Chase wiggles in my arms and I set him down. Dinky car still held tight in one hand,
he reaches into the cooler bag and pulls out his juice box and some crackers. I step further into the house and a bang at the back patio door startles me. My hand flies to my chest and I gasp. Another bang sounds, almost like the lid of a barbecue being slammed shut, or a garbage can being tipped over.
Could it be an animal? The place has been abandoned for a long time. Maybe Jamie hasn’t been looking after it like he once assured me he would.
“Chase, I want you to stay right here, okay?” I point to the floor. “Don’t move from this spot.”
“Okay,” he says and stuffs his face full of crackers.
I slowly open the front hall closet and feel a measure of relief when I come across Ethan’s old baseball bat. I scoop it up, weight it in my hand and walk toward the patio door. I check the lock, find it secure. With a flick of the switch, the backyard lights up, and showcases very neglected foliage and a pool full of dirt and algae. The click of the lock sounds like a gun being cocked as I open the door and step out, bat poised on my shoulder. As a nurse, we’ve taken self-defense courses to help us deal with unruly people, but I’m not sure I could actually hit someone with a bat.
Please be an animal.
I glance toward the barbecue and before I know what’s happening, someone has me by the front of my T-shirt and is shoving me against the side of the house. My head hits with a thud and I wince and shut my eyes as stars dance before them.
“Take what you want,” I say, my thoughts focused solely on protecting my son. He’s all that matters. TVs and computers, phones and jewelry, they mean nothing in the big scheme of things.
“Fallon?”
My eyes blink open at the familiar voice and I cry out in relief when I find Jamie looming over me. “Oh, God, Jamie. You scared me.”
“What the hell, Fallon?” His dark eyes narrow in on me, his gaze roaming my face. “What are you doing?”
He takes the baseball bat from me, runs his fingers through his too long hair and backs up. As I work to gather myself, my gaze races over the long length of him. My Lord, what happened to him since I’ve been gone? He used to keep his hair neat and short, now it’s longer than usual and hanging in his eyes. The clothes on his back look like they’ve been doubling as his pajamas for a week straight, and the beer on his breath is enough to spike my blood alcohol levels.
“I thought you were an intruder…or an animal,” I say, still breathless.
“I was just checking on the place,” he informs me in a gruff voice, like he’s angry with me. “I told you I would,” he snaps.
I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “I didn’t see your car. It wasn’t in the driveway.” Which is a good thing, considering he’s been drinking. The last thing I want is for him to be taken to the hospital because of a car accident—one fatality from driving is enough for any family. Or should I say two, considering the unborn baby.
He rakes an unsteady hand through his hair and shakes his head. “I live two houses down or did you forget?”
“No, I didn’t forget.”
“I could…” He stops to swallow. “There’s been a string of break-ins in the neighborhood lately. I could have hurt you.” There is real fear in his eyes when they meet mine and that’s when I understand where his anger is coming from. He was worried about me, and in his current state could have reacted first, asked questions later.
“I texted to let you know I was coming back,” I explain. “Didn’t you get it?”
“I got it,” he grumbles.
Knowing he was purposely ignoring me widens the gaping hole inside me.
“I just came a bit earlier, is all.”
He waves his hands. “Which is why I thought I had more time.”
I try to figure out what he’s waving at. “For what?”
“To get this place cleaned up for you.” His throat makes a sound as he swallows again. “I kind of just let it go. I didn’t want…you don’t deserve…Ethan would have…”
“Mommy…”
I spin around fast, and Chase is staring up at us. His big brown eyes, so similar to his father’s, and to his uncle’s, are confused, a bit frightened as he grips his dinky car.
“Chase,” I say quickly, and hurry to him. “Do you remember Uncle Jamie?”
“I don’t know,” he says. Chase was young, and the car accident happened just after hockey season ended, and Jamie had been away a lot that year. But on some level, deep inside the little boy, I suspect he has some buried memories of the man looming close.