If there’d been a time to give up, this was it.
Rescue so close and so impossibly far.
But he’d looked worried, hadn’t he? That had been his expression this last visit, the look she couldn’t read until now. The footsteps above meant something. They gave her hope.
The footsteps plus the freed five-inch spike he’d failed to discover.
Before she’d lain down to sleep, she’d hidden the spike along the edge of the back wall, the same wall he’d thrown her against when he rushed in. She held it in one hand now, rubbing furiously against the tape binding her wrists.
CHAPTER 39
The next half hour was a jagged blur. Junie, woken by the commotion, had stumbled down the stairs. Nillson raced out, Dad disappeared into his office, and I sat, frozen. So Junie watched television, clicking on the CBS Late Late Movie.
Dad came out of his office moments later wearing a suit. He strode to the kitchen, pulled the gluey hotdish out of the fridge, and shoveled it into his mouth standing up. I didn’t know why he even bothered coming home anymore, this Dad-shaped man, this cheater, this liar.
He mussed Junie’s hair where she sat on the couch, gave me a peck on the cheek next to her, and was halfway to the door before I realized I was disappearing.
“Stay home,” I begged.
“What?” he said, looking surprised. He hadn’t remarked on Junie’s full face of makeup, which she’d come down wearing, slightly smeared like she’d applied it before she fell asleep. He said nothing about how Mom hadn’t left the house by herself in a month. And he hadn’t asked me how it was that my heart hadn’t stopped beating after losing Maureen and now, with Brenda gone.
“Please,” I said, a sob surprising me. Once released, the tears flowed hot. “Please don’t leave us right now.” I hated myself for saying it, but if he didn’t stay, I was going to go under.
He’d been reaching for his briefcase. Instead, he hurried back to me, pulling me off the couch and hugging me tightly.
“Is that what you want, too, Junie?”
I watched her through the folds of Dad’s shirt, saw her nod dumbly, though I thought I caught a glint in her eye when she ran her tongue over her sharp little fox teeth, watching us.
Dad stepped back, glanced at his watch and then the phone. His face softened. “You pop the corn, and I’ll grab a board game, just like we used to do. How does Life sound?”
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Dad said. He was guiding his tiny plastic car through the small green mountains, one pink and one blue peg riding in it.
“You’ll get more people,” Junie said, staring at the board.
Dad smiled, but it was melancholy. “Not the game.”
He glanced toward the bedroom door. None of us had suggested inviting Mom to this protected pocket of time, this surreal, panic-ridged, two a.m. space that existed separate from the world. “She’s the most beautiful woman to me. You girls know that, don’t you?”
Junie nodded. I wanted to, but I couldn’t, not now that I knew he’d cheated. Maybe he was even cheating now, and that’s why he was hardly ever home.
I spun the wheel, listening to its ratchety sound.
“Heather?” Dad asked softly.
I didn’t want to look at him, but I couldn’t help it. When our eyes met, I saw his were focused, insistent.
“I love your mom so much, and I love you girls with all my heart. I need you to know that.” When I still didn’t answer, his voice grew deep, echoey. “I also need you to remember that I’m head of this household.”
I realized I was squeezing my hands into fists. I relaxed them and felt the blood rush back. He couldn’t possibly know what Mrs. Hansen had told me, so why did it feel like he was confessing to an affair? I’d wanted him to stay home to comfort me. I’d thought I’d die if he didn’t, and here he was, offering me nothing. Not even that. He was asking things of me.
Taking. Taking taking taking.
“Heather?” he said, his tone a warning, the last one I’d get, it said. “You know that, don’t you?”
I’d never disrespected him before. This was unknown territory. An ugly blue vein throbbed at Dad’s temple. I could feel the matching vein pulsing in mine.
Junie coughed, drawing my attention. She looked shaky, on the verge of tears.
“Sure, Dad,” I said through a clenched jaw. Maureen would have pushed back even harder, but I wasn’t Maureen. Instead, I swallowed my bitter-tart swirl of feelings, stood, walked like a robot to his spot at the head of the table, and put my arms around him. After all, he had stayed home when I asked. That counted for something, didn’t it?