Protecting Abigail

by R. R. Banks

  Weeks have passed since then, and nothing has changed. The phone call to Eloise to explain that I wouldn't be able to come back after the Christmas break was gut-wrenching. As I talked to her, I felt like everything I've worked so hard for, and all that I had built in the few months I've been at the school, was fading away. I could hear the disappointment in her voice. I wondered then, and still wonder now, how my students reacted to finding out I wasn't coming back to teach them. It hurts me to think of not seeing them again, and not being able to watch them grow and learn the rest of the year. It's one more thing Trevor has taken from me.

  "When do you have to have everything out of your apartment?" Evan asks.

  The question cuts me. I was only allowed to maintain the apartment after quitting because the police requested access to it, but they released it a few weeks ago. Since I'm no longer a teacher at Primrose, I have to give up the apartment. It feels like just another indignity.

  "Ugh. By the end of the week," I sigh.

  I didn't think it was going to come to this. Part of me knew there would come a time when I would have to move, but I thought by then Trevor would be in jail. There was even a tiny spark of hope inside me that I might be able to get my job back after he was arrested. But when I spoke with Eloise, she made it clear that because of the circumstances, I would never be able to come back. She couldn't put the students in harm's way, and I understand. I would never want any of them to get involved in this mess.

  The doorbell rings, making me jump, and Evan stands from where he was sitting in his favorite recliner.

  "It's just the mail," he says. "It must be the supplies I ordered."

  The mail carrier doesn't usually ring the doorbell unless she's brought a package for Evan. When he opens the front door, though, I don't hear her loud, cheerful voice booming through the house like I usually do. When she makes deliveries, she tends to strike up a conversation with Evan before she even hands the package to him. I can understand why. The houses are so far apart out here, I can imagine it gets boring and lonely to drive around making deliveries all day, especially when most of them are simply shoving a handful of envelopes into a mailbox positioned by the main road. When she does have the opportunity to go up to one of the houses and interact with a real person, it's understandable she'd be eager for the encounter to go beyond just asking for a signature.

  I hear the front door close without a word, and Evan comes back into the living room shuffling through the envelopes in his hand.

  "No package?" I ask.

  He shakes his head.

  "No," he says. "It's really strange, by the time I got to the door, Jody wasn't even there. The mail was just sitting in the middle of the porch."

  "You didn't see her walking away?" I ask.

  Jody is less than delicate and isn't known for moving at a spritely pace, so it's surprising she could get out of sight before Evan opened the door. He goes through the first few envelopes, which look like the standard plain white envelopes of bills, before getting to a large purple envelope that he looks at strangely.

  "This one's for you.”

  "Me?" I ask as I reach for the envelope.

  I take it and look down at the front. It's addressed to me, but I don't recognize the handwriting. The envelope feels stiff like a card. I open the flap and pull out an elaborate glittered Valentine's Day card. The interlocking pink and red hearts have arrived a few days late, but I'm more concerned about the sender than the punctuality. Opening the card, I read the inscription to Evan.

  "Happy Valentine's Day. Roses are red..."

  Evan looks at me quizzically.

  "That's it?" he asks. "That's all it says?"

  I flip the card over to look at the back, then open it and read the inscription once more before nodding.

  "That's it," I say. "I don't know who it's from. It's not signed."

  "Maybe one of your friends from the school sent you a belated Valentine," Evan says.

  I nod in agreement, but the knot forming in my stomach says part of me doesn't believe it.

  The next afternoon, the mail comes again in the same way. And with it is another card of red and pink hearts.

  "Violets are blue…"

  I'm trying to tell myself it's nothing and pretend nothing is wrong and that this can't possibly be happening. By the third afternoon and the third delivery of a stack of mail to the middle of the porch, I dread the purple envelope in Evan's hands. But this time, it's not there.

  Evan doesn't mention it. I don't know if he hasn’t noticed the significance or if he's just trying to not talk about it. When he finishes going through the rest of the mail, he carries it into his office, then comes back into the living room.

  "Are you still up for emptying out the apartment today?"

  I'm not. I don't want to face it again, and I especially don't want to empty it, but I don't have a choice. The deadline is in two days, and I need to get it done.

  Three hours later, we're turning onto the street where my apartment building sits. It's only been two months since I've been here, but it somehow looks different, like I lived here a lifetime ago. My parking spot is sitting empty in front of the building like it's waiting for my car, and Evan slides into it.

  My feet feel heavy and reluctant as I walk into the building and up the steps toward my apartment. Evan opens the door, stepping past me into the apartment, but backs out almost immediately.

  "What?" I ask. "What are you doing?"

  "We need to leave and call the police," he says. “Right now.”

  "Why?"

  He won't say anything, and an unexpected surge of anger courses through me. I push past him and walk into the apartment. I stop in my tracks when my eyes focus on the purple envelope lying on the floor in front of me. Evan comes into the room as I'm crouching down to pick the envelope up, and watches me open it. A glittered card slips out into my hand, the red and pink hearts exactly like the ones tucked inside my journal back at Evan's house. I open it and the card flutters to my feet as my hands come up to cover my mouth.

  "What’s it say?" Evan asks.

  When I don't respond, he snatches it up from the floor and opens it.

  "You ran to the city, but I'm always watching you."

  Chapter Seven

  Xavier

  An hour later…

  "How long has this shit been going on?" I demand.

  "Since a couple of months after she moved here," Evan says. "She hadn't heard from him in almost two years before she came to the city."

  "And you figured she would be just fine?"

  I know there's more to this situation than what Evan is telling me. He hasn't said anything specific about the time before Abigail moved in with him beyond the fact that she did so after she ended her relationship with her ex. But I can see it in his eyes. I can tell by the tension in his expression, and the way he stands close to Abigail like he's trying to guard her, that there is far more to this that he's not telling me. Men don’t go from dating a woman to breaking up to stalking without something else going on behind the scenes. I want to know more but now isn’t the time. I can see the terror in Abigail's eyes, and the way she's carrying herself tells me the fear she's feeling is much deeper and more pervasive than the Valentine's Day card Evan showed me when I first got here.

  "She hoped she'd be able to disappear here," Evan says. "She thought by this point, he would leave her alone, and that even if he didn’t, he’d have a tough time finding her in a city this big. Apparently, it didn't work out that way."

  "So, what are you going to do now?" I ask.

  Her huge green eyes lift and meet mine without saying a word. She’s speechless. I can see the fear and anxiety plain as day on her face. It's obvious she doesn't feel comfortable with me here, but that only makes me want to protect her more. She might be afraid of me now, but Abigail spoke to me before and looked me in the eye without any sense of fear. She's been broken down, but I know there's more to her than what this creep is doing to her.
At the same time, I know I'm not here because she wants me to be. I'm here because Evan called me, and he did so for a reason.

  "She already quit her job and has to get out of this apartment. Only the teachers of the Primrose Academy can live here, and she's finished with the grace period. Another teacher is taking her place permanently and will be moving into the apartment within the next few days. That means Abigail has to get her stuff out."

  "Well, she obviously can't go back to your house. Is there anyone else?"

  Abigail shakes her head.

  "The only other person she really has in her life is her friend Lilith," Evan says. "But going to her house isn't an option either. Her ex already let Abigail know he knew where Lilith lives. It would be too much of a risk. That's why I got in touch with you."

  "Why?" I ask.

  "I was hoping you’d be able to help her out. It doesn't have to be for long. I was just hoping that maybe you'd be able to put her in one of the smaller buildings until she was able to get on her feet."

  I hesitate, and Abigail looks at Evan.

  "I told you this wasn't a good idea," she mutters.

  "Why not?" he asks.

  "You saw what the note said,” she says. "It mentioned a boyfriend. The only man I've been anywhere near other than the teachers at school is Xavier. Trevor must have seen me when I was talking to him out on the street. If he knows I have anything to do with Xavier, he's going to be able to find me."

  "No, he won't," Evan says. "He's not going to be able to find you because you're not going to be anywhere that can be traced back to Xavier." I see his eyes flicker over to me, and I give an almost imperceptible nod of permission. "Nobody knows who Xavier really is. They know he is an upper-level executive in the company, but they don't realize he owns and oversees not only that company but all its subsidiaries. He owns more than ten apartment buildings throughout the city, but they are all listed under different cooperatives. He can put you in one of the smaller ones that won’t alert Trevor because his name isn't anywhere on it, and they'll be no way to track you to it."

  I shake my head.

  "No," I say. "That's not going to work. I can't put her in one of the buildings across town."

  "I'm not asking you to let her stay there for long," Evan pleads. "She just needs somewhere to lay low for a little while until the police are able to find this bastard. Once they get him, they can formally charge him and hopefully put him in jail for a while. Then she'll be able to start her life over. She can find a job and somewhere safe to live. She can even come back home with me. We just have to wait until he's not around anymore to be able to do that. I'm just asking…"

  "I can't put her in one of the buildings across town," I interrupt him, and Evan falls silent, "because I'm going to move her into my building."

  Evan’s eyes widen. He smiles, and I can see the relief flood through his body and release the tension in his muscles. When my eyes move over to Abigail, though, she’s shaking her head.

  "I can't do that," she says. "I can't move into his building."

  "Why not?"

  "It's going to be way too expensive for me," she says.

  "You've never even seen his building," Evan argues.

  "I don't need to know exactly where he lives to tell you it’s going to be way too expensive for someone like me."

  For some reason, my body tenses at those words. I don't like the way she thinks about herself, or how she thinks she fits in the world around her.

  "What do you mean someone like you?" I ask.

  Abigail looks at me briefly before glancing away.

  "The apartment under mine is available," I say. "It has been for a while. Frankly, I'm not interested in having a neighbor that close. I was thinking about converting it into another wing of my apartment. That means it's vacant, and Abigail can move right into it. It's furnished, and it comes with access to all of the amenities of the building."

  "Evan," she says softly. "I can't do that. I don't even have a job right now. I'm living off my sad and rapidly dwindling savings. I have no idea how long it's going to be until I have a job."

  "That's fine," I say. "In fact, I prefer it."

  Abigail looks at me strangely.

  "What?"

  Finally, she speaks to me.

  "I'd prefer if you don't have a job because I'm not just giving you the apartment. It's going to be included as part of our arrangement. You see, I have a six-year-old daughter. Her name is Anna. She's been tutored at home her entire life. I've recently noticed she isn’t getting enough out of the time with her tutors and Ruth, so I've been thinking about hiring a caregiver to take care of her when I'm not available."

  "Ruth?" she asks, her voice soft and shaking.

  "My cook," I explain. "Anna isn't a baby anymore, and she needs more personal attention and a companion to be with her when her tutors and Ruth have finished for the day. I've been considering hiring a nanny. With your teaching experience, you are already familiar with young children, so this seems like an ideal fit for you. If you are open to it, I will offer you the position of being Anna's full-time nanny, with the apartment as part of your compensation. You will also receive pay, as well as an expense account to use at your discretion when caring for Anna. If the two of you get along, you’re welcome to remain in the position until the police are able to find Trevor, or as long as the arrangement remains beneficial for the three of us."

  Abigail draws in a breath. I know I sound like I'm reciting one of the legal documents I draw up for my businesses every day, but that's how I operate. Things are for the best when they're clear and straightforward, leaving no room for confusion. I know Abigail will be safe in the apartment beneath mine. The building is heavily protected, and no one has access without extensive authorization. Beyond that, her ex would have no way of tracing her to the apartment itself because there will be no lease with her name on it, and her pay will go into a new, secure bank account I create for her. She can live a complete and visible daily existence and be safe and hidden from this Trevor asshole.

  But it isn't only the benefits for her, and helping Evan, that appeals to me. I can't give Anna everything she deserves while trying to raise her on my own. Ruth adores her and has doted on Anna since birth, and her tutors are dedicated to her, but neither can fulfill everything she needs. She needs more than college-aged students who come and give her lessons, and more than an elderly woman who is happy to nurture her, but set in her ways. Ruth is so comfortable in her patterns, she has repeatedly refused my offer of moving into one of the bigger apartments, preferring the space she's shared with her husband since first coming to work for my family. Ruth is getting older now, and I've been encouraging her to slow down and spend more time at home. But if she does that, and I'm not home, Anna will be left by herself.

  Every day since her mother passed, I've dreaded the thought of my daughter growing up alone.

  Anna needs someone who can understand her in ways that I can't. And hopefully the opportunity to focus her attention and energy on taking care of Anna can distract Abigail from everything she's gone through, so she can try and start her life again.

  "Abigail?" Evan asks.

  "You need a job and a place to live. I need a nanny for my daughter. You can move in today and spend the weekend settling in and meet Anna on Monday. Sound good?"

  Abigail meets my eyes again. She seems to want to say something in response, but nods instead. I look up at Evan and see him flash me a hint of a smile.

  "Thank you," he mouths.

  ********

  Abigail

  Evan had started breaking down my old apartment by himself, but with one phone call from Xavier, a team of movers was here within thirty minutes. Two hours later, I’m walking out the front door of the building for the last time. Lisa stops me on my way to Evan's car and gives me a hug. There is something in that hug that is more than just the message that she'll miss me around the school, or even at the building. The way her arms wrap around me show
compassion and concern she can’t put into words, and not for the first time, I feel embarrassment flicker through me. I hate that she saw me that way the night I found the lingerie and note on the bed. I hate that when she looks at me, her eyebrows furrow and her lips turn down with an expression of pity I never wanted to see on her face.

  "If you ever need anything," she mutters into my hair.

  She doesn't continue the sentiment. I'm sure she doesn't know how to finish it. No one really knows what to say to someone in a position they could never imagine themselves in. Lisa was there for me during one of the darkest moments of my life, but even when she was right there beside me, her arms wrapped around me as she consoled me, I was alone.

  As I stand in front of the large mirrored elevator with my bag at my feet, Lisa feels far behind me. The floor with my apartment is near the very top of the building. This doesn't surprise me at all, considering he said I'd be staying in the apartment directly below his. Knowing he owns the opulent residential building let me know before I even arrived that he would live on the top floor. Now that I've seen the building, I know it's more than that. The windows at the top of the towering structure are larger than the ones farther down, and several balconies stretch across a large upper section of the building, telling me his apartment actually takes up more than one floor. I remember what he said about the apartment beneath him being available because he was considering having it added on and converted into another section of his home. It's difficult to fathom someone with this kind of wealth at his disposal, with so much readily accessible money that he could casually consider turning an entire floor of one of his buildings into a new section of his personal apartment.

  I've tried not to think about what the apartment I'll be living in is going to look like. I've never been in a building like this before, so I honestly have no idea what to expect. Since he was considering turning it into another part of his own space, I imagine the apartment must be relatively small. I don't care. I would be more than happy with something the size of a hotel room at this point. Anywhere I can feel safe while I wait for the police to tell me they finally have Trevor in handcuffs. The elevator finally stops, and the glimmering doors slide open. Based on previous apartment buildings I've been in before, I expect the hallway in front of me to be dotted with doors leading to individual apartments. Instead, there is only one door ahead of me. I lean out of the elevator and look either way down the hallway. The only other door I see is at the end of the hall, and a glass pane set in the center shows a stairwell beyond. A few seconds later, a face appears on the other side of the glass, and I gasp. I’m so startled I stumble back into the elevator.