Hasty Resolution Read online

  My husband, Mike, is standing outside our house in the cul-de-sac with police officers, my parents, his parents, and my sisters. His brothers are also captured in the screenshot. My children are not present. My husband reads from a paper clasped in his hands:

  "My family and I are deeply grateful for the efforts put forth by the local police department, neighbors, and volunteers. The countless hours spent and the resources used to help find my wife have not gone unnoticed. As a family, we feel at this time that we will cease the search for Elizabeth. We need to resume order in the household for the sake of the children. Liz will come home when she comes home.”

  The camera shot returns to the studio.

  "Again, the family has called off the search for Elizabeth Parker. She is still considered a missing person. However, police are not looking at this as a case of homicide or abduction."

  “He’s given up on me,” I whisper, shaking my head back and forth.

  I breathe in deeply and bring my hand to my mouth. “He has stopped looking for me!”

  "You ass! You gave up on me too soon!" I yell at the laptop.

  Tears run uncontrollably down my face as I slam down the laptop screen and run out the front door. Jake does not follow, but Zeke does.

  Something closed inside of me when the laptop shut down on the final news report like a door to a part of my life I am not going to reopen for quite some time. This is something irrevocable.

  I have had this bottomless sense of distance between my husband and me for some time. It is as if we've been separated for years. I often wondered what was missing in our marriage that brought a deeply seeded space between us. I cannot recall the last time he touched me or the last time we kissed. I'd watch him stroke his fingers over his electronic devices, longing for him to stroke me, but the wall between us grew. The more he connected online, the more disconnected we became. It is as if I was never there. I'm nothing to him, as if I never existed.

  I sit on the dock with my legs dangling over the edge and look over the lake, watching the sun reflect upon the water. With Zeke at my side, I feel all sense of hope drain from me. I stroke his ears and belly to ease my pain. An hour passes and my tears dry when I hear the sound of footsteps walking on the dock. Jake asks if he can sit down next to me.

  I breathe in deeply. "My husband thinks I ran away again."

  Jake’s eyes widen, "Again?"

  I snort. "Yeah, dumb me, again.”

  I look out to the lake, keeping my gaze focused on the peace of it all. "The idiot can't see how this time is different."

  "What do you mean?" Jake inquires as if he can ask as many questions he would like and receive the answers. I wish I could do the same with him. I open up in hopes he will in turn do the same.

  "I've only run away once. That’s what my husband called it: me running away. It sounds as if I was a victim of domestic violence and I had to escape. I’m not. I just needed a time-out for myself or I would have come completely undone. It was the best thing I could have done. He didn’t see it the way I did.”

  Jake lets out a sigh of relief once I explain myself.

  "My husband was laid off from his job five years ago. The new job he landed didn't have health benefits. With the rising cost of health care in America, we didn't have a lot of reasonably priced options. I went back to work teaching full-time. Working with three kids while your husband is traveling the United States with a new job was stressful, to say the least. Then, another factor came into play. My boss was sexually harassing me relentlessly day after day. If I questioned anything, put him on the spot, request he leave me alone, made the proper reports, well, things would get worse. It was if I had a target posted on my back every day.”

  Jake hangs on every word I say.

  "When I talked to my husband about my work situation, he would say, ‘Oh come on, Liz, you've handled tough people before. You can handle this guy, too. He does not threaten me and he's not that good-looking. You don't let people run you over; don't let this guy get away with it,’" I say in a gruff voice, imitating my husband.

  "Nonetheless, I got extra projects with tighter time restrictions than my male coworkers. My boss would take men out to lunch while I went to required trainings. The thing that really got me was when an older, male teacher said to my principal, my boss, in my presence, ‘If my wife went to work and was treated the way you treat Elizabeth Parker every day, I would bring so much bodily harm to you that you would no longer be able to breathe without a machine.’ This man’s stance on my behalf was greatly appreciated, but it also made me think why isn’t my husband saying something like this? Even if it were just an empty threat or said confidentially between the two of us. I felt so downtrodden in my quest to survive my workplace situation.

  "Needless to say, the older male teacher got a performance bonus while I, with top test scores from at-risk students, did not. I did however get the ‘buck up, camper speech’ from my husband. To my surprise, the school district supported their principal. They felt that if my principal was failing to be a positive, principle-centered leader, then they, too, were failing. The union stepped in repeatedly, sending representatives into the school to discuss the situation and make recommendations for change. While they were present, everything was fine, but once they left, things became worse. Toward the end of the school year, I contacted a lawyer. The lawyer felt I had a solid case to pursue, so I filed a civil lawsuit against my principal. I wasn't going after money or his job; I just wanted him to stop him in his tracks so he didn't target any other women. My husband thought I was wasting time, money, and energy for nothing, but my lawyer begged to differ. I stuck with my gut feeling and my lawyer’s advice to pursue a civil lawsuit. My husband was furious I defied him.

  "Everything started stacking up: the lawsuit, family activities, the dread of summer coming and no plans for a vacation. I spent the last nine months eating macaroni and cheese with my children while my husband traveled all around the U.S. meeting new people, eating at fabulous restaurants, sleeping in posh hotels, sightseeing during his free time. Granted, it was on the company's dime and I understood that, but I needed a little more consideration at the time and I wasn't getting anything from anyone.

  "My husband and I got into a bit of a tiff over my frustrations, since I was not bucking up like I should have. He insisted I stay home for the evening, instead of going to my son's birthday party combined with a cousin’s birthday at his sister's house. He thought one night home alone should give me enough of a break. I did not.

  "Once my husband pulled away from our cul-de-sac with the kids, I frantically threw together an overnight bag, grabbed my purse, and took off on a road trip in our sedan. It was inconsiderate of me not leaving a note or any indication of my plans, but I didn't care at the time."

  "Where did you go?" Jake probes.

  "I drove north on the interstate to Coeur D’Alene, Idaho, stopping at hotels along the way. Most likely, the same interstate you drove to get to Canada. I went into Montana and Spokane, Washington, then headed west until I reached Seattle. I always wanted to go there, so I did. I listened to the music I wanted to in the car. I stopped when I wanted to stop. I was on my schedule and I was in charge. After I went to Seattle, I went north to Vancouver, then redirected south on the coastal highway through Oregon on these intensely twisting roads until I got to the Redwood Forest in Northern California. That's when I finally called home. My husband was fuming. No matter what I said, he thought I was bar hopping around Seattle and partying. He told me that my dad, a former police officer, was going to take some serious action to get me home if I didn't initiate it immediately on my own.

  "When I called home to a screaming Mike, I wanted to keep driving south along the California coastal highway, perhaps making it to Newport Beach. However, when I learned of my dad’s threat, well, that convinced me to agree to cross northern Nevada to get home to Utah immediately. I drove nonstop through the most mind-numbing terrain across Nevada until I arrived home. I
was gone five days. Mike never lets me forget about the time I almost came undone. He reminds me how I reacted when I got frustrated as if it were a common occurrence. He does nothing to help me prevent it either; he simply reminds me at the most gut-wrenching times. My husband's contemptuous feelings toward me have heightened ever since. He never forgave me for what I did to keep myself from coming undone. He definitely never forgets."

  My feet swing over the edge of the dock. "Ironically, I ran away on a Sunday night in the summer. This, too, started on a Sunday in the summer. Mike most likely sees that connection. I'm sure my husband has chalked it up to me unraveling once again or just getting mad and taking off. Hence, why bother wasting time looking for me and publicly disgrace the family for my actions? At least my body wasn’t found in a ditch or in a landfill, so there is no need to worry about going to jail on criminal charges. At least he was expunged of all charges. That must be a relief, for him.”

  I inhale deeply. "This time is different. I haven’t been stressed about anything. I didn't leave with anything. I just learned about my heart condition. I can’t believe my husband doesn’t concern himself with those vital facts. I guess this is your lucky day.”

  I look over at Jake. "You may never have any federal abduction charges brought against you if you keep a clean slate. You can go on living your life with no repercussions. All because my husband gave up too soon and thought the worst of me.” I stand up from the dock and brush off my backside. “Hey, sorry; I didn’t mean to waste your time with my babbling drama.”

  I walk to the trail that wraps around the lake. Zeke stays by my side and Jake lets me go. I begin walking along the jagged trail, hoping Jake doesn't leap at me from behind, forcing me down, and chaining me again. I have a feeling the chain and bondage is history. I don’t believe Jake has the intent of tackling me down again. I look overhead and I hope the clouds above don't bring more rain, causing Jake to freak out again with a gun.

  With every step I take, in my loosely fitting shoes, I ingrain into my mind that I am completely out of my element somewhere in Canada. I am with a man who may be slightly off his rocker at times, but he's all I've got. I am solely dependent on him. He got the medicine I desperately need and he listened to my sob story. He feeds me, clothes me, and promises not to hurt me. He’s nothing less than beautiful himself. I am with a puppy that can stand as tall as I am on his hind legs. He is more loyal to me than my husband of almost twenty years. This situation could be much worse. I could have already been beaten, raped, starved, or killed.

  I loop around the lake. I stop. I look to my right to the main road. The road that will lead me home, but the uncertainty of the journey makes me cower. I look to my left at the stunning cabin where Jake is sitting on the top step. I return my gaze to the right where the main dirt road leads out of here. I look back at Jake, a man who has promised not to hurt me, a man who helped me regain my strength. I feel my heart begin to soften toward Jake. The landscape here is magnificent. What lies beyond the property, I dare not know.

  My husband probably believes I orchestrated this entire abduction fiasco. How could I? I'll bet he assumes I have been stewing about it all summer just waiting for an ideal moment. How wrong, very wrong, he is. I am callous toward him. I don't want to go home to face an irate husband. I don't want to convince him this was not my doing. My husband has lost hope in me, so I, too, have lost hope in him.

  I can hear Mike’s voice in my head. "Your mom is just on a grown-up vacation. She'll be back soon, just like she was five years ago.”

  My sisters are most likely making plans at home as I stand here, somewhere in Canada, to help in any way they can. My kids will be looked at as the underdogs. They will be given preferential treatment in my absence.

  My kids no longer like to be tucked into bed, read to at night, or taken to the zoo. All three are more concerned with their friends and their social life. They just need me to keep the fridge stocked and taxi them around; my sisters can do that.

  Since the first moment I spotted the main road, it doesn't seem quite as enticing. I look down at Zeke, who would protect me from wildlife and strangers if I chose to walk up the main road. I return my gaze to the handsome man on the porch. The man I hope will continue to harbor me from the inevitable storm that awaits me at home.

  Chapter 13: Jake

  As Liz walks away on the trail around the lake, a part of me is sad for her. I knew the news reports would hurt her. I just didn’t fathom how deeply they would affect her. A part of me aches for her, while the other part of me is celebrating that I have time with Liz. I have a feeling she won’t leave voluntarily any time soon. It's as if I have been given a gift, the gift of time with Liz, her ocean blue eyes, and her incredible smile. I hope her smile returns, as it is something I cannot live without.

  Liz and Zeke return, walking side by side with one another. Zeke slowly strolls to the porch before he collapses under a chair. The trail around the lake must have been too much for him. With pink swollen eyes, Liz sits adjacent to me on the top stair where I sit solemnly.

  I clasp my hands between my knees to quell the need to pull her into me.

  I humbly admit, "I don't have a plan. I don’t have an ace up my sleeve. I don't know what the hell I am doing. I've never done anything like this before. I just saw your blue eyes again and then your smile and something in me snapped. I lost all logical reasoning in the field."

  Liz nods her head as if in understanding. She purses her lips so not to speak. I think she accepts the words I have spoken or perhaps she feels she has no other choice than to believe me. I want to tell her more about me. Liz poured out her soul to me, but I can’t bring myself to formulate the words explaining what makes me so broken and messed up. I know what the doctors say, I know the terminology they use, but I’ve never spoken the words aloud. My ears have never heard my voice say the words. I didn’t take the chance to say them while I was in therapy, even though given multiple opportunities.

  I jingle truck keys in my hand. “Let's go for a ride. I'll show you how to turn off the electric fence, unlock the main gate, and show you the drop box."

  Liz smiles at my suggestion and I melt. She looks at me as her only hope in her life right now. I open the door to the garage where I keep the truck parked. When Liz steps inside, her attention goes straight to the back wall where I have all my guns stored in racks. Her eyes widen.

  "I've never seen so many guns before. Well, that is, outside a sporting goods store.” Liz takes baby steps across the backside of the garage behind the truck.

  "Yeah, I have more than your average hunter."

  "I don't know much about guns, but I know these aren't the typical guns my cousins hunt with.” Liz tilts her head to the Berettas stored high.

  "Those are just for target practice. You're not used to guns, are you?" I ask.

  "Not at all. I've only seen my dad's gun go from his holster to a locked safe. He never took it out to show off or clean in front of anyone. My cousin has three hunting rifles, but he also keeps them stored in a safe, which is always kept locked."

  "Some of those guns are my grandpaps, some belonged to my dad, and some are mementos," I explain.

  Liz’s face contorts when I say the word mementos. I'm not certain she's ready to hear the explanation. Her eyes continue to scan the back of the garage.

  "You must be into bow hunting too. Do you use all three at the same time?" Liz asks with interest.

  "No. There are different bows for different kinds of hunting. Does your husband hunt?"

  Liz scoffs, "My husband doesn't hunt; he golfs. He keeps his golf bag stored in the trunk of the sedan in case one of his friends offers him a tee time at the last minute. When I ran away, I left with those clubs, not on purpose. I realized it when I reached Seattle. In hindsight, maybe that was the reason he was so eager to get me home. He needed his golf bag.”

  I open the passenger side of the truck for Liz. She steps onto the deck bar and grips the side handles to ho
ist herself in the cab. Zeke jumps into the back seat. Liz tells me she may need a stepladder next time. I laugh as I close her door. I never would have bought a truck with hoisted suspensions if I had known Liz would need to climb in and out of it as she is now.

  I pull out of the garage and drive past the lake along the main road. The evidence of a recent rainstorm has left loose debris washed onto the road. Jennifer had complained about the road conditions. I swerve to avoid the larger boulders that have rolled into my path and avoid the natural sinkholes. The ride is extremely bumpy. I worry it is too much for Liz's already bruised body, but she doesn't complain. I continue the climb. It takes an hour to reach the control box at the gate because of the road conditions.

  I hop out of the truck and Zeke follows. I run around the truck to assist Liz. She is already sliding out when I grab her by the waist to help her down the rest of the way to the ground.

  "Did the ride bang you up?" I ask, deeply concerned.

  "Not too bad. I'll be fine," she replies with a swat of her hand.

  I walk over to the electrical box that is mounted on a steel pole next to the gate. I show Liz how to pinch down on the clamp to release the cover to access the keypad.

  "The code is the year I was born."

  "I thought you were a lot younger!” Liz acts shocked.

  "Is that a bad thing?”

  "No, not at all. I'm just surprised, that's all. We’re about the same age," she says, rocking back and forth from her heels to her toes.