Turning to the police for help was out of the question because he was one of them. Richard was a detective in narcotics and on a first name basis with most patrol officers, all the way up the ranks to the lieutenants. He’d covered his tracks by complaining about his rebellious teenage daughter for years. How she hated him and didn’t want him in the house. So any calls that came in from me were handled as a temper tantrum from a rebellious youth, and then punishment afterward was severe. I stopped calling after the second beating.
If we ran, we knew he would find us because that’s what he did. He could snap his fingers and we’d be hunted down and home within hours. We were trapped. Until one day, when everything began to unravel for him.
When it came time for me to go to college, I refused to leave Momma and Emma Jane alone with him. So I lived at home, worked part-time, and went to school at nights. Even though money was always tight, my mother had secretly saved for years so she could buy me something special for the day I graduated college. She’d bought diamond stud earrings to signify a bright new beginning and signed the card from her and my father, saying how proud he would be of me if he were alive. Richard found the box, read the card, and lost control.
When I arrived home from class, I knew something was wrong. The lamps were overturned and the pottery was shattered. I found my mother barely breathing on the floor of their bedroom with my stepfather passed out on the bed, the smell of whiskey heavy in the air. I called 911, and when the paramedics saw the house and my mother’s condition, they called the police. He’d always been careful when he hit us. Just enough to take out his anger, but never enough to send us to the hospital. This time, he couldn’t cover up what he’d done because there were witnesses.
Mother was able to get a restraining order against him, and he was suspended from the department until he underwent anger management classes. Thus began the next two years of him blaming his suspension on our family and terrorizing us with phone calls.
Until one day he drank too much and broke the restraining order.
He picked the lock on our house while we were gone and was waiting for us to come home. Thankfully, we were able to get away from Richard. We called the police and they arrested him. We would finally have our day in court for everything he’d put us through, and he would more than likely do time. However, before he could stand trial for his abuse, he’d gone fishing with some friends on the Tanana River and gotten drunk. He fell overboard into the rushing water and drowned. That was over four years ago and a day didn’t go by that I didn’t think about what he did to my family.
I hated him. Plain and simple. I also hated talking about him.
“My mother lives in Anchorage and my father is deceased,” I replied.
“So you’re all alone back in Fairbanks?”
Yeah, I was, and I didn’t want to talk about it either.
What I wanted more than anything was to get out of the Jeep and burn off some of the anxiety that was causing my heart to race at the thought of Richard.
“Um, Maxine, why don’t we park halfway down and walk. We can drop off your purchases as we pass by your car, then I’ll buy you lunch someplace when we’re done.”
Maxine looked at me oddly when I didn’t respond to her question, then she gazed at her watch and nodded in agreement. Space had just opened up in front Trails End Rafting Excursions, so she pulled in and parked. I started to open my door to get out when an older, silver-haired man with a barreled chest and ruddy cheeks came out and posted a help wanted sign out front. I was reading the sign stating one should inquire within when I heard Maxine gasp. I looked back to check on her and found her staring at the barrel-chested man. I turned my attention to him and caught him staring at Maxine as a sly grin pulled across his mouth.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Hmm, what?” she responded.
“Is he a friend of yours?”
“Who? Gregor?”
“If the good-looking older gentleman’s name is Gregor, then yes.”
“He is good-looking, isn’t he?”
She sighed with appreciation.
Oh. My. God. Maxine is crushing on this man.
“Do you like him?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. My husband is dead.”
Um, what? . . .
“Yes, he is, and I’m sorry about that, but you’re not if you haven’t noticed.”
Maxine turned her head and looked at me. For once, she didn’t have a witty comeback.
“Look, he just put up a ‘Help Wanted’ sign, so I think I’ll inquire about the job. You wanna come with me?”
She looked back at the man she called Gregor and watched him hang a pot of flowers on his porch. His waist was still trim and you could see his muscles straining as he lifted the plant above his head. Even I had to admit for a man his age he was in great shape. No wonder she couldn’t take her eyes off him.