to your fate.”
He gave her a crooked smile and nodded. “Good. Now wait here.”
She listened, not breathing, but didn’t hear anything except his footsteps on hardwood. After about thirty seconds, he opened the screen door and came out onto the porch stoop.
“There’s nobody in there. Let’s go,” he said, looking at his feet as he stepped onto the porch and cupped her elbow in his hand. “Come on.”
“Wait a minute. I want to see inside. There might be a clue to where they went.”
“I already looked. I didn’t see anything.”
“Joe, wait. Did you check to see if their luggage is gone? If their toothbrushes are still in the bathroom? They could have just gone shopping or to a movie. We could wait for them.”
“What are you going to say?” he asked harshly. “‘Hi there. Enjoy the movie? Great. Now give me my son.’”
Marcie glared at him. “What were you going to say?” she blustered back at him.
He winced. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know. Now come on. All the more reason to get out of here in case they do come back.”
“No,” she said. “I want to go inside.”
“I’m tired of arguing, Marcie. I told you there’s nothing to see.” He started down the two steps to the sidewalk, but she didn’t move. He pointed to the west. “Howard came from that direction. He had a fishing pole. I doubt there’s anything over there but docks and maybe a bait shop, but we could drive that way and see. Ask if anybody knows where they are.”
She ignored him and turned toward the door.
He caught her shoulder and when she looked back, his expression was grim. “Marcie, don’t.”
“Why not? You said there was nobody in there. Is there...blood or something?” Her gaze widened and fear sharpened their blue depths.
“No, hon, nothing like that.”
She shrugged, trying to remove his hand. “Then I don’t see why I can’t go in.”
He sniffed, then let her go. “Okay. Go ahead.”
Wondering at the defeated note in his voice, she opened the screen door and stepped into the cool, dim house. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, after being in the bright sunlight. When they did, the first thing she saw was a small wooden table and two chairs. There were blocks and flash cards on the table and right beside it was a whiteboard with two words written on it in box letters. JOSHY. Underneath the name was the word BOY.
Marcie stared, uncomprehending for a few seconds. Then slowly, as if she were drugged or sick or had just landed on an alien planet, she began to make sense of the things she saw. A groan erupted from her throat and she sank to her knees next to the little table. This was what Joe hadn’t wanted her to see. He’d known how much it would upset her. Tears welled in her eyes. She groped blindly on the table and her hand encountered a square, plastic building block. She held on to it as if it were a lifeline.
“He’s two years old, almost two and a half,” she murmured. “He’s learning his ABC s—” She gestured vaguely toward the board. “Even words,” she said, almost choking.
“I know, hon.” She couldn’t pinpoint where Joe’s voice came from but his words were as hoarse and strained as hers. She felt his hand on her arm and she let him help her to her feet.
She turned to him, proffering the block, her lower lip trembling with the effort not to cry. He ignored the plastic cube and just pulled her close. But she didn’t—she couldn’t—let him hold her right now. Hunching her shoulders, she stepped around him and went into the small kitchen. Beside the sink were several sippy cups turned upside down on a towel. An empty carton of juice was in the trash can.
Marcie felt as though she were choking and smothering. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get a full breath.
“Just breathe,” Joe said softly in her ear. She hadn’t heard him come up beside her. “Just breathe, slowly, evenly. You’ll be okay.”
She did what he told her to,
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