From This Day Forward

by Modean Moon

  Decorations in one corner at the back of the church announced that there would be a young people’s folk Mass the following Sunday. She’d be there. She wouldn’t promise more than that one Sunday, but she would be there for that.

  So her life went on. Funny, but she hadn’t thought it would. And it went on ... well. There was a fullness to it she had never expected. And while the eight-page college newspaper wasn’t the Arkansas Gazette, she derived a great sense of accomplishment from it. And while the students in her classes weren’t her own children, she derived a great deal of pleasure from them. And while the tiny house she still rented from the librarian wasn’t the home she’d always envisioned, it welcomed her each evening when she returned to it.

  Only at night did memories of her past intrude. Ginnie told herself that in time those, too, would pass, but as the months spun by, they didn’t. Sometimes—sometimes they didn’t intrude on her presleep musings. Sometimes they waited until she dozed off and then haunted her dreams. Sometimes she awoke and the scent of Neil, the touch of Neil, the taste of Neil were so real that she moaned and clutched her pillow to her. But the memories would pass, she told herself. If she told herself that often enough, maybe eventually she would believe it.

  She almost did believe it, until the day she walked from the newsroom with Marsha, the student editor that fall, laughing with her over the mistake the typesetter had made and they had, fortunately, caught in time, and saw Neil leaning against her car.

  A pickup truck roared to a stop in front of them. Marsha’s boyfriend, a redheaded, freckle-faced, irrepressible clown, waved at them. Laughing, Marsha hurried to join him, leaving Ginnie alone on the sidewalk.

  Mechanically, her legs moved, carrying her to her car, and while her legs moved woodenly, reluctantly, her mind raced. What did Neil want? Why did he have to come back? God, he looked awful. There was more gray in his hair now. Was he sleeping enough? Did he miss her the way she missed him?

  Neil didn’t smile. He didn’t speak. He waited for her. She wondered fleetingly if the same turmoil of thoughts racing through her mind could be troubling him, too.

  She paused in front of him. “Hello, Neil.” Her words gave no indication of the trip-hammer action of her heart.

  “Are you through for the day?”

  She nodded.

  “Could we talk?”

  Was that wise? Hadn’t they said all that needed to be said? What could rehashing old problems do except bring alive the hurt?

  “We—” Her voice failed her. She tried again. “Do we have anything to discuss?”

  Only a clenching of his fist betrayed that he felt any emotion. “I hope so,” he said finally. “Can we go to your house?”

  She couldn’t be alone with him, not in the privacy of that little house, not without saying things that ought not be said. Not without listening to what her traitorous body was already telling her.

  “I don’t think so,” she said. Some place public would be much safer, and yet just seeing him had brought all the memories to life. Some place public would not do, either. She’d embarrass them both by breaking down. “What about the park?”

  “All right. Shall we leave your car here?”

  Even the closeness in a car was too much for her to face right now. “No. I’ll meet you there.”

  The park, deserted and bare in the winter, greeted them much as it had that first time. The same squirrel, or perhaps a well-trained descendant, chattered at them. The same bench waited for them.

  Neil looked around distractedly. “It was a long time ago, wasn’t it?”

  She knew without asking that he was referring to their first visit to the park. “A lifetime.”

  “How are you, Ginnie?”

  “I’m all right, Neil. I’m making it... all right.”

  Silence clamped its wedge between them.

  “And you? How are you, Neil?”

  “I miss you like crazy.”

  No! Even as she thrilled at the words, her mind screamed, No! Not now! Not again! “I’m sorry,” she said. “How’s Todd?”

  His expression closed, but whether in acknowledging the shift in conversation or the subject it had followed, she couldn’t tell.

  “Irritating. Belligerent. Personally sloppy. Let’s see if I can think of some of the other things you tried to tell me about him. Most of them still apply.”

  “And the drugs?”

  “I don’t think so. If he’s doing anything now, he’s keeping it well hidden.”

  “And his temper?”

  “God, Ginnie, I didn’t expect a miracle. And there hasn’t been one.”

  “How are you, Neil?” she asked again, softly.

  “All right, I suppose. I’ve gone back into practice with Kirk. Business is good.”

  “It would be,” she told him. “You always were a fantastic lawyer.”

  And then, relenting at the bleak look on his face, she admitted. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  He sighed and sank back against the bench. “Is there anything we can do?” he asked.

  She leaned back, too, staring across the empty park toward the same tree he was staring at. Neither of them saw it. “I don’t think so. Nothing’s really changed, has it?”

  His answer was less than a whisper in the chill afternoon air. “No.”

  He stood up abruptly. “I know you must be busy. I won’t keep you any longer.”

  She rose to her feet awkwardly. Side by side, not touching, they walked back to where their cars were parked. She reached for her door handle.

  “Ginnie?”

  Her throat tightened on a sob she refused to let him hear as she turned to him. His arms lifted hesitantly.

  “Oh, Neil.” She leaned against him, letting his arms enfold her, sliding her own arms around him and hugging him close. They held each other for countless moments, knowing the embrace was not enough, yet fearing anything deeper.

  Finally, she pushed away from him and attempted a smile. She failed at that. “Take care of yourself,” she said.

  He nodded. “You, too.” He opened her car door for her. Wordlessly, she got in and drove away.

  No, the memories hadn’t disappeared yet. But they would. There were no other options. Time healed everything. That’s what she told herself. It always had. It would. It did. Except for the aching loneliness.

  Except for the fear and then the anger she felt when Todd began periodic visits to his friends in Pleasant Gap. Ginnie never saw him on the streets or heard of one of his visits that a cold knot didn’t form in her throat. This was her home now, and while he never personally accosted her, she considered his trips intrusions into her territory, intrusions into her life. “You ruined my life once before,” she raged impotently, alone in her house, clutching at anger to stave off a fear that, no matter how often she told herself was probably unnecessary, refused to release her. “Stay out of it now.”

  The glimpses that she caught of him told her that not only had he ruined her life, he was well on the way to ruining his. Older now, larger, he’d be at least his father’s height, maybe taller by the time he stopped growing. There was a difference in those familiar features, though, a sallowness of skin, a slackness of muscle, a vacantness sometimes in his eyes, and a puffiness about his face, which sent a feeling of vague dread through her. She didn’t understand it, but she didn’t want to get near enough to examine it.

  When she received the telephone call late one night, she was stunned but not surprised.

  She struggled up from her dream, fumbling in the dark for the jangling instrument.

  “Ginnie?”

  Neil’s voice, weary beyond description, floated with the dream voices in her mind.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Todd,” he said. “I just wanted you to know...” He paused as though searching for any other words. “I just wanted you to know that you were right.”

  “What’s happened?” She was awake now, her nerves screaming, her mind attuned to th
e defeat in his voice.

  “He — he got hold of something. We don’t know what yet. We had to subdue him. He’s in Children’s Hospital. Apparently, he’s going to be all right physically, but I’ve arranged to have him committed for — for at least a thirty-day observation.”

  Ginnie sat upright, holding the receiver and herself tightly, protectively.

  “Neil, are you all right?”

  “Me? Yeah.” He laughed humorlessly. “I’m fine, Ginnie. I’m-strong. I... I just thought you ought to know. I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “No. That’s all right. Neil?” But she heard only the sound of the dial tone.

  “Take care of yourself,” she whispered into the dark.

  A week and a half later on a Friday night, at 8:17, as shown by the regulator clock hanging beside her front door, Todd showed up. Ragged, dirty, terrified, he opened the screen and banged on the wooden door until she answered it.

  “Help me, Ginnie, you’ve got to help me,” he gasped and collapsed in the doorway.

  The door shoved against her hands. She couldn’t close it, not with him blocking it, but she couldn’t open it, either. Could she?

  Ginnie knelt on her side of the door, reaching to touch Todd’s shoulder. He grabbed her wrist.

  “Don’t let them get me please don’t let them take me back... Dad did it he hates me Ginnie don’t make me go.”

  “Ssh, Todd. Ssh.” She soothed him as she would a frightened child. “I’m not going to hurt you. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

  She helped him to his feet and then, because there was nothing else she could do — she couldn’t just push him out in the yard and slam the door on him — she helped him into the house. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he in Children’s Hospital? She settled him on the couch, but he didn’t release her.

  “Please Ginnie they do awful things to you there.”

  His face was puffy, puffier than she had ever seen it, and the vacant look was back in his eyes. His hysteria grew as be held on to her.

  “It’s all right, Todd,” she crooned. “Everything is all right. Just relax. Just relax.”

  “You won’t let them take me away?”

  She couldn’t lie to him, but she couldn’t leave him in the grip of fear, either. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Todd. You’re safe now.”

  She smoothed the dark hair away from his forehead. “Now you’re safe, Todd.” She stroked his forehead and murmured to him until she felt his hand slide from her wrist, until she recognized the even breathing that told her he had either fallen asleep or passed out — she didn’t know which. She eased herself from the couch and went into the bedroom, tripping the pitiful excuse for a lock as she closed the door.

  She dialed Neil’s office number, because it was the only number she had, and on the fifth ring, an impersonal female voice answered.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Kendrick is out of town. He won’t be back for several days.” And then, probably because the woman had recognized the near hysteria in Ginnie’s voice, she added gently, “In cases of emergency, he’s asked that his calls be referred to Mr. Williams. Shall I ask him to return your call?”

  “No!” Ginnie couldn’t take the chance of a ringing telephone awakening Todd. “No. I’ll call Kirk.”

  Kirk didn’t believe in unlisted telephone numbers. At least she could find his home number through directory assistance. Thank God, he was home.

  “Kirk, I have to find Neil.”

  Kirk obviously heard the same thing the woman at the answering service had heard. “What is it, Ginnie? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Todd. He’s here.”

  “There?”

  “Yes. He showed up just a few minutes ago. Kirk, there’s something terribly wrong with him.”

  “Oh, good God. How did he get out?”

  “What do you mean, How did he get out? Didn’t they let him out?”

  “Ginnie, he’s got another twenty days of observation. There’s no way they would have released him. Not with Neil out of town.”

  “Lord, where is Neil? I’ve got to reach him.”

  “You can’t. I sent him up to my cabin in the mountains. There’s no phone up there, Ginnie. There’s no way to get in touch with him unless I send the sheriff out there to look for him. Which I will do. Just as soon as we take care of this emergency. Where is Todd now?”

  “He’s asleep. At least I think he is. On the couch.”

  “Can you get out of the house?”

  “What—I—yes. I think I can. What? Kirk, what’s going on?”

  “Didn’t Neil tell you?”

  “Only that he’d—I can’t remember what he actually told me and what I think I heard. I think he said — I think he said that Todd had taken an overdose of something, that he’d had to be subdued, that Todd was physically all right but that he was going to stay in the hospital for observation.”

  “He didn’t tell you why Todd had to be subdued?”

  “No.”

  “Ginnie, he tried to kill Neil.”

  “Oh, my God.” Every sound in the house was suddenly amplified, every creak, every groan, every brush of every branch against the outside walls. Ginnie clutched the receiver in one hand, watching the door as if she expected Todd to burst through at any moment. “Oh, God, Kirk, what do I do?”

  “You have to contact the police, Ginnie. And you have to get out of that house. Is there a back door?”

  “Yes, but I have to go through the living room to get to it, too.”

  “Don’t do it. Go out a window if you have to, but get out of there. I’ll call the hospital here and tell them where Todd is.”

  “But he’s —” She remembered Todd’s pleading. “He’s frightened, Kirk. He’s like a little boy. He’s not violent now.”

  “Ginnie, get out of the house. Ginnie, do what I tell you and get out of that house.”

  She didn’t argue any longer. As quietly as she could, she eased open a bedroom window, snatched her purse from the nightstand and slid out into the night, feeling like a burglar.

  She put her car in neutral and coasted out of the driveway, not attempting to start the engine until she was in the street. Then, blindly and frantically, acting on emotion only, she drove to the sheriff’s office.

  The night dispatcher recognized her and smiled as she walked into the office, then frowned when he noticed her obvious agitation.

  “What’s wrong, Mrs. Kendrick?”

  “Todd,” she said. “Todd’s at my house.”

  If anything, his frown deepened as his face evidenced his confusion.

  “He’s — he’s escaped from the psychiatric ward at Children’s Hospital. He’s quiet now, but he can be dangerous.”

  “Let me call the judge.”

  She hadn’t expected this response, yet she knew the judge he meant was Neil and knew this man would seek Neil’s permission before doing anything.

  “You can’t reach him,” she told the deputy. “I’ve tried. He’s off camping somewhere.”

  The deputy scrubbed at the back of his neck with a large hand. “Do you have copies of the commitment papers, or any kind of a court order?”

  “No.” Would this scene have played out any differently in a large city? Or was it just in this insulated community where, in spite of all the months when she thought she’d been building her own identity, she was once again thrust back in the role of the judge’s wife—the judge’s discarded wife?

  “I talked to Neil’s law partner tonight. Kirk said-Kirk said that he would contact the hospital. They’ll be getting in touch with you. You’ve got to go get Todd. You’ve got to do something. I can’t go back there.”

  “I can see you’re frightened, Mrs. Kendrick, but understand my position. I can’t just go out and pick him up on your say-so for being in your house. You raised the boy, ma’am. What’ll the judge say if I haul his son off to jail?”

  The phone buzzed persistently, and the deputy grabbed for it, not quite able to hide his re
lief at this distraction. “Sheriff’s office. Yes. Yes.” He glanced at her. “That’s right. Will do.”

  He replaced the receiver and touched the microphone. “Unit seven.” Ginnie heard the garbled response. “We have an escaped mental patient.” Ginnie sagged in relief. “Meet a party at —” He glanced up at her.

  “It’s 105 Chandler.”

  “Meet a party at 105 Chandler. Unit eleven?” Again came an unintelligible reply. “Can you back him up?”

  The radio squawked again before the deputy turned toward her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kendrick. Will you be all right?”

  “Sure,” she said, breathing deeply. How could she say anything else? “Sure.”

  She met the officers at her house. Fortunately, they came silently, with no screaming sirens, no flashing blue lights to alert Todd, to alert the neighborhood. There was no visible drama.

  Ginnie opened the front door and let them into the house. One reached for his gun, but she shook her head violently. Todd was still asleep on the couch, innocent in repose. Should she be the one to wake him? She started toward him. One of the officers stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Is he dangerous?”

  “He can be.”

  “Then let us do this. You stand back.”

  Carefully, both deputies approached the couch. One gingerly took Todd’s wrist and eased a handcuff around it. Equally gingerly, he reached for the other wrist and snapped the other cuff into place over it, too.

  Todd stirred, stretching out his arms. When he met with resistance, his eyes opened. He looked at the officers, at the cuffs, and finally at Ginnie.

  Not hysterical now, not violent, Todd spoke with a calm that terrified her as yelling would not have, as screaming would not have.

  “You did this.”