Since she and Chad had started quarreling, Amy had been finding it harder and harder to get herself out of bed and pointed in a direction in the morning. It had been weeks since she had made breakfast for Chad before he left for work, at first because they weren’t speaking, and later because she couldn’t get moving, not even to see the twins off to school. The kids took care of themselves, and every morning before leaving, Kayla climbed the stairs to say bye to her mom. Today, Amy had gathered enough energy to call her daughter over to her bedside, hug her, kiss her, and tell her she loved her. As always, Kayla had “forgotten” to close the bedroom door when she left. And as always, Meatloaf had come in to sprinkle Amy’s bed with the cat litter caught between his paw pads. Meatloaf was never allowed outside the house. The Bradleys were too afraid something might happen to him.
“Meatloaf,” Amy told the cat breathing in her ear, “I’ve been awake for hours, no thanks to you, so why can’t I seem to get up?”
The phone rang.
Amy groaned, shoved the cat aside, and achieved rapid verticality. The urgent need to run and answer every single phone call had started the day Justin was abducted, and no amount of passing time could abate it.
Barefoot and in her nightgown, she sprinted across the upstairs hallway into the room devoted to 1-800-4JUSTIN. They had an ordinary landline in there as well. Amy snatched up the phone and shoved it against her head.
“Hello,” she mumbled.
“Amy.”
She woke up fast, recognizing her husband’s voice. “Honey?”
“Yes.” Chad sounded devoid of any honey; it had been a long time since he had called her anything sweet. “Amy, this is just to let you know I ditched work today—”
Amy gasped, “What?” Chad had taken personal days when Justin was abducted, but she had never known him to outright ditch work.
He went on speaking as if he hadn’t heard her. “—and I’m driving up to Birmingham to see my dad—”
This was even more unheard of, so unlike Chad that Amy lost her breath and could not speak. She found herself clinging to the cordless phone for imaginary support.
“—so I don’t know whether I’ll be home tonight,” Chad concluded. “Don’t worry if I’m not.”
Don’t worry? Amy felt too scared to worry. Panic gave her the strength she needed to say, “Wait! Chad, what’s this about?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” She smiled painfully; it was what Justin would have said when he was in trouble at school. She said now, “Don’t ‘nothing’ me, Charles Stuart Bradley, and don’t you dare hang up.”
“No, ma’am. Yes, ma’am.” Chad sounded a little more alive than before.
“Can you pull over?” She could tell by the whooshing and roaring background sounds of vehicles and semis that he was on the interstate. “So we can talk?”
“What for, Amy?” His voice had gone dull again. “I really don’t have anything to tell you.”
“Sure you do. There must be some reason—”
“I need—I don’t know what I need. I just can’t stand it anymore. Anything.”
Terror more than courage helped her say it. “Chad, are you leaving me?” It was okay that her voice trembled. Let him hear how she felt.
Silence, except for the sounds of speed and distance in the phone. The sounds of someone running away.
“Chad?” Her voice shook even more.
His words so low she could barely hear them, he said, “I admit the thought has crossed my mind. But, Amy,” he went on more forcefully, “Dad talked me out of it. He said the worst thing he ever did was to leave Mom and me. That’s why I’m going to see him.”
“Oh,” Amy said, or exhaled, almost in a whisper.
“Amy?”
“I’m here.”
“Okay. Don’t worry. I’ll call you.”
“Chad, I—”
“Gotta go.” He disconnected.
“I really do love you,” said Amy to the lifeless phone.
TEN
Lying along the riverbank right beside an unfriendly neighborhood water moccasin, listening to the boat’s motor dwindling way and fighting an impulse to cry, I forced my mind back to a contemplation of the glories of nature.
I saw another leggy bird beauty, this time white, skimming the opposite shore. Some kind of egret.
And a black vulture circling over the woods, soaring, its tapering wings forming a slight V. Why did buzzards get no respect when they were beautiful things in flight?
Long wait.
Flickers of songbird in the far trees.
Something moving on the far shore, maybe a deer? No, too golden, bobbing blond head—