Ellie
It felt like we drove forever, yet at the same time, it went by in the blink of an eye. My brain whirred at a frantic pace, making it nearly impossible to hang on to any one thought for too long. Things went by in a flash. Panic. Terror. Confusion. And under it all a red-hot, boiling current of hatred. I hated Connor with every fiber of my being, point-blank.
I had to hold it all back for my baby. She sat in my lap, her arms around my neck. I held onto her, trying to soothe her with every lullaby and song I knew. “You wanna sing with me?” I whispered, brushing sweaty strands of hair back from her forehead. She shook her head, mute. She didn’t have any songs left inside her. I knew how she felt, but forced myself to sound cheerful anyway.
“What are you singing back there?” How could he act like nothing was wrong? How could he sound lighthearted, happy, carefree? The way a man would ask his wife and child what they were singing during happy times, when he hadn’t kidnapped them at gunpoint.
“Nothing,” I said. He didn’t get to know. He didn’t get to know anything about us, from the song I sang to what Isabella like to eat for dinner. Nothing. He had forfeited that right. I saw him frown in the rearview mirror. Good. Let him frown, the bastard.
I rocked Isabella, humming the tune to every song from Frozen. For once, I was glad she’d made me memorize it from beginning to end. I would do anything I could to calm her, to make it easier on her.
“Can you please turn up the air conditioning?” I asked. “It’s a little warm back here.” He obliged, which surprised me. I assumed he would want to punish me. I pushed Isabella’s hair back from her head, then fixed her ponytail so her neck could be cool. “See, honey? It’s gonna be real comfortable back here in just a minute,” I crooned. “And we’ll be just fine. Nothing to worry about.”
She shivered, though I knew it wasn’t from the cool air pouring through the vent. “Is Grandma okay?” she whispered, pulling me down so her mouth was close to my ear.
“Oh, sure, honey. Just fine. She went to sleep for a little while on the couch, but she’ll be okay. I’m sure she’s awake by now.”
Isabella didn’t look so sure, her eyes filled with trouble and fear. “I saw Daddy hit her,” she whispered.
“What are you whispering about?” Connor asked. I heard the edge of anger in his voice.
“About how you hit her grandma and made her go to sleep. I told her she was probably awake by now.”
“Oh, sure, pumpkin. I didn’t hit her very hard. Just enough to get her to stop fighting with me. I only wanted to take you because I love you, but your grandma didn’t want to hear that. So I had to show her I was serious.” I could tell he tried to soothe and reassure Isabella, but he had no idea how to. Once again, everything was somebody else’s fault. This time my mother’s, for trying to protect her granddaughter. I wondered what it was like in his head, where nothing was his fault.
I wished I’d had time to change out of my uniform at least, the polyester dress uncomfortable as anything. I didn’t like the way Connor looked at my body when I wore it, as though I were giving him permission to think nasty thoughts about me. My blood ran cold. I would never let him touch me, not ever. But what if he didn’t give me a choice in the matter? I clutched Isabella even tighter. No way. I couldn’t let it happen. Not while my daughter was around. I wouldn’t let him scar her like that.
“We’re going to be a family again,” Connor reminded me. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it. “You’ll see. We’ll start over after today. We’ll recommit to each other and be happy again.”
When were we ever happy? It amazed me how delusional he truly was. He thought we were happy at one point, but he was the one who was happy. He had a slave at home, in every way. I cooked, cleaned, did the laundry, ran the errands, and had to be available to him whenever he wanted me. I guessed it was when I made myself unavailable that he became unhappy.
“Is that what this is all about?” I asked, trying to make sense of a senseless situation. “This whole trip? So we can start over?”
“That’s right. We’re starting over where we started in the first place. On our little road trip through the desert.”
I tried to remember that time, but it seemed like a lifetime had passed since then. I was happy then—he wasn’t wrong about that. I had hope in those days. I didn’t know what my marriage would become, what I would become by letting Connor dictate my life. I didn’t know what he would turn into. No, he hadn’t just turned into that person. He was always there, waiting to be let out.
“Is Parker okay?” Isabella’s eyes were big, tear-filled. I didn’t know how to answer that one. She had whispered it so softly, Connor hadn’t heard. He was too busy walking down memory lane to pay attention to what really happened around him.
I tried to tackle the topic as carefully as possible. “I don’t know, honey. I hope he is. I hope he’s gonna help us.”
“How?” Her chin quivered. I held her tighter, her little body so tremulous in my arms.
“I think Mr. Leonard saw us, and heard what I said when Daddy put us in the car. So if Parker comes, or the police come, he’ll tell them where we’re going. They’ll know where to find us.”
“What if they don’t? What if Daddy doesn’t take us there?”
“Then I’m not sure, sweetheart. The police are very smart, though, and so is Parker. They’ll find a way. I know they will.” I hoped I wasn’t lying to her. I wanted them to find us, of course, more than anything. But Connor was such a loose cannon, there was no telling where he would take us or how long we’d stay. In his mind, he was reliving his honeymoon. We’d made a lot of stops in that short time. There was no telling how long he’d wanted to stay in the Petrified Forest, or where we would go after that. If anybody were to catch up with us, they would have to make it fast.
“Remember when we went there before, honey?” Connor’s endearments made me gag.
“Yeah, I remember,” I said once I was sure I wouldn’t gag again.
“I think that’s the night we made her. What do you think?” I couldn’t believe he would talk about something like that, in front of our daughter, too.
“I don’t know. I was never quite sure,” I admitted.
His eyes met mine in the mirror. “Why are you always so contrary?” he asked. “Why can’t you play along for once, for the sake of all of us? I’m trying to get us on the path to a new beginning, and all you can do is shoot me down. Nothing’s changed, has it?”
Plenty had changed. I had the balls to stand up to him for once, though I didn’t dare do it for my daughter’s sake. I wasn’t sure how unstable he was, but I was willing to bet he ranged somewhere between “very” and “extremely.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, repeating the same lines I’d delivered so many times before. “It’s all my fault. I should have thought before I spoke. I know you’re only doing your best.” I felt dead inside saying the things I knew he wanted to hear. I felt like I was letting him win, giving him what he wanted. What else could I do, considering the little person in my lap? I couldn’t push him, couldn’t make him even more mental. I had to play the game his way.
“That’s right. I’m just doing my best.” I’d placated him. That was a relief, and I breathed deeply to center myself better. I needed to have command of my faculties. I had to protect my girl.
“What was your favorite part of that whole trip?” Connor asked.
I thought it over. “Feeling like we had our whole lives ahead of us. It was an adventure,” I said. “I thought our whole life together would be one big adventure. It was like something out of a fairytale for me. I was pretty young, though, wasn’t I?”
“If you wanted a fairytale, you shouldn’t have left. Wives don’t leave in fairytales. You’ve never known what you wanted.”
“That’s true,” I admitted, though he had no idea quite what he was talking about. I only thought I wanted a husband back then, because it was the way I thought life was supposed to be. He wasn’t wrong when he accused me of expecting things to be perfect, thanks to the way my parents had raised me. I did expect that. And when I got married, I did so because it seemed I needed to in order to have that perfect life. I didn’t know, and nobody told me, that it was possible to have a good life without a husband. Plenty of the girls I went to school with weren’t married yet. They lived their lives—traveling, enjoying themselves, working jobs they loved with people they loved. Dating, learning more about themselves and what the world had to offer. They hadn’t given up after meeting the first man who ever paid attention to them. He was right. I didn’t know what I wanted back then.
So what did I want as an adult? I thought it over, staring out the window of the car. For starters, I wanted to be away from Connor for good. I wanted our lives completely separated. I would always have Isabella, and she would always be his biological daughter, but that was as far as I wanted it to go.
Otherwise, a house. I wanted a home for my child. I wanted her to grow up happy, well-adjusted. I wanted her to have good friends, good opportunities. I wanted her to be strong, to know she didn’t have to get married right out of college. That men who love women don’t hit them or hurt them with words or actions. That there was a difference between fighting and abuse. I used to think we were just fighting in the beginning when Connor would accuse me of talking to other men or tell me I dressed too provocatively and should cover myself. I wanted to teach my daughter that that kind of behavior from a man was never, ever acceptable and to have more respect for herself than to let a man tell her what to do.
I wanted to teach her all that and more.
What about me, though? What did I want for me?
I wanted Parker. Plain and simple.
Funny how emergencies tended to make everything so clear. I was unsure of him only hours earlier, at the diner. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him, or if he wanted me. I wouldn’t let myself care too much for him unless I knew he was in it for the long haul. Sitting in the back seat of Connor’s Lexus, remembering the way he stood in front of me to protect me, I knew he was the man for me. Even if he didn’t want to be, that was fine. But I would no longer try to fool myself into believing I didn’t care for him. It wasn’t fair to lie to myself like that. I had to admit what I wanted.
It didn’t matter, though. It seemed like the longer Connor drove, the farther he drove us from any chance of being free. The farther away from Flagstaff, the farther from life in general. I had the feeling that as soon as he grew tired of us, tired of living on the run—because that’s what we would surely do, since the police would eventually come after us—he would either leave us to die in the desert or kill us outright. I knew him too well to think it would turn out for the best.
I wanted to weep. Hell, I wanted to do more than that. I wanted to reach up to the front seat and take control of the wheel. I wanted to cut the wheel and drive us into a ditch, hopefully killing the two of us. If he was going to kill me anyway, I would take him out with me.
I wished I could, but wishing meant nothing. I couldn’t put Isabella in harm’s way. I would have to play nice for her, if not for me.
“Isabella? Have you ever seen the desert?”
“You know she hasn’t,” I murmured when Isabella didn’t answer.
“She can speak for herself, can’t she?”
“She’s scared, Connor. You scared her back there.”
“That wasn’t my fault, pumpkin. That was Mommy’s fault.” Isabella’s arms tightened around my neck. I knew she didn’t believe him, but hated him for trying to play mind games with her. And that was exactly what life would have been life had I stayed with him, I realized. He would have played mind games with her, warping her little brain until she believed what he said. Either that or she would have lived her life torn between the two of us—pretending to believe and love her father because she was terrified of him, but going to me for protection against him. I knew I made the right choice by leaving…even if we ended up with him in the end.
“Don’t worry, baby. Don’t worry.” I rocked her, whispering softly.
“Stop telling her things about me back there,” he snapped.
“I’m not, Connor. I was trying to keep her calm.” My voice was much calmer than I felt inside. I wouldn’t escalate things, and I wouldn’t add to Isabella’s stress. “I was soothing her, the way parents do for their children.”
“I see, and I wouldn’t know anything about that, would I? Because you took her away from me.”
“I’m not trying to have this argument with you right now. If you want to be her father, and be a good father, you have to learn what should and shouldn’t be said in front of her. She doesn’t need to hear it.”
He huffed and puffed, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. I wondered if I had finally pushed him too far, to the point where he would hurt me. Or Isabella. Or both.
Then he breathed deeply, letting out a heavy sigh. “You’re right. I wasn’t playing nice. I’m sorry, Izzy. I’m sorry. Daddy didn’t mean to make you upset.”
I looked down at her, and she had a sort of glazed look in her eye. I wondered if she hadn’t gone into a state of shock, something to help compensate for the fear she felt.
“It’s okay,” she said. Her voice sounded like that of a robot—flat, toneless. Had she gone away? I held her as tight as I could, rocking her again, a single tear dropping from my eyes onto her head.
She looked up at me and winked, the little smarty. I could have laughed with joy. Instead, I bit my lip and winked back. We were in it together, she told me. She was the one keeping me together, making me hold on tight to what little sanity I had left. I should have been doing that for her, but she did it for me. She reminded me of the good that had come out of my marriage.