by Robin Janney
Tears ran down her cheeks again. She’d missed this laugh. She just wished it had been because of something she’d done or said. He was home, but he was still so far away. She missed him. He was only on the other side of this door, but he might as well have been a million miles away.
She must have dozed off after finishing her ice cream because suddenly someone was picking her up. Panic coursed through her until she heard his voice.
“I’ve got you, Angel,” Craig said in her ear, his voice soft.
Angela put her hand on his chest as he carried her up the steps. How long since he’d called her that? “I was trying to stay awake.”
His chuckle reverberated through her. “You do get up earlier than I do.”
“Most of the time,” she agreed. Maybe she needed to stop doing that? He sat her on the edge of their bed and began taking the barrettes out of her hair. Her feet didn’t touch the floor like they had back when she’d had her own apartment, but then that bed hadn’t had a frame.
“I did this after one of your doctor’s appointment,” he said, his hands and voice gentle. “Back before we were married, and after you had pneumonia. You’d taken medicine with codeine in it at lunch and were out like a light. It was fun trying to get your coat off.” He gave a light laugh. “It was fun trying to get you out of the truck.”
At least that was something she’d never have been able to remember in the first place. “I hate codeine,” Angela muttered around a yawn.
“Mmmhmm, you said that then too.” He put the barrettes on the table by the bed. “Do you want your robe off?”
What would her husband say when he saw her outfit? This wasn’t how she’d pictured this going. “I-I wasn’t trying to pressure you,” Angela whispered as she undid the ties and lowered it off her shoulders. Why should she feel shame?
There was a sharp intake of air as he pulled the silky robe away from her arms without so much as grazing the skin there. “I know,” he said. But then his hand touched her cheek, much as he had in her memory. “Not tonight, honey. You’re still half asleep.”
“But I-I need you, Craig,” she protested as he moved her in their bed.
Craig’s sigh was frustrated. “Angela, not tonight. Get some sleep.” But her husband pressed a kiss to her forehead. He covered her, and she turned into her pillow, so he couldn’t see her tears.
Why didn’t he want her? Angela wondered as he left the room. Why didn’t he want anything to do with her?
Did Craig somehow know what had been done to her? Is that why he didn’t want to touch her again? He’d held back his touch before, not wanting to trigger memories of what Derek had tried doing to her in the van. Was this the same?
Getting back out of bed, Angela hurried out of the outfit and headed back to the shower. Why after all these years would she feel dirty after the thought of Derek? Maybe because Nikki had said his name…had bitten her like the man had done. She stood in the hot water, not washing herself, just letting it wash over her body. And she let the water run cold, letting it numb her. Her fingers curled as she fought back the memories. She didn’t want these memories to come back. Pounding her thighs seemed like the least harmful thing she could do to herself as she fought the violent flashback. She didn’t want more scratches, didn’t want to let her husband see her weakness. He’d think she wasn’t trying.
And in this moment, Angela’s own pain was overwhelming, and she couldn’t even process how her husband had been hurt somehow before coming home.
She was shivering when she finally left the shower. Drying off, she slipped into loose pajama pants and a t-shirt. Craig hadn’t come to bed, but he’d apparently let Princess back in because the dog lay at her spot at the foot of the bed.
Her breathing heavy still, Angela grabbed her husband’s pillow and took herself to a guest bedroom. He wanted space, she’d give him space.
I t was after one a.m. when Craig climbed the stairs to take himself to bed. He opened the door to the bedroom and was startled to find their bed empty.
“Angela?”
A quick look told him she wasn’t in the bathroom either.
Panic filled him, and for a moment he was paralyzed with uncertainty. He left their bedroom, intent on heading back downstairs to check the cameras, but Princess appeared from down the hallway. She huffed at him and walked back in the direction she had come. The dog stopped and looked at him and huffed again.
Feeling foolish, Craig followed their dog to the bedroom farthest from their own. The door was shut, so he assumed Angela had been upset enough to leave Princess out of the room. She did that sometimes, for reasons he didn’t understand. Opening the door, his wife’s deep breathing told him she was asleep.
Princess pushed past him and hopped up on the bed. She curled up on the bed at Angela’s feet, her eyes glowing in the darkness.
How pathetic was he to imagine the dog was judging him? Probably just a projection of his own guilt. But knowing how sensitive their dog was to their moods, Craig doubted it was his imagination. Nan had been looking at him with a similar expression since his return. If it wasn’t for his wife’s friendship with the woman, he’d have fired Nan for her words to him in his office that day after his wife’s appointments with both doctors.
Stripping down to his boxers and leaving the clothes in a pile by the door, Craig climbed into the bed next to his wife. Even in her sleep, Angela let out a contented sigh as his arm went around her. She was still there when he woke up in the morning.
Lifting his hand, he brushed hair away from her face. She stirred but didn’t say anything. Neither did he.
He wasn’t sure how long they lay there in their silent embrace, but as was prone to happen, nature called. Sighing, he told her so and pressed a kiss to her temple, then climbed out of the bed.
T hat afternoon, Angela sat in her craft room, looking over her plans for the equine therapy she wanted to add to their ranch. She wasn’t as business savvy as her husband, but she knew she had a good enough plan to present to him. She was still unsure though.
Pat had no advice to offer when it came to rebuilding Angela’s broken marriage, seemed to think it would magically fix itself in time if she could give her husband enough space.
So, Angela had spoken with Kevin shortly after lunch and he had said to focus on rebuilding the friendship which had been between them, because that was how their love had grown in the first place.
Angela did remember a few times Craig had come out of his office in the country store to help her with whatever chore she was doing after closing. How it had been hard for him to talk to her at first, kind of like how it was now. And when he had begun talking to her, it was usually about nothing. When had they started talking about more personal and relationship type things? She wasn’t sure, didn’t remember that part. She did ‘know’ it had taken her a long time to understand Craig had just wanted to be in her presence. They’d forged a friendship in those early weeks, one taut with the promise of something more.
Now, it felt like he didn’t want to be in the same room with her. How could she rebuild a friendship if all he wanted to do with her was watch movies Sunday afternoons while avoiding her the rest of the week?
She didn’t understand why Craig wouldn’t act on his own desire. His body certainly craved a physical relationship, she felt his arousal each morning when she woke before him and he was pressed against her. Like she had felt it just this morning before he had climbed out of their silent embrace, and she hadn’t dare touch it for fear it would drive him away. Had Veronica’s ploy worked so well that once again he couldn’t stand the thought of sex?
But he didn’t understand, Angela needed him inside again, as much physically as emotionally. And she didn’t know how to tell him. She needed to drive Nikki’s touch (Derek’s touch? Why did they feel the same to her?) out of her mind. She knew she needed to tell Craig about it, but each time she tried the words died on her lips. Even though she knew it would open the door between them again, tho
se brown eyes would turn to her and she lost all resolve. Maybe because she could see the hesitation in her husband’s grief-stricken eyes.
How could she tell her husband that a woman had violated her, when for all she knew, her husband still wanted to touch someone who wasn’t her? The pictures of him on top of Katie seemed burned into her mind: his lips pressed to hers as his hand rested on the other woman’s big beautiful breast. (How had they gotten that shot?) She would have to ask Kevin some time, how to tell her husband that she’d been raped too.
The best Angela had to offer for friendship right now were her ideas about equine therapy for their ranch. She’d long since finished her research and had been waiting for Craig’s return to present it to him.
Now was as good a time as any.
Picking up her laptop and her sad sketches of what she wanted to build in the southern corner of the ranch, she padded downstairs in her bare feet and walked happily through the open door into his office. Princess followed as always, though this time she didn’t hop in her bed in the corner. She remained at Angela’s side.
“Craig, are you…?” Angela trailed off when she saw he wasn’t there.
“Oh.” She blew air through her lips. That took some thunder out of her. Walking to the mahogany desk she knew had once belonged to his grandmother, she set her items on the corner and looked around the desk searching for some clue as to where he was and how long he’d be gone. His laptop had the screensaver going; a picture slideshow that brought a smile to her face. Pictures of her floated by, along with pictures of their families and their ranch. The man took as many pictures as he made sketches.
Running her hands over the damage she had done to the desk, the repentant woman wondered what it would take to repair it. She had given no thought to the desk when she’d been stabbing her pictures. Angela’s eyes flickered to the new ones he’d placed on the desk. He had even taped the pencil sharpener back together; she wondered if it still worked and – why was he keeping it? It really had been a cheesy gift. Her sigh was filled with regret.
His sketchbook sat at the center edge of the desk, so wherever her husband had gone, he wasn’t far and wouldn’t be long. Curious, she picked the book up. After their one fight long ago and he had started sharing his sketching with her, he’d never had a problem with her picking his sketchbooks up and looking so she felt no fear now. That was one memory that hadn’t gone missing.
Her hands began to shake at the first sketch she had randomly turned to.
Katie.
Angela’s heart began to beat hard enough to hurt. She didn’t see or hear Princess as the dog whined and pressed against her legs.
Katie?
Even in the stark black and white sketches, the other woman was recognizable. And so damn pretty.
Craig said he had chosen her, his wife, but he was sketching Katie? Dark sketches, as though a light had gone out in her husband. Something inside her certainly began to die as she flipped to the next sketch and the next. Did he grieve Katie’s death that deeply? Did he miss her that much? The one of Katie sitting on a bed, her dress strap falling off her shoulder and highlighted by the city’s night lights in the window behind her, terrified Angela. It would explain why her husband didn’t want sex with her, now wouldn’t it?
Tearing the sketch out of the book angrily, she let the book fall from her hands. It fell open into his office chair, pages creasing as it landed. Blindly leaving the room, Angela pulled her smartphone out from the pocket of her loose drawstring pants even as she folded the stolen sketch one handed and attempted to call Kevin. Princess followed behind, whining unheard.
It took her some moments to clear her eyes enough to get the call to connect. She was back in her craft room when Kevin picked up. Giving him no time to greet her, Angela’s words were rapid with more than a little panic in it. “Kevin, you know him best, why – why is he sketching Katie?”
“Angela, breathe,” was the first thing out of Kevin’s mouth. “Take a deep breath, another one…Good, now, slow down and tell me what’s happened.”
Angela obeyed his commands to breathe and tried to calm down. But her hands hadn’t stopped shaking with the deep breaths, and she knew what that meant. Her rapidly beating heart hurt. Shoving the folded piece of paper into a book on her desk, she lifted her eyes to a drawing framed on the wall. It was something Craig had sketched long ago and framed for her. A sketch of her and Belle jumping over a log, part reality, and part imagination because at that time she’d never jumped Belle over a log. Her mind refused to think of the only time she had ever done that. She began to pace around the room.
“I went into Craig’s office looking for him,” she was able to say with some semblance of calm. It only lasted a few sentences. All too soon, her voice was rapid and trembling again. “I wanted to show him my plans, what I want to do on the ranch, but he wasn’t there. His sketchbook was just sitting there on the desk, so he’ll be back soon. He never leaves it out long. I picked it up. I-I just want to know what’s going on with him, Kevin, he’s been so quiet since he came home. Inaccessible. And I thought if I-I could see what he was sketching I could understand better, find some way to rebuild our friendship. It was Katie. I don’t know how many, I think I stopped looking after three or four. I don’t…”
A loud voice interrupted her. “Angela!” Craig yelled from downstairs.
Princess yipped and stayed by her charge’s side, pressing protectively against her legs.
“Oh my God, Kevin, he’s found it. He’s so angry!” Angry tears of her own began to slide down her cheeks. She’d only ever been afraid of physical violence from Craig once, and that had been the first time she’d looked at his sketches. But in all their time together, no matter how often he lost his temper, he’d never yelled at her like that day. Not counting over their video chat. And really, he didn’t lose his temper with her that often. Until New York.
He couldn’t even pretend to attack her on the karate mat. He hadn’t hurt her years ago when he’d yelled at her, and he wouldn’t now. Physically hurting her was one of his biggest fears, even if she didn’t know how she knew so. But she could not stop the panic clawing at her throat. “Kevin…”
“Angela, breathe. Craig won’t hurt you, you know that. He’s not that kind of man…” Kevin said. “Where are you and where is he?”
“I’m in my craft room and he’s downstairs. No, no, I-I can hear him coming up the steps now.” She heard her husband yell her name again, but she couldn’t even move to lock the door to the room. Princess sat in front of her, between her and the door. “I know, Kevin. I know he won’t hurt me, but I can’t stop the panic. I’m trying but it’s not stopping! Knowing doesn’t stop the fear. I’m scared, and I hate that I’m scared. I-I just want him back!”
“I know, Angela, I know. He is trying, I promise you that. I know it doesn’t look it to you, but he is. When he comes into the room, this is what I want you to do: I want you to hand your phone to him and go someplace you feel safe. Don’t drive anywhere or take a horse anywhere, stay at the ranch. Can you do that?” Kevin asked, his calm voice was strained.
“Yes. Yes. I’ll go to the stables…the horses help me.”
“Is he close?”
“Y-yes…”
The door flew open and an angry Craig stood in the doorway. “Angela Destiny Moore,” he growled, his fists clenched at his sides and anger in his dark eyes. Princess returned the low growl but remained unnoticed by both humans.
“I can’t get out,” Angela said into her phone, her voice eerily steady even to her own ears. “He’s blocking the doorway.”
“Hold the phone out to him Angela, and once he moves, leave the room.”
“Okay.” Stepping around her dog, Angela obeyed the calm man on the other end of her phone and held the device out to her angry husband; her hands were shaking so much by this point that it was a wonder she didn’t drop it. “Here. H-he…wants…to talk…” She couldn’t speak anymore.
Her ir
ate husband came deeper into the room and ripped the phone out of her shaking hand. As soon as it left her grip, she tore out of the room, not caring that she couldn’t see where she was going.
55
C raig followed his wife and her dog even as he put the smartphone to his ear. Fury burned in him. Not only because she’d been in his office and into his things when he wasn’t there, but because she had involved someone else in their marital issues. Expecting one of her fathers, he growled at the person on the other end of the phone, “This is none of your business.”
“On the contrary, as your doctor this is very much my business.”
Craig stopped dead at the top of the stairs, barely registering how his wife had fallen over the bottom step. Princess was beside her, but barking up the stairs at him. Nan appeared from somewhere and attempted to help Angela to her feet. He was vaguely aware of how his wife pushed away from Nan and picked herself up. Then she ran out the front door in her bare feet, dog on her heels. Nan called after her. The way Angela was moving made him think she was unharmed by the fall.
But wait – Angela had called Kevin? “Goddamn it, Kevin. Why the hell did she call you?”
“Because she panicked and who better to call than her husband’s best friend?” Kevin cleared his throat, his voice clearly straining to remain professional. “So, what’s going on buddy? What has you so angry that you’ve caused a panic attack in your wife?”
Craig snorted and walked down the stairs. He walked to the front door his frantic wife had left hanging open and slammed it loudly, ignoring Nan’s reproving look as she stood with folded arms near the door. “She looked at my sketchbook without permission and she’s panicking because she knows she was wrong.”
“Have you ever denied your sketches to your wife?” Kevin asked.
Craig almost stopped in his tracks again. “Not since we’ve been married, no.”
