CHILDREN OF THE FOG by Cheryl Kaye Tardif
prologue
May 14th,
2007
She was ready to die.
She sat at the kitchen
table, a half empty bottle of Philip's precious red wine in one hand, a loaded gun
in the other. Staring at the foreign chunk of metal, she willed it to vanish. But
it didn't.
Sadie checked the gun
and noted the single bullet.
"One's all you
need."
If she did it right.
She placed the gun
on the table and glanced at a pewter-framed photograph that hung off-kilter above
the mantle of the fireplace. It was illuminated by a vanilla-scented candle, one
of many that threw flickering shadows over the rough wood walls of the log cabin.
Sam's sweet face stared
back at her, smiling.
Alive.
From where she sat,
she could see the small chip in his right front tooth, the result of an impatient
father raising the training wheels too early. But there was no point in blaming
Philip—not when they'd both lost so much.
Not when it's all my
fault.
Her gaze swept over
the mantle. There were three objects on it besides the candle. Two envelopes, one
addressed to Leah and one to Philip, and the portfolio case that contained the illustrations
and manuscript on disc for Sam's book.
She had finished it,
just like she had promised.
"And promises
can't be broken. Right, Sam?"
A single tear burned
a path down her cheek.
Sam was gone.
What reason do I have
for living now?
She gulped back the
last pungent mouthful of Cabernet and dropped the empty bottle. It rolled under
the chair, unbroken, rocking on the hardwood floor. Then all was silent, except
the antique grandfather clock in the far corner. Its ticking reminded her of the
clown's shoe. The one with the tack in it.
Tick, tick, tick…
The clock belched out
an ominous gong.
It was almost midnight.
Almost time.
She drew an infinity
symbol in the dust on the table.
∞
"Sadie and Sam.
For all eternity."
Gong…
She swallowed hard
as tears flooded her eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you, baby. I tried to.
God, I tried. Forgive me, Sam." Her words ended in a gut-wrenching moan.
Something scraped the
window beside her.
She pressed her face
to the frosted glass, then jerked back with a gasp. "Go away!"
They stood motionless—six
children that drifted from the swirling miasma of night air, haunting her nights
and every waking moment. Surrounded by the moonlit fog, they began to chant. "One fine
day, in the middle of the night…"
"You're not real,"
she whispered.
"Two dead boys
got up to fight."
A small, pale hand
splayed against the exterior of the window. Below it, droplets of condensation slid
like tears down the glass.
She reached out, matching
her hand to the child's. Shivering, she pulled away. "You don't exist."
The clock continued
its morbid countdown.
As the alcohol and
drug potpourri kicked in, the room began to spin and her stomach heaved. She inhaled
deeply. She couldn't afford to get sick. Sam was waiting for her.
Tears spilled down
her cheeks. "I'm ready."
Gong…
Without hesitation,
she raised the gun to her temple.
"Don't!" the children shrieked.
She pressed the gun
against her flesh. The tip of the barrel was cold. Like her hands, her feet...her
heart.
A sob erupted from
the back of her throat.
The clock let out a
final gong. Then it was deathly
silent.
It was midnight.
Her eyes found Sam's
face again.
"Happy Mother's
Day, Sadie."
She took a steadying
breath, pushed the gun hard against her skin and clamped her eyes shut.
"Mommy's coming,
Sam."
She squeezed the trigger.
1
March 30th,
2007
Sadie O'Connell let
out a snicker as she stared at the price tag on the toy in her hand. "What
did they stuff this with, laundered money?" She tossed the bunny back into
the bin and turned to the tall, leggy woman beside her. "What are you getting
Sam for his birthday?"
Her best friend gave
her a cocky grin. "What should I get him? Your kid's got everything
already."
"Don't even go
there, my friend."
But Leah was right.
Sadie and Philip spoiled Sam silly. Why shouldn't they? They had waited a long time
for a baby. Or at least, she had. After two miscarriages, Sam's birth had
been nothing short of a miracle. A miracle that deserved to be spoiled.
Leah groaned loudly.
"Christ, it's a goddamn zoo in here."
Toyz & Twirlz in
West Edmonton Mall was crawling with overzealous customers. The first major sale
of the spring season always brought people out in droves. Frazzled parents swarmed
the toy store, swatting their wayward brood occasionally—the way you'd swat a pesky
yellowjacket at a barbecue. One distressed father hunted the aisles for his son,
who had apparently taken off on him as soon as his back was turned. In every aisle,
parents shouted at their kids, threatening, cajoling, pleading and then predictably
giving in.
"So who let the
animals out?" Sadie said, surveying the store.
The screeching wheels
of shopping carts and the constant whining of overtired toddlers were giving her
a headache. She wished to God she'd stayed home.
"Excuse me."
A plump woman with
frizzy, over-bleached hair gave Sadie an apologetic look. She navigated past them,
pushing a stroller occupied by a miniature screaming alien. A few feet away, she
stopped, bent down and wiped something that looked like curdled rice pudding from
the corner of the child's mouth.
Sadie turned to Leah.
"Thank God Sam's past that stage."
At five years old—soon
to be six—her son was the apple of her eye. In fact, he was the whole darned tree.
A lanky imp of a boy with tousled black hair, sapphire-blue eyes and perfect bow
lips, Sam was the spitting image of his mother and the exact opposite of his father
in temperament. While Sam was sweet natured, gentle and loving, Philip was impatient
and distant. So distant that he rarely said I love you anymore.
She stared at her wedding
ring. What happened to us?
But she knew what had
happened. Philip's status as a trial lawyer had grown, more money had poured in
and fame had gone to his head. He had changed. The man she had fallen in love with,
the dreamer, had gone. In his place was someone she barely knew, a stranger who
had decided too late that he didn't want kids.
Or a wife.
"How about this?"
Leah said, nudging her.
Sadie stared at the
yellow dump truck. "Fill it with a stuffed bat and Sam will think it's awesome."
Her son's fascination
with bats was almost comical. The television was always tuned in to the Discovery
Channel while her son searched endlessly for any show on the furry animals.
"What did Phil
the Pill get him?" Leah asked dryly.
"A new Leap Frog
module."
"I still can't
believe the things that kid can do."
Sadie grinned.
"Me neither."
Sam's mind was a sponge.
He absorbed information so fast that he only had to be shown once. His powers of
observation were so keen that he had learned how to unlock the door just by watching
Sadie do it, so Philip had to add an extra deadbolt at the top. By the time Sam
was three, he had figured out the remote control and the DVD player. Sadie still
had problems turning on the TV.
Sam…my sweet, wonderful,
little genius.
"Maybe I'll get
him a movie," Leah said. "How about Batman Begins?"
"He's turning
six, not sixteen."
"Well, what do
I know? I don't have kids."
At thirty-four, Leah
Winters was an attractive, willowy brunette with wild multi-colored streaks, thick-lashed
hazel eyes, a flirty smile and a penchant for younger men. While Sadie's pale face
had a scattering of tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheekbones,
Leah's complexion was tanned and clear.
She'd been Sadie's
best friend for eight years—soul sistahs. Ever since the day she had emailed
Sadie out of the blue to ask questions about writing and publishing. They'd met
at Book Ends, a popular Edmonton bookstore, for what Leah had expected would be
a quick coffee. Their connection was so strong and so immediate that they talked
for almost five hours. They still joked about it, about how Leah had thought Sadie
was some hotshot writer who wouldn't give her the time of day. Yet Sadie had given
her more. She'd given Leah a piece of her heart.
A rugged, handsome
Colin Farrell look-alike passed them in the aisle, and Leah stared after him, eyes
glittering.
"I'll take one
of those," she said with a soft growl. "To go."
"You won't find
Mr. Right in a toy store," Sadie said dryly. "They're usually all taken.
And somehow I don't think you're gonna find him at Karma either."
Klub Karma was a popular
nightclub on Whyte Avenue. It boasted the best ladies' night in Edmonton, complete
with steroid-muscled male strippers. Leah was a regular.
"And why not?"
Sadie rolled her eyes.
"Because Karma is packed with sweaty, young puppies who are only interested
in one thing."
Leah gave her a blank
look.
"Getting laid,"
Sadie added. "Honestly, I don't know what you see in that place."
"What, are you
daft?" Leah arched her brow and grinned devilishly. "I'm chalking it up
to my civil duty. Someone's gotta show these young guys how it's done."
"Someone should
show Philip," Sadie muttered.
"Why—can't he
get it up?"
"Jesus, Leah!"
"Well? Fess up."
"Later maybe.
When we stop for coffee."
Leah glanced at her
watch. "We going to our usual place?"
"Of course. Do
you think Victor would forgive us if we went to any other coffee shop?"
Leah chuckled.
"No. He'd start skimping on the whipped cream if we turned traitor. So what
are you getting Sam?"
"I'll know it
when I see it. I'm waiting for a sign."
"You're always
such a sucker for this fate thing."
Sadie shrugged.
"Sometimes you have to have faith that things will work out."
They continued down
the aisle, both searching for something for the sweetest boy they knew. When Sadie
spotted the one thing she was sure Sam would love, she let out a hoot and gave Leah
an I-told-you-so look.
"This bike is
perfect. Since his birthday is actually on Monday, I'll give it to him then. He'll
get enough things from his friends at his party on Sunday anyway."
Little did she know
that Sam wouldn't see his bike.
He wouldn't be around
to get it.
"Haven't seen
you two all week," Victor Guan said. "Another day and I would've called
nine-one-one."
"It's been a busy
week," Sadie replied, plopping her purse on the counter. "How's business,
Victor?"
"Picking up again
with this cold snap."
The young Chinese man
owned the Cuppa Cappuccino a few blocks from Sadie's house. The coffee shop had
a gas fireplace, a relaxed ambiance and often featured local musicians like Jessy
Green and Alexia Melnychuk. Not only did Victor serve the best homemade soups and
feta Caesar salad, the mocha lattés were absolutely sinful.
Leah made a beeline
for the washroom. "You know what I want."
Sadie ordered a Chai
and a mocha.
"You see that
fog this morning?" Victor asked.
"Yeah, I drove
Sam to school in it. I could barely see the car in front of me."
She shivered and Victor
gave her a concerned look.
"Cat walk over
your grave or something?" he asked.
"No, I'm just
tired of winter."
She grabbed a newspaper
from the rack and headed for the upper level. The sofa by the fireplace was unoccupied,
so she sat down and tossed the newspaper on the table.
The headline on the
front page made her gasp.
The Fog Strikes Again!
Her breath felt constricted.
"Oh God. Not another one."
A photograph of a blond-haired,
blue-eyed girl sitting on concrete steps dominated the front page. Eight-year-old
Cortnie Bornyk, from the north side of Edmonton, was missing. According to the newspaper,
the girl had disappeared in the middle of the night. No sign of forced entry and
no evidence as to who had taken her, but investigators were sure it was the same
man who had taken the others.
Sadie opened the newspaper
to page three, where the story continued. She empathized with the girl's father,
a single dad who had left Ontario to find construction work in Edmonton. Matthew
Bornyk had moved here to make a better life. Not a bad decision, considering that
the housing market was booming. But now he was pleading for the safe return of his
daughter.
"Here you go,"
Victor said, setting two mugs on the table.
"Thanks,"
she said, without looking up.
Her eyes were glued
to the smaller photo of Bornyk and his daughter. The man had a smile plastered across
his face, while his daughter was frozen in a silly pose, tongue hanging out the
side of her mouth.
Daddy's little girl, Sadie thought sadly.
Leah flopped into an
armchair beside her. "Who's the hunk?"
"His daughter
was abducted last night."
"How horrible."
"Yeah," Sadie
said, taking a tentative sip from her mug.
"Did anyone see
anything?"
"Nothing."
She locked eyes on Leah. "Except the fog."
"Do they think
it's him?"
Sadie skimmed the article.
"There are no ransom demands yet. Sounds like him."
"Shit. That makes,
what—six kids?"
"Seven. Three
boys, four girls."
"One more boy
to go." Leah's voice dripped with dread.
The Fog, as the kidnapper was known, crept in during
the dead of night or early morning, under
the cloak of a dense fog. He wrapped himself around his prey and like a fog,
he disappeared without a trace, capturing the souls of children and stealing the
hopes and dreams of parents. One boy, one
girl. Every spring. For the last four years.
Sadie flipped the newspaper
over. "Let's change the subject."
Her eyes drifted across
the room, taking in the diversity of Victor's customers. In one corner of the upper
level, three teenaged boys played poker, while a fourth watched and hooted every
time one of his friends won. Across from Sadie, a redheaded woman wearing a mauve
sweatshirt plunked away on a laptop, stopping every now and then to cast the noisy
boys a frustrated look. On the lower level, one of the regulars—Old Ralph—was reading
every newspaper from front to back. He sipped his black coffee when he finished
each page.
"So…" Leah
drawled as she crossed her long legs. "What's going on with Phil the Pill?"
Sadie scowled.
"That's what I'd like to know. He says he's working long nights at the firm."
"And you're thinking,
what? That he's screwing around?"
Leah never was one
to beat around the bush—about anything.
"Maybe he's just
working hard," her friend suggested.
Sadie shook her head.
"He got home at two this morning, reeking of perfume and booze."
"Isn't his firm
working on that oil spill case? I bet all the partners are pulling late nights on
that one."
Sadie snorted.
"Including Brigitte Moreau."
Brigitte was her husband's
right-hand-woman, as he'd made a point of telling her often. Apparently,
the new addition to Fleming Warner Law Offices was indispensable. The slender, blond
lawyer, with a pair of breasts she'd obviously paid for, never left Philip's side.
Sadie wondered what
Brigitte did when she had to pee.
Probably drags Philip
in with her.
"It could be perfectly
innocent," Leah suggested.
"Yeah, right.
I was at the conference after-party. I saw them together, and there was nothing
innocent about them. Brigitte was holding onto Philip's arm as if she owned him.
And he was laughing, whispering in her ear." She pursed her lips. "His
co-workers were looking at me with sympathetic eyes, pitying me. I could see it
in their faces. Even they knew."
Leah winced.
"Did you call him on it?"
"I asked him if
he was messing around again."
Just before Sam was
born, Philip had admitted to two other affairs. Both office flings, according to
him. "Both meant nothing," he had said, before blaming his infidelities
on her swollen belly and her lack of sexual interest.
"What'd he say?"
Leah prodded, with the determination of a pit-bull slobbering over a t-bone steak.
"Nothing. He just
stormed out of the house. He called me from work just before you came over. Said
I was being ridiculous, that my accusations were hurtful and unfair." She lowered
her voice. "He asked me if I was drinking again."
"Bastard. And
you wonder why I'm still single."
Sadie said nothing.
Instead, she thought about her marriage.
They'd been happy—once.
Before her downward spiral into alcoholism. In the early years of their marriage,
Philip had been attentive and caring, supporting her decision to focus on her writing.
It wasn't until she started talking about having a family that things had changed.
She flicked a look
at Leah, grateful for her loyal companionship and understanding. Fate had definitely
intervened when it had led her to Leah. Her friend had gone above and beyond the
duty of friendship, dropping everything in a blink if she called. Leah was her life
support, especially on the days and nights when the bottle called her. She'd even
attended a few AA meetings with Sadie.
And where was Philip?
Probably with Brigitte.
"Come on, my friend,"
Leah said, grinning. "I know you really want to swear. Let it out."
"You know I don't
use language like that."
"You're such a
prude. Philip's an ass, a bastard. Let me hear you say it. Bas…tard."
"I'll let you
be the foul-mouthed one," Sadie said sweetly.
"Fuckin' right.
Swearing is liberating." Leah took a careful sip of tea. "So how's the
book coming?"
Sadie smiled.
"I finished the text yesterday. Tomorrow I'll start on the illustrations. I'm
so excited about it."
"Got a title yet?"
"Going Batty."
Leah's pencil-thin
brow arched. "Hmm…how appropriate."
Sadie gave her a playful
slap on the arm. "It's about a little bat who can't find his way home because
his radar gets screwed up. At first, he thinks he's picking up radio signals, but
then he realizes he's picking up other creatures' thoughts."
"That's perfect.
Sam'll love it."
"I know. I can't
believe I waited so long to write something special for him."
A few months ago, Sadie
decided to take a break from writing another Lexa Caine mystery, especially since
her agent had secured her a deal for two children's picture books.
"It's been a welcome
break," she admitted. "Lexa needed a year off. A holiday."
"Some break,"
Leah said. "I've hardly seen you. You've been working day and night on Sam's
book."
"It's been worth
it."
"Is it harder
than writing mysteries?"
"Other than the
artwork, I think it's easier," Sadie said, somewhat surprised by her own answer.
"But then, Sam inspires me. He's my muse. Kids see things so differently."
"Wish I had one."
Sadie's jaw dropped.
"A kid?"
"A muse, idiot."
Sadie grinned.
"How's the steamy romance novel going?"
"I'm stumped.
I've got Clara trapped below deck on the pirate ship, locked in the cargo hold with
no way out."
Since the success of
her debut novel, Sweet Destiny, Leah had found her niche and was working
on her second historical romance.
"What's in the
room?"
Leah gave her a wry
grin. "Cases of Bermuda rum."
"Well, she's not
going to drink it, so what else can she do?"
"I don't know.
She can't get the crew drunk, if that's what you're thinking. "
"What if the ship
caught on fire?"
Excitement percolated
in Leah's eyes. "Yeah. A fire could really heat things up. Pun intended."
They were silent for
a moment, lost in their own thoughts.
"Hey," Sadie
said finally. "I've been tempted to cut my hair. What do you think?"
Leah stared at her.
"You want to get rid of all that beautiful hair? Jesus, Sadie, it's past your
bra strap." In a thick Irish accent, she said, "Have ye lost your Irish
mind just a wee bit, lassie?"
"It's too much
work," Sadie said with a pout.
"What does Philip
think?"
"He'd be happy
if I kept it long," she replied, scowling. "Maybe that's one reason why
I want to cut it."
Leah laughed.
"Then you go, girl."
Half an hour later,
they parted ways—with Leah eager to get back to the innocent Clara and her handsome,
sword-wielding pirate, and Sadie not so thrilled to be going back to an empty house.
As she climbed into her sporty Mazda3, she smiled, relieved as always that she had
chosen practical over the flashy and pretentious Mercedes that Philip drove.
She glanced at the
clock and heaved a sigh of relief. It was almost time to pick Sam up from school.
Her heart skipped a
beat.
Maybe there's been
some progress today.
2
The instant Sam saw
her standing in the classroom doorway, he let out a wild yell and charged at her,
almost knocking her off her feet.
"Whoa there, little
man," she said breathlessly. "Who are you supposed to be? Tarzan?"
"We just finished
watching Pocahontas," a woman's voice called out.
"Hi, Jean,"
Sadie said. "How are things today?"
Jean Ellis taught a
class of children with hearing impairments.
"Same as usual,"
the kindergarten teacher replied. "No change, I'm afraid."
Sadie tried to hide
her disappointment. "Maybe tomorrow."
She studied Sam, who
could hear everything just fine.
Why won't he speak?
"Did you have
a good day, honey?"
Ignoring her, Sam pulled
on a winter jacket and stuffed his feet into a pair of insulated boots.
"It was a great
day," Jean said, signing as she spoke. "Sam made a friend. A real one
this time."
Sadie was astounded.
Sam's first real friend. Well, unless she counted his invisible friend, Joey.
"Hey, little man,"
she said, crouching down to gather him in her arms. "Mommy missed you today.
But I'm glad you have a new friend. What's his name?"
When Sam didn't answer,
Sadie glanced at Jean.
"Victoria,"
the woman said with a wink.
Grinning, Sadie ruffled
Sam's hair. "Okay, charmer. Let's go."
With a quick wave to
Jean, she reached for Sam's hand. She was always amazed by how perfectly it fit
into hers, how warm and soft his skin was.
Outside in the parking
lot, she unlocked the car and Sam scampered into the booster seat in the back. She
leaned forward, fastened his seatbelt, then kissed his cheek. "Snug as a bug?"
He gave her the thumbs
up.
Pulling away from the
school, she flicked a look in her rearview mirror. Sam stared straight ahead, uninterested
in the laughing children who waited for their parents to arrive. Her son was a shy
boy, a loner who unintentionally scared kids away because of his inability to speak.
His lack of desire
to speak, she corrected.
Sam hadn't always been
mute.
Sadie had taught him
the alphabet at two. By the age of three, he was reading short sentences. Then one
day, for no apparent reason, Sam stopped talking.
Sadie was devastated.
And Philip? There were
no words to describe his erratic behavior. At first, he seemed mortified, concerned.
Then he shouted accusations at her, insinuating so many horrible things that after
a while even she began to wonder. During one nasty exchange, he had grabbed her,
his fingers digging into her arms.
"Did you drink
while you were pregnant?" he demanded.
"No!" she
wailed. "I haven't had a drop."
His eyes narrowed in
disbelief. "Really?"
"I swear, Philip."
He stared at her for
a long time before shaking his head and walking away.
"We have to get
him help," she said, running after him.
Philip swiveled on
one heel. "What exactly do you suggest?"
"There's a specialist
downtown. Dr. Wheaton recommended him."
"Dr. Wheaton is
an idiot. Sam will speak when he's good and ready to. Unless you've screwed him
up for good."
His insensitive words
cut her deeply, and after he'd gone back to work, she picked up the phone and booked
Sam's first appointment. She didn't feel good about going behind Philip's back,
but he'd left her no choice.
By the time Sam was
three and a half, he had undergone numerous hearing and intelligence tests, x-rays,
ultrasounds and psychiatric counseling, yet no one could explain why he wouldn't
say a word. His vocal chords were perfectly healthy, according to one specialist.
And he was right. Sam could scream, cry or shout. They had heard enough of that
when he was younger.
Sadie finally managed
to drag Philip to an appointment, but the psychologist—a small, timid man wearing
a garish red-striped tie that screamed overcompensation—didn't have good
news for them. He sat behind a sterile metal desk, all the while watching Philip
and twitching as if he had Tourette's.
"Your son is suffering
from some kind of trauma," the man said, pointing out what seemed obvious to
Sadie.
"But what could've
caused it?" she asked in dismay.
The doctor fidgeted
with his tie. "Symptoms such as these often result from some form of…of abuse."
Philip jumped to his
feet. "What the hell are you saying?"
The man's entire body
jerked. "I-I'm saying that perhaps someone or something scared your son. Like
a fight between parents, or witnessing drug or alcohol abuse."
Sadie cringed at his
last words. The look Philip gave her was one of pure anger. And censure.
The doctor took a deep
breath. "And of course, there is the possibility of physical or sexual—"
Without a word, Philip
stormed out of the doctor's office.
Sadie ran after him.
He had blamed her,
of course. According to him, it was her drinking that had caused her miscarriages.
And Sam's delayed verbal development.
That night, after Sam
had gone to bed, Philip had rummaged through every dresser drawer. Then he searched
the closet.
She watched apprehensively.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking for the
bottles!" he barked.
She hissed in a breath.
"I told you. I am not drinking."
"Once a drunk…"
She cowered when he
approached her, his face flushed with anger.
"It's your fault!" he yelled.
Guilt did terrible
things to people. It was such a destructive, invisible force that not even Sadie
could fight it.
She looked in the rearview
mirror and took in Sam's heart-shaped face and serious expression. She wondered
for the millionth time why he wouldn't speak. She'd give anything to hear his voice,
to hear one word. Any word. She'd been praying that the school environment
would break through the language barrier.
No such luck.
Suddenly, she was desperate
to hear his voice.
"Sam? Can you
say Mommy?"
He signed Mom.
"Come on, honey,"
she begged. "Muhh-mmy."
In the mirror, he smiled
and pointed at her.
Tears welled in her
eyes, but she blinked them away. One day he would speak. He'd call her Mommy
and tell her he loved her.
"One day,"
she whispered.
For now, she'd just
have to settle for the undeniably strong bond she felt. The connection between mother
and child had been forged at conception and she always knew how Sam felt, even without
words between them.
She turned down the
road that led to the quiet subdivision on the southeast side of Edmonton. She pulled
into the driveway and pushed the garage door remote, immediately noticing the sleek
silver Mercedes parked in the spacious two-car garage.
Her breath caught in
the back of her throat.
Philip was home.
"Okay, little
man," she murmured. "Daddy's home."
She scooped Sam out
of the back seat and headed for the door. He wriggled until she put him down. Then
he raced into the house, straight upstairs. She flinched when she heard his bedroom
door slam.
"I guess neither
of us is too excited to see Daddy," she said.
Tossing her keys into
a crystal dish on the table by the door, she dropped her purse under the desk, kicked
off her shoes, puffed her chest and headed into the war zone.
But the door to Philip's
office was closed.
She turned toward the
kitchen instead.
The war can wait. It
always does.
Passing by his office
door an hour later, she heard Philip bellowing at someone on the phone. Whoever
it was, they were getting quite an earful. A minute later, something hit the door.
She backed away.
"Don't stir the pot, Sadie."
Philip remained locked
away in his office and refused to come out for supper, so she made a quick meal
of hotdogs for Sam and a salad for herself. She left a plate of the past night's
leftovers—ham, potatoes and vegetables—on the counter for Philip.
Later, she gave Sam
a bath and dressed him for bed.
"Auntie Leah came
over today," she said, buttoning his pajama top. "She told me to say hi
to her favorite boy."
There wasn't much else
to say, other than she had finished writing the bat story. She wasn't about to tell
him that she had ordered his birthday cake and bought him a bicycle, which she had
wrestled into the house by herself and hidden in the basement.
"Want me to read
you a story?" she asked.
Sam grinned.
She sat on the edge
of the bed and nudged her head in the direction of the bookshelf. "You pick."
He wandered over to
the rows of books, staring at them thoughtfully. Then he zeroed in on a book with
a white spine. It was the same story he chose every night.
"My Imaginary
Friend again?" she asked, amused.
He nodded and jumped
into bed, settling under the blankets.
Sadie snuggled in beside
him. As she read about Cathy, a young girl with an imaginary friend who always got
her into trouble, she couldn't help but think of Sam. For the past year, he'd been
adamant about the existence of Joey, a boy his age who he swore lived in his room.
She'd often catch Sam smiling and nodding, as if in conversation. No words, no signing,
just the odd facial expression. Some days he seemed lost in his own world.
"Lisa says you
should close your eyes," she read.
Sam's eyes fluttered
shut.
"Now turn this
page and use your imagination."
He turned the page,
then opened his eyes. They lit up when he saw the colorful drawing of Cathy's imaginary
friend, Lisa.
"Can you see me
now?" she read, smiling.
Sam pointed to the
girl in the mirror.
"Good night, Cathy.
And good night, friend. The end."
She closed the book
and set it next to the bat signal clock on the nightstand. Then she scooted off
the bed, leaned down and kissed her son's warm skin.
"Good night, Sam-I-Am."
His small hand reached
up. With one finger, he drew a sideways 'S' in the air. Their nightly ritual.
"S…for Sam,"
she said softly.
And like every night,
she drew the reflection.
"S…for Sadie."
Together, they created
an infinity symbol.
She smiled. "Always
and forever."
She flicked off the
bedside lamp and eased out of the room. As she looked over her shoulder, she saw
Sam's angelic face illuminated by the light from the hall. She shut the door, pressed
her cheek against it and closed her eyes.
Sam was the only one
who truly loved her, trusted her. From the first day he had rested his huge black-lashed
eyes on hers, she had fallen completely and undeniably in love. A mother's love
could be no purer.
"My beautiful
boy."
Turning away, she slammed
into a tall, solid mass. Her smile disappeared when she identified it.
Philip.
And he wasn't happy.
Not one bit.
He glared down at her,
one hand braced against the wall to bar her escape. His lips—the same ones that
had smiled at her so charismatically the night they had met—were curled in disdain.
"You could've
told me Sam was going to bed."
She sidestepped around
him. "You were busy. As usual."
"What the hell's
that supposed to mean?"
She cringed at his
abrasive tone, but said nothing.
"You're not going
all paranoid on me again, are you?" He grabbed her arm. "I already told
you. Brigitte is a co-worker. Nothing more. Jesus, Sadie! You're not a child. You're
almost forty years old. What the hell's gotten into you lately?"
"Not a thing,
Philip. And I'll be thirty-eight this year. Not forty." She yanked her arm
away, then brushed past him, heading for the bedroom.
Their marriage was
a sham.
"Doomed from the
beginning," her mother had told her one night when Sadie, a sobbing wreck,
had called her after Philip had admitted to his first affair.
But she'd proven her
mother wrong. Hadn't she? Things seemed better the year after Sam was born. Then
she and Philip started fighting again. Lately, it had escalated into a nightly event.
At least on the nights he came home before she went to sleep.
Philip entered the
bedroom and slammed the door.
"You know,"
he said. "You've been a bitch for months."
"No, I haven't."
"A frigid
bitch. And we both know it's not from PMS, seeing as you don't get that anymore."
Flinching, she caught
her sad reflection in the dresser mirror. She should be used to his careless name-calling
by now. But she wasn't. Each time, it was like a knife piercing deeper into her
heart. One of these days, she wouldn't be able to pull it out. Then where would
they be? Just another statistic?
Philip waited behind
her, flustered, combing a hand through his graying brown hair.
For a moment, she felt
ashamed of her thoughts.
"Are you even
listening to me?" he sputtered in outrage.
And the moment was
gone.
She sighed, drained.
"What do you want me to say, Philip? You're never home. And when you are, you're
busy working in your office. We don't do anything together or go any—"
"Christ, Sadie!
We were just out with Morris and his wife."
"I'm not talking
about functions for the firm," she argued. "We don't see our old friends
anymore. We never go to movies, never just sit and talk, never make…love."
Philip crossed his
arms and scowled. "And whose fault is that? It's certainly not mine. You're
the one who pulls away every time I try to get close to you. You know, a guy can
only handle so much rejection before—"
"What?" She
whipped around to confront him. "Before you go looking for it elsewhere?"
He stared at her for
a long moment and the air grew rank with tension, coiling around them with the slyness
of a venomous snake, fangs exposed, ready to strike.
When he finally spoke,
his voice was quiet, defeated. "Maybe if you gave some of the love you pour
on Sam to me once in a while, I wouldn't be tempted to look elsewhere."
He strode out of the
room, his footsteps thundering down the stairs. A minute later, a door slammed.
She released a trembling
breath. "Coward."
She wasn't sure if
she meant Philip…or herself.
Brushing the drapes
aside, she peered through the window to the dimly lit street below. It was devoid
of any moving traffic, just a few parked vehicles lining the sidewalks. The faint
rumble of the garage door made her clench the drapes. She heard the defiant revving
of an engine, and then watched as the Mercedes backed down the driveway, a stream
of frosty exhaust trailing behind it. The surface of the street shimmered from a
fresh glazing of ice, and the car sped away, tires spinning on the pavement.
Philip always seemed
to get in the last word.
She watched the fiery
glow of the taillights as they faded into the night. Then the flickering of the
streetlamp across the road caught her eye. She frowned when the light went out.
One of the neighbors' dogs started barking, set off by either the abrupt darkness
or Philip's noisy departure. She wasn't sure which.
And then something
emerged from the bushes.
A lumbering shadow
shuffled down the sidewalk, a few yards to the right of the lamp. It was a man,
of that she was sure. She could make out a heavy jacket and some kind of hat, but
she couldn't distinguish anything else.
The man paused across
the street from her house.
Sadie was sure that
he was staring up at her.
She shivered and stepped
out of view, the drapes flowing back into place. When her breathing calmed, she
edged toward the window again and took a surreptitious peek.
Gail, a neighbor from
across the street, was walking Kali, a Shih Tzu poodle. But other than the woman
and her dog, the sidewalk was empty.
Sadie locked all the
doors and windows, and set the security alarm.
After Sadie dropped
Sam off at school the next morning, she drove to Sobeys for milk and laundry detergent.
Walking past the bakery section, she was flagged down by Liz Crenshaw, a vivacious
food demonstrator who talked a mile a minute.
"Sadie! I was
just thinking about you. How are you?"
Though the petite woman
was in her early fifties, she looked closer to thirty-five. Liz had three grown
children and four grandchildren who all lived back east. Without her family around
to spoil, she was a sucker for Sam. And Sam adored her.
"How's your little
boy doing?" Liz asked, smoothing a stray auburn curl behind one ear.
"It's Sam's birthday soon, isn't it?"
Sadie tucked the milk
under her arm and reached for a custard pie sample. "Monday. But his party's
on Sunday. He's excited about all the birthday gifts he'll be getting."
Liz passed her a plastic
spoon. "What did you get him?"
"A new bike,"
Sadie said between mouthfuls. "I'm not giving it to him until Monday though."
"I'd like to get
him something. From Auntie Liz. What does he want, hon? Games? Books?"
Sadie grinned.
"A pet bat."
The woman shuddered.
"Ugh. That boy's got strange taste."
Sadie frowned at the
empty sample dish in her hand, then greedily eyed the others on the stand.
"Yeah, I'm trying to talk my husband into getting him a puppy as a compromise."
"Aw, I bet Sam'll
love that."
"Yeah, but Philip
hasn't said yes yet."
And he probably won't.
After two more samples,
Sadie headed home. As she drove, she thought about Philip's relationship with Sam.
He barely saw his son. Whenever he did, there was always an uncomfortable strain
in the air. He never said anything to Sam, unless he wanted him to pick up something
off the floor, and then Philip's voice was always so intolerant. And he never played
with Sam. He was always too busy, or he didn't want to wrinkle his shirt or get
his pants dirty.
She let out a sigh.
She'd give anything to see Philip on the floor beside his son, both of them playing
with dinosaurs or action figures—anything.
Entering the house,
she headed straight for the kitchen and put the milk jug in the fridge. In the laundry
room, she started a load of darks and threw the whites into the dryer. The morning
passed quickly as she lost herself in her regular routine of housework.
After a bite to eat,
she sat down at the small desk in the corner of the living room. She pulled out
some watercolor paper and began drafting the cover for Going Batty. By two o'clock, she had created outlines of the cover
and the first four pages.
"Looking good,"
she murmured.
She packed away the
drawings and began straightening the pillows on the two sofas. Flicking a look around
the room, she scowled at its stark white simplicity. She had wanted to decorate
the spacious room with fresh flowers and colorful prints. But Philip wouldn't have
it. He liked things the way they were. Everything in its place, no frivolous touches.
The only room she'd been allowed free reign was Sam's.
The phone rang. It
was her agent in Calgary.
"Hey, Jackson,"
she said. "I thought you'd forgotten me."
There was a feigned
gasp on the other end. "I could never do that. You're a Starr, remember?"
Starr Literary Agency,
run by Toronto native Jackson Starr, was giving the bigwigs in New York a run for
their money.
"Any word on the
conference tour?" she asked.
"That's why I'm
calling. I have you booked in five cities in September, including the Crime Writers
Conference in Toronto and Criminal Minds at Work in New York."
She grinned into the
phone. "How rich did you make me?"
"Five thousand,
plus hotel and travel expenses."
"Well, that made
my day. Thanks."
"Any time. I'll
deposit the check into your account this afternoon." There was a ruffle of
paper. "So when you coming to visit us?"
Sadie gaze was drawn
to Philip's office door. He was at work, but she still felt his presence, his disapproval.
He didn't like Jackson, was jealous of him.
"Sorry, Jackson.
I won't be able to get away for a bit. Maybe when I finish Sam's book."
"How's it coming?"
She filled him in on
her progress, then hung up.
The thought of the
extra money in her private account elated her. Philip maintained control over most
of their money, which he had tied up in investments. He gave her a weekly household
allowance with the agreement that any money she made would be used for Sam's basic
expenses and her own. Thank God, she made a decent income. Maybe this summer they could finally go to Disneyland.
Thoughts of a family
vacation, sunshine, castles and rides filled her mind and she practically danced
into the laundry room. When the third load was dry, she folded Sam's clothes and
placed them in a basket, along with a pair of Philip's socks that she'd discovered
behind the laundry hamper. Gripping the basket under one arm, she trudged upstairs.
In the master bedroom,
she opened the top drawer of the tallboy dresser and tried to ignore the five airplane
bottles of alcohol that clinked together. Philip had made a halfhearted attempt
to hide them under his long johns.
Five bottles, five
drinks.
She tossed the socks
in and slammed the drawer shut. Then she moved into the hallway, hesitating outside
the door to Sam's bedroom. She wasn't sure why, but when her hand touched the brass
doorknob, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. With a nervous laugh, she turned
the knob and stepped inside.
A quick survey of Sam's
room told her that nothing was out of the ordinary, so she set the laundry basket
on the bed, next to a Batman t-shirt that had been tossed on the pillow.
She sniffed the shirt.
"Clean."
Folding it, she placed
it on top of the clothes in the basket. Then she gathered up the toy T-Rex, Raptors
and Pterodactyls that were scattered on the floor and put them in the treasure chest.
A few minutes later, Sam's clothes had been put away in the dresser, with the exception
of an Oilers jacket.
She moved toward the
closet, the jacket in hand.
Ssss…
The sound brought her
to a halt.
"Get a grip. What
would Philip say if he saw you?" She laughed derisively. "He'd say you're
being a stupid fool."
She hauled the door
open.
The closet was a jumble
of toys and clothes. On the floor, jammed between two stuffed animals, a red balloon
left over from the Valentine's Day parade hissed at her mockingly.
As it deflated, she
echoed the sound. "Idiot."
She hung up the jacket,
tossed the balloon in the garbage and went downstairs. An hour later, she headed
out to pick up Sam, the balloon long forgotten.
"It's Friday,"
she said as they left the school. "Park day."
Sam let out a whoop,
his mouth lined with orange Kool-Aid.
She frowned.
"We have to wash that face before Daddy sees."
They crossed the parking
lot and followed the sidewalk to the playground. A light blanket of snow still covered
the grass, but that didn't deter the dozen or so children that played in the park.
She settled Sam on
a swing and closed her fingers over his.
"Hold on tight,
honey. Don't let go."
She gave the swing
a gentle push. Then another.
Sunlight danced in
Sam's black hair and he closed his eyes and leaned backward. He rose higher and
higher, pumping his legs in delight. One of his boots slipped off and landed a few
yards away. Sam didn't even notice.
"You're flying,"
Sadie said, grinning. "Like a bat, Sam."
Watching him, she had
a sudden urge to freeze the moment, savor it forever. Times such as these made her
wish she had brought a camera.
She heard his soft
giggle. It built slowly, then exploded into a bout of contagious laughter.
Even the young mother
next to her couldn't help but smile.
"He's having a
good time," the woman said.
Sadie nodded.
"Oh, to be young and carefree."
"You got that
right—Andrew!"
Distracted by the antics
of a lanky, freckle-faced boy climbing on top of the covered slide, the woman rushed
off, leaving her daughter—still a toddler—in the baby swing next to Sam.
Sadie stared after
her in disbelief. What on earth was the woman thinking? How could she leave her
daughter with a complete stranger after a girl had been kidnapped?
Her gaze drifted over
the school park.
A cluster of mothers
chatted at a picnic table, while an olive-skinned boy of about four wandered precariously
close to the busy parking lot. A few feet away, an older boy—maybe thirteen—pushed
a chubby girl off the steps to the slide, and a toddler of indiscriminate gender
played in the sandbox, feasting on gourmet dirt laced with God knows what else.
And all of that, ignored by the women at the table.
The child in the baby
swing let out a soft cry.
Shaking her head in
frustration, Sadie slowed Sam's swing. As she helped him down, she was torn between
wanting to take him home and not
wanting to leave the little girl alone.
Huge brown eyes captured
hers. "Mama?"
Sadie sensed her fear.
"Your mommy will be back soon."
The girl whimpered,
her eyes pooling with tears.
A few minutes later,
the mother rushed over. "Jeez, you'd think he'd been killed, the way he was
carrying on." She nudged her head in the direction of the freckled boy.
Sadie's lips thinned.
"Your daughter was getting worried."
The young woman's eyes
widened as she let out a coarse snicker. "Daughter? She's not my kid. Neither
of 'em are. I'm their nanny."
Sadie was shocked.
"Their nanny?"
"Hey, people mistake
me for their mom all the time," the woman said, as though motherhood were nothing
more than a badge one could buy at the local Dollar Store.
While the woman helped
the toddler from the swing, Sadie gave her a disparaging look and bit back a reply.
Without another word, she took Sam's hand and led him back to the car.
"Snug as a bug,"
she said, clicking his seatbelt into place.
She climbed into the
driver's seat. As she reached for the door, something made her look across the street.
A lone man wearing
reflective sunglasses and a cowboy hat pulled low over his face waited in a gray
sedan with the window rolled halfway down. She couldn't make out his features, but
she did see the proud smile on his face as he watched his son or daughter playing
in the park.
I wish Philip would
take the time to bring Sam here.
She backed out and
eased toward the parking lot exit.
That's when she noticed
the man in the car again. He wasn't looking toward the playground anymore. His shadowed
gaze was directed at her. Passing the man,
she was relieved when he looked away.
"Give me a call
and let me know if you'll be home for supper," Sadie said in response to Philip's
voice mail greeting.
Despondent, she hung
up the phone.
It was almost six and
she needed to talk to him—before things got further out of hand.
Maybe therapy would
help.
She let out a huff.
The day Philip went
for any kind of counseling would be the day that pigs, sheep and cows flew.
A dull thump came
from Sam's room.
"Honey, you okay?"
She listened at the
bottom of the stairs, but he wasn't crying so she strolled back into the living
room.
The phone rang.
"Hello?"
All she heard was breathing—heavy
breathing.
She hung up. She'd
been getting a lot of crank calls lately.
The phone rang a second
time.
She picked it up.
"Hello?"
More breathing.
"Is anyone there?"
She sighed, irritated by the silence. "Is that the best you can do?" When
there was still no response, she said, "I hope this is as good for you as it
is for me."
A hooting laugh erupted
on the other end.
"Leah," she
muttered.
"Hey, Sadie,"
her friend said with a snort. "What've you got planned for tonight?"
"I'm not sure.
I was hoping Philip would be home early for a change. What about you?"
"I need to get
out. My neighbor has a party every Friday night and I swear they're going to come
through the ceiling any minute. Of course, it wouldn't be so bad if they invited
me."
Sadie heard the frustration
in Leah's voice.
"Why don't you
come here for supper then?" she said.
"You don't mind?"
"Of course not,
you twit." But Philip might.
Although she'd never
say that to Leah—even though her friend already knew that Philip wasn't her
number one fan. He had issues with
Leah. He didn't agree with her lifestyle, her fashion, or her influence on Sadie.
He'd been trying for years to get Sadie to hook up with some of the wives from the
firm. It would look good for him.
"Well…" Leah
drawled, pretending to ponder the offer of free food. "Okay, I'll come over.
I'll be there in twenty minutes. But as soon as Phil the Pill shows up, I'm outta
there. Got it?"
"Got it."
"What's for dinner
anyway?"
Sadie smiled.
"Sam's favorite."
"KD?" Leah
whined.
"No," Sadie
said, chuckling. "His other favorite. KFC."
"Awesome! I'll
be there in ten."
Leah showed up at the
door, wearing a pair of tight black pants that flared at the ankles and a flamboyant
gypsy-style blouse in colorful bronzes and silver trim.
"Hey, it's Friday
night," she said when she saw Sadie's raised brow. "I'm going out later.
Now, where's the man of the house?"
"Sam! Auntie Leah's
here!"
A ball of energy flew
down the stairs and landed in her friend's outstretched arms.
Leah groaned.
"You're getting big, buddy."
Sam looked up at Leah
and a devilish grin developed.
"Tomorrow you'll
be six," she said, kissing his cheek.
"Well, officially
he's six on Monday," Sadie reminded her.
Leah lifted a slim
shoulder. "Semantics." She set Sam down. "Are you excited for your
birthday?"
He nodded, then giggled
and raced back upstairs.
"Supper'll be
here soon," Sadie said, heading for the kitchen.
Leah followed her.
"I take it the esteemed legal eagle isn't back yet?"
"No."
"You still thinking
he's—"
Sadie's prickly gaze
halted her.
"Ah…" Leah
murmured. "You know, until you have proof, I wouldn't get too hung up on this
idea. For all you know it could be perfectly innocent."
Sadie made a sour face.
"Or you could
be right," Leah added quickly.
"I don't know
what to do."
"You gotta talk
to the man. But be prepared. You might not like what you hear." Leah's voice
softened. "God, you don't deserve—"
The doorbell rang.
"Chow's here,"
Sadie said, grateful for the interruption.
She headed for the
living room, grabbed a couple of twenties from her purse and opened the front door.
An attractive older man wearing a damp hooded raincoat stood on the porch. He held
a paper bag in one hand and the bill in the other.
"Thanks,"
she said, handing him the money. "Hey, where's Trevor?"
The man smiled.
"You must get a lot of chicken if you know us guys by name."
"My son is hooked
on KFC."
The man nodded and
passed her the bag. "Trevor's in the hospital getting his appendix out."
"Ouch. Hope he
gets better soon."
"Yeah, well you
have a good night," he said.
As she closed the door,
Leah snickered behind her.
"He was so
checking you out, Sadie."
Sadie blushed.
"I think he was checking you out, my friend."
"Nope. He was
disappointed to see me here. Gee, should we arm wrestle for him?
"I'm married."
Leah gave her a hard
stare. "Married, maybe. But you ain't dead, sistah friend."
"You know I won't
do that. I made a vow to Philip and I intend on keeping it. Even if he doesn't."
"I admire you
for that, Sadie. So should your husband."
After supper, Leah
tucked Sam into bed, leaving Sadie to tidy up. When she was finished, she stared
at the phone. Philip still hadn't called.
"I think he just
pulled in," Leah said behind her.
A few minutes later,
Philip walked into the house. Ignoring Sadie, he tossed his briefcase on the dining
room table and sent an irritated look in Leah's direction.
"What's for supper?"
he asked, eyes flashing.
"KFC," Sadie
replied. "It's in the fridge."
His mouth thinned as
he eyed Leah, his disapproving gaze moving from her head to her feet and back up
again. "What, another sleazy party tonight?"
"Nope," Leah
said dryly. "Not unless you know where a good one is."
"Aw, bite me."
"I would, Phil,
but I don't eat pork."
Philip's eyes narrowed
and he strode out of the kitchen.
"Time for me to
go, Sadie," Leah said, chagrined. "I feel a storm a brewin'. Sorry, hon."
"I'm sorry.
I don't know why he has to be so rude to you."
"He's jealous
of our friendship. But no worries. We're friends for life. Right?"
Sadie hugged her.
"For life."
As she changed into
an oversized t-shirt for bed, Sadie threw a hesitant glance in Philip's direction.
He'd hardly said a word to her since Leah had left. No, "how was your day,
Sadie?" Or, "what did you do today?"
"Any new developments
in your case?" she asked hesitantly.
Philip grunted as he
peeled off his pants. "You know I can't discuss it."
Then talk to me about
something else.
She tried again.
"Sam had a great day at school today."
Philip paused in the
doorway to the bathroom. "Did he say something?"
She bit her bottom
lip and shook her head.
"Then he didn't
have a great day," he said with a scowl.
When the bathroom door
closed behind him, she slumped on the edge of the bed. She didn't understand what
was going on with him. Why was he so distant, so cruel?
Sliding between the
cool sheets, she stared at the spackled ceiling, wondering how much more indifference
she could take. Philip had always been driven by his passion for success. He handled
multinational corporate trials with ease, winning his fair share of high-profile
cases. He kept long hours and often slept on the sofa bed in his office.
Or so he said.
The bathroom door creaked.
She rolled away, just
before Philip turned off the lamp and climbed into bed beside her. A whiff of floral
perfume emanated from his body. The perfume wasn't hers. It had traces of honeysuckle.
Sadie hated honeysuckle.
Feigning sleep, she
waited for his breathing to slow. Or for the snoring to begin. For a long moment,
she wondered whether she should say something. Then she felt heavy breathing in
her ear, and a hand fumbled beneath the t-shirt and stroked her thigh.
"I need you to
help me with a little problem, Sadie."
You haven't needed
me for a long time, she itched to say. Now you want sex? What about my needs?
"I need to talk,"
she said when Philip reached higher.
His hand froze.
"What about?"
"You know what.
I think we need help."
He snatched his hand
away as if her words had burned him.
"If you want to
see a shrink, go see one."
"Both of us,"
she insisted.
The mattress shifted.
She sat up, turned
on the lamp.
Philip stood beside
the bed, wearing nothing but a rapidly dwindling erection. He sent her a piercing
stare, glaring at her as though she had lost her mind.
Had she?
"I don't need
a goddamn shrink, Sadie. I'm not the one with the problem."
"Our marriage
is in trouble," she said, scrambling from the bed. "We need counseling.
If you won't do it for me, then at least do it for Sam's sake. Please!"
"Sam's sake? Jesus
Christ, Sadie! Everything lately has been for Sam's sake. We moved out of the apartment
into this house for him. Now I have to drive almost an hour instead of fifteen minutes
to get to the off—"
"That apartment
wasn't suitable for raising a child."
Philip stabbed a finger
in the air. "You once thought it
was the perfect place for us. Until
your meddling friend got her nose out of joint."
"What's that supposed
to mean? Leah had nothing to do with why I wanted to leave that apartment."
"She's changed
you, Sadie. So has Sam. If you can't see that…" He shrugged.
She stared at him,
baffled. "Of course having a child changed me. What did you expect? There's
someone else to consider now, not just the two of us."
Philip's jaw flinched,
but he remained silent.
"My God,"
she whispered. "You're jealous of him? Of Sam?"
Philip let out an angry
huff, grabbed a pillow and stalked toward the door. "I am not jealous
of my son. I just don't like the changes I see in you." Cursing, he stormed
out of the room.
"And I don't like
the changes I see in you," she mumbled, slumping on the bed. Why am I still
with him?
That was a stupid question,
of course. She stayed because of Sam. Because a small part of her still believed
that Philip could change. Would change.
She recalled the night
her life began to crumble.
"I don't want
kids," he'd told her. "I'm happy with the way things are. I don't understand
why you'd want to jeopardize everything."
"What would be
jeopardized?" she'd asked, stunned. "You'd still have your career and
I'd have mine. But I want children too."
"Well, I don't."
That was the end of
that discussion.
Believing he'd change
his mind and feeling she had no other choice, she secretly went off the pill. Bad
move. When Philip discovered the unopened prescription box, he refused to speak
to her for the rest of the day. A week later, she found out she was pregnant. She
was ecstatic. Philip was pissed. He screamed at her, calling her a conniving bitch.
She miscarried the
next day.
Yeah, they'd been the
happy couple, the envy of all their friends, especially the ones who thought Sadie
and Philip had everything. They didn't realize that she was putting on a façade.
In public, she'd smile and tell everyone that things were wonderful. However, in
private…
There was no denying
it. She was a miserable mess.
It started with the
occasional drink before bed. To calm her nerves since Philip was always late. But
one drink became two. Then three. Before she knew it, she started drinking during
the day, hiding bottles where Philip would never find them.
A second miscarriage
sent her into a bout of severe depression and she was sure she was being punished,
that she'd never have a baby. She spent most nights with her other 'best friend'—a
bottle of rum.
Then Philip started
staying out later and later.
Her life changed forever
the night that he was promoted to partner. At a special banquet, a new partner and
his wife were celebrating the arrival of a baby boy. The attention they received
and the accolades from the senior law partners made Philip reconsider the idea of
children. Suddenly, having a child seemed the perfect way to elevate his social
and professional status.
A year later, Sam was
born.
Sadie had quit drinking
the moment she found out she was pregnant. It had been rough at first, but with
Leah's help and Sam as the reward, she'd fought all her demons and won.
She'd been sober ever
since.
As she slipped into
bed, she clamped her eyes shut, blocking off tears that threatened to escape. She
was not going to cry. Not over Philip.
Outside, a dog barked.
"I guess a puppy
for Sam is out of the question then."
It seemed as though
she had just closed her eyes, when the sound of breaking glass woke her. A piercing
scream sent her heart racing and she flew
out of bed.
When she left her bedroom,
the first thing she noticed was the chill that swept down the hall. The second thing
she saw was Sam's half-open door.
She pushed it. "Jesus!"
Her son's bedroom blasted
her with frigid air. When she glanced toward the far wall, she spotted the culprit.
The blinds were wide open and the window was shattered. On the floor, a foot from
Sam's bed, was a brick.
"What's going
on?" Philip demanded, flicking on the light.
Speechless, she reached
a hand to her throat as her eyes swept over the room, then screeched to a stop on
Sam's bed.
His empty bed.
Panic seared through
her, hot and fearful. "Sam?"
Behind her, the closet
door creaked. She moved closer, but Philip beat her to it. When he whipped it open,
she was overwhelmed by relief. Her sweet boy was curled up in the corner, tears
flooding his face.
She swept Sam into
her arms. "Only my bat boy would hide in the closet," she murmured, stoking
his hair. "Philip, who would do such a thing?"
"Shit, I don't
know. Probably just kids out carousing. Tuck Sam back into bed and we'll clean this
up."
"I'll put him
in our bed," she said dryly. "He's not sleeping in here tonight."
"Fine. I guess
I'll clean up the glass then."
Sadie hefted Sam to
her hip and made for the door. She could feel his heart beating rapidly, and it
didn't slow until she reached her bedroom and tucked him into the king-sized bed.
When he reached up, she kissed his forehead. "No worries. You're safe, honey.
I promise."
Lugging the vacuum
behind him, Philip paused in the doorway. His gaze wouldn't meet hers.
"I'll report it
first thing in the morning," he said before disappearing.
A minute later, the
vacuum roared to life.
These were the moments—although
rare—that reminded her of why she had married Philip. He always took care of business.
Leah arrived just after
one-thirty on Sunday afternoon.
Sadie took one look
at her friend's downcast face and knew instinctively that something was wrong.
"What?" she
demanded.
"They didn't have
your cake order, Sadie."
"But I called
it in last week. How could they—" She caught sight of Leah's sly grin and twinkling
eyes. "What's going on?"
"April Fools!"
Leah darted down the
sidewalk, then returned a minute later bearing a sweet gift. Sam's Batman birthday
cake.
"April Fools'
Day ends at noon, you know," Sadie muttered.
"Not in Canada,
silly. Besides, I couldn't resist."
Sadie gave her a saccharine
smile. "No problem. I'll get you back next year."
Juggling the cake box,
Leah kicked off her shoes and made a beeline for the kitchen. "There's no room
in the fridge."
"Leave it on the
counter then," Sadie said, emptying a bag of steaming microwave popcorn into
a bowl. "Are you ready for this?"
"It's a kids'
party. How bad can it get?"
Sadie opened her mouth,
but then clamped it shut. Leah didn't have kids.
And after today, she'll
be very thankful of that fact.
When they entered the
living room, it was already in a state of chaos. Toys and kids were scattered on
every piece of furniture. In one corner, twin boys jumped on the sofa, fighting
over a plastic sword. Victoria, Sam's new school friend, stood nearby with her hands
on her hips.
"Stop it!"
the little girl demanded. "Put that down and stop fighting!" Her blond
pigtails bounced with every word.
In the middle of the
room, a copper-haired boy sat on the floor, eyes glued to a movie. Beside him, Sam
was busy pretending to be a T-Rex, his voice competing with the screams of his friends
and the deafening volume of the TV. So far, he was in the lead.
The look of sheer horror
on Leah's face was almost comical.
"Oh…my…God,"
she said. "How on earth are you gonna survive all these monsters?"
Sadie grinned and passed
her the popcorn bowl. "That's what I have you for."
Leah's face paled.
"Hey, you only asked me to pick up the cake. You never said anything about
me staying."
"Then you don't
get any cake."
"But that's…blackmail!"
Leah sputtered. "Fine then, but I'm leaving after the ice cream."
The doorbell rang.
Sadie wiped her fingers
on a dishcloth and hurried to the front door. When she opened it, she was relieved
to see that the entertainment Philip had hired had arrived.
Clancy the Clown stood
on the porch, his curly orange hair flapping in the wind. His face was caked with
white paint and a bulbous red nose covered his own. An exaggerated crimson smile
took up the lower half of his face. To Sadie, it seemed more grotesque than happy.
"Hey, Mrs. O'Connell,"
the man said in a nasally tone. "Sorry I'm late. My car broke down and—"
She waved him inside.
"Don't worry about it. I'm just thankful you made it. You look very…uh…colorful."
The clown sported a
blue and orange striped jacket, a white shirt and bright yellow baggy pants held
up by lime green and gold suspenders. A tiny top hat was perched on his head and
a huge daisy was pinned to the left lapel.
Sadie suspected that
one sniff would get her drenched.
"Do you want cash
or a check?" she asked.
"Cash, if you
have it."
She pulled a wad of
twenties from her pocket. She counted out three hundred dollars, paused, then added
an extra forty.
You'd better be worth
it, Clancy.
Handing him the money,
she said, "Three hours, right?"
The clown nodded, placing
the bills inside a canvas bag. "I'll let myself out at…" He checked his
watch. "Five-fifteen. Then you're on your own."
"Gee, thanks."
Clancy smiled.
"Did you call the agency?"
"I've had my hands
full with these kids."
The crimson smile stretched
further. "The boss doesn't know I'm late then. Thanks."
A snort sounded from
behind Sadie.
"If you want to
thank her," Leah said wryly, "then round up the little hooligans and do
your thing."
The clown's brown eyes
shifted to Sadie. "No problemo. Su casa es mi casa."
With a bob of his head,
Clancy and his neon red, size fourteen shoes clomped into the living room. He was
welcomed by a boisterous Sam who shrieked with delight.
"Oh, Jesus,"
Sadie moaned.
"Just think how
loud things'll be when Sam starts talking," Leah said. "Once he starts,
you won't be able to shut him up."
"That will be
the best day of my life."
Leah's expression grew
sad. "I know."
Sadie watched Sam and
his friends play with Clancy. The kids were fascinated by the clown, pulling on
his suspenders and stepping on his huge shoes, and shrieking when he sprayed them
with the daisy.
"Hey," Leah
said, jabbing her. "Let's grab a glass of chocolate milk. I need something
to wash down this popcorn. "
As Sadie followed her
into the kitchen, she peered over her shoulder. Sam's beaming face brought a smile
to her own.
"You're a lucky
mama," Leah said softly.
"I know. Sam is
the best thing in my life."
When the door closed
behind the last child, Sadie and Leah released a collective sigh, looked at each
other and laughed.
"Birthdays were
way easier when he was a baby," Sadie said.
Leah pushed back her
limp hair. "I just have one thing to say to you, my friend. I'm going to have
a root canal this time next year. It'll be a slice of heaven compared to this."
"If you can get
a two for one special I'll come with you."
"Yeah, but that
would mean Phil would have to actually show up," her friend said sourly.
The smile on Sadie's
face faded.
"Hey," Leah
said. "I'm sure he's got a good reason for not making his own kid's birthday
party."
Sadie raised a brow.
"You think?"
"Well, he must
have. He may be a jerk to me and treat you like crap most of the time…but he loves
Sam."
"I know, but sometimes
I think he loves himself more."
"Well, cheer up,"
Leah said, eying the mess in the room. "Sam's party was a complete success."
Sadie slumped into
a chair. "Yeah. Thank God for Clancy. He did a great job keeping the kids entertained.
I was so busy in the kitchen trying to get those darned sparklers to light that
I didn't even see him leave.
"And lucky you,
you get to do it all over again tomorrow."
"Yeah, the family
birthday party. You'll be here, right?"
"Wouldn't miss
it. Sam'll be so happy when he sees that bike you got him."
"I'm going to
take him to the park to practice on it next weekend. Do you want to come?"
"Sure."
Leah disappeared into
the kitchen and Sadie heard her rummage through the fridge.
"Ah-ha!"
her friend called out. "The perfect year."
When she reappeared,
she had two glasses of peach ice tea. She handed one to Sadie. "Drink up. Then
I'll help you clean up this mess before Philip sees it."
Sadie's woeful gaze
drifted around the living room. Paper plates were piled everywhere. They had somehow
gone astray and hadn't made it into the garbage can that she had so thoughtfully
provided next to the dining room table. Plastic cups, some half full of pop, were
on every table and counter space. There were more cups than there had been kids.
"Ugh," Leah
said behind her.
Sadie followed her
friend's gaze.
A chocolate cake smear—so
dark it almost looked like dried blood—stretched across the kitchen wall, three
feet from the ground, a small handprint at the end.
"Your house is
a disaster," Leah said unnecessarily.
Sadie sighed.
"Well, at least it's quiet."
Sam had gone upstairs
to his room, tired from all the excitement and junk food. The last time she had
seen him, he was lying on his bed.
"He's probably
asleep," Leah said, reading her thoughts.
Sadie gulped down her
ice tea, then set to work on the kitchen, while Leah looked after the living room.
After an hour had passed, all that was left to do was run the vacuum over the carpets
and turn on the dishwasher.
"All done,"
Leah said, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow.
"Thanks. I can
handle what's left."
As Sadie watched Leah
climb into her car, a part of her wanted to holler, 'Come back!'
"You're being
silly," she muttered.
Sadie closed the door
and slid the deadbolt into place. Then she locked up the rest of the house, set
the alarm for the night and went upstairs to check on Sam.
When she opened the
door to his room, she smiled. Sam was stretched out across his bed. On top of the
blankets. A soft snore issued from his half-opened mouth. He had passed out from
exhaustion, his face covered with chocolate cake, white, black and blue icing, and
an orange pop mustache.
"Happy birthday,
little man," she whispered, tucking an extra blanket around him.
She closed the door
and headed downstairs to wait for Philip.
Sadie was abruptly
roused from a deep sleep. She jerked to a sitting position, inhaling deeply, and
looked at the space beside her. It was unoccupied, the blanket still tucked under
the pillow. She had waited for Philip downstairs for hours. Eventually, she had
given up and gone to bed.
She peered at the bedroom
clock. It was half past midnight. She'd only been asleep for about forty-five minutes.
In the murky shadows of the room, she felt a foreign presence, a movement of air
that was so subtle it could have been her own breath.
A draft?
She squinted at the
window. It was closed.
Somewhere in the house
a floorboard creaked.
Philip must be home.
Tossing the blankets
aside, she slid from the bed and walked to the door. Remembering the brick thrown
through Sam's window, she froze. Her stomach fluttered as she imagined a gang of
teen hoodlums breaking into the house.
But the alarm would
go off, silly.
Still, she pressed
an ear to the door and strained to listen.
At first, there was
silence. Then another creak.
"Philip,"
she mumbled.
She was about to open
the door when she heard an unfamiliar ticking sound. Had Philip bought a clock for
the hall?
She listened again.
Tick… tick, tick.
Whatever it was, it
was coming closer.
Her heart began to
pound a maniacal rhythm and her breath quickened. When a shadow passed underneath
the door, she held her breath. Her heart thumped almost painfully in her chest.
Then the shadow was
gone.
Cautiously, she opened
the door. Just a crack.
The hall was empty.
And no ticking.
Maybe I dreamt it.
With a tremulous laugh,
she flung open the door, a show of false bravado. Maybe Philip was working in his
office. Maybe he'd gone to check on Sam.
"Philip?"
She walked down the
hall and stopped in front of Sam's room. Her toes tingled as a draft teased her
feet. She shivered, then opened the door.
The window that Philip
had replaced gaped open—black and hungry—like a mouth waiting to be fed. The curtains
flapped in the night wind, two tongues lashing out.
She frowned. Philip
hadn't left the window open. He'd gone to work early, without a word to either of
them. And Sam couldn't have opened it. He wasn't tall enough.
Did I leave it open?
She crossed the room,
barely looking at the mound in the bed. She reached for the window and tugged it
shut. The lock clicked into place, the sharp sound shattering the stillness.
Then she glanced at
the bed.
Sam hadn't even stirred.
But then again, he never did. He was almost comatose when he slept and nothing could
wake him early, short of a sonic boom.
She tiptoed to the
bed and touched his hair. Then, closing her eyes, she leaned down, kissed his warm
forehead and breathed in his sweet child scent. He smelled of chocolate and sunshine.
"Snug as a bug,"
she whispered.
She stepped back, her
foot connecting with something soft and furry. Reaching down, she fumbled in the
dark until she found the stuffed toy dog that Philip had given Sam the night before.
She moved quietly toward the closet, inched the door open and tossed the toy inside.
Then she stepped out into the hall, shutting the bedroom door behind her.
Her gaze flitted to
the far end of the hallway, where shadows danced between silk trees that stood in
the alcove. Beside the trees—two-thirds up the wall—was a small oval window, and
through it, a full moon was visible. It hung in the cloudless sky, a pearlescent
pendant on invisible string.
It was a beautiful
night, one that was meant to be shared.
Loneliness filled her,
but she shrugged it off and plodded down to the kitchen to get a glass of juice.
Five minutes later, she went back upstairs, with every intention of crawling into
bed and ignoring the fact that Philip hadn't even bothered to call on the night
of their son's birthday party.
As she passed Sam's
door, a flicker of light beneath it caught her eye. Then she heard a soft thud.
Sam must have fallen out of bed again. He had done that on two other occasions.
Usually he woke up screaming.
She opened the door
and sucked in a breath as her gaze was captured by something that made no sense
at all.
The window was open
again.
She blinked.
"What the—?"
Moonlight streamed
through the window, illuminating the bed. It was empty.
"Sam?"
She reached for the
light switch.
"I wouldn't do
that if I were you."
At the sound of a stranger's
hoarse whisper in her son's bedroom, she did the most natural thing.
She flicked on the
light...
* * *
Message from Cheryl:
CHILDREN OF THE FOG is free November 13/14.
Pick up the Kindle edition now!
If you've missed the free offer, pick up a copy anyway. It's only $3.99 after November 14th.
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