Evidence of Life - By Barbara Taylor Sissel Page 0,43

“And don’t forget, I’m right here.”

Abby said she knew, that she was grateful.

“Jake is here, honey,” her mama said, after a pause. “I’ll put him on.”

No, Abby thought. She knew he’d be upset with her, but she was surprised to hear Jake sounding almost cheerful.

He’d come to his gramma’s to study, he said, and to tell her and Abby that he wasn’t going to be expelled for cheating. Instead he’d been put on probation. “They cut me some slack because of the situation,” he said. “It’s not that I like trading on that,” he was quick to add, “but if it saves the semester—” He paused, waiting for a reaction, but Abby didn’t have one ready. “Look, I know what I did was crap—”

“You can’t let what’s happened to us ruin your future, Jake.”

“I’m not a little kid. I know what I’m doing. I know what I have to do.”

Abby didn’t answer. She traced a pattern on the steering wheel.

“Mom?” Jake finally said. “What are you doing?”

That question again. It was like the flavor of the month.

“I’m going to Bandera,” Abby said.

“But you told Gramma you were going home. Now you’re going to the Hill Country. I don’t get it.”

She closed her eyes.

“Mom? Are you there?” Jake’s voice cracked.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Are you still going?”

“I have to, Jake.”

He said nothing for a moment, then, “You know how you always tell me not to ask the question if I don’t want the answer?”

“Yes?” Silence. Her pulse resonant in her ears. “Jake?”

“Come home, Mom, that’s all. You should just come home.”

* * *

Near Seguin, Abby stopped for gas. No one else was around, and slowly she became aware of the lateness of the hour and her surroundings, that she was alone in the middle of nowhere. A chilly breeze grazed her neck; she pushed her hands deeper into her sweater pockets. She wondered if Nick might have stopped here last spring. She wondered what he would say if he were to walk out of the woods that pressed in on her from all sides and find her pumping her own gas alone in the middle of the night.

He wouldn’t believe it, she thought. Of everyone, he would be the most surprised.

The gas pump clicked off. She holstered the nozzle and thought about the possibility of turning around, of going home, and she knew that she couldn’t. She had to find out the truth.

Chapter 12

The lobby of the Riverbend Lodge was empty, but the office door was open and a light was on. Abby peeped inside and saw an old man slumped in a chair asleep in front of a flickering television screen with the sound turned low. She was reluctant to wake him and tried first by clearing her throat. No response. She tapped the desk bell, cringing at the tinny sound, but almost at once that brought a loud snort. Pretty soon the man came shuffling through the door, scouring his face, blinking at her.

Abby apologized and said she hadn’t planned to stop here, that she was on her way to a friend’s house and had gotten tired. All of which was untrue. This was most certainly her intended destination. Why else had she carried a book of matches from this place around with her since last August? She asked about a room. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying. Will that be a problem?”

The old man looked curiously at her, obviously trying to make sense of the discrepancies in her story. “No,” he said after a moment. “I guess not.” In between taking down Abby’s information and swiping her debit card, he said he was sorry Abby had caught him napping. “I’m covering for my son. He owns the motel, him and his wife do, but she’s in the hospital. Emergency surgery.” He patted his midsection. “Female trouble. Come on her real sudden-like this afternoon.”

Abby took the key he handed her and said she hoped everything would be okay. Do you know anyone named Sondra? She might have been a guest. She might have been with someone named Nick. The questions hovered in Abby’s mind. The answers to them were all she wanted to know. The old man waited, fingers balanced on the desk. Abby noticed their tremor; she noticed his frailty, that his skin was chalky, his face lined with worry and fatigue.

They talked about the flood, and he told Abby the motel had had a foot of water. “It was a mess,” he said, “but I’m not complaining.