Chapter 6
Rob
Our first night in the house, Hallie wound up in my bed. I couldn’t blame her. Everything felt so still in this small town. We might’ve lived in a gated community in LA, but there’d still been noise. The city was bright, hectic, and never quiet.
Gaynor Beach was positively sedate in comparison. Like everyone had taken a tranquilizer and a nap.
Anthony had shown me a map of Gaynor Beach. The Riverside region, where we now lived, was close to downtown. Within walking distance, in fact. So I’d be able to take the kids everywhere—including down to the beach. The Pacific Ocean. Which, stunningly, I’d never seen. Two years in LA and I’d never made it that far west.
I could have, of course. Santa Monica wasn’t far from where I’d lived when I was on the streets. Gerard’s mansion in Brentwood had been within spitting distance, relatively speaking. But I’d never left our neighborhood.
Weirdly, I held the ocean as…sacred. Something to be enjoyed at the right time. That time, for me, hadn’t come yet. Maybe now, with the kids, I could enjoy it.
Thomas stirred, and I hustled to scoop him out of his crib and over to the changing table quickly—before he got going with the noise. Sometimes he would wake up slowly, easing into wakefulness. He’d talk to himself and roll over, perhaps pull himself up, and have a big grin on his face when I came in.
Other times, he’d come fully awake, be mad at being alone, and howl to the heavens until I appeared.
Gerard had no patience for those times.
And you don’t have to worry about that anymore.
A mantra I kept repeating to myself, but not actually believing.
As I changed Thomas’s diaper and then put him in a new pair of red pants and a bright-blue shirt, I kept glancing over at Hallie. She’d had a rough night, so I was relieved to see her sleeping peacefully. Perhaps this afternoon, when Thomas went down for his nap, Hallie and I might be able to sleep as well. We needed to get into some kind of routine.
After putting socks on my son, I hefted him into my arms. I headed into the living room where I glanced at all the things that weren’t mine but also sort of were.
Anthony assured me we could keep everything. That even if, by some miracle, we got all our stuff from the mansion in LA, we could still keep these wonderful gifts.
I eyed the bare Christmas tree.
Danny had offered to decorate it, but I’d seen Colin was fatigued and, unfortunately, Hallie hadn’t warmed up to any of the men or even the precious dog. Much as I hadn’t wanted to say goodbye—to any of them—I also hadn’t wanted to put more strain on either Colin or Hallie.
So they’d left.
And my phone felt heavy in my pocket. James and Colin had insisted on giving me their numbers, in case anything happened and I needed help. That was sweet. But Danny’s number daunted less than the others. We’d talked, only for a few minutes, but he felt like someone I could be friends with. And he’d been so good with Thomas. About ten times last night, I considered texting him. To thank him again, of course. Except then I would’ve had to text either James or Colin or both—to thank them. All that felt very complicated.
I put Thomas in the seat that strapped to the kitchen table chair, then I secured him and the slotted the tray in.
He banged on the tray.
“Yeah, buddy, I’m hungry too.” I hustled to the fridge, found some sliced cheese, and gave that to him in pieces. Not ideal, but I needed him to stay quiet so Hallie could sleep. I hadn’t closed the door because I didn’t want her waking and panicking. She didn’t do well with closed doors.
Next, I put bread into the toaster, sliced some avocados, and found cereal. I’d have to feed it to him, but that might give us some one-on-one time. Time to just breathe. I didn’t feel like I’d been doing much of that. Everything had just been panic and rush and chaos. Neither of my children thrived in that environment. Especially not Hallie.
I added a dab of peanut butter to two slices of bread, cut up a banana, and sat at the kitchen table with the cereal in a bowl. The next twenty minutes was a little chaotic as I managed to get toast, cereal, banana, and avocado into my son—without him smushing too much of the stuff in his face—and I consumed toast and an orange juice. I didn’t drink coffee. Hadn’t for years. Gerard forbade it for me, for reasons I’d never truly understood, and I’d never defied him.
“Papa?” Hallie emerged from the hallway and offered a sleepy smile.
More than I expected, and it warmed my heart. “Good morning, sweetheart. Would you like to eat or would you like to get dressed first?” Gerard always insisted the children be dressed to eat—which often meant I was changing them again after meals if they got messy, but whatever.
“Dressed. I have to pee.”
“Okay.”
She headed to the bathroom, and I concentrated on eating and getting as much food as I could into Thomas. Once I had him cleaned up, I put him in his playpen with some toys and stuffies. Then I set about making Hallie’s scrambled eggs and toast. She also liked cereal, but—irrationally—I felt that if I made her something, she’d see how much I loved her. And, by the time she arrived, ready for food, I had some for her.
As she ate, I cleaned up the high chair, did the other dishes, and tried to figure out what we’d do for the next few meals. The fridge was full of wonderful foods, and cooking was one of the few things I could do well. I found a slow cooker as well as a pork roast. I chopped some vegetables as Hallie poked at her food and Thomas babbled. “Just a little bit more, sweetie?”
She shook her head.
“Okay. Why don’t you get your brush. Do you want your hair in a ponytail today?”
She bit her lower lip. “Pigtails.”
“Deal.”
After sliding off her chair, she headed back to the bedroom. As I put everything into the pot, she returned holding two elastics and her brush.
I set the food to cook, then guided her into the living room. I sat on the couch, then started brushing out her hair. It tended to tangle at night, often because she got soaked during her nightmares. Once I was finished, I patted her shoulder. “Do you want to play with Thomas? Or watch television?” I hadn’t checked out the cable situation, but I was working off the assumption someone had arranged for us to have kids’ channels. Everything else seemed to have been organized. It both humbled me and blew my mind they’d arranged everything so fast. Or maybe some of it had been in place when James lived here.
Which reminded me that I hadn’t thanked him yet.
Damn.
“Thomas wants out of the playpen.”
I glanced over at my boy as Hallie said the words. He actually appeared perfectly content, but Hallie didn’t like to be restricted, and she often assumed Thomas felt the same way. “Okay. Will you play with him?” I disliked always putting her in the position of watching when she was so young herself, but she’d do it anyway. She never took her eye off her brother. Almost like she was afraid if she did that he’d disappear. He never did, but that didn’t alleviate her vigilance.
She nodded.
“Sure, sweetheart. Let’s set up a blanket and some toys. Do you want the television on?”
She considered, bit her lip, then shook her head. “I’ll read to him.”
My mind was always blown that Thomas would actually sit still while Hallie read to him. She couldn’t read, but her imagination allowed her to create fantastical stories that kept him enthralled. Or maybe it was just her.
After I settled them on the floor, I did a quick survey of the room. As far as I could see, the house was babyproofed. I closed the bathroom and bedroom doors to minimize where kiddos could wander.
Then I did what I’d dreaded doing since yesterday.
I sat at the kitchen table and eyed the laptop computer that sat there—plugged in and charging. James had left a small pile of papers for me to go through along with some things Anthony had given me. I hadn’t had the courage to tell the men that my computer skills were limited to what I’d learned in high school. And that I’d never had a machine of my own. No computers or televisions in our household. Tablets weren’t a thing, and neither were smart phones in Missouri.
Then the same situation in LA. Gerard claimed to be exposing me to books and art, at first. Teaching me culture and literature. I tried to live up to his standards, as a gracious partner. He said TV was gauche. That social media was a cesspit. He said he’d help me be so much smarter than the people who wallowed in that shit.
We had a big-screen television, of course. But I didn’t know where the remote was. When the social worker did home visits and discussed online forms, Gerard was there with both his laptop and phone. He showed how he had all the security programmed. Gerard carried on about all the books we read to the children. All the nature walks we took. He made it sound like we were the perfect family.
The social worker never realized how controlling my husband was. At first, neither did I.
He’d given me a phone that I was expected to have with me at all times—so he could communicate with me. And also track me, although I hadn’t realized that until after we adopted Thomas. Learned the hard way when I’d gone for an extra-long walk one day. Gerard had come home that night in a right royal temper and made it clear what my boundaries were. Basically, the neighborhood. I told myself it was for my safety, all the while understanding this was a control thing. And that fighting it was pointless. I had a roof over my head, food in my belly, and a man who claimed to love me.
What else could I need? Especially when we added a daughter for me to care for. Except her constant anxiety worried me. Which probably fed into her anxiety. I’d spoken to her pediatrician about it. She’d recommended getting Hallie evaluated, but I’d known Gerard would never agree. He thought our daughter needed to be tougher.
To keep the peace, I acquiesced. Instead, I tried to find books on parenting in the library. I should’ve probably tried to use their computers, but with one—and eventually two—kids, the challenge of managing them was just too great. I kept the books hidden, of course, but I did my best to be the parent Hallie and Thomas deserved.
I eyed the computer again. I needed to do this. It couldn’t possibly be that difficult. James had given me login credentials as well as a temporary password. He said I’d be prompted to change it. Except I didn’t know anything about passwords. Or what I had known, I’d long forgotten. How insane was it to have been born early in the twenty-first century and yet know so little about computers?
And Colin had said something about getting my GED and eventually taking college classes. I was able to read, but school? I hadn’t been in a classroom since I was sixteen. Which felt like a million years ago.
I pulled my phone from my back pocket and pulled up the contacts. James or Colin would be the logical choices. Unlike Anthony, they didn’t have kids. They lived nearby.
Yet I couldn’t do it.
My finger hovered over Danny’s name. I couldn’t remember what he said he’d be doing. For that matter, I couldn’t even remember where he said he lived. Gaynor Beach?
I glanced at the time. Eight o’clock wasn’t too early, was it? Before I lost my nerve, I shot off a quick good morning text.
Moments later, my phone rang with an incoming call.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Rob, it’s Danny. Obviously. I’m glad you texted. I mean, I could’ve texted back, but I thought you might want to speak to an adult. I mean, not that your kids aren’t amazing. And maybe you’ve got someone over. I mean, not someone someone, but I don’t know, like James or Colin? Did you call them first? I mean, it’s cool if you did because they’re awesome, but it’s also cool if you didn’t, because I think Colin was a little tired after yesterday. I mean, that wasn’t your fault…the guy can overdo it sometimes, which is way more than you need to know.” He drew in a breath. “I mean…I’m happy you texted, and I hope it’s okay I called back. I prefer talking.”
A laugh bubbled up from inside me. “I didn’t think anyone talked anymore.”
He sighed. “They don’t. Except Mama and Daddy. We’ve taught them about technology—and they love their smart phones—but they also just love to talk your ear off. Especially if you’re supposed to be studying for something.” He let out a breath. “What’s up?”
I’m lonely. I’m scared. I can’t do this alone. I need help.
And I wasn’t going to say any of those things. I cleared my throat. “James is the computer guy, right?”
“Yeah. Cybersecurity. Real high-level stuff. Way over my head.”
Somehow that made me feel marginally better. “How about regular stuff?”
“He can do that as well.” Danny paused. “But so can I. How can I help?”
I took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you could talk me through the login process. James has left a paper with my…” I searched the document. “…credentials.”
Danny laughed. “Okay, that sounds way too complicated. It’s your login information. I can try to talk you through this, but why don’t I just come over? The kids would be okay with that, right?”
Hallie was intently drawing in a coloring book and Thomas had a little car he was pushing around. Clearly he’d had enough of her reading and they’d moved on. “Yeah, the kids won’t mind. But are you sure? You must have something?—”
“Look, I wouldn’t offer if I couldn’t make it work. Give me two hours?”
“Uh, sure.”
“I’m in Huntington Beach at my parents’, so it’ll take a bit of time for me to get up, showered, dressed, and on my way down.”
“Oh God, did I wake you up?”
He chuckled. “I had a late night watching hockey with my dad then talking about…stuff. And I was looking up some medical stuff on the internet.”
“Yeah, but?—”
“I’m on my way.”
“Can I at least make you food? Or do you need to eat before you come?”
“Mama’s made breakfast burritos, so I’ll eat here. But do you like specialty coffee? I can pick up some before I make my way over to you.”
“I, uh, don’t really do coffee.”
The hesitation was noticeable. “Okay. Right. I just forget there are people in the world who aren’t caffeine addicts.”
That was me…being all weird. “I could try?—”
“Nope. I have something else in mind. See you in two hours.”
Before I could say anything else, he disconnected.
And although I spent the next hour staring at the phone and trying to find the courage to tell him not to come—that I’d figure this computer thing out on my own—I never did call back.