Megan’s body relaxed. She sighed, taking comfort in her friend’s words. “I know, but she’s really mad at me this time. It’s like she’s giving up on me or something. It can’t end like this.”
Holly hesitated. “What do you mean, ‘end like this’?” she asked, suddenly aware of each word Megan spoke.
Megan recovered quickly and said, “The fight. We never go to bed mad at each other. She stayed in her room all night. She never said goodnight and didn’t even come down for dessert, and you know how we are about our desserts.” Megan curled her legs under her body and rested her head on her feather pillow. “She’s always on that damn computer when she’s mad.”
“Give it time, Meg. Really, just give it time. She’s just using the instant messenger that all the kids use these days. It’s like the new telephone.” Holly took a deep breath, “More importantly, when’s your next doctor’s appointment?”
“Oh, I’ll have to check,” Megan lied.
“I thought you went like every three weeks or something. Did that change?”
“No, I still go, but it’s been so crazy with the mural deadline and all that, I just can’t remember the exact date.” Megan took a deep breath and feigned a yawn, “Hol, I need to get some sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow. Thank you for listening to me vent,” she smiled, “and for making me feel better.”
“No problem. Olivia will be fine, mark my word. Love you,” Holly said.
“Love you too, Hol.” Megan hung up the phone and lay on her thick down comforter. She stared at the ceiling and thought of all the things in her life that she needed to get in order. Lists ran through her head of legal, household, and other items that would need closure. She was surprised at how calm she felt. She didn’t feel as though she were in a frenzy of fear. Instead, she felt like she was doing a job, organizing someone else’s life.
Olivia grew angrier as the week progressed. Days passed, silent and uncomfortable. Megan was too upset to paint. She was reading on the couch when Olivia arrived home from school.
“Hi,” Megan said cheerfully.
Olivia strutted past her mother and ignored her greeting.
The space between them was thick with tension.
Olivia walked past the fireplace in the family room, out the back door, and sat on the porch, stewing. Anger coursed through her veins, but sadness lingered just below. If her mother was sick again, then she was wasting precious time being mad, but that didn’t matter right then. What mattered was making her mother see that she needed to be honest, that she needed to treat Olivia the way she demanded Olivia treat her. After all, wasn’t that what she always preached? Be honest so you don’t have to keep up with your own lies.
Olivia took a deep breath of the salty sea air. Her body grew rigid when she heard the French doors open. Megan sat in the pastel-colored Adirondack chair beside her.
“It’s nice out here, huh?” Megan was again met with Olivia’s silence. “Maybe we should eat dinner outside tonight.” Megan ran her eyes along the perimeter of tall pines that surrounded the small yard and created a tranquil, private sanctuary for her and Olivia. She took in the gardens that they had spent years digging and planting together, until the tiger lilies, lady slippers, and Morning glories were placed just so. She loved how the wild roses grew in misbehaving clumps at the edges, where the mixture of sand and dirt met the few bits of grass that grew sparsely throughout the Cape.
Olivia turned her face away from her mother and gritted her teeth.
“Honey, I know you are mad at me, but can’t we just be friends again?” Megan asked.
Olivia remained silent.
“Okay. Well, if you want to be mad, that’s fine, but I’m not going to play this game.” Megan rose, and turned toward the doors.
Olivia turned to say something, and noticed again how skinny her mother was, which further angered and scared her. “Whatever,” slipped from her lips like a secret as tears welled in her eyes.
“I’m going out tonight,” anger seethed in Olivia’s voice.
“Where are you going?” Megan asked as she picked at her dinner.
“Out.”
“With who?” Megan skipped over Olivia’s attitude, happy that her daughter was finally going to do something other than skulk around the house or hide out in her bedroom.
“Kids from school,” Olivia said, “they’re picking me up.” She sat, stiff and rebellious, at the table in the kitchen. “Who?” Megan asked a little more sternly, uneasy with
Olivia’s terse answers.
“People!” Olivia yelled, standing abruptly, her rigid arms at her side, fists clenched . “Why does it matter? You’re always telling me to go out, and now I’m going! geez!” Olivia picked up her dishes, clanked them into the sink, then stomped upstairs.
“Holly, it’s ten at night, on a school night!” Megan complained into the telephone receiver.
“Meg, she’s only doing what you asked her to do. You should be happy.”
“I know, but she never goes anywhere, and suddenly she’s out until all hours.”
“I wouldn’t call ten o’clock all hours,” Holly said. “Remember us? now that was all hours!” she laughed.
“Yeah, well god forbid she does what we did. Thanks, by the way, for the visual.” Megan’s voice was rushed, strained. Her stomach hurt, and she was worried sick about Olivia, who had been so angry at her for the past week that god only knew what she’d do.
Megan awoke with a feeling of dread. She couldn’t place it, but it loomed in the air like a bad dream. Her stomach was on fire. The clock next to the couch chimed. Midnight, she vaguely acknowledged. Then with a start, Midnight! For Christ’s sake! Where’s Olivia? She ran upstairs. Her joints were achy and stiff. Olivia’s bed was empty. Her covers were still drawn up over her pillow, her cell phone lay on her nightstand. She rushed back downstairs to the answering machine. The message light blinked a digital zero. Megan’s heart raced as panic spread through her body. Unsure if it was her own panic or her daughter’s, she picked up the phone to call Olivia’s friends. She checked with the few girlfriends that Olivia had—each one sound asleep in her own home, their parents’ groggy, concerned voices spewed empty offers of help.
Megan rushed upstairs and turned on Olivia’s computer, unable to remember who she was going out with. The website myroom.com was minimized, hovering at the bottom of the screen like a scandalous criminal. Each heartbeat pounded in Megan’s head like a bass drum. She remembered the many conversations she and Olivia had had regarding myroom.com. Olivia knew that the website was off limits because of recent articles stating that those types of sites made kids easy prey for child molesters.
Megan clicked on the myroom.com tab, and the page came to life. Photos of Olivia spread across the screen: Olivia laughing with two girls Megan did not recognize; Olivia alone, looking serious sitting in a chair; Olivia standing with her back to the camera as she looked over her shoulder, her finger in her mouth.
“What the hell?” Tears sprang to Megan’s eyes as she realized that Olivia had a life that she hadn’t been privy to, and she wondered how long it had been going on. Anger grew in her chest. Her hands began to shake, and a flush spread up her neck and face. She looked through the other five photos and realized that in each one, Olivia wore a bracelet that she had just given her in April. Maybe this hasn’t gone on too long. When she neared the bottom of the page, there was a chat box. She quickly glanced at posts from surferdude97 and hotrox42 and began to sweat. Olivia’s screen name, Mommasgurl92, scrolled across the top of the box. Megan’s tingling hand flew to her mouth, “Oh my god!” She shuddered as her vision faded to black and she crumpled to the ground.
She fought to stay conscious as the visions of Olivia struck her with tremendous force, and once again Olivia’s terror became her own. She could feel that large hands were gripping Olivia’s shoulders, cold and strong. She kicked and struggled to break free. Thrown to the ground, two people hovered above her. She thrashed about on th
e grass. A water tower loomed behind them. A lime green truck stood sentinel in the distance.
When the focus came back to Megan’s eyes, she was still rolling around on the floor, feeling Olivia’s fear, the remnants of the cold, strong hands on her shoulders. She willed herself to stand, though the energy had been sucked out of her. She snagged the phone and dialed Holly’s number. Busy. “Shit!” She made her way downstairs, her vision still fuzzy, and dialed Peter’s number. Busy. “God damn it!” She threw the phone to the floor, grabbed her keys, and flew out the front door into the brisk night air.
Fumbling frantically, she started the car and thrust it into Drive, heading for the only water tower she knew of—the one just outside of town by Dave’s Drive in. What have I done? Tears streamed down her cheeks, her legs shook as she pushed the gas pedal and sped down the highway. Oh Olivia, hang on! I’m coming, Baby! She reached for her cell phone to alert the police and realized that she had left it back home on the counter. Damn it! She pushed her car to eighty, then eighty-two miles per hour, and sped off the ramp of exit 49, heading toward the tower. As she passed the drive in, she saw the water tower in the distance, shrouded by a mass of trees. When she reached the dirt path that led to the tower, she turned off her lights and slowed her speed, maneuvering around dips and ruts in the overgrown path. A large pine tree had fallen across the road and blocked the way. Seeing no way around it, she slammed the car into Park and got out. Pain, like knives, worked its way from her stomach to her arms. She was unsure if the pain was Olivia’s or her own. She pushed ahead, keys in hand.
Her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. She followed the dirt path that soon became thick, tall grass interspersed with lofty pitch pine trees. She weaved her way around masses of prickly shrubs and over fallen leaves from giant scrub oaks. The tower perched atop a mild hill which at that moment appeared to Megan as ominous as a mountain. She strained forward, driven by Olivia’s plight. As Megan approached the tower the wind amplified in her ears. She felt exposed, vulnerable. She looked around for a weapon, and grabbed a substantial fallen tree limb. She turned toward the sound of a vehicle engine, and spotted a bright green truck speeding off through an overgrown field about fifty yards away. Her mind reeled. Oh God! Don’t let Olivia be in that truck! She stopped dead in her tracks as she felt a large, rough hand grab her wrist. She looked down, and in her panicked state was surprised to realize that it was not her trembling arm that the hand was grasping, but Olivia’s. She closed her eyes, willing Olivia to stay strong. Megan knew Olivia was being pushed deeper into the woods. She could taste her daughter’s fear, bitter and pungent. She quickened her pace, trying to remain silent, unnoticed. She saw a glimmer of light up ahead, smaller than a flashlight. It moved along slowly, illuminating a spot just large enough to see her daughter’s shaking shoulders. A lighter maybe? She forged forward and the incline lessened.
Olivia’s pleas and promises shot out of the dark and pierced her mother’s heart. Megan swallowed a yell. The light ahead stopped, hovering in the cool night air. Megan stopped, listened, then silently moved deeper into the woods.
Twenty feet away, she could make out a large, ungainly man with a flannel shirt and torn jeans looming over her daughter. Olivia’s face, a palette of panic, her arms crossed over her chest, were enough to make Megan’s heart explode, her anger rose to an insurmountable level.
The man spoke in rough, harsh murmurs. Megan moved closer, desperately hoping Olivia would not see her and give her away. She had not one thought of caution. Adrenaline and fear for Olivia had repressed any suggestions of delay or defeat. She rounded a thick bush, ducked behind it, and closed her eyes long enough to think, One chance, that’s all I have—one chance to get her out of this alive.
With white knuckles, she gripped her keys, the largest jutting out between her index and middle fingers like a knife. She placed the stick on the ground, deciding it was too cumbersome. She did not see a weapon, no gun in the man’s hand. He hulked over Olivia, and violently rammed her back into a tree. Megan could hear her daughter cry out in pain as Olivia pushed him away with all her might, “No! no!” Olivia screamed.
Megan crept quickly behind him, hoping to remain undetected. Too late, the crumbling leaves beneath her feet gave her away. The captor spun around just as Megan lunged at him. Her five foot frame was no match for his height and bulk. She dropped her keys and clung to his body, her legs wrapped around his middle, her left hand clenched his hair and her right thumb dug into his eye, pushing past his eyeball and into the socket.
Somewhere to the side, Olivia screamed, “Mom! no, Mom!” her terror evident in her shrill voice.
Megan pushed and thrust with all her might, while screaming at the top of her lungs, “Run, Livi! Run!”
Olivia was paralyzed with shock, her mind too consumed with fear to function. She watched her mother attached to her assailant and cried uncontrollably.
Megan continued screaming for Olivia to run. She gauged her thumb deeper into the man’s eye socket. Blood spurted and oozed across her hand and arm. The man flailed between pushing her off his body and grabbing at his eye.
Olivia broke free of her fear, scanned the ground for a weapon. She picked up a heavy rock and smashed it into the back of the man’s head. He rocked forward, and she drove it into his head again, harder. Megan fell to the ground. The man stumbled. His head spewed blood onto his shirt, and his eye was no longer visible.
Megan lay on the ground. Her body ached. She screamed, “Run, Livi! Run! Run!”
Olivia grabbed her mother’s frail arm and yanked her to her feet. Together they ran back through the woods and down the path, tripping and holding onto each other. Megan shot a backward glance and found the abductor’s hands over his face, blood covering his head like a gruesome mask. His screams of torment filled the night.
When they reached the car, Megan’s relief was overshadowed by her panic, as she realized she didn’t have her car keys. With much struggling, she forced Olivia into the car, and demanded her to lock the doors. Olivia’s body wracked with sobs and trembled with such force that her teeth chattered.
Olivia screamed, “No!” several times, but her mother ran back up the path to find her keys.
When she neared the water tower, the man was no where in sight. She dropped to the ground by the bush and felt around the rocks and dirt. She saw a twinkle of light about ten feet in front of her and dashed for the keys, which were splattered with fresh blood. Without hesitation, she spun around, pushed past the pain of what felt like a broken rib, blocked out the stinging of the cold air in her lungs, and rushed toward the car, praying Olivia was safe. She looked behind her several times but didn’t see the man.
She reached the car, out of breath, and trembling so badly she feared not being able to remain erect. Olivia was nowhere in sight.
“Olivia!” she screamed, running from door to door, all of them locked. She screamed again, “Olivia!”
Olivia peered out from under the dashboard, saw her mother, and reached up to unlock the door. Megan scrambled into the car and locked the doors, shoving the keys in the ignition and pitching the car into reverse. She spun out and fishtailed onto the dirt road, nearly hitting the side of a van as she raced onto the highway. She could not find her voice. Her hands felt glued to the steering wheel, her foot to the pedal.
Olivia remained on the floor, huddled in a ball and sobbing.
Twelve minutes later, Megan pulled into the police station and eyed the brick building, illuminated like a Christmas tree. A sense of safety blanketed her. She turned to Olivia, her arms outstretched.
“I’m sorry, Mom!” Olivia cried. Her body trembled. Her words rushed out like a waterfall, fast and hard. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
Megan’s tears fell, salty and warm, onto her own lips, “Livi, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here. Are you okay?” She held her tight.
Olivia nodded. Her face was swollen and red. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I thought he was someone else.”<
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“I know, honey. I know.” Megan said. “Whatever happened out there, whatever brought you there, Olivia, it’s not your fault.” It’s mine, Megan thought. She scanned her daughter’s young body. Seeing no gashes or obvious injuries, she breathed a little easier. “Did he…hurt you?” Megan braced herself for the answer.
Olivia looked down at her lap, tears fell unabashedly. “My back against the tree…my arms,” the words emerged with difficulty as shock began to take over. She wrapped her arms around herself and sobbed, shivering.
Megan held her, willing away the tears and thanking god she was there. When Olivia’s sobs lessened, Megan whispered, “We have to tell the police.”
“But they’ll think I’m awful! They’ll think I’m a slut!”
Olivia buried her face in her mother’s shirt.
Megan stroked Olivia’s hair and held her close. She felt each sob deep within the pit of her own stomach. “Livi, do you want to tell me first? Would that help?”
Olivia tightened her grip around Megan. “That’s worse!
You’ll hate me!”
“I could never hate you! I love you!” She lifted Olivia’s dirt streaked face in her hands, and was met with dark circles around her daughter’s haunted eyes. What on earth have I done to my baby? each beat of Megan’s heart hurt with the answer. “Olivia, you did nothing wrong. I could never think badly of you.”
Olivia yelled, “But I did! I went to myroom.com! You told me not to! You said something bad could happen!” Olivia threw herself against the passenger door, arms crossed over her chest. She stared out the window. “You told me, Mom! You warned me! god! I’m such a mess!” She buried her face in her hands and brought her knees up to her chest. “You must hate me!”
Megan slid over to Olivia’s side of the car, wrapped her arms around her daughter’s shaking body, and let her tears fall onto Olivia’s shiny hair. “Baby girl,” she crooned, “you made a mistake. god knows I’ve made a ton!”
Megan's Way Page 4
