“Early for you. Around eight.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Baxter nodded at Melissa. “Well, Linda. Looks like we’ve got a working girl here.”
“That’s wonderful,” Linda chirped around her glass of ice water. “Good for you, Melissa.”
Melissa beamed at her. “And don’t worry, I’ll still help with dinner and everything.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“And we’ll still have time to do things together. Right, Baxter? I mean, I’ll still have time to hang out with Linda.”
“Absolutely. Wouldn’t want to stand in the way of that.”
“Okay, then.” Melissa leaned back in her chair, her gaze roaming from Baxter to Linda. Excitement jumped around inside her like a little kid. “This is so cool.”
When they finished eating Melissa waved them both out of the kitchen. “Go on, I’ve got the dishes.” She couldn’t keep the anticipation from her voice. She was going to work with Baxter!
The dishes only took a few minutes. Melissa headed up to her bedroom. Soon after she closed the door she heard the telltale sound through the ceiling heater vent. Another argument in the master bedroom. Melissa dragged her desk chair over and stood on it to listen, but she couldn’t make out the words. She did, however, hear the smacks. One, two this time. Then crying. The muffled slam of a door.
Slowly Melissa replaced her chair near the desk.
Had she caused this?
Maybe Baxter didn’t like Linda being upset at the table. Maybe Linda didn’t want some foster kid working with her husband and told him so. Would she be brave enough to say that?
Melissa hugged herself. She knew what it felt like to be the victim. It was awful and horrible and helpless. But that was behind her now. She would not look at it anymore. And neither did she need any reminders. This was a time to cling to new hope. The shining promise that she would make something of her life despite her past. Linda didn’t face half what Melissa had overcome, yet the woman couldn’t seem to stand up for herself. If she played Perfect Pretend Marriage in her house and church and life—whose fault was that?
All the same Melissa’s heart beat too fast. The very thought of abuse made her throat close.
Melissa cracked her bedroom door and stuck her ear against the opening. She heard the vague swish of clothes, feet on hardwood floor. Baxter was going down the stairs.
She pulled her head back, closed her eyes. A wild thought trailed through her head: whatever she did next was going to set the course for the rest of her life.
The caring thing would be to comfort Linda. Knock on the master bedroom door, open it anyway when Linda said she wanted to be left alone. Go in there and say hey, I’m with you. I know what it’s like.
Melissa’s pulse beat in her ears. She willed it to slow.
She thought of her stepdad. Butch was his name. Appropriate. Melissa had been eleven. Butch had caught her in her tiny bedroom one evening while her mother was at the store. What he did to her in that never-ending half an hour had butchered her soul. She hadn’t spoken a word for weeks after. When Melissa finally told her mother, the old witch didn’t believe her. Until she caught him in the act one day. Only then did she kick him out.
That’s when her mother started drinking more than ever. From guilt? Ironic, if that was the reason, since the woman ended up beating on her. As if everything was Melissa’s fault. The victim always deserved it.
The few slaps Linda endured were nothing compared to Melissa’s life.
Melissa’s mind flashed to the sight of her dead mother on the kitchen floor. The scene filled her head like a movie on pause.
Her jaw tightened. She’d handled that, hadn’t she? She could do the same now.
Melissa drew herself up straight, smoothed her hair, and stepped out of her room.
Pasting on a blithe expression, she headed toward the stairs. One hand grasped the top of the banister and swung her around to face her descent.
Halfway down the staircase Melissa could hear the TV in the den, switching from channel to channel. Something men always did. Men, the kings of their castles. The ones with the power.
Baxter sat on one end of the leather couch.
“Whatcha watchin’?” Melissa crossed into the room and sat on the other end of the sofa.
“Can’t find anything decent.” He clicked the button again.
“Where’s Linda?”
He shrugged. “I think she’s taking a nap.” Click, click.
Melissa drew her legs up onto the couch. “I found some cool channel the other day, like way high in numbers. Five hundred thirty, I think. They show movies there with no commercials.”
“Really?”
Baxter punched in the numbers. The TV screen switched to the opening scene of Back to the Future. “Hey, this is a great movie.”
“Yeah, I love it.”
Melissa settled into a comfortable position. It occurred to her she would need to call Nicole, tell the girl she couldn’t hang out this week. She would be at work. Melissa could imagine Nicole’s jealousy over working in Baxter Jackson’s office.
When thoughts of Linda nudged into Melissa’s mind, she pushed them away. She didn’t care that Linda was up in the master bedroom by herself. If she wanted to join the family, she could.
Part of Melissa was almost glad. For once she had Baxter to herself.
For the next two hours they enjoyed the movie. Melissa made popcorn.
Linda did not venture from her room.
THIRTY
FEBRUARY 2010
Five-fifteen. The sun would soon be setting.
I perched behind the wheel of my 4Runner, some distance down from 264 South Anniston and directly beside a little park. The neighborhood looked well kept, upper middle class. Melissa appeared to have no lack of well-housed friends.
I’d been at my post for the past hour, just in case Melissa returned early. Before that I’d driven through Burger King and eaten my fill of a Whopper Junior and fries. Food I don’t typically eat. But this was no typical day.
I finished off my nutritious meal with the last half of my bag of Jelly Bellies.
Forty minutes ago the rain had stopped. The overcast sky at dusk looked frayed and weary. Like I felt.
My eyes constantly flicked up the street and in the rearview mirror. I saw no one following me. I was afraid a cop would drive up, ask what I was doing. But the street remained clear.
Worry about Dineen plagued me. I wanted to check on her but didn’t know how much to say. She’d be sure to ask questions. When I could stand it no longer I pulled out my cell phone and called her. “How’s everything there?”
“Fine. Jimmy’s sleeping. How are you?”
I bit my cheek. “I found her.”
“You’re kidding! What did she say?”
“Haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“Oh. Will she talk to you?”
“She’s been quiet for six years, Dineen; no doubt she’ll be thrilled to see me.”
Thick silence.
My mouth twisted. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. No need to take this out on you.”
“It’s okay. Just…Will you call me after you see her?”
A woman came out of the house next to Melissa’s, dressed in an exercise outfit. She turned down the sidewalk and started jogging toward me. I listed far over to my right, pretending to pick something off the passenger floor. A small grunt escaped me.
“Are you there, Joanne? What are you doing?”
Footsteps pounded past. I hung there a second longer before raising my head. The woman jogged on.
I straightened. Such a little thing, but it had shaken me. If someone noticed me sitting in my car so long, they might become suspicious, call the police. Please, Melissa, come soon.