Julia 33
I fight my way back to consciousness in stages, first taking a physical inventory. My head is throbbing, likely from the drugs. I don’t think he hit me. Yet. My neck, shoulders and arms are achy and stiff from being tied up. Tied to something … A chair. I’m sitting in a hard-backed chair and each of my ankles is tied to one of the legs.
I struggle to clear my head, grasping for any tiny snippet of memory beyond the van. But there are no snippets. I have no idea what’s transpired in the last … what? Hours? Days? No. It couldn’t be days, so I can’t be that far from home. I listen carefully, trying to discern if Jeremy is nearby before I let on that I’m awake. Nothing. I don’t sense his presence in my immediate vicinity, so I open my leaden eyelids slowly against bright lights. I squint and wait for my pupils to dilate.
As the room finally comes into focus around me, I recognize it as a kitchen. Stove, fridge, cabinets. Breakfast nook … Suddenly my eyes are wide open and my breath hitches in my chest. I fight back a whimper. This is my kitchen! My kitchen in our Port Jefferson house on Long Island!
I take a moment to concentrate on slowing my runaway pulse.
Do. Not. Panic.
I stop and take a long, deep breath, in my nose, out my mouth, which no longer has a gag in it. That’s an improvement, anyway. But why on earth would Jeremy bring me here of all places? I mean, it’s my house. If you want to kidnap someone, you take them someplace where no one will look for them. Of course. I realize I’ve just answered my own question.
It wouldn’t occur to Matthew to look for me here. He thinks I’m somewhere in the city. Damn! Okay. That’s the bad news. The good news is that this is my house. I know it inside and out. Every baby-proofed crevice. The fog is lifting slowly and I am focused enough now to hear him moving around close by. He’s opening and closing doors, moving things around down the hallway.
I take another deep breath and gather my courage.
“Jeremy?” I call out tentatively.
He doesn’t answer.
“Jeremy? What are you looking for? Maybe I can help.”
He’s quiet for a moment and then I hear his voice from behind me “I want a drink. Where do you keep the liquor?”
Okay, that’s easy enough.
“There’s a cabinet in the living room, it’s just to my right,” I point with my head. “Against the wall, next to the big window. Since the baby’s been walking, we keep it locked. You’ll find a key sitting on top of it and glasses on the shelf above. There’s also beer and wine in the fridge if you prefer.”
I’m not certain that he’s left the kitchen again until I hear the clink of bottles in the next room. When he returns, it’s with a bottle of vodka and a glass. He puts both on the counter and sits next to them on a stool, swiveling so he’s facing me.
“This is some place you’ve got here, Jules. No wonder Matthew wanted to relive his pathetic little childhood here.”
“It’s a good place for a family,” I say softly. “A good place to raise the baby.”
He smiles, shakes his head at me and knocks back a shot.
I know how Jeremy thinks. I know what makes him happy and what makes him angry. He’s not wired all that differently than my father was …if I can make him feel powerful, flatter his ego without fawning over him, I might be able to reason with him, convince him that he doesn’t have to hurt me. I don’t have a lot of time here, and the more he drinks, the shorter my window gets. I take a slow, deep breath. I’m okay. I can do this.
“Did you look at him?” I ask.
He furrows his brow.
“Who?”
“You know who! The baby,” I tease him a little.
“No,” he mutters without even looking at me.
“Oh, come on. You must have,” I coax. “I know you did.”
Now he’s looking at me. In fact, he’s glaring. It’s a warning that I’m on thin ice here.
“You must have seen it.”
“What’s that?”
He’s trying to sound disinterested.
“How much he looks like you.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“He has your eyes. And the way his brows arch, that’s all you. Your chin, too. When he was born, he looked more like me. But as he gets older, he looks more and more like his father.”
Jeremy doesn’t respond, he just slips off the stool he’s been occupying, and gets some ice from the freezer.
“It makes Matthew crazy,” I murmur, as if to myself, but loud enough for him to hear.
When he turns around, there’s a half smirk on his face. Well that certainly got his attention.
“Yeah, I’ll bet it does,” he snorts as he pours more liquor over the ice.
“I …” I trail off and pretend to try again. “I kind of like it.”
Another snort. He takes a sip, all the while looking at me as if I’m full of crap.
“No, really,” I say sincerely. “I was afraid, because I’m so … plain looking. But now I think he’s going to be an incredibly handsome man. A redheaded version of you.”
Jeremy puts the glass down on the counter hard and comes to stand in front of me. Shit. Have I pushed too far, too fast? I guess we’re about to find out.
“What are you trying to do here, Jules?”
I shrug as best I can without use of my hands.
“It’s not anything I can say to anyone else, Jeremy. No one else knows about you being his father. And the people who do know, would be horrified to hear … to hear how I really feel.”
“And how is it that you feel, Jules?” he mocks.
“Like … I’m glad. I’m glad he’s your son. I’m glad he looks like you. I hope he grows up to be as talented and smart as you.” The words come out of me in such a rush that, suddenly, I’m not so sure they’re just words anymore. I keep going before I can think about it too much. “A small part of me wishes that things had been different with us,” I profess, looking down at my lap as I feel my face coloring scarlet.
He has no comment, just returns to his spot on the stool and spins it around so he has a view of the lights out in Port Jefferson harbor. We sit in silence for what feels like an eternity.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask at last.
He swivels back around to face me, one eyebrow cocked in surprise.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” I continue. “I’m not going to fight you, Jeremy. Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”
“Well that’s quite an attitude adjustment.”
“Maybe, but now that I’m past the initial shock of … all this … I realize that I’m better to my son alive than dead. I’m not going to give you any reason to hurt me. I swear to you.”
He leans forward and, for a split second, I think he’s happy with my acquiescence. I know better as soon as his mouth twists up again.
“Oh, Jules,” he whispers, shaking his head at me pityingly. “Is that what you think? That if you behave yourself, I won’t hurt you? That I won’t kill you? You’re not getting this, you stupid girl. It’s not about me hurting you because it makes me feel good – although it does – it’s about me hurting Matthew. And the best way to hurt Matthew, is to hurt you.”
That’s when the reality of this situation dawns on me with crushing certainty. I’m not going to live through this night if Jeremy Corrigan has his way. I must look incredibly alarmed suddenly, because he makes a concerted effort to soften his tone a little. Not, I’m sure, because he wants to comfort me, but because he doesn’t want to spook me into doing something desperate and making his job harder.
“That being said, if you do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it, then you might just spare yourself a little grief.”
I nod, as if to indicate my acceptance of his terms.
“Although,” he continues, getting up and going back to the fridge again, “I don’t think you’re going to like what I have in mind for you.”
I see him pluck something out from under a magnet. He comes back to stand in front of me, holding the small card close so I can see what it is.
Oh, no. God, no. Please. No, no, no!
I fight back the bile that rises to the back of my throat even as the blood drains from my face. Jeremy is holding the appointment card for my next OB/GYN appointment. The one that says ‘four-month sonogram’ on it. He tosses the card up onto the counter, then squats down on his haunches, putting his palms on my knees so we are face to face.
“Congratulations, Jules! I can’t tell you how happy I was to discover you’re expecting another rugrat!” he crows brightly. “So, so happy! Because, you see, the only revenge better than hurting you, is hurting you and your baby. Matthew’s baby.”
He puts a hand to my bloodless face and locks his eyes on mine.
“Now, I’m not sure how you’re going to come out of all this, Jules, but there’s one thing I can tell you with absolute certainty. You won’t be keeping that appointment.”