Family Secrets

by Zina Abbott

  I will say that once we made the decision to get married, things improved between Sherrie and me. For many months afterward, she didn’t venture to the park to see if her friends were there. Instead of working on her handcrafts, she worked on getting everything ready for our child. As for me, I felt elated. I was with the woman I wanted and she was having our baby.

  The only thing that marred my life at that time was the monster that never completely left me. I still fought the flashbacks to Vietnam that left me staring off into space. The nightmares filled with combat and trying to survive war filled too many of my nights. My dreams left me restless and exhausted the following day. I did my best to keep this to myself, not wanting my problems to affect Sherrie and the baby.

  I cannot express the joy I felt when Christy was born. Never had I witnessed anything so beautiful and miraculous in my life. It overwhelmed me to know that a part of me was in this little baby. Sherrie and I were extremely close then. Although I never threw it in her face, I knew she was happy she had not followed through with the abortion.

  Our happiness lasted until a few months after Christy’s birth. Sherrie grew more distant from me and I was not sure why. I tried to talk to her about it, but she brushed off my questions.

  It started to be a regular thing that I came home to an empty house. I didn’t expect Sherrie to always be there with supper waiting on the table for me, but I finally confronted her and asked where she went that kept her away so late. She refused to answer me.

  We managed to pull together for the holidays. When we went to my parents for both Thanksgiving and Christmas, Sherrie convincingly played the role that all was well between us. My family had no reason to suspect that things weren’t always rosy at our home.

  I think it was about this time that I realized how big of a mistake I made getting involved with Sherrie. My head had been telling me that all along, but finally the rest of me caught up. I did my best to ignore it. I had my family, a beautiful wife and a precious little girl. If I had made a bad choice, it was up to me to make it right and see to it that we would be happy together.

  One beautiful spring day the mail was unusually light. I arrived at the park much earlier than normal. I saw Sherrie there with her friends. Christy evidently was asleep in her stroller. I tried to quickly find a place to park so I could talk to Sherrie. By the time I managed to step out into the park, she had taken Christy and was gone. That night, Sherrie did not come home at all.

  When she did come home the next evening, her eyes were glazed over. We had another one of our wall-shaking arguments that started Christy crying at the top of her lungs. Sherrie refused to tell me what she was up to. She reminded me that I had promised her before she agreed to marry me that I would not keep her from doing what she wanted to do. I insisted I never gave her permission to put our child in danger and I was afraid that was what was happening. She denied it.

  I wasn’t sure exactly what I was dealing with until a clerk at the post office pulled me aside to pass along some information she felt I should know. A family member of hers with a connection to the group that Sherrie ran around with knew Sherrie. Sherrie had gotten friendly with some guy named Ozzie. The clerk said her contact knew Ozzie occasionally tripped out on LSD. She worried my wife might be involved with that, too. She didn’t want to get in the middle of anything, so she asked me to not reveal her as my source of information. On the other hand, she said she told me because she was concerned about my baby.

  I thanked her and kept my cool on the outside. Inside, I seethed with anger. My next opportunity, I parked the jeep on a side street away from the park and walked close enough to see the tables where Sherrie and her friends tended to hang out. They were there. Sherrie sat on the tabletop, her feet on the bench next to Christy’s stroller. By this time, Christy was getting close to a year old. She was playing with her toys on a blanket spread on the ground beside her stroller. Sherrie chatted with her friends, some of whom were smoking. Even from that distance I could see that if they were smoking tobacco, it was hand-rolled, not commercial cigarettes. Some people hand-rolled their own cigarettes, claiming they preferred the flavor of the loose tobacco. I always suspected that many did it so people wouldn’t know from a distance if they were smoking tobacco or marijuana.

  I noticed that there was one man standing on the far side of the table who had eyes only for Sherrie. He was skinny and not particularly tall. His honey-brown hair was long and so thin it looked stringy. His beard was short and scraggly. His tanned face looked weathered, and he appeared to be older than the others, maybe well in into his thirties. When the rolled smoke came to him, he took a drag and handed it to Sherrie. Sherrie didn’t smoke cigarettes. My eyes narrowed with suspicion when she took a puff. The man’s eyes never left her face.

  I knew if I went over there, I would exchange more than words with that creep standing next to my wife. I longed to pound that little weasel into the ground. Instead, I clinched my fists and walked away. I was not going to have someone call the cops on me and jeopardize my job. Besides, I knew that if I approached Sherrie around her hippie friends, she would be the one to put up a fight and refuse to listen to reason.

  I continued to deliver the mail, keeping my face void of expression as I passed people, even though I was fuming inside.

  That night we fought again as I asked her if she was taking our daughter around people smoking pot. She denied it.

  But, that wasn’t the worst of it. I don’t know if it was because I was so upset over what I had seen that day, but that night I had one of the worst nightmares that I had experienced in months. In it, we weren’t just shooting at Charlie. They were coming at us through the brush, attacking us in overwhelming force with bayonets and knives that could cut a man in half. I was out of bullets and one of them came at me, grabbed my shoulder and I had to fight back with everything in me. I managed to get him under me and I struggled to choke him to death.

  I awoke to the piercing shriek of a woman. Through the disorientation of being awakened suddenly, I looked down to see what my hands were grasping. There was enough illumination from the outside streetlights shining through the crack where the draperies met in the center of our window for me make out the terrified expression on Sherrie’s face. I was straddling her body and choking her. Horrified, I immediately threw my hands in the air like I had touched a hot engine and I jumped off of her.

  “Oh, Sherrie! Sherrie-baby! I’m so sorry! I was asleep! I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  Sherrie scrambled from the bed and ran for the door. I reached to pull her into my arms.

  “Get your hands off me,” she screamed and pulled away from me. “Don’t you ever touch me again!”

  “Please, please!” I begged as I held her arm and reached over to turn on the overhead light. “Just let me check to make sure you’re all right. Did I hurt you?”

  I didn’t need to wait for her answer. I could already see the bruises forming where my thumbs had pressed into her neck.

  “Of course you hurt me! Just stay away from me, Mike.”

  Sherrie was hysterical, but she stayed in the room. I slid to the floor, my face in my hands. The tears welled up in my eyes. Out in the living room, in her crib which we had placed in a partitioned-off corner, Christy screamed at the top of her lungs.

  “I didn’t mean it, Sherrie. It was a nightmare.”

  “I know! I tried to wake you, and look what I got in return.”

  “I never know when I’m going to have a nightmare,” I groaned. “If I could stop them, I would. Please, believe me. I never meant to hurt you.”

  Sherrie grew quiet, her breathing still heavy.

  “I know, but I can’t take this anymore, Mike. I’m sleeping on the couch.” She grabbed a blanket from the top of our bed and started out the door. Before she left the room, she turned back to me and her voice laced with accusation, hissed, “You never should have fought in that damned war!”

  That night, I agreed with her. Although
it was fought for what the leaders of our country felt was a worthy cause, it was damned from the start. Those of us who had fought in it were damned by so many of our fellow citizens once we came home. If we came home. I had done everything I knew to put that war behind me, but it would not let me go.

  After that, I understood just how high the price of the Vietnam war really was for me. After several days, Sherrie finally did return to our bed, but things had cooled between us considerably. We didn’t make love anymore. As for me, once again I felt hollow inside. My dreams about the war were holding me hostage. I felt that because of what I had done to her, I had to walk on eggshells. I didn’t question her anymore about what she did through the day or who she spent her time with. As long as it appeared she was taking care of Christy and not putting our daughter in danger, I left things alone.

  I decided we should move to a larger apartment so that, among other considerations, Christy could have her own room. I didn’t say anything to Sherrie about one of my reasons. I hoped to find a place across town where it would be less convenient for Sherrie to join her friends at the park. Sherrie didn’t argue against moving, but she wanted to wait until after Christy’s birthday.

  We held Christy’s birthday party at my parents’ house. Patty was there with her camera, like usual. A week or so after the birthday party she mailed Sherrie and me a set of pictures.

  Sherrie once again put up a good front at the birthday celebration, but I noticed that Pat managed to catch one picture of us when Sherrie was not at her happiest.

  Even before I saw that picture, I didn’t trust Sherrie one hundred percent. During some of our fights, she threatened to burn everything I owned. Because of that, on the day of the party when Sherrie wasn’t looking, I handed a manila envelope filled with important papers to Patty and asked her to hold them for me without saying anything to anyone.

  I hoped that once Sherrie and I moved into the new apartment, our family life would get better. The apartment was not available until the fifteenth of the month, so we paid the extra half month of rent where we were. Sherrie threw herself into packing and soon boxes were stacked along several walls. On the weekend just before the Fourth of July, she held a big yard sale in front of our apartment building. I asked why she was selling so much stuff. She evasively said Christy had outgrown most of her things and we would want to redecorate our new place. I didn’t question her further. She was in charge of that.

  The day after Fourth of July I knew I would be working late because of the holiday. Besides there being more mail than usual, several carriers had scheduled their annual leave for the weeks surrounding the holiday. I would work overtime on other routes after I finished my assigned route. I warned Sherrie to not expect me home early. She just shrugged and gave me a peck on the cheek as I walked out of the door.

  When I came home that night, the apartment was virtually empty. The furniture that had not been sold was gone. My hanging clothes were still in the closet, but my other clothes that had been in the dresser drawers were piled haphazardly on the bedroom floor. In one corner was a folded blanket, an old sheet and my pillow. Only my things remained in the bathroom along with a partial roll of toilet paper and a single threadbare bath towel.

  In the kitchen, the cupboards were empty. Everything was gone, including the good cookware set my parents had given us for a wedding gift. Everything except a baking soda box and a partial carton of sour milk was gone from the refrigerator that came with the apartment. On the counter next to the sink was one place setting of dishes: one plate, one glass, one fork, knife and spoon.

  Sherrie and Christy and all their belongings were gone. Sherrie left no note to say where she went.

  I called in for unscheduled annual leave the next two days, citing a family emergency. I sank into a state of despair the first day and a half so deep that I couldn’t face anyone. I kept the draperies closed and the lights off.

  I knew my marriage was over. I had failed. I had lost everything that was important to me. I left the apartment only long enough to buy some food and basic supplies when hunger forced me out.

  About the afternoon of the second day my sorrow turned to anger. I thought about how Sherrie was ready to abort Christy until I talked her out of it. She had not wanted to have the baby. I saved Christy. How dare Sherrie take my daughter from me!

  I started to put together a plan. I dreaded having to go to work and interact with people, but I knew I had to. I must find my daughter. To find my daughter, I needed money. That meant, whether I wanted to or not, I had to return to work.

  I called my parents and told them the short version of what happened. They invited me to move back home. Fortunately, the manager of the place we planned to move to agreed to return most of the deposit money since we had not moved in and he had time to find another renter. I turned off the utilities in our current apartment and transferred my telephone number to my parents’ house just in case Sherrie called me. Then I took what little remained to me and moved in with my parents, leaving behind the place setting of dishes for the next tenants.

  I checked the park every chance I got. I didn’t really expect Sherrie to be there and she wasn’t. Neither were most of her friends, including that scroungy-looking guy with the long, stringy hair. I approached the three that were left and asked if they knew where Sherrie was. Talk about evasive! They claimed to not know who I was talking about, even though I knew I had seen the one woman at the park with Sherrie several times.

  I approached the clerk at the Post Office who had first told me about Ozzie. When she got back to me several days later, she had no news other than that a bunch of them had left the city for greener pastures, whatever that was supposed to mean. She had no idea if Sherrie and Christy went with them.

  That was about the time I met Jan. Actually, I had seen her many times before since she worked as a secretary at an insurance agency I delivered to on one of the routes. She was always very friendly. Evidently, she recognized that I was more depressed and withdrawn than usual, because one day she asked how I was doing and if there was anything she could do to help. I could see the genuine concern in her beautiful brown eyes.

  That was when the thought came to me. Maybe she might know someone who could help me find my daughter. I asked her if the insurance company ever used private investigators and if she knew of a good one she could recommend. She found one for me, plus she found an attorney to help me with all the legal issues. Before it was all over, she helped me in more ways than I can say.

  Jan saved me.

  Chapter 27 – Jennie

  “Jen, sweetie. We’re here,” Rob said.

  Jennie struggled to wake up from the fitful sleep that left her feeling disoriented and groggy. Even though earlier that evening she had been sure she would never be able to sleep in the car, evidently thinking about her Grandpa Mike’s story in piecemeal chunks helped her to drop off.

  The last scene she remembered was when she recalled how Grandpa Mike said, “Jan saved me.” On Thanksgiving, those were the last words out of his mouth before Jason and her two boy-cousins burst into the house and asked if it was time yet for pie. That interruption broke the spell, and Grandpa Mike resumed watching a football game. Jennie guessed there was more to his story, but she knew she would need to get it another time.

  Tonight, it was her father saving her and Garrett.

  As Rob swung the car around in a “Y” turn to park in front of the house, Jennie studied the Womack’s home. The porch light was on and there was no car in the driveway. It either meant that Gerald was still gone and he would not interfere with her picking up Garrett, or it meant that he had parked the car in the garage and there would be trouble.

  Once they were parked, both Rob and Jennie walked toward the door, determined to face whatever challenge presented itself. The knots of stress tightened Jennie’s stomach to the point of nausea. As they reached the front porch, the door quietly opened. Alice stood just inside with a pink chenille bathrobe wrapped aroun
d her.

  “Come in. Gerald is still out, so everything is quiet,” she whispered as she motioned Rob and Jennie into the house’s entryway. “Just a moment while I go get him.”

  Ned walked through the back of the entry into the living room shaking his head, his face twisted in annoyance.

  Is Ned mad at me? Jennie wondered.

  “All his things are ready to go,” said Ned, handing two grocery bags full of toys and the duffle bag with Garrett’s clothes to Rob. “I’m so mad at that stepson of mine I could spit nails. After the way he’s acted this weekend, I’d tan his backside if I thought I could get away with it. This latest stunt takes the cake.”

  Jennie sighed with relief. His anger wasn’t directed toward her.

  Rob took the bags and walked them out, gone only long enough to stow them in the back of the Highlander.

  “I’m so sorry your visit with Gerald didn’t go better,” Jennie said.

  “It isn’t your fault, Jennie. He’s drinking a lot more than what I remember him doing. I don’t know what’s eating at him, but he needs to talk to someone. The way he treated his mother these last few days is inexcusable.”

  Alice returned to the entryway holding a sleepy Garrett dressed in his blanket sleepers. Garrett’s favorite blanket was draped around his back. As soon as Garrett saw Jennie, he held his arms out to her.

  “Mommy!”

  As Alice transferred Garrett to Jennie, Jennie could feel her son’s body relax and mold into hers. He squirmed and buried his head into her neck. She sighed with relief. Holding Garrett’s warm and soft little boy body to hers had never felt so wonderful as it did at that moment.

  “Thank you for everything, Alice,” Jennie said, tears filling her eyes. “You have no idea how grateful I am that you called me.”

  “This has been so hard,” Alice burst into tears. “I feel like I’m betraying my own son. But, I couldn’t let him take Garrett away, especially since I don’t know where he’s planning to go with him. I…”