We ate half the pizza before declaring ourselves full. “We’ll keep the rest for tomorrow,” Mom said. “You got any room left for ice cream?”
“Aren’t we out?”
“I think there’s a tiny bit left. We’ll split it.” She started toward the refrigerator, then stopped dead as if she’d hit a concrete wall. “What in…”
Cold fear touched my heart. For I too saw it – the evil red and blue lights glinting off the kitchen windows.
Mom reached over and flipped off the chandelier, leaving only the dim light above the stove. Together we hurried to the window. Parked in the driveway behind Walter’s truck were two police cars. Walter was leaning casually against the driver’s door of the truck, talking to the officers. The pulsating lights lent an eerie yet fascinating aspect to the scene.
“This doesn’t look good,” Mom muttered. But after a few minutes, the officers simply got into their cars and left.
“Uh-oh. Here he comes.” Mom hurried to clear the table. “Just act like nothing’s happened. Start the dishes.”
The back door slammed with enough force to rattle the glasses on the table. “You dirty traitor!” Walter screamed. “You’re gonna pay for this one!” Clods of grimy snow flew from his boots as he kicked a chair out of the way and advanced on Mom with doubled fists.
Mom’s face went white. She grabbed the iron fry pan off the stove and swung at him with all her might. Walter jumped sideways and slammed her up against the stove. The fry pan crashed to the floor. Walter grabbed her hair and began slugging her in the face.
It all happened so fast. I stood frozen in horror, the dishcloth in my hand slowly dripping water onto the rug. Mom was screaming. Blood streamed from her nose down onto her pink sweater. Walter shook her and threw her to the floor. He bent, reaching for the iron fry pan. I had to do something.
I threw myself onto him, wrapping my arms around his chest, and kicked him in the shins as hard as I could. He wheeled and struck me in the thigh with the fry pan, a glancing blow, but hard enough to hurt. I broke free and dashed for my room. Walter chased me, his heavy boots clumping on the floor. I slammed the door and frantically pulled the bolts. Would they hold or not?
A thunderous crash shook the door. “Open up!” Another crash followed, and then another. I backed up against the far wall, trembling like an aspen leaf. What had I done? If those bolts gave way, I’d be dead. Vividly I recalled how he’d broken in our front door the other night with nothing but a crowbar. I had to get out of here.
I shoved open my window and hit the rusty screen hard with my fist. The frame bent outwards an inch or two, but the screen held. Wildly I glanced about for something sharp enough to cut it.
Another crash shook the door. This time I heard little splintering sounds. I grabbed the kitchen scissors off my bed and half cut, half tore a giant X across the screen. I hoisted myself onto the sill and slid through the opening feet first.
I dropped into shin-deep snow. The wind rushed upon me, stinging my face and snatching my breath away, but I scarcely noticed as I ran across the front yard toward the road. My mind raced. Should I hide in the brush? Hitchhike? Try to walk all the way to town? As cold as it was, I knew I wouldn’t survive long. Already my throat hurt from gulping the freezing air.
I know, I thought. Heather’s place. I’ll go there. I shot a quick glance over my shoulder. Walter wasn’t on my tail, not yet. I pulled my turtleneck up over my mouth in a crude effort to protect my face and throat from the biting air, and kept running.
21
I slowed to a walk when the pain in my side became unbearable. Running had kept me warm, but now the icy wind took its toll. The open farm fields on either side of the road offered no protection. My nose was running like a faucet. I pressed onward at a steady hike, my fists jammed deep into my jeans pockets. It couldn’t be much farther to Heather’s. If I kept going, I’d make it. But I knew I was much colder than I felt. How did I keep ending up in situations like this?
My mind shifted to what Heather would say when she opened the door and saw me. Her eyes would widen in questioning surprise. You said you didn’t need me. Remember? You pushed me away when I tried to help you. It’s not like we’re really friends anymore. Why don’t you ask that Lorraine to help? You two have been pretty thick lately.
But she’d flash that bright smile and invite me in. Maybe she’d even make me some hot chocolate. She’d say how nice it was of me to come over, and I would laugh and say I’d always wanted to. Then the two of us would sprawl on the floor in front of the TV and watch all the late shows until we couldn’t keep our eyes open anymore.
But when the yellow house came into view, it wasn’t the welcome sight I had imagined. The place was dark. What if they were all in bed? Worse yet, suppose no one was home. What time was it, anyway? I felt for my watch, but my wrist was empty. Somehow I had left my watch at home.
I hesitated at the end of the driveway. The thought of going up and ringing the doorbell filled me with nervous dread. Maybe it was the wrong house. Maybe someone would see me wandering around out here and call the police. Maybe Heather’s grandparents would be mad if I woke them up.
Still, what did it matter? My hands were screaming with cold, and my face was so numb I was sure it was frostbitten. I would freeze to death out here. I plodded up the driveway and touched the lighted button at the door with one numb finger. Push. Don’t think, just do it. I held the button down for a long moment, then clung to the wooden railing and waited. A dog barked inside. Then a bright light shone in my eyes.
“Can I help you?” said a man’s voice.
I squinted against the light. “Uh . . . does Heather live here?”
“Yes. Do you know her?”
“Yeah. I’m . . . a friend of hers.”
I heard some murmuring inside the house, then a click as the screen door was unlocked.
“Goodness, child, where’s your coat?” The man held the door wide. “Come in and get warm.”
A rush of warmth enveloped me as I stepped inside. But when I saw Heather’s grandparents standing there in their bathrobes, I felt ashamed. A tan and white collie stood beside them, eyeing me.
“I take it you’re Tessa,” said the man, after an awkward pause.
I nodded, my eyes on the floor.
“I’m Tom Erickson. Pleased to meet you.”
“Heather’s not here tonight,” said the lady, “but she’s mentioned you a few times, I believe.”
“Don’t you live just down the road there?” Tom asked.
“Yeah.” My teeth were chattering.
“So what are you doing over here this time of night?”
“I, uh…” What could I say?
“Come on, speak up. Do your parents know you’re out? How did you get here?”
“I-I walked.”
“In this weather, without a coat? For heaven’s sake, child, it’s ten below out there!” Tom shook his head. “I’m sorry. You must be frozen. Why don’t you kick off your shoes and sit down.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t bother with the laces; I simply bent down and pried the frozen tennis shoes off my stiff feet. Snow had worked down inside the shoes, and my socks were caked with it. After a moment’s hesitation, I pulled them off too.
“Take a seat,” Tom encouraged me, motioning toward the couch. “Don’t worry about a little snow.”
“Would you like some hot tea?” the lady asked, as she laid a pink flowered quilt across my lap. “I’m Patty, by the way.”
I nodded and pulled the quilt up around my shoulders. Patty looked so warm in her pink fuzzy bathrobe and purple slippers. My hands had stopped hurting, but they still felt like ice.
Patty brought my cup of tea on a small saucer. “I hope it’s not too hot,” she said.
I took the cup and held it
between my hands. The heat stung, but even that felt good. Steam rose up in my face and I closed my eyes, breathing in the gentle fragrance, letting my head droop. Tea was comforting in a lot of ways, some of which had nothing to do with actually drinking it.
***
Once I was comfortably situated with my tea, Patty settled on the other end of the couch and reached for her knitting. Tom took the mauve armchair across from me, and the questions began again.
“So, what’s going on?” he asked.
I just shook my head. I couldn’t tell them what had happened, and I was not in the frame of mind to invent another story. But Tom persisted.
“Have you run away?”
“I-I guess.” I was still shivering.
“How come?”
“My mom and dad were fighting.”
“I see. It must’ve been pretty bad.”
“Sorta.” I set down my cup and pulled the quilt closer around myself. Was Walter still looking for me? Mentally I retraced my steps, trying to picture any trail I might have left. The cut screen was obvious, as were my tracks across the front yard. I wasn’t worried about them. But wait, wouldn’t I have left footprints along the road as well? What if the wind hadn’t covered them yet?
I felt sick. Why hadn’t I thought to walk in the middle of the road? If Walter looked hard enough, he’d find me. I cast a fearful glance toward the door, which was still ajar. “Would you mind . . . locking the door?”
Tom’s face registered surprise, but he rose and secured the door. “Is somebody after you?”
“My-my dad.” My voice shook. I felt like I was going to cry.
“I see. So this here fight . . . you mean your parents were arguing? Or is it physical?”
I couldn’t answer. Across my mind flashed the terrifying image of Mom sprawling to the floor as Walter reached for the heavy iron fry pan. I had to stop him!
“Tessa?” It was Patty’s voice this time. “Is something wrong? Do we need to call the authorities?”
I managed to shake my head. Mom was fine. She had to be! With the time I’d bought her, she could have called the police, maybe even jumped in the car and driven off. She was probably on her way into town at this very minute.
Silence followed, broken only by the click of Patty’s knitting needles. Under the end table beside me, the collie yipped softly in its dreams.
“Someone needs to know where you are,” Patty said at last. “Is there someone we can call? A relative or maybe a family friend?”
Another hard question. I picked at a tuft of yarn on the quilt. All I knew about our relatives was that they lived somewhere down south. At least, Mom’s did. I’d never heard a thing about Walter’s family.
Over in the armchair, Tom stifled a yawn. “Patty’s right. There must be someone you can think of.”
“I’m trying! But we’re not exactly from around here. Walter’s got friends, but they’re all a bunch of jerks.”
“Well, in that case maybe I should call the sheriff’s department and let them know where you are. Or is it safe for you to go back home?”
My head spun at the mention of the police. “Can’t you wait until morning?”
“What would you do then?”
I couldn’t answer that.
“I suppose you could try to call my mom,” I said. “But if you get Walter, don’t talk to him. Hang up or something.”
“All right.” Tom reached for the cordless phone on the end table. “What’s the number?”
I told him and he punched it in, then held the phone to his ear. Moments later, he lowered it with a puzzled expression. “It says that number’s been disconnected.”
“Disconnected?” Visions of Walter cutting the phone cord flooded my mind. But no, that was too absurd. “Maybe you have a number wrong,” I said.
Tom held up the phone for me to check. But everything looked right. I held my breath as he dialed once again. He listened, then shook his head. “I can’t get through.”
Fear broke over me like a tidal wave. What if Mom hadn’t gotten away? With that thought came the most vivid and horrible picture. I could see Mom slumped on the kitchen floor, a dark pool of blood around her head. Her long brown hair, now dark and matted, half covered her face. She wasn’t moving.
It was all so horribly real. I didn’t want to believe it, but the dreadful picture wouldn’t go away. Through my sobs, I heard Tom get up and leave the room. Was he going to call the police? It didn’t even matter. Nothing mattered.
A short time later, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up. There was Tom, dressed in a red flannel shirt and jeans. “I’m going to drive over to your place and try to talk to your mom before it gets any later. You don’t want to come along, do you?”
I shook my head and buried my face in my hands again.
Tom wasn’t gone long, maybe ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity. His face was serious as he walked in and took his seat. “I talked to your mom. She’s going to come and get you in a little while.”
“She’s okay?” The weight of anxiety fell away, and I could breathe again. Then I thought of something else. “She’s not mad at me, is she?”
Tom smiled and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
The three of us settled in to wait. Beside me, Patty’s knitting needles clicked steadily as she worked one long row after another of maroon and white variegated yarn. The irregular patches of color unfolding on the swatch fascinated me.
“What’re you making?” I asked.
“This is going to be a sweater for my granddaughter. I was hoping to get it done in time for Christmas, but the way it’s going, it’ll probably be a late birthday present instead.”
“It’s pretty.”
“Yeah, I think so too. Variegated yarn’s fun to work with.”
More time passed. I finished my second cup of tea and declined a third. Across from me Tom was snoring. Patty’s knitting needles slowed, then stopped altogether as she laid aside her work. She turned out all the lights except the dim lamp in the corner and then sat down again, wrapping herself in an afghan. I fought to keep my eyes open, but somewhere between twelve thirty and one, I gave up.
22
I awoke in the gray dawn to the aroma of pancakes. The living room was deserted, the only sign of the all-night vigil being a red plaid blanket crumpled on the seat of the armchair. Around the corner in the kitchen, I heard Patty humming a tune as she stirred something in a bowl. I stretched my cramped legs, then settled back on the couch. Although it was Monday morning, going to school was the last thing on my mind. Why hadn’t Mom come for me?
Somewhere off the kitchen, a back door opened, and I heard Tom stomping snow from his boots. “It’d be a fine day if it wasn’t so cold,” he said. Moments later the collie came bounding into the living room. It planted big snow-covered paws on my lap and reached up to lick my cheek.
“Sadie! You know better than that!” Patty scolded from the doorway. “Get down, you naughty girl.” She shook a spatula at the dog. Sadie hung her head and slunk over to the doorway, but when she saw me watching, she grinned and waved her fringed tail. I almost laughed.
“Hope she didn’t wake you up,” Patty said.
“No, I was just sitting here.”
“Would you like to eat with us? Breakfast is about ready.”
“Okay,” I said. The wonderful smells in the air were making me hungry.
As I walked into the kitchen, Tom looked up from drizzling syrup over his stack of pancakes and bid me a cheery good morning. Patty forked a fried egg and two pancakes onto my plate. I slid into a chair, then self-consciously bowed my head while Tom said a short prayer.
“How late are you working today?” Patty asked him afterwards.
“Let me think . . . we’ve pro
bably got four or five hours left on Millers’ job, and then I have to look at some leaking pipes. We’ve sent the guys out there at least three times, and the lady keeps calling and saying it’s still not fixed. I’ll try to be home by six.”
“What do you do?” I asked.
“I’m a master plumber at P&B Plumbing – you know, the place with the big sign as you’re going into town.”
“Where does your dad work?” Patty asked me.
“He’s got a shop where he builds and refinishes furniture.”
“Really. Does he get a lot of work?”
“Enough, I guess.”
“So your mom never came,” Tom said, stating the obvious. “Is there anything else we can do for you?”
“I don’t know. Guess I’ll keep waiting for her.”
I swallowed the last few bites of pancake and excused myself. Returning to the living room, I stood before the double windows and gazed out upon the wintry landscape. Despite the dazzling sunshine, the temperature remained in the single digits below zero. I watched the wind swirl loose snow over a peaked drift near the corner of the house. Anxiety clouded my thoughts. What if my mom never does come? Is she really okay? Or did something awful happen after Tom left?
“I hate to leave with things so uncertain.” Tom’s deep voice drifted in from the kitchen. “But I really need to be there to finish that job.”
“I know. I’ll call you if anything changes,” Patty said.
I heard a rustle as Tom pulled on his jacket. He opened the door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Have a good day. Drive carefully,” Patty called after him.
I watched the red SUV back out of the driveway and disappear down the road in a haze of blowing snow. Patty came in and joined me at the windows.
“You watching for your mom?”
I shrugged and kept staring out at the snow.
“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on in your family, and you don’t have to tell me; but whatever it is, God can straighten it out. He sent you here last night so we could help you. He loves you, Tessa. So do we.”
Tessa (From Fear to Faith) Page 11
