tight bundle of rage. But I needed to push that down for now. Throwing my energy into the chaos of anger would only make things harder for my son.
“Thanks, Scooter,” I said. I looked away from the window and into his eyes, nervous and grave as they were. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you trust me like this.”
He shrugged his narrow shoulders and rubbed at a smudge on his gun. “You know what, Jill, I hate feeling like a snitch. The rights and the wrongs here run together until I don’t know for sure which is which anymore. But the one thing I know is, the whole reason Elias was in Afghanistan was to fight the ones who brought down buildings full of innocent people on 9/11. So if somebody says they’re going to go and do that same kind of thing in Elias’s name, I’m going to speak up. If I follow that way through it, doing what seems right and logical, I guess I can feel okay when it’s over.”
I nodded, but more than anything I wondered what those last three words would mean.
* * *
As the sun rose the following morning I lay quietly beside Cade, listening to the peaceful rhythm of his breathing. I wondered how I was going to get through the next days, living alongside him knowing all that Scooter had told me, wondering every moment if my words or actions would give away my plan to leave him. I felt my mind shuttling itself into survival mode—locking its doors, sealing its windows with tape, filling up the bathtub with water to last the duration—doing whatever would help it press through the day ahead, accomplishing what needed to be done without incurring further damage. Once Cade had left for work, I loaded TJ into his car seat and drove over to the U-Store-It. Any calls I made from the little office would be listed on the phone bill, but I figured by the time the family received it, I would be gone.
I let myself in with my key, and dialed. Dave picked up on the third ring.
“Jill,” he said, and even over the fuzzy connection I heard happiness in the way his voice lifted. “Been wondering how you’ve been. What’s going on?”
My laugh was short and hard. “Things with Cade aren’t going so great. I need to get out. Like, Wednesday.”
“Oh, jeez. Well, you know you can come here whenever you need. Come now if you want.”
Silently I started to cry. My throat grew too tight to speak, and I moved the receiver away from my mouth so he wouldn’t hear my breathing. TJ twisted the long, curling cord between his fists, catching my hair in his grasp and pulling painfully, but I didn’t care. I could go home now. There was an end to this, and it was Wednesday.
“Can you get down here?” he asked into my silence. “You need gas money or anything? I can wire it to you. Where are you, New Hampshire?”
“Yeah.” I forced an even breath, then said, “My son is having surgery on Wednesday. I can’t leave till after that, but it’s outpatient. Cade will get a ride in to work once it’s over so I can keep the car in case there’s any complications later and I need to take him back in. But my plan is to leave straight from the hospital and just keep driving.”
“Wow. Sounds like things are pretty bad over there.”
I blurted a quick, humorless laugh at the understatement. “I can’t even tell you, Dave.”
“Is he beating you? What is it?”
I couldn’t let Dave know the details—not this way, over the phone. If I told him what Scooter had said to me he would probably leave Southridge before the call had ended and show up at my door, throwing everything into disorder. So I only said, “I’ll explain when I get there.”
There was a long silence across the phone line. Then Dave said, “Jill, let me come up and get you. I don’t like the sound of all this. Sounds like you could use a backup in case something goes wrong.”
“No, don’t go to all that trouble. Just be at camp when I get there.”
“Uh-uh. No. The most dangerous time for a woman in your position is when you try to leave. That’s when people get killed.” I heard drawers opening and slamming shut. “I got a pen. Give me an address where to meet you.”
I thought