didn’t mean to hurt me. She doesn’t know what happened in Mexico, how her father scared me. For years I told myself that I would take Sophie to Cancún again one day, just the two of us. We would do it right. Then, when I finally had enough money saved, I was too afraid of the memories. Something else I let him take away from me.
“Ha. But you’re giving me an idea.…”
Greg usually watches hockey Sunday nights, so I invite Marcus over. I’d feel safer with some male company, but that’s not what I tell him. I say, “You never let me pay anything for using your gym. Please let me do something nice?” He arrives with a case of Mexican beer and spicy dark chocolate for dessert. I roast corn and black beans and barbecue chicken for the quesadillas while Marcus makes salsa and guacamole. We work well together. Our shoulders brushing as we move around the kitchen, handing each other items from the fridge.
Marcus entertains us through the meal with stories of traveling in Europe and Africa, like the time he was nearly left behind on a safari. Sophie laughs hysterically when he shares that he ate termites and other local delicacies, wrinkles her nose when he describes how they crunched and their tiny legs caught in his teeth. I’m glad he came over. It’s just what we needed.
After dinner, Sophie heads upstairs to do some homework. Marcus and I have decaf coffee at the table, nibbling on the chocolate. I tell him Andrew was in my house and that the police are delivering a summons to him but I haven’t heard whether they found him,
“Why didn’t you call?” he says.
“I didn’t want to drag you into my drama.”