 
## Leaving Sharpstone

### By Marion Leavens

### Copyright 2014 Marion Leavens

### Cover Design by Stuart Kenny

###  www.lunaticopus.com

### Smashwords Edition

### Contents

Start of Leaving Sharpstone

About Marion Leavens

Other Books by Marion Leavens

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Chapter 1

Emily frowned at the spill of tea on the table and reached for a napkin to sop it up. Her hand shook as she pushed the mug aside and wiped up the spill. This time she used two hands to steady the mug as she lifted it to her lips. She winced as the hot cup touched the cut on her lip, but the scalding tea tasted good and helped to calm her shaking hands. She waited until they were steady then reached for her broken glasses and the tube of glue.

"One of these times I won't be able to fix these darn things," She muttered. But this time the glue held and within ten minutes she was able to put the glasses back on, although the swelling under her eye made the fit less then perfect.

She sighed and leaned back against the high-back wooden chair. Despite the dull ache her in her head, she felt numb and tired. From past experience she knew that before long her energy would return, and with it anger, cold, hard anger, and after that, frustration. She was more sure than ever that she had to escape this nightmare. She simply couldn't go on living like this any longer. But once again, as always, fear stopped her from taking action. A debilitating fear of the unknown had held her captive in this hated existence for a long time despite her desperate desire to get away from this man she had married. Fear was a pervasive part of her everyday life now; fear of leaving, fear of staying, fear of being unable to cope alone, fear of not being able to provide for the children, and, over-riding all, a terrible fear of her husband, Eric Thompson. Time and again he had threatened to kill her if she ever left him or took the children away and she believed that he was capable of following through on the threat. Yet, despite her fear, deep inside was a knowledge that she could not live like this forever. Some days, like today, the beatings weren't too bad. Other days were different. On those days, Emily really feared for her life. She needed to get away but she was caught, trapped in this web of fear that held her captive as surely as if held by chains. She realized that thinking about her dilemma was only making her headache worse, so she decided to worry about their future later, when she was a little calmer and could think straight. Then she would have to finally make some serious decisions and devise a plan of what to do to get herself and the children out of this nightmare that was their life.

She sighed as she looked around this room that she had once loved and had recognized as her 'dream kitchen' the moment she saw it. When she and Eric had been house shopping, she had only to set foot in this room to know that this was the house for her. It was a beautiful, large country kitchen, decorated in shades of beige and rust, with a brick wall behind the stove, lots of oak cupboards, a big bay window where her plants would thrive, and lots of room in the middle of the floor for her grandmother's round oak table. Shortly after moving in she had papered the kitchen with ivy-covered wallpaper that added a fresh outdoorsy look to the room. It was the type of kitchen that invited living and lots of home cooking and it had seen lots of both. The table was as often covered with paper and paint as she and the children created wonderful posters, collages or other crafts as it was covered with homemade bread, cakes, cookies, pies and other delicious offerings. She had dreamed of a homey kitchen and once it was hers, she had taken a lot of pleasure in it.

She got up and put her mug and spoon in the sink. There was still plenty of time to fold the laundry and put it away before the children got home from school. She was halfway across the kitchen when she thought of the dirty mug in the sink. There was no sense asking for trouble. She went back, washed the spoon and mug, put them away, then got the teapot, cleaned it and put it away. She folded the dish towel and hung it carefully on the towel bar, making sure that it was hanging straight, then turned again to the laundry room. After folding the clothes, she cleaned out the lint trap, wiped off the two machines, and then carried the clothes hamper upstairs. Her shoulder ached from the weight of the hamper of clothes she carried and her thoughts returned to Eric and the abuse she had suffered from his hands such a short time before.

"I'll probably have some nice bruises thanks to that jerk; one on my shoulder to match my eye," she muttered.

With the clothes put away and the hamper back in the closet, Emily lay down on the pink floral bedspread of her bed and closed her eyes. The burning in her left eye made rest impossible, so she sat up, fished the eye drops out of her bed side stand and squeezed a couple of drops in her eye. Then she lay back to try to think clearly and to make some sensible decisions.

Instead of finding the answers she sought, her mind was filled with questions. How could she get away? How on earth was she going to make it on her own with four children? Where could they go? A single mother with four children would have a terrible time trying to find a place to rent and a means of paying the rent. Instead of searching for answers, she began to daydream about the apartment she would find. In her mind she began to arrange the furniture in this haven. The apartment would be filled with more than her furniture, there would be music and flowers and best of all there would be peace and laughter and no need to fear Eric coming home. Suddenly, reality washed over her. Eric would never let them have any of the furniture. Furniture! What a laugh! He would never let them go. There was no need to worry about furniture. Suddenly, she was back at square one. How was she going to get the boys and herself out of this mess that their lives had become? Her head began to throb. There seemed to be no way out.

She sighed and sat up when she heard the baby begin to chatter to the teddy bear in the corner of his crib. Nineteen-month-old Danny, with his blond curls, big blue eyes and ready smile was such a happy baby. She marveled again as she had so many times before that it was possible for him to be such a happy, contented baby? His good nature had nothing to do with the conditions of her life during the months she had carried him, for although her marriage to Eric began to go downhill after just a few months, the nine months of her pregnancy with Danny had brought out the very worst in Eric. There had been three trips to the hospital, two for stitches and one for a broken wrist as well as numerous punches, kicks and slaps. It didn't end with Danny's birth, for the violence that had escalated so badly only continued. Many times Emily was sure that he wanted to kill her. He had tried to push her down the stairs, pushing, hitting and kicking, while she clung desperately to the banister at the top. Another time, in a fit of anger, he strangled her as she fought desperately for air. As she began to black out she was certain that this time he had succeeded in killing her; but instead, as she lost consciousness, he released his grip around her neck, slapped her face and swore, "Breath, you bitch, I'm not going to jail over you!" Her lungs convulsively drew breath, consciousness returned and Emily looked into the sneering face of Eric and the terrified face of her oldest son, who had come into the living room and found his father with his hands around his mother's throat. His shout, "Dad, stop it," had certainly saved her life, for it was at this point that he had released her. Had Sam not been a witness, things might well have ended differently.

Her thoughts returned to the present and wearily she rose from the bed and went to the next room to get Danny from his crib. His diaper was changed and he was playing on the kitchen floor when the school bus dropped the three older children off at the gate. They came through the kitchen door and began discarding boots, mitts, scarves and snowsuits.

"Guess what I made at school today, Mommy," said Kyle who was barely six and youngest of the three. He looked up at his mother and when he saw the cut lip and bruised, swollen eye his wide grin disappeared.

"What did you make, honey?" she asked.

By then all three boys had noticed the damage that had been done to their mother and their smiles had disappeared. From experience they knew only too well what had caused the injuries to her and a familiar feeling of dread crept over them. Kyle who, like his baby brother, sported a mass of blond curls and big blue eyes, slowly handed her his crayon creation; a mass of brightly colored flowers on a green background. All the pride of creation and the joy he had felt in giving this gift to his mother was gone in the overwhelming sorrow of seeing his mother hurt again.

She smiled as best she could manage. "It's great, Kyle. I think this picture should go on the fridge door so everyone can enjoy it. You're quite the artist." She rumpled his hair and taped his picture to the front of the fridge.

Sam, the oldest, tall for his twelve years with thick, brown hair and sad, brooding, dark blue eyes, spoke up, "Where's Dad?"

Emily was aware of the turmoil inside this son. He felt such a need to protect his mother and was becoming more and more withdrawn at his inability to do anything to stop the abuse that he had been forced to witness time and again. She wanted so much to assure him that this would never happen again and that he had nothing to worry about, but she knew that he would be only too aware that any words of assurance would be hollow. As long as they remained with Eric, nothing would change. "He's gone to town. He probably won't be home until quite late."

The boys began to put away their outdoor things. Emily couldn't help but notice the worried expressions on their faces and she felt a surge of anger. "These boys are too young to have to deal with this." she thought, "Damn that man." She pushed her anger aside and said, "Go play, guys. Supper will be ready soon. I'll call you."

Eight year old Scott hesitated at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, struggling to think of something to say or do to comfort his mother but unable to think of anything he just ran back to her and hugged her. "I wish I was big enough to make Dad stop. I wouldn't let him hit you."

"I know you wouldn't, sweetheart."

She kissed his soft brown curls and watched him again cross the room and go upstairs behind his brothers. His short, slender frame was small for his age and belied the determination that was in his character and would someday make him a force to be reckoned with. But for now, he, like the rest of the family, was helpless in dealing with Eric despite his desire to defend his mother. There didn't seem to be any way to make things better or to stop the anger and abuse that was so much a part of the make-up of this man who held such power over his family. They were all helpless where Eric was concerned.

Later that evening, with dinner eaten, dishes washed and put away, homework done and the children in bed, Emily settled down with another mug of tea to attempt to sort out her thoughts and her life. Sam's question to her when she kissed him goodnight was one that he had asked many times before and one that haunted her day and night, "Mum, what are we going to do?"

She knew that she alone had to decide what the answer to that question would be. The children depended on her, not their father, for help and guidance in solving the problems that concerned them. Eric had never been there for the boys when they needed advice or help. He ignored them totally, except to find fault. There was never a kind word, or a word of praise. Again and again, over the years, they had tried to please him; to be children he could love and of whom he could be proud, but to no avail. He could not be pleased, not by his children and not by his wife.

Holidays and special days should have been remembered with joy but instead time after time they had been spoiled. Birthdays, according to their father, were a waste of time and there was certainly no cause to celebrate them. Emily insisted, however, on making a cake complete with candles, even though Eric registered his disapproval by never coming home for a birthday dinner. Not once had he seen the look of joy on the face of one of his children as they prepared to blow out their birthday candles. Emily shrugged, "His loss, I guess. I'm really glad that he didn't come home, for if he had he would have certainly found some way to spoil their birthdays."

Christmas was another story. He was always there; and in a temper. So many things about the holiday had upset him. He couldn't stand the mess of Christmas paper, boxes, bows, etc. It also annoyed him that he was housebound; everyone expected him to stay home and spend the day with his family and he would have appeared less than the perfect parent had he gone anywhere. The excitement of the children also tended to grate on his nerves and as a result, something would always set him off. Once, just for fun, she tried to disguise his gift by putting it in a larger box. He had been unable to figure out what the gift was and when he saw that she had fooled him with the larger box, he was furious. Another time, Scott had been content with the gift sticking out of the top of his stocking and wasn't interested in digging for more. That he was only fifteen months old made no difference. Eric was angry and forced Scott, by now absolutely howling, to empty the stocking. Then he made him put up his new toys and unwrap his gifts. Emily tried to make him see that the baby was too little to understand the whole concept of Christmas gifts, but Eric only became angrier at her 'interference'. Tension in the house was palpable and the day was ruined.

Even though he had never abused the children physically, they were only too aware of his temper and the results of making him angry, for time and again, they had seen him slapping, punching and kicking their mother and as a result they were all very frightened of him. When he was at home, it was as though there had been a death in the family, for everyone was hushed and the children attempted to stay as quiet as possible and to keep out of his way. It was not a good atmosphere for children to grow up in and for the sake of the children as well as for her own safety, she desperately needed to get them out of that household.

She buried her face in her hands for a moment, feeling totally overwhelmed by the life circumstances in which she found herself and which had so surely trapped her. After allowing herself a few moments of self-pity, she sat up straighter, laid her hands on the table, and with a deep sigh spoke aloud with determination. "Dredging up past hurts is not productive, I don't have the luxury of time to sit and nurse old wounds. I need a plan." Despite the apparent impossibility of it, there had to be a way that she and the children could escape and make a life for themselves. Every plan she had come up with in recent months wouldn't work for one reason or another, and as a result she had over time become even more depressed and frustrated.

After devising and discarding plan after plan, Emily gave up, cleaned up her tea things and climbed the stairs to bed. She made sure before she went upstairs, that the porch light was left on. Eric insisted that the porch be lit up whenever he got home and this was something she had learned not to forget. On two occasions over the years she had forgotten and had been pulled from her bed and beaten to help 'teach' her to remember.

She applied a few more eye drops and then, drained and exhausted, crawled into bed. In just minutes, she was asleep.

It was almost dawn when Emily was wakened by the sound of the front door closing. Instantly, she was filled with a sense of dread and fear, which caused her to became short of breath. She lay motionless, listening, as she had so many times before, to Eric's footsteps on the stairs. By the time he entered the bedroom, she was prepared. Her breathing was controlled, her eyes closed and no-one would have suspected that she was wide awake.

Eric undressed and got into bed beside her. He moved up against her body for her warmth and slipped his arm around her, placing his hand on her breast. She concentrated on keeping her breathing steady in hopes that he would think she was still asleep and would leave her alone. But this was not to be, for he pressed up against her and began to pull up the hem of her nightgown. The anger that had burned in her all day was almost more than she could stand. Tears of disgust and anger welled up in her eyes and, once again, the left eye began to burn. Her mind groped for something that would get her out of this, but she could think of nothing. To refuse his advances would mean another beating and she was too sore and her face too battered to allow that to happen tonight. When she felt his body against her bare skin she realized that she had no choice but to give in to his physical demands. Saying 'no' would mean nothing for she was only too aware of his belief that this was his right and that if he wanted to satisfy himself, she was obliged to allow him to have his way. He would use her body until he was done with it and the fact that she would give him no encouragement or would not respond to his advances would mean absolutely nothing to him. The feel of his body against her back and his hands groping her caused a wave of nausea to sweep over her and it was only through real effort on her part that she was able to stop from throwing up. She wanted to hit him or to scream and get out of the bed and away from him but because of the disabling fear she was experiencing she felt totally helpless and was unable to do anything but submit. Her stomach, however, didn't co-operate and she knew that if he didn't hurry up, she wouldn't be able to control herself, and would throw up, which would be enough to make Eric furious and would certainly result in the beating she was trying so hard to avoid. She had to do something to hurry this up before she vomited. She gritted her teeth, repulsed by the thought of what she had to do, and began to move her hips. It worked and in minutes he was finished. As he moaned in pleasure, she shuddered and swallowed the bile that rushed into her throat.

Satisfied at last, Eric rolled away from her and was soon asleep. Emily lay still, wide awake, seething with anger and hatred towards Eric and disgust with herself for not finding the means and the strength to get herself and the children out of this horrid situation. She lay there wide awake, her resolve growing ever stronger, that somehow, she would shake off this feeling of hopelessness that seemed to have such a hold on her and she would get away from him. There had to be a way for her to provide a home and a decent life for her children.

### Chapter 2

Emily slipped a Christmas cassette into the tape player and began putting away the groceries, while Bing Crosby crooned 'White Christmas'. She smiled as she put the meat she had purchased in the freezer and watched Danny's clumsy attempt at dancing.

"These can wait", she said, "C'mon Danny. Dance with me."

She fast-forwarded to 'Rocking' Around The Christmas Tree', and she and Danny bobbed around the living room, ending the song with Danny being scooped up in a big hug. When she put him down, he immediately began his bobbing dance again.

"Mommy, Dan, Dan." he cried.

"Just for a minute more", she answered, "Mommy has groceries to put away."

Once again she began to dance with her little son, relishing this moment of complete joy. When the next song ended, Emily said, "Now, I've got to get this done. Come, Danny, I'll get you a cookie."

Once the little boy was cared for, she put the fresh vegetables and dairy products in the fridge, then put a few of the canned and packaged goods in the cupboard. Then she began to systematically stash food behind pans and canisters in the back of the cupboards. More was put behind the piles of linens in the linen closet and still more were hidden in the basement. When she had finished hiding the majority of the food, she took a few bags of candy that she had left on the counter top, checked again to make sure that Danny was occupied and ran upstairs to hide the candy in her sweater drawer.

As she shut the drawer, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. "Even with the swelling and the bruise around my eye," Emily thought, "I look like a pretty normal woman. Who would ever guess the kind of life I lead?" The face that stared back at her from the mirror was that of a woman 34 years of age, five foot, five inches tall and only about 10 pounds overweight, with light brown hair in which the few gray hairs she had were not easily visible. It was a pretty face, not one that people would describe as being strikingly beautiful but certainly pretty by anybody's definition. It was slightly rounded with friendly, blue eyes, a long nose and full lips that easily flashed a wide ready smile.

"What on earth did I ever do to him to cause this? Why does he hate me so much?" Emily shook her head sadly and hurried downstairs to fold up and stow away the grocery bags.

"Well young fella, naptime." she said as she scooped Danny up and took him upstairs to his crib. She changed his diaper, then tucked him into bed and sang to him for a few minutes until his eyes began to get heavy. She stroked his face and ran her fingers through his soft curls, then bent down and kissed his forehead. "You have a good sleep, baby. I've got some surprises to work on."

With Danny sleeping peacefully, she pulled some knitting from the closet and settled down in front of the T.V. to knit. She had already completed the soft brown teddy bear that she had knit for Danny and now she was putting the finishing touches on the black dog that she was knitting for Kyle. She had already made games for the older boys and had paint boxes stashed away, plus coloring books and crayons and a few small things for the stockings. No matter what, they would have Christmas.

She had learned that it was important to prepare on her own for Eric couldn't be counted on even at Christmas. Some years, depending on his frame of mind, Eric bought great toys for the boys, and perhaps this would be one of those good years. But regardless of what he chose to do, she would be ready. If this turned out to be a Christmas that Eric decided not to buy anything, she would have something for them even though it wasn't a lot. She had discovered a recipe for play dough in a magazine and had made a batch for them for Christmas last year and they had played for hours with it. She would wait until Christmas Eve for, by then, she would know whether or not she would need to make them some. She could make it in pink, yellow, blue and green, and pack it in baggies for the children. But for now, she needed to finish this last knitted toy before the boys got out of school for Christmas holidays. Danny slept a little longer than usual and she was able to finish the fuzzy black dog and put it away before Danny got up and the other boys returned from school.

Emily peeled the potatoes and put them and the rest of the dinner on to cook, then set the big kitchen table. While dinner cooked, she played Chinese Checkers with the children. "How nice it is to hear laughter in the house," she thought as she looked out the window and noticed that it had become quite dark. When the game ended she went to the kitchen to check on dinner. She was at the stove when she noticed Eric's car lights turn in the driveway. Suddenly she froze.

"Oh, my God. The porch light!"

With a clatter, she dropped the spoon she was holding as she ran to the laundry room, bruising her shin on one of the kitchen chairs when she bumped into it as she rushed past, and switched on the porch light before the car came to a complete stop. An uneasy silence settled over the house, broken only by the sound of joyous Christmas music coming from the cassette, which suddenly sounded like a mockery when mixed with the sudden tension in the house. As the door opened and then closed, all movement stopped and it seemed as though the whole house was in a state of suspended animation as she and the children waited to gauge the mood of the man who was entering the house. Emily nervously licked her lips and steadied herself with a hand on the back of one of the cane back kitchen chairs.

"That's awfully cold out there," Eric, handsome and tall at 6' 2", with piercing dark, blue eyes and long thin face, looked around at his family, "Makes a man appreciate home." Until that moment, Emily had not been aware that she was holding her breath. Now, she released it slowly. Was it possible that Eric had not noticed the porch light?

"Supper's ready, Eric. When do you want it?"

"In a few minutes. Hey, Sam, shut that racket off and turn on the T.V. I want to see the news."

Eric moved to the big chair in the living room and sat down. Emily busied herself picking up the coat and boots that he had dropped and putting them away.

"Hey, Mom, want some help?" asked Sam.

The boys were all in the kitchen now. Even Danny had toddled out of the room, which had been taken over by his father.

"Why don't you all wash up for supper," she answered, "Sam, you can help Danny. And please don't splash any water on the floor."

When Eric came to the kitchen and took his place at the table, everyone was seated and waiting for him. Dinner was in bowls on the table, ready to be served and Emily had taken a minute to check the bathroom and straighten the towels before taking her seat at the table. The children were sitting quietly with hands folded, waiting for Eric to ask the blessing on the food. He took the opportunity to not only give thanks for the food, but also to expound on the virtues of submissive wives and obedient children and to point out how displeased the Lord is when total obedience is not forthcoming to the husband and father in the home who has been give charge over his family. He pointed out that the wrath of God would be called down upon those who don't demonstrate complete obedience to the ten commandments, especially 'Honor they father and they mother'. He finally pronounced the 'Amen', and reached for the platter of pork chops.

The meal was eaten in silence, with the boys eating quickly, hardly looking up from their plates. As soon as they could get away, the four boys went upstairs, Sam and Scott to do their homework and Kyle and Danny to play. Eric moved to the living room with a coffee while Emily cleaned up the kitchen. Despite the tension in the house that hung so heavily in the air, it turned out to be a peaceful evening.

Later that night, as Emily picked up the clothes that Eric had tossed on the floor as he undressed for bed, he snarled, "Get the boys hair cut tomorrow. I'm off so you can take the car in the morning and get it done. They look like a bunch of shaggy dogs. I can't take them to church looking like that. I don't know why you let things go like this. I don't know of any other mother who would let their children go around looking like a pack of orphans." His voice was beginning to rise in pitch as his anger began to burn.

"I'm sorry, Eric. I'll take them first thing tomorrow."

"And for Pete's sake, do something with that mop of yours."

Emily ran her hand through her hair and wondered what was wrong with it. She had always thought that it was a style that complimented her, feathered back from her face on the sides, with soft waves spilling onto her forehead. Perhaps it didn't really suit her after all.

"And while you are at it, get another hairdresser. Maybe somebody out there can make it look decent, though I'm sure I don't know what anybody can do with it. Maybe it's time you got it dyed. It's so darn dull. Do you ever stop to think what people must think of me when they see my wife going around looking so blasted old and drab? I wish that you had a little pride in yourself. The Bible says that a woman's hair is her crowning glory. At least it is with other women. But you...well...I don't know."

He pulled her down beside him and his voice softened. "I do love you, you know, even if you do look like crap." He patted her shoulder and released her. "Now go to bed. I'm tired."

Emily rolled away from him, a dull ache in her stomach. "He can't even say 'I love you' without making it an insult." she thought, "Even when he's not hitting he makes me feel awful. Why does he have to be so blasted mean?"

Next evening, after dinner, Eric got up from the table and took his coat from the closet. "I've got to go into Edmonton. Call John Vickers and tell him that I can't help him with his car tonight. The pastors asked me to fill in for him and visit old Tom Wilson at the hospital and I told him that I would." Emily agreed and made the call before she cleaned up the kitchen.

She was relaxing with a book a couple of hours later when the phone rang. She picked it up on the third ring. "Hello."

"Hi, Emily. It's Dorothy."

"Oh, hi Dorothy."

"I - uh - I was just thinking about you and thought I'd call and see how you're doing."

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure everything is all right?"

"Yes, why?"

"Oh, just curious, I guess. What are you doing tonight?"

"I'm reading. I stopped at the library a couple of days ago and picked up a few books. What are you up to?"

"I'm making shortbread and sugar cookies. John loves them. I thought I'd make him a treat for when he and Eric finish working on the car."

"Wha.........what did you say?"

"Emily, Eric is here, helping John, just like he said he would. Why did you think that he wasn't coming?"

"He told me that he was going to Edmonton."

There was silence on the line followed by a worried tone in Dorothy's voice, "Emily, I hope you know that if you ever need anyone to talk to you can call me."

Emily wasn't convinced that she would ever feel comfortable enough with Dorothy to confide in her but she was sure that the offer was sincere and she answered, "Well, sure I know that. But I know what he said. He said that he had to go to Edmonton to visit someone at the hospital. I'm not crazy. I know what he said."

"Hon, I was just talking to him about you. He's pretty worried."

"Worried! Why?"

"He thinks that your nerves are bad. He said that he thinks you've been imagining things lately. Honestly, he's really worried about you."

"I know what he said."

"But why would he say that, Em. Just think about it."

"Why would I say that he told me he was going to Edmonton if he didn't say it?"

"Em, hon, it's no shame to have problems once in a while. We all have bad times. Let Eric help you through this. All he wants is what's best for you and the boys. Why don't you go see a doctor and get some help?"

Emily's mouth went dry and she could think of nothing to say. Why had Eric done this again? Was it a head game, or was he trying to make her look crazy for some sinister reason? What on earth could he gain by doing this?

"Emily. Emily, are you still there?"

"Yes." How could she explain that this was not her imagination, but that Eric had lied to her for some reason? There was no way that they would believe her, especially with Eric there, telling them a totally different story and them being Eric's friends. There was simply no possibility that Dorothy would believe her against Eric. Knowing Eric, he would have been very convincing as he confided his worries to Dorothy.

"Em, talk to me, please. Eric is so worried about you. Why won't you agree to see a doctor? That's all he's asking of you. Bad nerves are nothing to be ashamed of. Gosh, lot's of people need help once in a while."

"I'm sorry, Dorothy. I've got to go."

"Please, Emily. Don't hang up. We've been friends for a long time and to tell you the truth, I'm worried too. I promise I'll be there for you. If you'll call your doctor tomorrow and get a referral to someone who can help, I'll go with you if Eric can't. You have to look after yourself."

"I don't need a doctor." Emily suddenly sounded very tired, "Eric told me to call you because he was going to visit Mr. Wilson at the hospital tonight. Dorothy, I'm not crazy."

"I know that you aren't crazy. We all forget things and get things mixed up now and again. But you have to think about Eric and the boys."

"He asked me to call."

"O.K., if you say so. But think about what I said."

"I really have to go now."

"I'll call you tomorrow."

Emily slowly replaced the receiver. "What is he doing?" she thought, "I know he told me to phone. I'm not crazy."

She was waiting in the living room that night when Eric arrived home. He appeared completely unconcerned as he came into the room and threw his coat on a chair in the corner.

"I didn't think you would still be up." he said.

Emily swallowed nervously. "I need to talk to you."

"Well, make it snappy. I've got a busy day tomorrow."

"Eric, why did you ask me to phone John tonight?"

"What are you talking about? Why would I ask you to phone John? I just left his place."

"Before you left you told me to phone John and tell him that you couldn't go over there tonight."

"Jeez, Emily, you really are totally nuts. Why would I do that?"

"You said that you had to go to Edmonton tonight."

"Right. Edmonton. If you say so, Emily." He turned away and muttered, "There's nothing between those ears but the blooming wind."

"You said you were going to Edmonton."

"You know," he turned back toward her, "You are really losing it. This kind of crap is happening too often. You've got to get a grip, or else see a shrink. I've got problems enough without having to deal with a psycho wife. I'm going to bed. I have to get up and go to work tomorrow. Somebody in this family has to work you know."

"But, Eric-"

"Look, it's too late to tip-toe around your fantasyland tonight. I'm going to bed."

"But-"

"I said don't do this tonight, I'm tired. If you can't figure out what's real and what's not, get some help. Don't expect me to explain it away."

Emily sat for sometime in the darkened room after Eric had gone upstairs to bed, trying to make some sense of the jumble of thoughts that churned around in her mind. Things like this were happening too often lately and she was beginning to wonder what was real and what was just in her mind. Could it be possible that she was losing her grip on reality? Had she just imagined the conversation earlier that evening? She went over it, carefully, word by word. "I'm sure he told me to call. I couldn't have imagined that, could I?"

### Chapter 3

Emily watched the school bus pull away and turned to the sink. She quickly washed the dishes and headed for the stairs. It was a beautiful, breezy day, warm for mid December; a perfect day to wash the sheets and dry them outside, and how she loved the fresh smell of sheets that had been dried on the clothesline. Danny was playing contentedly on the floor, so she thought that her timing was perfect.

Quickly, she stripped the bed in Eric's and her room and tossed the sheets down the stairs, before moving to Sam and Scott's room, where she repeated the process. She was almost finished in Kyle and Danny's room when she heard a car drive in.

"I wonder who that is?" she murmured, peering out the window. When she saw the car parked in front of the house, she froze momentarily. "Oh no, Eric."

She hurried to the stairs to get the sheets picked up but was only part way down when Eric stepped into the doorway at the bottom. The frown on his face made her heart sink. "Oh, God, no. Here we go," she thought, "I'm in trouble."

"Hi honey," she said aloud, trying to sound cheerful in an attempt to deflect any irritation or anger that might face her. "This is a nice surprise. I didn't expect you home for hours yet. Is everything all right?"

Eric snarled, "Obviously you didn't expect me home. What is this mess?"

Emily hurried down the remaining steps and began to gather up the sheets. "I thought it would be a good day to do laundry."

"Oh, I see. This is the laundry!!!" The icy sarcasm in his voice was terrifying. "Now, let me get this straight, you are doing the laundry on the stairs, instead of in the laundry room. That's why we have this mess. Right!"

"I'm sorry, Eric, I thought it would be easier to toss them down."

"You thought! No! You didn't think. This is just another example of your laziness. You're too lazy to carry them to the laundry room. Why can't you use that empty head of yours to think with for a minute? 'Cleanliness is next to Godliness', you know. Don't tell me you've never heard that." He stepped towards her, grabbed her by the arm and thrust his face close to hers, "Say it - 'Cleanliness is next to Godliness'."

Nervously, she licked her lips and stepped back, "I'll take them right now."

"Repeat it!" he bellowed.

"Eric, please. I'll take this to the laundry room."

"Repeat it, or I'll beat you to a pulp."

With trembling voice, she repeated the words. "All right. Cleanliness is next to Godliness."

"Now, clean up this mess." He spat the words at her.

Once he released her arm, she began to hurriedly pick up the laundry. She had just bent to pick up the last pillow case when she felt Eric's fingers grasp her hair. With a hard tug, he jerked her upright, then threw her across the room. She dropped the pile of sheets she had been carrying, landed on top of them and looked up to see Danny, sitting wide-eyed in terror, shoving his thumb in his mouth.

"Oh no," she thought, "I hope Eric doesn't see that. God knows what he might do."

She didn't have to worry about him taking notice of Danny. She was the focus of her husband's full attention. He advanced on her across the kitchen. "Clean this mess up, you lazy, slovenly witch."

His first kick caught her in the ribs just below her left breast. She curled into a fetal position in an attempt to protect herself and as a result the next two kicks caught her on her right side. She gasped for air but couldn't seem to get any. Then she felt Eric's hand in her hair again. Her head was jerked upward and twice her face was smashed into the floor. She knew instantly that her nose was broken and prayed that he would stop. He let go of her hair and kicked her once more in the ribs before stepping away from her.

She lay on the floor, gasping for breath and letting the blood pool under her face. No way would she attempt to get up with him still in the room for she knew from experience that had she tried to get up, he would have knocked her down again and the beating would continue. She lay still and waited for his rage to subside. She thought of Danny, watching in terror, but could do nothing for him. She was afraid to even look towards him for fear of drawing Eric's attention in that direction, for, if he was still sucking his thumb, Eric would feel compelled to do something to stop him for, also from experience, she knew that thumb-sucking was considered to be a disgusting habit that parents were duty bound to break a child from doing. She also knew from experience that when he was this angry, he was certainly capable of hurting the small boy. An infraction of the rules such as this could certainly not be overlooked. Fortunately, today, Eric was totally oblivious of the small boy staring in terror at him.

He watched Emily for a minute and then snarled, "Are you just going to lay there and bleed?"

She made no response. All of her efforts were being expended to keep breathing, which was proving to be extremely difficult.

"Get up and clean yourself up."

There was still no response.

"You make me sick. I'm getting out of here." He kicked her once more as he walked past her, slamming the door behind him as he left the house.

Relief flooded over her when she heard the car roar down the driveway. Slowly, with great difficulty, she rose to her feet and made her way to the bathroom. The pain in her chest was almost unbearable and she was finding it nearly impossible to draw breath. She was merely drawing in small gasps of air as with great difficulty she cleaned herself up and with a cold cloth over her nose, made her way to the living room to look after Danny. He was still sitting wide-eyed on the floor with his thumb in his mouth, his small face white, and tears coursing down his cheeks. She attempted to pick him up but the pain in her chest and the loss of breath prevented her from doing it, so instead, she sank down on the floor beside him and gathered him into her arms. Slowly, she worked at drawing more air into her lungs and just as slowly releasing it. After a few minutes she was able to breathe a little easier; although it was still with slow, shallow breaths. She held the sobbing child and gently rocked him until he finally fell asleep. She left him lying on the floor and with great difficulty struggled to her feet, pulled the afghan off the couch to cover him and returned to the bathroom.

Her nose had stopped bleeding, so she once again washed her face and then stared at the face that looked back at her from the mirror. Her nose was badly swollen and bruising was beginning to appear around her eyes. She knew that she needed medical attention and should go to the hospital but realized that there was no way she could. Eric would be furious if she were to allow anyone to see her in this condition. Anyway, she didn't have a vehicle or anyone to watch Danny and be here when the school bus arrived.

She tried to clean up the pool of blood on the kitchen floor but found it too difficult to bend down so she covered it with paper towels, realizing that she would have to wait until the children arrived home to help her clean up. When they arrived, they were eager to do whatever they could to help. Under the direction of Sam they cleaned the blood from the floor, gathered up the bedding, did the laundry and made a simple meal. Emily couldn't help but notice the hard look on twelve-year-old Sam's young face. Each time he looked at her, his anger was more apparent.

Before he went to bed, he spoke with his mother. "Mom, what are we going to do? We have to get out of here before he kills you. Why can't we go stay with Grandma and Grandpa? I'm really scared of what he's gonna do if we don't get out of here. I keep wishing that he'd just go away but I know he won't. Sometimes I wish he was dead."

"Honey...don't...say that. He's...your...father."

"I don't care. I hate him. I hate him when he hits you. I wish I could beat him until he can't ever get up again."

"Sam, I'll...do something. I'll figure...a way...out."

"When, Mom? When? You've been saying that for so long and we're still here. When can we get out of here?"

"Soon. I...promise."

Later, after a cup of tea and three extra strength Tylenol, Emily started up the stairs to bed. Three agonizing steps up, she remembered the porch light. "Forget it," she thought, "He probably won't be home tonight anyway."

She sighed. There was no sense taking chances. She would play it safe and leave it on. It took her a couple of minutes to get back down the stairs and across the kitchen floor. She flipped on the light switch and again crossed the kitchen and began the climb upstairs to her room.

The clock on the bedside stand showed 2:18 when Emily woke with a start and lay there listening. In just moments she heard laughter and knew what had awakened her. Eric had returned home and brought someone with him. She heard their friendly banter as they came through the front door.

"Just what I need," she thought, "another party to clean up after."

She tried to go back to sleep but soon realized that was impossible. Minutes passed as she lay there, hoping that the children wouldn't wake up and go downstairs. Before long, the sweet, overpowering smell of marijuana invaded the room and the laughter coming from downstairs died down. She wondered how Eric was able to rationalize this part of his life with the part in which he played the right hand man to the pastor and upright member of the Christian religious community. It seemed that by keeping these two factions totally separate, it was all right. He believed that there was a set of rules just for him and as a result felt no guilt or remorse for this part of his life but rather seemed to feel that his drug use was a justifiable means of relaxation.

Emily tried unsuccessfully to return to sleep but with the sounds coming up from downstairs and the knowledge that sooner or later her husband would climb the stairs and get into the bed beside her, sleep eluded her. She had many times used relaxation techniques but tonight even with them she couldn't find the release she sought in sleep. She visualized herself lying on a grassy bank, the breeze blowing gently over her. No good. Next, in her mind she was floating on a pool of cool water. Nothing helped.

She heard the fridge door shut, followed by cupboard doors closing and was glad that she had hidden some of the food. This trick she had learned the hard way, after a few of these late night parties had left the fridge and cupboards almost bare of food.

It was just past 4:30 when Emily heard the sounds of people leaving, followed in just minutes by Eric's footsteps on the stairs. Her heart was pounding and her mouth dry as he opened the bedroom door. He slipped out of his clothes and into bed without speaking to her. They lay side by side, not speaking for several minutes, then Eric broke the silence, "Why do you do things to make me hit you, Emily? I don't want to hurt you, you know. But you always do things that drive me crazy. Sometimes I think you must want me to hit you."

Emily could think of no response, so lay there in silence. After a few minutes, Eric rolled over in disgust, "Now you won't even talk to me. Jeez, Em, I deserve better than this."

She lay perfectly still, staring into the darkness; waiting until Eric's even breathing convinced her that he was asleep. Only then was she able to go to sleep, but before it claimed her, she promised herself that this would not go on forever. Somehow, she and the children would get away, soon.

### Chapter 4

Fortunately for Emily, the next day was Saturday, and the children didn't have to go to school. Sam got up with the younger ones and had them bathed, dressed and fed before she and Eric awoke. She had heard nothing from downstairs, as the children had tried hard to be especially quiet.

She woke to the sound of a winter bird chirping happily in the tree outside her window. The peaceful feeling evoked by it's cheery song didn't last very long before reality settled over her like a pall. Her nose was completely congested and anything other than shallow breathing caused severe pain. Instantly, the events of yesterday afternoon flooded her memory. In time she was able to get her eyes opened a little despite the terrible swelling but when Eric stirred beside her, they automatically closed. She needed a little time to prepare herself to face him. She found that she had plenty of time, for Eric dozed off again and nearly half an hour passed before he became truly awake. He turned toward her, flopped his arm over her and looked into her face.

"Aw...Em."

He rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed. For a time, he appeared to be at a loss for words.

"Jeez...just look what I have to wake up to. Why on earth do I have to put up with this? You know that I didn't want to hit you. Why do you always have to do this to me?"

Emily licked her lips and spoke calmly, "I did...nothing...to you. This was...your fault...not mine. I'm not...going to...take the blame...anymore."

"Oh, yes, of course; poor picked-on Emily. And, as always, I get the blame for causing the whole thing. You can slack off and do whatever you please and I should keep my mouth shut and let this house and my family go right to hell. You're so self-righteous, you make me sick." He stood up, "I've got things to do. I'm sure not going to sit here and argue with you." His voice was filled with scorn.

He put on his housecoat, collected clean clothes and stormed downstairs, filled with anger; anger at Emily for being in a position to make him look bad if anyone were to see her, anger at life for being beyond his control, and anger at himself for allowing Emily to upset him. He turned the heat on under the kettle, and then noticed the dirty breakfast dishes the children had left stacked in the sink. He went into the bathroom and started the shower. Someone had left the top off the shampoo. He felt the bath towel hanging on the towel bar and discovered that it was damp. By now, he was furious.

"Useless bloody kids."

He opened the bathroom door and shouted for Sam, who quickly answered the summons from his father.

"Get me a dry towel and wash those stinkin' dishes."

Sam hurried to the linen closet, with the same hard look on his face that his mother had noticed the day before. He grabbed a clean towel and facecloth and hurried back with them to his father. Eric snatched them from him and slammed the bathroom door. Sam glared at the closed door, hatred in his eyes. He wished that he was older and bigger and could be the one in control. He would love to be the one hitting, to be pounding his father's head into the wall. He stood there and visualized his father completely at his mercy. Eric would plead with him to stop but Sam would continue pounding. He wouldn't stop as long as there was still life in his father's body. Eric would be sorry. It would be payback time; not just for him but also for his brothers and most of all for his mother. The hatred he felt towards his father filled him to capacity. He turned away from the door and found Scott and Kyle standing by the sink.

"We'll help you."

A feeling of resignation washed over him and he sighed as he nodded and joined his brothers at the sink. It took the three boys only a few minutes to wash up the dishes. Then Sam turned the heat down under the boiling kettle, collected Danny from the living room and led the boys upstairs to play.

After he had finished his shower and dressed, Eric made coffee for himself and moved with it to the living room. He switched from channel to channel but found nothing of interest. The quietness of the house was annoying. He shut off the T.V. and paced to the window. Nothing outside seemed to interest him either. He moved to the bottom of the stairs to call Emily, but decided that he couldn't face her again today. He paced back and forth for a few minutes, restless and bored, trying to think of something to do. Again he went to the bottom of the stairs, needing someone to keep him company, for one thing that he couldn't stand was being alone, without someone to impress or someone over whom he had enough power to make him feel important.

"Man, I've got to get out of here." he murmured, heading for the closet for his coat and boots.

Emily heard the car drive away and realized that she had to face the agony that awaited her as she attempted to get up. Earlier, she had tried to roll over and had found that whenever she moved, the pain in her chest was almost unbearable. She had hoped that this morning there would be some degree of improvement, but if anything the pain when she attempted to move was worse. Once again she tried to roll over, this time very slowly and carefully, but the pain as she moved was unbearable. She lay there a few minutes longer, trying to find some way to move that she could tolerate but there was none. After nearly ten minutes of struggling, she had to admit to herself that she couldn't do it. There was no way she could get off the bed without help. She rested for a minute until she was able to get here breath again, then called for help. The boys crowded into her room; eager to do whatever they could to help her. She explained the problem, then tossed back the covers and asked Sam to take her hand and pull her over onto her side. Again she needed a bit of time to catch her breath, then she was able to swing her legs out of the bed and Sam was able to pull her upright to sit on the edge of the bed. Once again she had to rest and catch her breath, for the pain was incredible. But she was up and for that she was very grateful. After sitting still for a few minutes, she decided that she was ready to try getting to her feet. She called Scott over and with him holding her right hand and Sam the left, she gritted her teeth and with the two boys pulling her up, she slowly got to her feet. Now she had only to try to dress herself. This task, too, proved to be more than she could handle and again, she had to depend on the boys to get her clothes together and help her to dress. She couldn't reach down to put her pants over her feet and the children helped her to get them to her knees where she managed to pull them the rest of the way up under her nightgown. Her bra, she knew, was totally out of the question so she opted to not even try to get it on. Even with help, her blouse was very difficult to manage. But manage they did and before long she was dressed and ready to make the trip down the stairs. The effort required to dress had exhausted her and she looked longingly at the bed, wishing that she could just lie down again but that would only necessitate the need to get up again and the prospect of that was enough to convince her that she might better stay on her feet. With the boys clustered around, trying to help, she finally left her room and began the long trip downstairs. It was difficult going, but she kept moving slowly but steadily toward her destination.

Halfway down the stairs Danny decided that he had waited long enough. He wanted his mother; now.

"Up."

"No, Danny. I...can't."

"Up," he insisted, reaching across Sam's shoulder, where he was being carried, to pull on his mother's sleeve. The baby's tug pulled her off balance and a wave of pain caused what little color she had to drain from her face.

Sam pulled Danny away from her. "Be careful, you'll hurt her!" he snapped. The small boy began to cry loudly. Emily wished that she could take him in her arms and comfort him, for she knew that he didn't understand what was happening and why he was being denied his mother's attention that he wanted so badly. When they finally reached the bottom of the stairs, Emily gasped, "A chair. I've got to...sit down."

Quickly, Scott pushed a chair over to her and she sat still for a few minutes and then took Danny on her lap. Her breathing was very shallow, anything else was more than she could manage, so it was with great difficulty that she tried to explain to him that she was really hurt, "Danny, ...Mommy hurts. Mommy has...an ouch. You have...to be...a good boy ...for Sam ...until Mommy ...gets better." She then spoke to the older boys, "I'm sorry, guys...but I'm really...hurt this time...I'm going to...need your help...for a while...until I get...some better. I don't know...how long...it will take...but I know...until I'm some...better...I won't be able...to do much. I'll have to...depend...on you."

Sam spoke up, "You need to go to the hospital, Mom."

"I'll be fine...in a few days."

"Mom, you look awful. I think Sam's right." This came from Scott.

"I don't know...what they could do...at the hospital. I've just...got to mend...Let me...rest here...a minute...and then I'll sit...in the...living room. When your father...gets back...with the car. Perhaps...he will take me."

"Mom, you know that he won't take you." There was a note of bitterness in his voice. "You could lay here and die and he wouldn't take you." Sam stalked away.

She knew that he was right. Appearances were more important than her health or well-being. There was no way Eric would take her to the hospital, when it would mean that his violence against her would come out into the open. Better to leave her here and hope that she would recover in time. She knew that she should be filled with anger, but right now all she could muster was sadness and resignation. Her life didn't seem to be worth much at this point. And yet, what would happen to the children if this continued and he either killed her or harmed her to the point that she couldn't care for them anymore. She had no choice. She had to make some serious decisions right away. After a few minutes, Emily slid Danny to the floor, struggled to her feet and made her way to the living room. Scott and Kyle followed and helped her get as comfortable as possible, then went to the kitchen to get her something to eat. Although she wasn't hungry she needed a cup of tea and when the boys insisted that she eat, she agreed to try some toast.

Before long, Sam carried a tray to her and sat it on her lap. "I called Jeanie."

"Oh, Sam,...your father...wouldn't...like that."

"I don't care what he likes. We have to do something and Jeanie can help." The determined look on his face convinced Emily that argument wouldn't help, and anyway it was too late, the call had already been made and knowing her next-door neighbor, she was sure that she was already on her way.

Sure enough, she had only nibbled on a bit of the toast and drunk about half of her cup of tea when she heard a knock at the door. Kyle admitted Jeanie Stoltz, tall, thin almost to the point of gauntness, fast moving and capable. Jeanie had a reputation for being 'no-nonsense'. She was a woman who immediately appraised a situation and acted, taking control quietly and efficiently. People tended to rely on her, trusting her good sense. True to form, as soon as she saw the condition of her neighbor, she was deciding what needed to be done. "My, God, you look like you were hit by a truck. Now, don't try to make explanations, Sam told me what happened. He said that you were hurt pretty bad and were having a hard time getting your breath but I had no idea it was this bad. You're going to the hospital. Sam, you get Danny bundled up. Kyle, run and get a pair of socks for your mother. And Scott, you can get her coat and boots. Emily, where is your purse? You will need your health card."

"It's in the...closet." The sense of relief Emily felt, as she looked into the face of her capable friend, brought tears to her eyes. At last she could relax; the decision to get help had been made and now she now had someone she could rely on.

It had come as no great surprise to Jeanie when Sam told her what had happened to his mother for she had been suspicious for quite a while about what was going on in the house next door. There would be days on end when nobody saw Emily and then she would be seen at the grocery store or at the school, meeting with one of the teachers, with traces of bruises on her face or with a cut on her lip that would be almost healed. Jeanie had seen knowing glances pass between people who would notice and later whisper about the secrets that Eric and Emily thought were kept securely behind closed doors. Her suspicions however, didn't prepare her for the shock of seeing Emily's face. She was totally unrecognizable, her face bruised and swollen grotesquely. Jeanie felt so sorry for this friendly, quiet woman who had suffered so badly at the hands of her husband and at the same time she was filled with anger and disgust at a man who could inflict this terrible damage on his wife, the mother of his children.

She pulled the car up as close to the door as she could get it and helped Emily into the front seat. In a short time, everyone was seated in the car and they were on their way to the hospital.

### Chapter 5

It had been a long, busy night and a hectic morning. As Dr. Hamilton picked up Emily's chart all he was thinking about was a beef sandwich with lots of mustard and a cold beer. He glanced at his wristwatch for the tenth time in as many minutes and wished that 12 o'clock would hurry. His 20-hour shift was almost over and he was exhausted. This would be his last patient for the day and if luck was with him, he or she would have the flu or would be in need of some stitches, something relatively simple. He flipped open the chart and groaned, "Frig, this one is going to take time, plenty of time." The triage nurse had listed enough injuries to keep him busy for quite a while; a broken nose, swelling and bruising around the eyes, difficulty breathing, severe bruising on both sides of the torso, suspected rib fractures. He would have to check for damage to her eyes and for internal injuries as well as ordering x-rays done to check for broken bones in her face and rib cage. This one couldn't be rushed through. He looked around to see if there was another doctor nearby that he could pass this one off on. Of course there wasn't. He couldn't be that lucky.

"Damn," he muttered, as he crossed the emergency ward, "just my luck."

He pulled aside the curtain and entered the cubicle where Emily lay. "Hello, Mrs. Thompson. I understand that you are experiencing a lot of pain. Let me see exactly where."

He began with her eyes, which were difficult to examine due to the severe swelling which left only slits through which he could see the amount of damage to the eyes. He carefully checked her face and then began an exploration of her rib cage. Emily gasped as his probing fingers sent pains shooting through her chest making it even more difficult to breath.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure those ribs are fractured. We'll need X-rays and while they're taking pictures we'll get some of your face and see if there is any damage other than to your nose." He stepped back, knowing that he needed to talk to this woman about the abuse she had suffered; yet dreading even the thought of getting involved in it. He spoke, trying to keep the tone of annoyance out of his voice, "You should have been seen yesterday Mrs. Thompson, I understand that these injuries occurred yesterday afternoon. Why did you wait until today to come here?"

Emily swallowed nervously, "I couldn't...get here...yesterday. I just...couldn't."

"I would think you could have found a way." Despite his effort his annoyance was obvious.

"I'm sorry." She became aware of a familiar knot in her stomach. "Nothing ever changes," she thought, "Here I am apologizing again."

Without another word, he left to make arrangements for the X-rays, then stepped into the staff lounge and poured himself a much-needed cup of black coffee. He could rest for a few minutes while the technicians were taking pictures and then he would do what he could to patch her up, so she could go home for more of the same. He had seen too many of these women. He had even spent a day in court, testifying about the injuries another woman had received at the hands of her husband. He had broken a cardinal rule with her. He had felt so sorry for her and so angry with the man who had caused her injuries, that he had become emotionally involved. He had spent a great deal of time counseling her, had put her in touch with people who could help her, had spent sleepless nights worrying about her, had tried to convince her that she would be better off without her husband and finally had gone to court to get him put away where he couldn't hurt her again. Yet, when it was all over and he was convicted, she had, like Tammy Wynette, 'stood by her man', until he got out of jail and fractured her spine, putting her in a wheel chair for life. And even then, after he had shed a few crocodile tears, she had forgiven him. He simply didn't have the time or energy to get caught up in another of these hard luck cases. If these women wouldn't help themselves, why should he devote his energy to helping them? It would end up proving to be a waste of time anyway.

After another cup of coffee, Dr. Hamilton shook his head and got to his feet to check on Emily's progress. As he entered the ER, he saw the porter just arriving back with her and the envelope of X-rays. He retrieved them and as he suspected, discovered that two ribs were cracked. There was no bone displacement so there was really nothing that needed to be done for her except to caution her to take it easy and not to lift any weight. Her nose was broken, but there was no other serious damage to her face. He would make an appointment for her with day-surgery to have her nose fixed and packed. There were no apparent internal injuries and her eyes showed no permanent damage, so he could just send her home until the next time. This had turned out to be quicker than he had at first thought it would. Another few minutes and he should be on his way home. He took down the X-ray's, shut off the viewing lights and went to see his patient.

This time as he entered the cubicle, he took a minute to look at the woman who lay there on the gurney. "My God," he thought, "How can anyone do this to another human being." The coffee and rest seemed to have given Dr. Hamilton a better outlook and after he had discussed her injuries and treatment with her, he pulled up a stool and sat down to talk.

"Mrs. Thompson, according to our records, this is not the first time you have been here because of something like this. It seems as if things are not getting any better for you, are they?

"No...I guess...they aren't."

"You're going to have to make some changes in your life you know, for this can't go on forever. One day he will go too far, and then what?"

"I...don't know." How could she possibly make him understand how desperately she wanted to get away and how trapped she felt when she wasn't sure that she really understood her inability to act herself. She tried unsuccessfully to find words to tell him her thoughts, but they didn't come to her.

He continued. "Nobody can help you until you're ready to do something yourself. There is help if you truly want it. You must have friends or family who could give you a place to stay. And that's what Social Services are for. They would give you money to rent an apartment." He hesitated to give her time to think about what he was saying, then added, "I understand that you have children. Have you considered who would care for them if something happened to you?"

"I don't know ...what would happen...to them...and I know...that I have to do...something. I've tried...to make...plans. I think...about it...all the time. I know...that...I have to...leave Eric...but I'm afraid. I'm just...so afraid." It was little more than a whisper.

"Do you have anyone who can help you? Any family?"

Emily fought back tears. "Not really. I have family...but I haven't...heard from them... in over eight...years. I guess they...got tired...of trying to help...and I can't...blame them."

"I think you should get in touch with them. Talk to them. If they had any idea what was happening and if you could explain that you can't live like this, just maybe they will help you again."

"I've written...letter after letter...and they don't...answer. I've tried to call...but they got...an unlisted number...years ago...and I don't have...the number."

He shook his head. "I guess the important question is - What do you want to do?"

"I want to get away...from him but...I can't. Sometimes I think...just maybe I can...get away...but I know...in my heart...that I can't. He would kill me...if I try. And I've got...four kids. How on earth...could I manage...on my own...with four kids? I'm trapped."

"Well, this is one trap that you have to get out of if you place any value on your life. If you can't do it alone, you will have to find a friend, a clergyman or somebody who can help you?" Emily knew that she couldn't turn to Pastor York. He would believe whatever Eric would tell him and you could bet your life that Eric would never accept responsibility for what had happened. If only Jeanie didn't live so close, she felt that she would be able to turn to her. More than anything she wished that she could call on her parents for help. How desperately she needed them right now. At one time she had been sure of their love for her and the children. Actually, she and her parents had been extremely close. She had considered her mother to be her best friend and she had always been her Dad's little girl. There had always been a special bond and the loss of them had left an emptiness in her life that she couldn't bare to even think about. What could possibly have caused them to turn away from her? Could it be that they were upset with her for staying with Eric after all they had done in the past to help her get away? Them being upset with her made a lot of sense, but to totally disown her and their grandchildren - there must be more to it than that. It seemed impossible that anything could have caused them to cut her out of their lives and yet they had. Time after time, when she had needed them, they had been there for her. Perhaps if she could just talk to them she could convince them to help her this one last time. She resolved to write to them once more and beg for their help. Just maybe they would call her. She had sent them her new address and telephone number over and over again with no response so her chance of getting help from them was very slim but it was worth a try. She had no options. These thought tumbled through her mind as she looked into the weary eyes of the young doctor who stood here before her.

She shook her head, "I'll try...to contact my...family...but I don't think...it will help."

"I can notify the police for you. You could press charges."

"No. I've done that...before. It was no use. He came home...and made me...drop the charges. He was going...to take the children...if I didn't...drop the charges. I can't do that."

"You can get a restraining order."

"I'd be dead...before the police...could get there. I live eight miles...out of...the village...with no near...neighbors. I've already...thought...of a restraining order...but it wouldn't help."

"You have to find a way out. From what I've seen your life depends on it. Not only that, but you aren't doing your children any favors, you know. Think about the example you and your husband are setting for them. For their sakes as well as your own, you have got to get out of that situation."

"I'll find a way." Her head was bowed and her voice wavered. All was silent for a moment and neither moved. Thoughts were racing through her mind and although nothing was simple or clear to her, a decision to leave was beginning to take root in her mind. She straightened up and looked directly into Dr. Hamilton eyes, "I swear to you...I'll find a way."

He patted her shoulder and rose to his feet. "Make sure you do it before it is too late. The nurse will be in to let you know when to be back for day-surgery. Good luck."

"I guess that's it," thought Emily, "Time to get moving and go home." She shuddered when she thought of having to return home. She was not up to facing Eric, who would probably be furious that she had gone to the hospital, especially since she had broken a cardinal rule and gone with a neighbor, who would now know what had happened. She would also have to tell him about the appointment to come back for her nose and she knew that he wouldn't be happy about that. One thing she was certain about, he wouldn't be the one to bring her back for her day surgery. Of that she was sure.

When the nurse came back Emily asked for Jeanie. It wouldn't hurt to have a witness in case Eric didn't believe that she had to come back. You couldn't be too careful when you were dealing with him.

Jeanie and the nurse helped her to sit up and get back into her clothes. Then Jeanie waited with her while the nurse arranged for her to return to the hospital at nine fifteen on Monday morning to have her nose fixed. With Emily leaning heavily on her friend for support, they made their way carefully to the waiting room to collect the children who were sitting grimfaced waiting for news of their mother. Even Danny, despite his young age, seemed to realize the gravity of the situation and was playing quietly with the toy given him by his brother. While Jeanie brought the car up to the emergency door, the children got into their coats and soon they were all in the car and heading for home.

Jeanie's mind raced as she tried to decide what she should do. She had been puzzling about this ever since they had left the house more than three hours earlier. Just to drive them home and drop them off was beyond imagination. She had to do something to protect these four boys and their mother, of that she was sure and yet she knew that the next step was up to Emily. She decided that she needed time to talk to her, to convince her that it would be totally foolhardy to go home to whatever might lay in store for her there. Then, at just the right moment, she spotted a MacDonald's ahead and an idea occurred to her. She pulled in and handed Sam a twenty-dollar bill and suggested that he take his brothers in for lunch so she and his mother could talk.

When they were alone, she turned to her friend and asked, "Now what?"

"I don't know."

"You do know that you don't have to live like this."

"Oh, don't I?" There was a flash of anger in her voice. "What am I...supposed to do? Leave? That really...sounds easy you know...but it's not. Eric would kill me...before he'd...let me go."

"There has to be a way, Em. Nobody has to live like that with someone beating her. You and the boys are welcome to stay with us until you can figure things out. You know that don't you? Whatever we can do to help you, we will. We care about you and the boys and we want so much to see you safe and having a decent life."

"Thanks, Jeanie. I'm sorry...I snapped at you. I'm not upset...with you. I'm just so tired...of all of this. No one understands...how I feel. I know that...if I was smart...I'd be long gone...but I don't know how...to get out...even though...I know...I've got to. I have to find a way...and I will...I swear I will...but I need more time...to figure out how."

"I'm here for you. I will do whatever I can to help."

"I'm going to write...to my parents...tomorrow. I don't know...if they...will do anything...to help me...but I'm going...to try. I need...someplace...to stay until I can...figure out what to do."

"Emily, I meant what I said. You and the kids are welcome to stay at my place for as long as you need. I know if Gary were here he'd say the same thing. We would be so glad and so relieved to have you stay with us until you could make permanent arrangements."

"You've always been...a good friend. Thanks. I appreciate...the offer more...than you will...ever know. But it's too close...to Eric. I'd have to be...farther away...from him than that."

"Well, I suppose that makes sense but the offer stands - day or night. Anything at all that I can do, just ask. Now, I'm going to get myself a burger. What do you want?"

"Just a coffee. Cream and sugar."

"You need something to eat."

"I can't eat. My face hurts...and I've got...such a...knot in my...stomach, I don't...think there's room...for food."

"All right. Be back in a couple."

With her eyes closed and her head lying back on the seat, Emily took advantage of the few minutes of solitude offered her to get her thoughts and emotions under control. She needed to get control of herself now and be prepared to meet Eric in case he was at home when they got there. She sighed and thought, "I just need to get through today. I'll worry about tomorrow when it gets here. I just hope to God he leaves me alone tonight. I don't think there is a spot on my body that doesn't hurt."

### Chapter 6

Jeanie had made dinner for Emily and the boys, seen to it that Emily ate something and had her and the boys settled into bed before she reluctantly took leave of them. "I don't like the idea of leaving your here but I have to get home. I do wish you and the boys would come with me. This really irks me, you know, I don't like feeling so helpless."

"We'll be...all right. And...thank you. I don't know...how I would have...managed... without you...today."

"Before I leave I'll get you a pen and some paper. I want you to get that letter written to your Mom and Dad."

"Thanks, I will."

It was a peaceful night. Eric didn't come home.

He stayed away until late next afternoon and walked in with no explanation of where he had been and Emily didn't ask, for she had long ago stopped caring or asking about his whereabouts when he wasn't at home. It was enough that he wasn't there to make life unbearable for her and the children.

After shedding his outer clothes, he joined the family who were gathered around the television watching a movie. His 'hi' as he sank into the Easy-Boy chair was met with some quiet, "Hi, Dads", but nothing from Emily. She was afraid that he would be annoyed that she hadn't greeted him in a manner due to 'the man of the house' but she found that her mouth was suddenly dry and speech was impossibility.

They watched the remainder of the movie in silence, although Emily's mind wasn't on the movie. She was worried about how she would manage to get supper on the table. Sitting perfectly still and taking shallow breaths didn't cause her any pain, but whenever she moved, even slightly, the pain in her chest took her breath away. As the credits appeared on the screen, she knew that she had no choice. She grasped the arms of the chair and began to slowly slide forward. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she reached the edge of the chair and began to slowly raise herself upright.

"Putting on a pretty good show aren't you," snarled Eric.

Kyle jumped up before she had a chance to answer and faced his father, "Don't hurt her anymore, Dad. The doctor said that she has to be careful 'til her ribs get better."

Eric stared at his son. The little brat was telling him what to do! He controlled the sudden urge to backhand him. It wasn't the kid's fault anyway. How could you expect a kid to respect his father when he was always being mollycoddled by a spineless excuse for a woman like this one?

By then, Emily was on her feet and turned to face her husband. "He's just...trying to... help me. Please...leave him...alone."

"What do you mean, leave him alone? I haven't said a word to him. He has a sassy mouth and you have the gall to tell me to leave him alone. Don't you dare start nagging me. You might better spend some time teaching these kids something. You seem to forget that it is my responsibility to bring up these boys as God-fearing people. Do you hear me - my responsibility! I want to show you something." He reached for the Bible on the stand near his chair and flipped through it for a moment, "Here it is! I marked this a few days ago. Read this, you damned excuse for a woman - first Timothy." He thrust the book at her and when she didn't take it from him, he tossed it back onto the stand, "Of course you won't look at it. You don't want to see where you are going wrong. It says in the Bible that a man must rule his own house, having his children in subjection with all gravity. Did that sink in to that head of yours? It said - in subjection. That is from the mouth of God."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I'll get supper."

"You're going to get supper all right, and you'd better get it fast. It's the Sabbath and I will not be late for church. You boys get upstairs and get ready to go. Now! I want to have a little discussion with your mother."

He had not taken his eyes off Emily as he spoke to the boys and dread washed over her and she felt her mouth once again go dry. The boys hesitated, reluctant to leave their mother but afraid of the consequences of not obeying their father. Therefore, as usual, they did as he demanded. Eric waited until they were gone and then spoke slowly, without raising his voice, "Now, what is this I heard about 'the doctor said'. Tell me more." She could hear the sneer in his voice.

"I had to...go Eric. My ribs...and nose...are broken."

"And how, may I ask, did you get there?"

"Jeanie...took me."

"How nice! Jeanie took you. How neighborly." The sarcasm was replaced by cold fury. "Of course you didn't stop to think of what this would mean to your family. You didn't think about what would happen if people start talking about us. None of that is important to you. I have a reputation to uphold in this community, you know. But, that isn't important. Our whole family could be ripped apart. But, of course, that doesn't matter to you either. The only thing that matters to you is getting the neighbors involved in our personal business. And not just any old neighbor. Oh, no, you call on the one neighbor who you know I don't like. The one neighbor who would love to get some dirt on me."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm so sick of you putting this family in jeopardy and thinking of nobody but yourself. For two cents...." He stepped towards her and raised his hand.

"Don't do it Eric." Emily was angry by now. "You can yell at me...all you want but...I didn't do this...to myself, you know."

"Oh, didn't you! You all but ask for it and then try to make me look like a fool."

"I've got to...get supper." Emily turned away from him, afraid to say any more although there was a great deal more that she wanted to say.

"Don't you dare walk away from me when I'm talking to you," Eric spat as he grabbed her by the shoulders and began to shake her. "I should drive you one."

As he began to shake her, the pain began to mount in her chest until it was more than she could bear and she found that she couldn't get her breath. Her nose began to bleed and slowly she lost consciousness.

She became aware of a cold wet cloth on her forehead and opened her eyes to see the frightened face of Sam bending over her.

"Mom, can you hear me?"

She found that she didn't have enough breath to answer so instead raised her hand to signal to the frightened boy that she had heard him, and looked into the somewhat relieved face of her worried son. "Gosh, Mom, I thought for a minute that you were dead. I was so scared." She lay quietly for a couple of minutes until she was able to breath somewhat easier and was able to talk.

"Where...is your...father?" she whispered.

"Upstairs." her son answered, "He's getting dressed for evening services. I'm supposed to be getting ready, too. But I can't leave you here on the floor."

"Help me...up...I'll be...all right...you go with...your father."

"I don't want to go."

"Have to, Sam. I'm O.K. Honest."

Just then they heard a shout from upstairs, "Sam, what are you doing? You'd better be ready when I get down there. I won't be late."

"I'll just be a minute, Dad."

Emily gritted her teeth and began to move. To get up from the floor, she knew, would be an almost impossible task, but she had no choice, she certainly didn't want to spend the evening on the floor, and her only hope of getting up would be now while her son was here to assist her.

By the time she was settled on the couch, her face was white, she was sweating profusely and she was again unable to get her breath. Meanwhile, Eric was yelling, and Sam's face again had that hard, angry look. He started to answer his father back but thought better of it so instead went to his room and put on his suit. By the time he got back downstairs, Eric had the car running and his younger brothers were dressed and ready to leave, so Sam grabbed his heavy coat and followed the others out of the house.

Before Eric pulled out of the driveway, he turned to his sons. "If anyone asks, your mother has an upset stomach. I won't have people getting involved in our private business. If I find out that any of you are telling private things to anyone, you will be sorry boys. I don't care which one of you opens his mouth, I'll get all four of you for it."

The boys were very familiar with their father's rules and had heard this particular speech many times before and therefore, made no comment as he put the car in gear and turned onto the road. The drive was done in complete silence. Even Danny, at his young age, although he didn't understand exactly what was happening, knew that he must not cause problems for his father.

Eric stopped at a fast food restaurant where he bought food for them, as they had eaten no supper. He waited in line for the food as the children found a table and waited there for him. As they waited, Kyle turned to Sam and asked, "Is Mom going to be O.K.?"

"I think so, but he sure hurt her bad this time."

"When I get big," Scott's determined voice vowed, "I'll make him stop hitting her."

"Me too!" added Kyle.

Sam looked around at his brothers and shared his thoughts with them, "I may not wait. I may get him some day real soon."

Scott looked at his brother with alarm. "What are you gonna do?"

"I don't know but I've got to do something. He's gonna kill her if I don't do something. I've got a knife."

Kyle saw his father approaching and warned, "Shut up. Dad's coming."

Eric sat down and handed out the food, warning them not to dare get anything on their good clothes. He draped a towel around Danny to protect his clothes and then prayed over the burgers and fries. They ate in silence, and when they were finished and Sam had put the garbage in the barrel, they continued the silent drive to the church.

Meanwhile, Emily spent the time while they were gone resting and trying to formulate a plan that would enable her and her children to escape from the hell in which they were living. Jeanie's offer of a place to stay until she could build a life for herself was exactly what she needed and how desperately she wished that she could take the offer and go there, but she knew that she needed to put more distance between herself and Eric. If she were living that near to him, she would be afraid to leave the house or to let the children out of her sight. If only there was someplace she could go to where she and the children could be safe and could start to build a decent life. She realized that there was one very great difference in the way she was thinking. She had wanted for a long time to leave Eric but in her deepest heart she had been convinced that this was impossible and that she would be with him until one of them died. The difference now was that she at last believed that there was a possibility that they could escape. Just the thought of getting away buoyed her flagging spirit and although she wasn't able to get up from the couch, she began to mentally prepare for a move so that when the opportunity came she would be ready. It was a small start but at least it was something constructive and it gave her a good feeling.

"How do I do this?" she thought. "I guess first of all I need to decide what I'll take when I leave. Money's important and it's a necessity that I have very little of. I've probably got about $40.00 that I've been sneaking out of the grocery money and gosh, that's not much. Even if I start taking double the amount each week, it will be a long time before I have enough money to be bothered with and I have to hope that he doesn't catch me taking it. But, I guess that a little is better than nothing. We'll need clothes but they can be gathered up in just a matter of minutes. I guess the next concern will be furniture. Now that will be a problem. How on earth can I get enough furniture out of here to set us up somewhere? We will need beds, fridge and stove, table and.... No, maybe I don't. We can always get what we need from the Salvation Army and a fridge and stove are usually included when you rent an apartment. What I need to worry about are the special things, like my Grandmother's lace tablecloth, pictures of the children, the silverware that my Mom and Dad gave us for a wedding present, and things that the children have made for me. And the boys will want to take some of their toys. The things that Eric and I have accumulated together can stay right here. I don't want or need anything that will remind me of him and the life we've had here."

In her mind, she moved from room to room, deciding to take this and to leave that behind. She resolved that as soon as she was able, she would begin to pack these items in readiness for the day she could escape. If she was careful, she might be able to pack a lot of the things she had chosen without Eric being aware that they were gone. Having made a plan, even a preliminary plan, gave Emily a sense of accomplishment. Suddenly, she felt that there was real hope. And with that hope came joy. She wondered how it was possible to be in so much pain and at the same time feel so good. "Hope." She said the word aloud, just to hear the sound of it in the quiet room. "Hope."

She said a short prayer of thanks for the few moments of clear thought she had experienced and for the hope that she was feeling for the first time in many, many months. Then she slept.

### Chapter 7

After evening services, Eric dropped the boys off at home and hurried off to an Elder's meeting being held at Pastor York's home. This meeting meant a great deal to him for he was aware that he and the other Elder's were considered to be the elite of the church and as such were given opportunities to work closely with Pastor York. More than anything in life, Eric was proud to be held in such high esteem by the members of his church. This was the proof that he needed to show the world that he was reputable and an upright member of the community. He made certain that he was always available to assist the pastor, visiting the sick, spearheading fund-raisers, or chairing meetings. The Pastor often commented that he would be lost without Eric, who had proved time and time again that he was one of the most faithful of the flock. Even though his wife often didn't attend Sunday Services, and never went to Mid-week Bible Study, Eric could be counted on to be there, providing he was not working. Not only did he attend faithfully himself, every Sunday he brought his children to Services. What a wonderful father he was, and what an asset to the congregation. He smiled to himself in satisfaction. He had constructed a good life.

During the drive to Pastor York's, Eric contemplated the different aspects of his life. He had many friends. Some, like John and Dorothy, were friends he had made through church. They were good people and good friends that he could count on in almost any circumstances. Others, like those who had come home to party with him a few nights ago, were only there to help him relax when life got to be more than he could handle. He frowned slightly as he realized that those times were coming more and more frequently as time passed. And now, his life had taken another direction. He had met a woman at work and become friends with her. He knew enough to avoid getting too close and they had enjoyed a relaxed friendship until she had suddenly quit her job and he was able to take their relationship to another level. She had become the anchor in his life and he wondered what his life would be like without her. Rita was the perfect woman, asking for nothing from him, willing to accept what time he was able to give her and never complaining. With her he had all the advantages of marriage without the responsibilities, for she was exclusively his and waited at home night after night for him. Whenever he felt a need for her, he had only to call and then go to her apartment, which became in his mind an oasis of peace. Just thinking about her made him angrier with Emily. If it weren't for her, Rita wouldn't have to be kept a secret. He would be so proud and happy to show Rita off to the people at the church for she was a very pretty girl. He often marveled that she loved him and was willing to stay in the background of his life so as not to upset things for him. He was certainly a fortunate man to have her so devoted to him. That devotion added to the respect and admiration of so many at the church made him feel good, for he knew that he was a good man and was worthy of the respect that was shown him. He could quote scriptures with the best of them, he could make decisions dealing with the congregation and convince everyone that it was a good idea and his children were in meetings every week, taken there by him, which proved that he was a good father. The boys were well behaved, too, for they knew better than to make trouble for him. Indeed, his religious life was good.

His mind moved on to work and his contented mood lessened, for work was another story. He had an unappreciated job at a factory where he operated a twister that made carpet yarn from nylon fibers. He had worked there for eight years and on numerous occasions had submitted his name for promotions, as supervisory jobs became available, but time after time he was passed by. He knew that he was qualified for these jobs and could do a better job than the whole bunch of foremen and supervisors currently in charge at the factory. Not one of them had put as much into the job as he had and as a result not one of them deserved to be where they were. They were simply lucky. Thinking about these men in management at the plant made him really angry for he knew that they had all been given more opportunities than he had and every one of them had a much easier time with life in general. Life gave some people all the breaks and others just got a raw deal. His whole life was a raw deal. Perhaps if he hadn't been cursed with a wife and four kids, he would have had more time and energy to devote to the job and he would have more chance at advancements.

"My old man warned me," he thought, "He said that women were nothing but trouble. And boy, is that the truth. Emily wiggled her fanny and I was eating out of her hand. Next thing you know there's a kid on the way and I'm getting married and now four kids later I don't have a chance. I work my butt off so she can sit at home watching the soaps and thinking up ways to drive me nuts. If she had to do a real days work, it would probably kill her. I should have learned from my old man. He spent years working for my mother while she sat around playing solitaire and giving him a hard time. Women are nothing but users. If it hadn't been for my mother, Dad wouldn't have hit the bottle so bad and things would have been a whole lot better at home. Women sure mess things up. Man, life really sucks."

This was the problem with having time to think. His thoughts had taken him on an emotional roller coaster during the drive to Pastor York's and he was definitely at the bottom as he parked his car in front of the house. He took a moment to compose himself and erase any sign of care from his face, replacing it with a smile. By the time his knock on the door was answered, he was again the happy, faithful, God-fearing member of the flock.

At home, Emily was still in awe at the wonderful sense of accomplishment she had achieved earlier by devising a workable plan for a move. She was anxious to begin packing but knew that she had to do a lot of healing before she would be physically able to pack anything. At this point she wasn't in any shape to even navigate around the house. The packing would just have to wait. For now, she would just deal with whatever the day brought her.

With Eric gone for the evening, and no chance of him coming home in the next while and surprising them, there was no tension in the house and they were able to relax and enjoy the evening, the boys playing happily and Emily continuing to make plans for a move. Sam tucked Danny into bed and then he and his mother and two brothers watched T.V. for a while. Before they went to bed, Emily had the boys help her up the stairs to her room. Once again, Sam's face was troubled and dark. "Mom, this has got to stop. I mean it. He's going to kill you one of these times. We've got to get out of here."

"I've got a letter ready...to mail to Mom and Dad...letting them know...what's going on...and asking for their help. I expect...they'll answer this time. I promised...that I wouldn't even think...about coming back to Eric...ever. I don't see how...they can ignore me. They will call...this time, I'm sure."

"I'm glad. I'd love to get to know Grandma and Grandpa again. I can hardly remember them."

Everyone was in bed and the porch light on when Eric pulled into the driveway. He was in an unusual good humor as he came through the door and put his winter things in the closet. It had been a good night. There had only been four men including the Pastor at the meeting, which had been called to discuss a problem, which had come to the attention of the church. One of the women in the congregation, Diane Wilkinson, had been beaten by her husband, Frank. Pastor York had been called to the hospital at the woman's request and she had asked him to speak with the husband. Frank had reluctantly admitted that he had hit his wife but had blamed her for the incident. Pastor York was far from convinced that he was sorry for what had happened and he felt that he needed some threat to make sure that Frank thought twice before hurting Diane again. He had called this meeting to discuss his plan to disfellowship Frank if such a thing were to happen again. He had an appointment to see Frank next evening and he wanted to be assured that the church elders would support his decision to handle the situation in this manner. Eric agreed that this was the right course of action, even though he secretly felt that the poor sap was probably getting a raw deal. "Why do they always have to feel sorry for the dumb broad who is probably at fault anyway? The stupid jerk should have had some control over his wife and this wouldn't have happened. He shouldn't have let anybody get involved in his personal life." He smiled with a sense of satisfaction, "Emily knows better than to call the Pastor when I've given her a swat. I would never tolerate that kind of thing."

But then he thought of Jeanie, with her nose stuck in his business. His good mood began to fade.

"Nosy broad.", he muttered.

When he got to the top of the stairs, instead of going directly to his room, he turned right and went into Sam and Scott's room where he turned on the overhead light and checked to make sure that all was in order. He crossed the hall to Kyle and Danny's room, where everything looked good at first glance. Then he noticed a small pile of Danny's dirty clothes on the floor beside the crib that Sam hadn't put in the clothes hamper. He felt a rush of excitement.

"She can't do a simple thing like put the kids to bed without me to check up on her to make sure that it's done right."

He stood there for a minute trying to decide how he should deal with this infraction of the rules. She knew better than to leave a mess like this on the floor. Perhaps he would let it pass for tonight, tomorrow he could deal with it. Quietly, so as not to wake the children, he walked down the hall to the room that he shared with his wife.

She was asleep when he came over and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his clothes. He didn't need to turn on the bedroom light as the glow from the yard light coming through the window made it possible for him to see in the room. "How on earth," he wondered, "Could she sleep on, totally oblivious to the fact that her sons are sleeping in a room with dirty clothes strewn all around." The more he thought about it the angrier he got. At one point he reached for her, but at the last moment remembered her battered face and decided that he couldn't bear to look at her and pulled back. Feeling rather noble that he had not punished her for her stupidity, he got into bed beside her. After lying there for a few minutes unable to settle down, he knew that he had to confront this tonight if he wanted to get any sleep. He turned to her and snarled, "You seem to think that you don't have to do any work around here. Any woman with any pride would see to it that her kids are looked after before she goes to bed, but not you."

He sat up on the edge of the bed and turned on the light. "There is something I want you to read." He opened the Bible that he kept on his bedside stand and began looking through the pages. Before long he found what he was looking for. "Here it is, in the 113th Psalm. 'He maketh the barren woman to keep house, and to be a joyful mother of children. Praise ye the Lord.' Did you hear that? It's a woman's job to keep house and look after the children - joyfully. What kind of a woman are you that you can't follow such simple counsel? You are not a natural woman and mother." His voice was getting louder. "Tomorrow I want you to study this scripture carefully and spent time on your knees. Perhaps God can work a miracle in your life and give you some of these natural tendencies. Other women have them. Why was I cursed with someone like you who can't even look after the children properly? I should make you go clean up that room right now. But I won't." He began to calm down. She hadn't got away with it, so he could afford to be generous. "You can do it first thing in the morning. But don't let this happen again."

He lay back down, covered up and rolled over to face her. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes."

"Good." He grabbed her arm above the elbow and squeezed it. "One of these days I won't be in such a good mood and you will be one sorry girl."

He continued squeezing her arm as he glared at her. She was angry and didn't want him to know how much he was hurting her arm so she just gritted her teeth and remained silent. He seemed to have no intention of letting go and continued squeezing. She began to perspire with fright as she wondered how far this was going to go. She couldn't face a beating tonight. As her hand began to tingle and go numb, she couldn't hold back her cry of pain any longer. With a final extreme effort, he squeezed harder and twisted her arm at the same time, then released her. A feeling of contentment washed over him, for he felt that now he could relax. He had dealt with the problem and now he could forget about it and let sleep claim him.

Emily, on the other hand, now found sleep impossible. Her mind churned with anger and at the same time she was puzzled. She knew that the boys were fine. What could have upset him this time?

She lay there until the ache in her arm eased and the tingling in her fingers ceased. She thought of how much she hated her husband and how glad she would be to see the end of him. She got some degree of satisfaction from imagining how he would manage without her there to wait on him. He would have to do a little for himself and that would be a real shock. He did nothing now. He had a job and brought the money into the house, which exempted him from helping with 'women's work'.

She began again to plan her move, and in time, her anger faded. She thought again about the major problem that faced her. She needed a safe place to stay while she rebuilt her life. She had written to her parents yesterday and had the letter ready to mail. Surely they would respond to her plea for help. They had always been loving, supportive parents. Whatever had happened to make them turn away from her couldn't be so bad that the gulf between them couldn't be bridged. In the letter she had pleaded for help, not just for her sake but also for their grandchildren. No way could she believe that they didn't care about their grandchildren. This whole thing just didn't make sense. They were not the kind of people to let something come between them and their daughter without facing it square on and at least discussing it. What could have happened to cause them to cut off all contact with her? It had been so sudden. She had spoken to her mother just days before they had moved to Edmonton. Everything had appeared to be fine, although she hadn't been able to tell them exactly where they were moving. Eric, for some reason, insisted that the location of their new home had to be a complete surprise.

They had stayed at a hotel for a short time while they looked for a house and during that time she had written to her mother telling her about the move and then about the new house they had found and giving them her new address. There was no reply. Letter after letter was sent but still no answer. For some strange reason it had taken them almost three months to get a telephone, despite the number of times Eric had tried to get one installed. But as soon as it was in, she had phoned her parents, only to find out that they now had an unlisted number. She wrote again, sending her new number and pleading for a phone call. Not a word. Still she wrote, but still there was no answer. The letters had continued for almost four years and then Emily had given up.

"All I can do is try again. If the problem is Eric, maybe when they know that I'm serious this time, they will help us."

Dawn was creeping into the room before sleep erased worry from Emily's mind.

### Chapter 8

Eric was working the afternoon shift, so didn't have to leave until 2 o'clock in the afternoon. This gave him the opportunity to sleep late, which was something he really enjoyed. A morning for sleeping late was something a man deserved now and again. But this morning the sounds of the children getting ready for school woke him up and made him angry. He lay there listening to their chatter, becoming more and more upset as he realized that there would be no more sleep today. "How is a man supposed to sleep with a house full of friggin' kids running around." he wondered, "Why doesn't she shut them up? That woman is such a waste of skin."

Emily had managed with great difficulty to get out of bed and after getting dressed had made it down the stairs without help but that was about all she could manage. Although she hadn't been able to get the children ready for school, they had managed quite well on their own, and they had helped her and Danny get ready to go to the hospital. They packed their own lunches and hurried out to catch the school bus, leaving Emily and Danny ready and waiting for Jeanie to arrive. They were looking out the window for Jeanie's car when Eric came downstairs.

"Where do you think you are going?" he asked.

"I have an appointment...at the hospital...to get my nose...fixed this morning."

"And what am I supposed to do about breakfast?"

"You'll have to...get your own today."

"I don't think so. You're my wife and you'll get it before you go anywhere."

"I don't...have time."

"Make time. I'm hungry."

"I can't. I have a...nine fifteen...appointment."

"Don't start with the mouth or I'll put my fist in it. Now get me some breakfast."

"Eric...for goodness sake...give me a break."

"I'll give you a break all right." He took a few strides across the kitchen and grabbed Emily by the arm.

"Stop it, Eric." she cried out. "Leave me alone."

He backhanded her across the face. As the slap rang out in the room, Danny began to cry and Emily tried to jerk away from him nearly losing her balance. The color drained from her face and once again her breath was gone. She thought that she was going to collapse onto the floor and probably would have if he had not had a firm grip on her arm.

Suddenly he realized why she had been looking out the window and his eyes narrowed, "How are you getting there?"

Her heart sank and the word came out in a whisper, "Jeanie."

"You rotten..." He slapped her once more, and would have again, except Jeanie chose that moment to knock on the door. He lowered his hand and leaned close, whispering in her ear, "This isn't over, you know. Your day is coming. I'm gonna get you yet."

He pushed her roughly into a chair that happened to be just behind her and hurried across the room and up the stairs. There was another knock on the door as Emily struggled to regain her breath. Danny, frightened and still crying, tottered up to the door as it opened to admit Jeanie.

"Hi, sweetie." she said to the small boy as she came into the warm kitchen, removing her glasses which had instantly fogged up from the heat in the room. She looked from Danny's tear streaked face to Emily's, which bore the imprints of Eric's hands on each side. "That rotten son of a..." One look at Emily's face and she stopped in mid-sentence. This wasn't the time or the place to say what she was thinking. Instead she reached out to her friend and helped her out of the chair and into the car without saying another word, and then went back to get Danny, who was on the step struggling to shut the heavy kitchen door. Once he, too, was safely in the car, she spoke, "Somebody should beat that man to a bloody pulp."

She started the car and put it in gear, then remembered; "Your letter. Did you get it written?"

"Yes."

"Have you got it with you? We could mail it before we come back."

Emily took a few seconds to clear her thoughts, then answered, "No, but...don't worry. It's on the ...stand by the...door. Eric always...looks after the...mail. He'll take it...when he goes...to work.

The car began to move down the driveway but still Jeanie was worried, "I don't know about you but I don't trust that man. Maybe he won't mail it."

"He has always...looked after...the mail. I always leave it...there on the stand...and he takes it... with him when...he goes to work. Why wouldn't...he mail it?"

"I suppose you're right"

As she turned onto the highway, she reconsidered. "I really don't trust him I'm going back and getting that letter. I have a feeling that we need to mail it ourselves. I want to see that letter in the mailbox with my own eyes."

She backed the car up and turned again into the driveway. When she reached the house she left the car running and sat for a minute looking up at the silent house. She had to admit that she was uneasy at the thought of facing Eric. In actual fact it was more than uneasiness, she was afraid of him. Sitting there thinking about going into that house left her cold. She debated following Emily's suggestion and leaving the letter for Eric to look after for that would mean that she wouldn't have to risk coming face to face with him. She looked into her friend's face and the sight of her and her injuries made her angry enough that she decided she could face him if she had to. Probably she was worried about nothing. She would slip in, retrieve the letter and get back out before Eric realized that anyone was there. With the car still running and her car door open, she ran up to the front of the house where she paused for a moment and listened. When she heard no movement inside, she quietly began to open the door. She peered inside and saw Eric, still in his housecoat, standing with his back to her at the stove. She began to close the door, giving up on the idea of retrieving the letter but just then she caught a glimpse of flame and stopped to watch. Eric was burning paper at the stove. Suddenly, she realized what was happening and experienced a flash of anger. Was he low enough to be destroying a letter from his wife to her parents? She pushed the door open and spoke up, "Emily asked me to get something for her."

Eric dropped the burning papers and spun around, a shocked look on his face. He tried to think of an explanation for what he was doing but could think of nothing. He watched as Jeanie turned to the stand, looking for the letter that Emily had left propped there.

Her voice dripped sarcasm, "Gosh, Eric, looks like her letter is gone. I wonder what could have happened to it."

Her voice left no doubt in his mind that she knew exactly what had happened to the letter and he found himself still speechless. His eyes darted to the envelope that he had left on the table when he had removed the pages. Jeanie's eyes followed his and they both stood motionless for a moment staring at the envelope. They both moved at the same time, from opposite sides of the room, eyes focused on the envelope but she reached it seconds before he did and snatched it up.

Eric glared, "Give me that."

"No."

"Give it to me, now."

"No."

"That's mine. Give it here."

Jeanie was steadily backing toward the door, the envelope clutched tightly in her hand. She kept her eyes focused on Eric who was approaching her with a look of pure hatred on his face. She suspected that this was the look that Emily saw just before the blows came. Her mouth went dry with fear. Just then she saw the door out of the corner of her eye and realized that she had finally reached the doorway. She began to turn, just as Eric reached her and grabbed her arm. "Give me the envelope." He snarled at her. "I want it now."

Suddenly, Emily appeared behind her. "What's going on?"

Eric was furious. He made another attempt to grab the envelope but Jeanie spun around and thrust it in Emily's hand.

"Get in the car." she ordered.

She turned back to Eric and shouted, "Let go of me now."

They glared at one another, Eric still holding her arm. Neither flinched nor let their eyes waver. She was sure that if she let her fear show, she would not get away from here unscathed. This close up, Eric's temper was definitely frightening. She wondered how she could get away from him, for he was considerably stronger and he had such a grip on her arm that she knew she couldn't pull it out of his grasp. As her mind struggled to find a way out of the situation she was in, she realized that he expected her to pull away from him and she wondered if she could catch him off guard by moving toward him instead. It was worth a try. She pulled back and then suddenly stepped toward him and pushed. He lost his balance and while regaining it, loosened his grip on her arm. Quickly, she stepped back through the door and ran to the car.

She threw it into gear and roared out of the driveway, then drove a short distance down the highway before pulling over to the shoulder to give herself a few minutes to get control of herself, for her heart was pounding loudly and she was trembling like a leaf. A few deep breaths seemed to help her and then she turned to Emily, "Wow, that was unbelievable. I've never in my whole life been so scared. Emily, you're white as a sheet."

"I'm dead!" Her voice was toneless, "My letter isn't here. He must have read it...and after what I wrote about him...he'll kill me for sure."

"He didn't just read it; he burned it. He was standing at the stove burning it when I went in there."

"Oh, my gosh! He must have been furious...when he read that letter. I told them that he...was beating me up...and I was asking for help...to get out of here. He's warned me over and...over again not to try to leave. How on earth...can I go home after...he read that? I'm afraid that he'll...get me good for this." She was beginning to panic.

"Emily, calm down. I want you to think about what I'm telling you. He was burning the letter. Do you realize what that means? He wouldn't have read it if he was just going to mail it." She watched her friend as the truth began to register on her. "We'll talk about this some more later but for now let's get Danny to the sitter and you to your appointment. We can worry about Eric after that."

### Chapter 9

Snow was falling steadily as Jeanie pulled away from the hospital that afternoon with Emily still groggy in the seat beside her. They drove to the sitters where they picked up Danny, who had just wakened from his afternoon nap, and started the drive home. Although the roads were snow covered, they were not slippery and the drive was made without incident and in silence as both women were deep in thought. Jeanie was trying to find the words that would convince Emily to bring the children and stay with her and Gary for the next few days to give them time to figure out a plan for them. No way could she see herself dropping Emily off to be left at the mercy of Eric. She had seen his face when he was angry and out of control and she knew that he was capable of inflicting a serious injury on anyone who crossed him. She had suggested that they come home with her as they rode down the elevator in the hospital, but Emily had thanked her again and refused. "I wish I could...but I don't think...that's the answer. But thanks...I really appreciate...your offer."

Emily was absolutely terrified at the thought of facing Eric and in a panic wondering what to do. No way could she face him after he had read the letter that she had written to her parents. Yet she needed time to prepare for a move. She needed money and a place to stay. And there were many things in the house that meant a lot to her and the children and she didn't want to leave them behind. How she wished that she could go next door and just rest. But she knew without seeing him that Eric was furious and going next door would only fuel that anger. If they were to go straight home now, she would get there before him. Did that mean that she would be safe? Not likely! But, if she went next door first and then went home, she would certainly not be safe. He would do even more damage and possibly kill her. What was the best course of action? The more she thought about her dilemma, the more tense she became and the harder it was to think sensibly. As the car pulled into the driveway, they were both filled with dread. Jeanie's brown Mercury came to a stop in front of the house; yet neither woman moved to get out of the car.

Finally, Emily spoke, "I didn't know I was...going to feel like this. I'm really afraid...to go in there. I'm terrified of him. I think, especially...after him seeing that letter...that he could kill me. Now he knows that I'm ...serious about leaving. That letter...has changed things."

"Then come home with me, please. Get a good night's rest and tomorrow we will figure out what's the best thing to do."

"I want to...more than you could imagine, but the school bus...will be here...in half an hour. I've got to be here...to meet the kids."

"I'll take you and Danny to my house and come back for the boys. I'll wait right here until the bus comes. You have my promise that I'll bring the boys home. "

"I'll have to. I just can't...go in there. Don't get me wrong...I sound like I don't want...to stay with you. It's not that. Under other circumstances...it would be different, but I don't want him...to do anything to hurt you...and Gary and this is...terrible timing for both of us...with Christmas in...five days. It's not exactly the best time...to leave home...or for you...to have all this company."

"Oh Emily, for me, it will be a relief and anyway, like you said, you'll have to come." Jeanie knew that her friend would never understand the depth of the relief she felt at taking her and the children home where they would be safe. Saturday night, after leaving Emily and the boys at home, she had spent one of the worst nights of her life, wondering what was happening in the big brick house at the end of the long lane next door. She knew without a doubt that she would never be able to forgive herself if anything were to happen and sitting here looking at this house she had a strange sense of foreboding that convinced her that it was a matter of life and death that Emily take her children and leave while she was able.

It took only minutes to get Emily and Danny settled in the little white house next door and then she was again in the car. First she drove down the long lane to see if Eric's car was there and when she was satisfied that it wasn't, she returned to the end of the driveway to wait for the three boys. She spent her waiting time making a mental list of the things her guests would need to make the overnight stay easier. Once that was decided, she gave thought to what the next step should be. One thing was certain, whatever happened Emily and the four boys could not go back to live in that house, ever.

Jeanie looked at her watch nervously, for the bus was late. She began to worry. Had Eric picked the children up at school? Perhaps if he had, the bus wouldn't need to come out this far. What could they do in that event? "No," she told herself sternly, "Don't invent trouble. There will be enough without inventing it."

She saw a cloud of snow approaching and soon heard the rumbling of the snowplow, which was closely followed by the school bus. Relief flooded over her.

Before long the three children were safely seated in the car. After explaining where their mother was, Jeanie turned to the sober boy sitting beside her in the front. "Now, Sam, you have to help. I'm going to drive back to the house. I'll wait out front with the car running while you scoot in and get nightclothes, toothbrushes and a change of clothes for tomorrow for each of you. Your father's car isn't there so I'm sure he's not at home but if, by some chance, he is there, leave immediately. Don't even speak to him, just get out of there as fast as you can. Your mother's life could depend on it, for if he gets hold of you, he might not let you go unless she comes back to him. I'm sure he's not home but you can't be too careful. Anyway, I'll be watching for him. If he comes back, I'll toot the horn and you come out immediately, whether you have everything or not. Diapers and clothes for you boys come first; your mother can wear something of mine if she has to. Just toss everything in a garbage bag or whatever is handy, but please hurry. All right?"

"O.K."

"Remember it's more important that you get out safely than that we have this stuff."

"All right."

Sam realized the seriousness of the situation and since he was also afraid of running into his father he was only too willing to do as he was told. As quickly as possible, he ran through the house, gathering the items he felt they needed and tossing them into the laundry hamper from the bottom of his closet, where he dumped yesterday's dirty laundry. The only time he had hesitated was when he had first entered the house and stopped to decide whether or not he should remove his snowy boots. He opted to wear them despite the snow he was tracking on the floors. When he was finished upstairs, he tossed a few toys on top of the clothes along with the book he was reading and hurried to the bathroom to grab their toothbrushes. Then he hurried out the door.

During the few minutes that he had been in the house, the snowstorm had intensified and visibility was not good. Jeanie had been watching the road carefully, but was becoming more and more concerned as the heavy snowfall made it nearly impossible to see if anyone was driving toward her. She didn't know how she would be able to get Sam out of the house before it was too late if Eric were to suddenly appear before them. Sam's arrival, with the clothes hamper heaped full, was a great relief. He stowed it in the back seat beside his brother, and jumped in the front. Jeanie immediately put the car in gear and headed home.

Scott noticed first and pointed to the driveway, "Look, our tracks are gone."

Sure enough, the tire tracks left by Jeanie's car less than five minutes before, were almost invisible. If this heavy snowfall continued, the tracks they were making now would be gone and there would be nothing to show that they had been at the house. "This just might be a help for us." Jeanie said, allowing herself to relax as she turned out onto the highway and started driving the short distance to her home.

After dinner that evening, with Danny asleep in a make-shift crib, and the other three boys occupied in the living room, Emily, Jeanie, and Jeanie's husband Gary sat down at the kitchen table with a pot of tea to try to devise a plan of action for Emily.

Once she was certain that all four of her boys were safe, she had gone to Jeanie's spare room to lie down. She rested there until supper was ready and now thanks to the pain medication that the hospital had given her, she felt able to take part in this discussion. She began, "I want you guys...to know how much...I appreciate everything...you are doing for us."

"We couldn't sit by and not do something." Gary replied.

Practical Jeanie came right to the point. "I think you know how glad we are to have you out of that house and away from Eric but right now I think we'd do better to forget about thanks and try to figure out what to do next."

Emily sighed, "You're right, I've been thinking...about something all day. Eric burned... my letter this morning. He must have...burned all the others...that I've written in...the past eight years. I haven't heard...from my parents...since we moved here. They wouldn't have just...stopped all contact...without a reason. I've always wondered...what that reason could be. Now I think I know. I have to get in touch...with them somehow. I have to."

"Forget about writing." suggested Gary, "Why not phone them?"

"Their phone number is unlisted...and I don't have it. But, I remembered...someone today. I don't know why...I didn't think about her...years ago. It's Dad's cousin. If she is still in Toronto...I should be able to get her number...from information and then she might...give me Mum and...Dad's number."

"Of, course, she will. Why on earth would she not give you the number?" Jeanie wanted to know.

"All I know is what...Eric told me. He said that they...had their number changed...so I couldn't call...anymore. He said that they told him...they had enough of me...and my problems."

Jeanie shook her head, "I don't believe that. Eric is so full of crap. My goodness, parents wouldn't do that."

Gary spoke up, "You've got to start somewhere and it seems to me that your father's cousin is as good a place as any. I'll get the phone." Information gave her the number and within minutes Emily was listening to Helen McGuire's phone ring. She nervously counted the rings and after counting five, feared that no one was at home and thought about hanging up. But she wasn't sure that she would have the courage to call again, so she waited, desperately hoping that someone would answer, as the phone continued to ring. On the ninth ring, the receiver was lifted and a breathless voice answered, "Hello."

Emily recognized the voice from her past and tears welled up in her eyes. She found it impossible to speak past the lump in her throat and as she struggled for words, heard the voice on the other end of the line repeating, "Hello, hello." Hesitation. "Hello, is any-one there?"

Emily swallowed and spoke at last, "Helen, it's Emily."

Now the silence came from the other end. Finally, Helen spoke, "Where are you?"

"I'm at my neighbors."

"I mean, where are you? Your parents tried for so long to find you. Where on earth are you?"

"What do you mean? They know where I am. I wrote to them. I've written dozens...of times."

"It's like you dropped off the edge of the world. They haven't heard from you in years."

"Helen, I swear to you, I've written. I sent my address. Didn't they get any...of my letters?"

"Last any of us heard you and Eric moved to Winnipeg. Then we heard nothing."

"Winnipeg! Where did you...get that idea? We are just outside...Edmonton, Alberta."

"Eric told your father you were in Winnipeg."

Emily felt as though her veins were filled with ice water. "Oh, God," she whispered, "How could he? Why would he do that? I've got to...talk to them. Will you give me...their number?"

"Emily, dear, there's something you don't know." She hesitated.

"Oh, God, what?" Emily could tell by the tone of voice on the phone that she didn't want to hear what was coming next.

"Your mother was very ill."

"Ill?" Her mouth was suddenly dry. "Is she all right now?"

Her question met silence.

"Is she all right?" There was panic in her voice.

"It was cancer. Your Mom died last March."

"No. No." Tears welled up in her eyes and streamed down her face.

"Give me your number. I'll call your father and have him call you right back."

Emily was unable to answer. The receiver dropped to her lap as she buried her battered face in her hands and sobbed.

Jeanie put her arm around her friend and asked, "What's the matter? Em, what's happened?"

Between sobs she answered, "My Mom, it's my Mom."

Jeanie retrieved the receiver, spoke for a few moments with Helen, gave the phone number to her and assured her that Emily and the children were all right and would be welcome to stay with her as long as necessary. She hung up the phone and held Emily while she cried on her shoulder.

Her mind recoiled from accepting this news of her mother's death. Added to all the trauma she had suffered in the past few days, it was almost more than she could bear. She wanted to block the knowledge out of her mind, to return to the time just minutes ago before her cousin's voice had said those words that were echoing in her mind, 'Your Mom died last March.' Even though she didn't want to accept the thought that her mother was gone, she found that she couldn't shut her mind to it and as the minutes passed, she began to accept this terrible news and her heart began to fill with an overpowering sorrow at the loss of the mother she had not seen for such a long time, and would not see again. During those same minutes she became very aware of the reason she had been denied those last few years with her mother - Eric. It was painfully obvious that all the letters she had written had never been mailed. Her parents had no idea where she had been for the last eight years. Her mother had never seen Kyle or Danny. She had been denied her grandchildren and they had been denied grandparents. All because of Eric. The hatred for him that had been growing in her heart for so many months now bloomed into something frightening. She felt that hatred swelling inside her until she thought she would burst. Finally her tears dried up and she spoke, "I could gladly kill him," she spat, "I'd like to choke the life...out of him with my bare hands. He is going to pay...for this before I'm done. I swear, he's...going to pay for this."

### Chapter 10

Pete wasn't sure who was happier to be back inside the warm kitchen, him or Bandit. He unclasped the leash from the dog's collar and scratched behind his ear for a minute before hanging the leash on the hook by the door and removing his bulky outer clothes.

"Well, old boy," he said, "I wish that was the last time for tonight. It's mighty cold out there."

His answer was a wag of the old dog's tail.

He put his boots on the mat, hung up his coat and turned on the TV before taking his usual spot in the rocking chair. Bandit was already stretched out on the mat by his feet and had only to move his head a matter of inches to lay in on Pete's left foot.

Remote control in hand, Pete began the nightly search for something of interest to watch. He channel surfed for a couple of minutes, finding nothing that caught his attention then felt the all too familiar wave of loneliness when the voice he still half expected to hear was silent. "Pete, for goodness sake, you'll never find anything flipping from one program to another so fast. Put that thing down."

"Oh, Angie," he sighed. "I miss you more than you can imagine."

At the sound of his voice, the old dog's tail thumped again, then all was still.

Pete looked down at the old border collie, "If you could talk, dog, this would be a much more interesting place. I get tired of doing all the talking around here and never getting an answer."

Pete Locke, once tall, slim and straight as an arrow, was now, at the age of 63, slightly stooped, although still slim, almost to the point of gauntness. The thick, wavy brown hair, that had once caught the eye of the pretty girl he would marry and spend most of his life with, was now thick, wavy gray hair, which matched the bushy gray mustache he had decided to grow two months ago.

He was flipping through the channels again for the second time when the phone rang. "Perfect timing," he decided, "More than anything tonight, I want to hear the sound of a human voice." He reached for the phone that was on the stand beside his chair, "Hello."

"Hello, Pete. It's Helen."

"Well, I'm glad to know that you haven't frozen up yet."

"No, but that sure is a cold wind blowing up here."

"Here, too. I just took the dog for a walk and the pair of us nearly froze to death."

"Pete, I hope you're sitting down because I've got something to tell you." She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I just got a call from Emily. She asked for your number."

"Is she all right?"

"She was pretty shook up when I told her about Angie but other than that I guess she's all right. We only talked for a couple of minutes and I didn't really ask her much."

"Did you give her my number?"

"No. I thought I'd leave it to you to contact her. I got her number and told her I'd give it to you."

Pete couldn't help the bitterness that crept into his voice as he commented, "She's a little late calling, wouldn't you say? Like maybe more than eight months late."

"She said that she's written a lot of letters and she couldn't understand why you didn't know where she was."

"We never got any letters and we had no idea where she was. I even put an ad in the Winnipeg papers and heard nothing."

"They've never been in Winnipeg. They've been near Edmonton all this time."

"Then why did Eric...I don't understand ..." he hesitated for a moment, his mind racing, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. Then he continued, "You don't suppose he did it on purpose? By God, I'll bet he did. He must have wanted to keep her away from us. He told us they moved to Winnipeg to throw us off, so we couldn't find her."

"Have you got a pen? I'll give you the number."

"Just a minute."

Two minutes later, still holding the phone, Pete sat with his hands shaking so badly that he wasn't sure he could dial the number. If only this could have happened a year earlier, when Angie had still been here, wanting so desperately to see her only daughter. Pete knew that nobody could fault him for not trying hard enough to locate her. He had done everything he could think of. She had simply disappeared, there one day, gone the next without a trace. He would have tried harder to find her and done more if only he had known what more to do, for he had promised his wife that he would find her. He had talked to everyone who had known either Emily or Eric, including the people Eric had worked with. He had put ads in a number of newspapers, both in the Toronto area and in the Winnipeg area. But try as he might, he had failed. He had been forced to sit by his wife's bedside and watch her slip away, unable to do anything to help her, to ease the pain that tore at her body, but worst of all, unable to bring Emily home to her as he had promised.

Taking a couple of deep breaths to calm himself, he waited until his heart stopped racing and the shaking was under control and then he dialed the number he had written on the notepad. Gary answered the phone on the second ring. "Hello."

"Hello. Is Emily Thompson there?"

In seconds he heard her voice, a voice that he had no trouble recognizing. "Hi, Dad."

"Curly-top," Tears began to slide down his weather-beaten face. "I thought I'd never hear from you again."

Both father and daughter had difficulty talking due to the emotion that choked them and in moments both were sobbing. When they were finally able to speak they couldn't get the questions out fast enough or answer quickly enough. "How are you?"

"I'm O.K."

"I missed you so much."

"Are the children O.K.?"

"They're fine. Did Mom suffer much?"

"It was pretty bad near the end."

"I should have been there...with you. I should have been able...to say good-bye."

"We missed you so much, Curly-top."

"Dad, I want to...come home."

"When?"

"Now."

They attempted to cover all eight years in the next few minutes. Emily told her father of the two grandsons he had not known about and Pete told her more about the illness that had taken her mother and of the loneliness that had become a part of his every waking minute. Finally, Emily spoke about Eric and the hell she had endured at his hands.

"Dad, we have to get...away from here...and away from Eric. I'm scared that...he'll kill me one of...these times."

"Of course, child, come home. You know you always have a home here. You should have called me before this."

"I couldn't. I tried to get...your new number but...it was unlisted."

"Damn. I wish I had known you were trying to call us. If we had known that you were trying to call we would have put up with all the prank calls. But they were driving your mother around the bend and we hadn't heard from you in months."

"What kind of...prank calls?"

"Heavy breathing. Filthy language. That was bad enough but then he got personal. He knew so much about us it was spooky."

"You didn't...recognize his voice?"

"Sure did. The godfather. Marlon Brando himself couldn't have done any better."

Emily felt as though she had been doused with ice water. She remembered a day, shortly after their marriage, when Eric had amazed her with his imitation of Marlon Brando's 'Godfather'.

"And he knew...a lot about you?"

"He even knew that the dog had a pin in his hip from getting hit by a car. He knew what happened to your brother; and that your mother was claustrophobic. I don't blame Angie for being scared. I was pretty nervous, too."

"Could it have been Eric?" her mind groped, "Did Eric know about Bandit's hip? Probably. He had been there at the time of Mark's death, and Mom's claustrophobia? Definitely. Was he capable of something like this? For sure he was. But why? Suddenly realization dawned. "To make sure I was cut off completely from my family." she decided, "They got an unlisted number as a result, didn't they? It worked." Out loud she said, "I think it might have been...Eric who did that."

"I never much liked that arrogant bastard but it's hard to believe that he'd do something this bad."

"I think he'd do...anything to get...what he wants."

"What on earth would that get him?"

"He kept me from phoning you. Just like the letters I wrote. He said he mailed them...but you didn't get them and they...couldn't all have got...lost in the mail. He wanted to cut...the boys and I off from you. I'd say he did...a pretty good job of it."

"Emily, I'm flying out there tomorrow. We'll rent a truck and bring your things home. Maybe Sam would like to keep me company on the drive back. I wouldn't mind spending some time with that grandson of mine. I'll call when I know what time my plane gets in. Can somebody meet me?" She relayed the question to her friends and was assured that Gary would be more than happy to meet the plane and that they could find room for Pete, if he wanted to stay there for a few days, as long as he didn't mind over-crowding. He thanked them for the offer but said that he thought the sooner Emily and the boys got away from there the better. "As soon as we can get a truck loaded, I think we'll be on our way."

The children were excited by the news that their Grandpa was coming to get them next day and when he called to tell them that there was an early morning flight and he would be there at 11:30, the whole house took on an air of celebration. The children were all but bouncing off the walls and nobody gave any thought to sleep. The whole day had become more and more of an adventure. Scott and Kyle were full of questions about this grandfather that they had almost no knowledge of and Sam told them all he could remember as the evening progressed. In time, foam mattresses, sleeping bags and pillows were arranged on the living room floor for Scott and Kyle, while the couch was made up for Sam. When the children realized that they wouldn't have to go to school tomorrow, there was even more excitement added to the day and although the children went to bed, they found it impossible to settle down. Without a doubt, sleep was the farthest thing from their minds. Jeanie chuckled as she watched them wiggling in the sleeping bags.

"All right, you characters, you can watch T.V. as long as you stay in bed. But you have to be quiet. Your mother has got to get some sleep. Is that a deal?"

They were only too happy to agree. Going to sleep in front of the T.V. was a rare treat and they would have agreed to almost anything to be allowed to do that.

Emily appreciated the chance to lie down and rest, but like her sons, found that sleep just wasn't going to come easily. Nevertheless, she was grateful for the quiet of the bedroom to put her thoughts in some kind of order. So much had happened in the last few days that she could hardly believe it all. The pain in her ribs still made any movement a nightmare, her eyes were black and swollen, which meant that they also burned (and her drops were at home in her bedside stand), her face and head ached from the work done on her nose that morning, she had just learned of her mother's death, she had figured out the extent of her husband's manipulation of her and her parents, she had finally left Eric, and she had actually spoken to her father who was going to be here sometime tomorrow. It was almost more than she could comprehend. A little time to go over all of this bit-by-bit would make it seem more real to her. Best of all, alone in the bedroom, she could lay down and close her eyes and that, combined with the Tylenol she had taken, provided some relief. Her headache hadn't disappeared but the edge had been taken off and she hoped that it would soon be completely gone. Night after night at home in her own bed, she had tossed and turned, trying to relax and get some sleep while she had listened for Eric's footsteps on the stairs. Even knowing that they were safe here, away from Eric, and that he didn't know where they were, she couldn't relax and was afraid to leave the boys to go to bed until Gary had locked the house up securely and assured her that Eric could not possibly get in and that in the event he did show up looking for them, Gary would deal with him and she and the boys didn't even need to see him.

### Chapter 11

The clock on the radio by the bed showed the time to be 6:12. "Morning at last," thought Emily. "It's too early to get anyone up yet, but soon."

She had not slept well, but despite that she felt ready to face whatever the day had to bring her way. She felt as though for the past ten years or more, she had been going through life with blinders on, certain that there was no way to escape from the hellish existence in which she had been living. And yet the impossible had happened and here she was, standing on the brink of freedom. They had been away from Eric and his control for close to 24 hours now and rather than feeling as though she couldn't cope, as she had always feared, she felt very confident that they would be all right. A large part of the reason she felt good was because her father's plane should be leaving Toronto about now and in just a matter of hours she would see him. She smiled to herself, "If I knew who came up with the line 'Today is the first day of the rest of your life', I'd see to it that he got a medal. Today is the day my Dad is coming." Her joy at the thought of seeing him would have been complete if it had not been tempered by grief at the loss of her mother. Despite the fact that she and her parents hadn't been in touch with one another in many years, she had always felt in her heart that she would someday be reunited with them. Not for one moment had she considered the possibility that one of her parents could die.

She lay there in the spare bed in her friend's home knowing that she would soon have to get up despite the pain that she knew would accompany any attempt to move. "Why did you do it, Eric?" she asked herself, "Were you jealous of the love I had for my parents? Don't you know that in the beginning I loved you enough to put you first? There was plenty of love for you and the boys, and for my parents, too. There was no need for you to do this. I loved you for a long time until you succeeded in beating that love out of me. Blow by blow, you beat it out of me until now there is none left."

She thought back to the night she had just spent. Sound sleep had claimed her for a couple of hours and then she had spent the remainder of the night alternately dozing and thinking. The thinking had been the interesting part. She had looked at her marriage and her husband carefully and objectively and was able to see many things clearly. Eric was very capable of terrorizing her parents, because he wanted to isolate her from her family so she could be totally controlled by him. Whatever had to be done to facilitate this, had to be done. If someone was inconvenienced, frightened, hurt, or whatever, so be it. The only thing of any importance was that Eric gets what he wanted. Nothing else mattered at all.

Why did he want so badly to control her? She suspected that he needed someone to take responsibility for his shortcomings, a whipping post, who could take the blame for everything that upset him or for any of his failings. Had she been in contact with her family, there was a good chance they would have helped her to leave before things had reached this point, just as her father was doing now.

Had he ever loved her? That was a hard one to answer. Perhaps, but if it was love, it was not a healthy one. She suspected that he wasn't capable of feeling love but was motivated by the need for control, plain and simple control. If by some chance there had ever been love, it was in the past. She had seen the hatred in his eyes too many times to fool herself about how her husband felt about her. "I'll probably never know what your real feelings are but at this point it really doesn't matter for I've finally managed to get away from you and you can bet your boots there will be frost in hell before I'd ever go back," she thought, wishing that Eric could hear those thoughts. "Fourteen long years I've spent being pushed and thumped around by you and I guarantee you will never have the opportunity to hit me again. It's time for me to forget about trying to please you and time for me to build a life that's good for me and for the boys. And you, you rotten s.o.b., can stay right here and rot."

Again her eyes shifted to the clock, 6:14. Danny usually woke up between 7:00 and 7:30. That meant she had about another hour to try and get a bit of sleep. Then she would have to figure out some way to get into the house to pack those things that she had decided to take with her when she left. "Oh, dear husband, do I ever have a surprise in store for you. This is going to prove to be quite a day," she decided, "I'm certain of that."

Danny was right on cue. The digital clock read 7:09 when his happy chatter began and Emily started the struggle to get out of bed. Even though she knew that getting up would cause a great deal of pain, she was determined that nothing was going to slow her down today. She gritted her teeth and slowly eased her legs over the edge of the bed. By the time she was standing, she was sweating profusely. "Well, kiddo," she said to Danny, who was sitting up in the large dresser drawer in the corner of the room, "It wasn't any worse than I thought it would be. I think I'm beginning to heal a little. But, sore or not, this is going to be a great day; Grandpa's coming."

She thought of how her mother would have enjoyed spending time with this happy little chatterbox and felt a lump in her throat. "I can't think about Mom today," she decided, "I've got far too much to do."

She couldn't pick Danny up, and fortunately didn't need to. Once he saw her up, he simply climbed out of his strange bed and tottered across the room to her. She smiled and rumpled his hair, "I'm sure glad you can walk young fella."

Ten minutes later, it seemed as though the little kitchen would burst at it's seams as all seven of those in the house were in the kitchen, dividing up the morning chores with Gary making coffee, Jeanie frying eggs, Emily making the toast, Sam pouring juice, Scott and Kyle setting the table, and Danny doing a good job of getting in everyone's way. While they ate their breakfast they worked out a bathroom schedule and by 9:30 everyone was showered, dressed and ready for whatever the day would bring. Gary called everyone together to discuss the plans for the day and all seven gathered around the table, including Danny. Emily tried her best to explain to the children what was happening and what lay in store for them, not just today but for the next few days. She was worried that they might be upset at the thought of leaving their home and father but she discovered quite soon that she had nothing to be worried about. Sam was greatly relieved and the others were simply excited. Of the children, only Sam could remember his grandfather at all and he didn't remember very much. The other three boys, even though this man was a stranger to them, were excited at the thought that they had a grandfather as did so many of their friends, and also that he was coming to get them and would take them to live with him for a while. The knowledge that they were going to move without having a chance to say good-bye to their friends was upsetting, but the excitement in the house was enough to cheer them up and keep their minds on the future that awaited them with their grandfather.

"I have to ask you to promise me one thing." Emily said, "If your father comes here I want you to go straight to the bedroom and stay there. I don't want you to even talk to him. I know he's your Dad but there is always the possibility that he might want to take you back home and I want you here when we are ready to leave for Toronto. It is very important that you be ready to go when the time comes. Will you promise me that you stay away from him and that you'll hide if he comes?"

The children agreed although they weren't happy at the thought of being in the bedroom and missing anything. "It's really important," she stressed, "I'm sure that your father isn't going to want us to go and he knows that he can make us stay if he takes one of you home, for I could never go to Toronto with Grandpa and leave one of you behind. Someday," she added, "When we are settled, you might be able to see your father, if you want to, just not today."

Scott was the first to promise, for he wanted very much to go home with this Grandpa whom he didn't remember and hadn't seen since he was an infant. Emily smiled, "Thank you son. I really appreciate your co-operation. Today of all days, it's pretty important. Now, since you don't have to go to school, you can just enjoy the day. All I ask is that you don't make a mess."

"Can we watch TV?" Kyle wanted to know.

"Sure can, kiddo." Jeanie got to her feet. "C'mon let's see what's on."

Sam was the only boy who didn't follow her into the living room. He wanted to know how they were going get moved. "Mom, can we get any of our stuff out of the house before we leave?"

"Oh, honey, I hope so. That's why Dad wants to get a truck. I guess we'd better make some calls and see who has one that we can rent."

"I want to help load the truck when it gets here."

"No. I want you to stay here."

"C'mon, Mom. I'm not a little kid anymore. I'm old enough to help."

"No."

"That's not fair. This is my life and my family too, you know."

"You're right, Sam. I guess I can't argue with that. But let's get first things first. Before we even think about taking a truck over there, I think we need to know where Eric is. After we figure that out, we can worry about loading the truck."

Gary spoke up, "Good idea! I'll drive over to your place and see if he's there. Maybe he's gone somewhere already and we don't have anything to worry about."

"How soon before you need to leave for the airport?" Jeanie wanted to know.

"In about a hour. Maybe the three older boys would like to go with me."

"I bet they would love that. I think I'm going to call Grace and see if she will come over and watch the boys this afternoon. I want to be available to help, too." As usual, Jeanie was planning.

Gary shrugged on his coat, stepped into his winter boots and took his car keys from the basket on the counter. "I won't be very long. I'll just drive in and see if the car is there."

Much to everyone's surprise he was back sooner than they expected. "He hasn't been home at all. The snowplow went by shortly after you got here last night and your place hasn't been shoveled out since then. The lane itself isn't too bad. I think we could get through without any problem. The plow filled in quite a drift at the end of the driveway though. I think I'll take Sam back over there with me and we'll shovel the place out before we go to the airport."

Emily turned to Jeanie, "I'm going to need to go home and pick something up once they get the driveway cleared out and then I need to go to town. Could you drive me, please?"

"Sure. But Sam, that means that we'll need you to stay here and watch Danny while Gary goes to the airport unless Grace can come over right away.

"O.K." He was disappointed to think that he might miss out on going to pick up his grandfather but whatever it took to get them away from his father he was willing to do. He had prayed for something to happen to help them get away and it seemed that at last, his prayers had been answered. To have something go wrong now, when they were so close to escaping would be awful.

Jeanie noticed the disappointed look on the child's face. "I'll call Grace right now, maybe she'll be here in time."

By 10:30 Gary was on his way to the airport with two very excited boys, Sam was waiting with Danny for Grace, and the two women were pulling up in front of the Thompson house. It was strangely difficult for Emily to go in and she had a hard time understanding why, after being gone only one night, she had such an aversion to the house she had lived in for eight years. She felt as though she had been living all those years in some kind of fog and now suddenly she was able to see her married life with clear vision. She realized with a sense of relief that nothing on this earth could convince her to return to this house and Eric. This knowledge gave her wonderful feeling of power and a sense of control over her life.

Both women were sitting motionless, staring at the big brick house with the gay wreath hanging on the door, when Emily finally broke the silence. "This should only take a minute." She got out of the car, moving carefully because of the pain that still accompanied every movement, and slowly made her way up the steps and into the house. Dirty dishes were on the kitchen table as well as on the living room floor and out of habit Emily reached to pick them up, then realized how silly that would be and instead left them where they were and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She went to Eric's dresser to look for his Visa that she had put there a few days earlier after finding it in one of his shirt pockets. That morning as she had been laying in bed worrying about how to get her hands on some money, she had remembered seeing it laying there, and sure enough, there it was. She slipped it into her coat pocket, turned to her dresser and retrieved the money she had hidden under the lining in the lingerie drawer, then got the eye drops from her stand and went back to Jeanie's car.

"Now what?" asked Jeanie, as she put the car in gear and drove out onto the highway.

"First let's go to a travel agent. I'm getting tickets for the younger boys and me to fly home. There won't be room for all of us in the truck."

Emily used the credit card to buy plane tickets to Toronto and tucked them safely in her purse. "Now that I've got the tickets, I'd better to go to a bank and try to get some cash."

"Which bank?"

"I'm not sure. Eric's account is at the Royal so I'd better not go there. They might let him know that I'm trying to get money."

"Let's try C.I.B.C."

"Sounds good to me."

Emily tried unsuccessfully to get a cash advance with the Visa. The teller was very pleasant as she explained, "I'm sorry that your husband is ill but I'm simply not allowed to advance any money to anyone except the person whose name is on the card. Your husband will have to come in himself as soon as he is able."

She returned to the car. "No luck. Take me to a jewelry store. I think that I can use it to buy something and then I might be able to sell it or pawn it when I need money."

Ten minutes later the two women were looking at diamond rings. They picked out one with a fairly large stone and offered the Visa for payment. Within minutes, the ring had been purchased and was in a ring-box ready to go. They left the store, went down the street to another jeweler and purchased an emerald ring. Two more stores and two more rings were purchased without any problem.

"Man, I'm glad that Eric has good credit. His 'Visa gold' has come in pretty handy. Should we try again?" Emily laughed. She couldn't remember enjoying herself so much in a long, long time.

"Why not. Let's go."

The next jewelry store proved to be more of a problem. When the clerk put Eric's card through for the purchase of another diamond and it was declined, he looked suspiciously at the two women and they nearly panicked. If he suspected that the card was stolen and called the police, Eric would be notified for sure. Emily knew that she had to quiet his suspicions quickly. She groped for an explanation. Suddenly an idea popped into her mind and she complained, "Aw, frig, what a cheapskate. This just isn't fair. He told me that I could buy whatever ring I wanted. He forgot to tell me there was a price limit. I suppose he thinks I'll settle for some costume jewelry."

The young clerk hesitated, unsure of what his next move should be. Emily noted his hesitation and added, "This is so normal for him. I'm sick of being bought off with a string of beads. He probably thinks that since it worked before, it will work again. But, boy, is he in for a surprise. He promised me a diamond and I'm going to get a diamond. This is one time that his apology is going to cost him. Could you set this aside for me? He gets paid tonight so I can bring cash tomorrow morning and pick up the ring then."

The possibility that he could still make the sale was the deciding factor. Commissions of this amount were worth taking a chance on, and, anyway, how could he go wrong? She wouldn't be taking the ring out of the store so he had nothing to lose. It was definitely worthwhile giving her the benefit of the doubt. The card probably wasn't stolen anyway. These two looked honest enough. And by the look of the face on the one with the card, she deserved a diamond for putting up with the jerk who did that to her. He smiled broadly and assured Emily that he would be happy to put the ring aside for her and she should ask for Jason when she came in tomorrow.

Emily thanked him and left the store. "See you tomorrow."

Once in the car, she admitted, "I thought we were done for. Could you imagine if he had called the police?"

"I know. I was scared to death. You sure came through with the right thing to say though. You convinced him."

"Thank goodness. Now, how can I find out how much is still available on this thing?"

"I have no idea?"

"Me either. I guess we might as well go back to your place. I could use some Tylenol and a rest. I wonder if they are back from the airport yet?"

"If they aren't, they'll probably be there before we get back. I have to stop for some bread and milk on the way home."

They were halfway to the store when Emily had an idea, "Let me pay for the groceries with the Visa and I'll try to get a little extra money above the amount owed. If it isn't over the limit, it might work."

"Say, that's worth a try."

It was certainly worth it. She bought Tylenol and a drink and paid for the groceries, which totaled $8.38. The store billed Visa $28.38 and Emily had $20.00 in her pocket. There were another five stores on the way to Gary and Jeanie's house and Emily got $20.00 at each one. As well, she was able to buy sliced meat and cheese to make sandwiches for everyone for lunch, and a few groceries which helped her to feel better about having intruded on her friends.

By now, she had been in and out of the car nearly a dozen times and, despite the Tylenol, her head was pounding and her ribs were unbelievably sore. More than anything she wanted to lie down, even though she knew that was impossible. There was a lot to be done today and it had to be done by the time Eric finished work tonight, if luck was on their side and he went to work tonight. Later, when the truck was loaded, she could rest. She looked at her watch and thought of her father. "Well, it's noon. I wonder if they are back yet?"

Sure enough, Gary's car was already there when they returned. Emily would have jumped out, run and thrown herself into her father's arms had she been able. Instead she slowly and painfully got out of the car and started toward the house. Her father met her halfway and was about to grab her in a huge hug, when he noticed her face. His joy at seeing this beloved daughter was tempered by the anger he felt at seeing what had been done to her. At first he was speechless, then incredulous. "Eric did that to you!"

Emily nodded and Jeanie spoke up, "He also cracked a couple of her ribs. She should probably be lying down right now."

A heart-wrenching cry came from Pete before tears appeared in the corners of his eyes and began to spill down his face. Instead of the bear hug originally intended, he took his daughter gently in his arms and they stood together and cried. They cried for Emily's battered face and body, for sorrow that Angie was not there to share this moment with them and they cried for the eight years they had lost.

After lunch Pete and Gary drove to the service station that handled U-haul's and rented a truck, then stopped for a supply of boxes. Jeanie insisted that Emily lay down and rest while she and Sam cleaned up the breakfast and lunch dishes. By 2:30 the men were back and the adults gathered around the kitchen table to talk. "Wait a minute," Emily turned to the doorway and called her eldest son. When he arrived in the kitchen, his mother said, "Sam, pull up a chair. You are going to have to work like a man so I guess you might as well hear what is going on."

He placed a chair beside his grandfather and sat down. Pete laid his large hand on his grandson's shoulder and Sam sat up a little taller.

Emily looked at her friends through the slits that were all the swelling around her eyes allowed and began, "I sure am grateful for all that you have done for us. I couldn't have got this far without you and that's for sure but I'm worried about you folks doing any more because you will still be here when we are long gone and Eric might easily retaliate."

"I don't care, he doesn't scare me." Gary was quick to spit out.

Jeanie looked down at the white knuckles of her tightly clasped hands. "I wasn't scared either, until yesterday morning. I saw his eyes close up when he was angry and I've got to tell you he is pretty frightening. I'd be just as happy if he didn't know that we were helping. I'm sorry, Em," she looked into her friends face, "But I might just as well be honest."

"Don't be sorry. I know better than anyone what you mean about his eyes when he's angry and I think you're being pretty smart. I'm hoping that we can get the truck loaded and get away from here while he's at work so he won't need to know that you had any part in helping us. I got tickets for myself and the three younger boys to fly home tomorrow morning while Dad and Sam take the truck."

"Sounds good to me. What do you say, Sam?"

"I'm ready, Grandpa."

"O.K. Is there anybody we should call to help?"

Emily spoke up, "I think we can load it without help since we aren't taking very much furniture, it will be mostly small stuff."

"Sounds good to me." Pete added, "When you want to get started?"

"I don't want to do anything until we know for sure where Eric is." Emily would go to great pains to make sure that they didn't run in to Eric while they were at the house. "He is on the three to eleven shift tonight so I'm pretty sure he'll be at work any minute now. I know I won't be able to relax until I'm positive he's there. It would be awful if he walked in on us. I wonder if we can find out whether or not he showed up for work?"

"Can't you just call the plant and ask to speak to him?" Pete suggested.

"Yes, I guess that's what I need to do." Emily said reluctantly. "I'll think up some reason to call."

"If all goes well, we'll be packed and on the road tonight," Pete worried, "But I don't know about you and the boys, Curley, I don't think you should stay here tonight. This place is just too close to that man."

Sam looked relieved, "I think you're right, Grandpa. He'll stop her if he can. I've been thinking about that."

Emily agreed. "Oh, believe me, I know. I've been thinking about that, too. The problem I have is that the plane doesn't leave until 10:20 tomorrow morning."

Pete shook his head, "I sure can't imagine leaving here with you and the boys next door to him. Once he realizes that you're gone, God knows what he'll do."

"Actually I had an idea. I've decided that I don't want to just slip quietly away. I want his cronies at the church to know what he's done and what he's capable of. But I need someone I can trust to not let him know what we are doing until after we're gone and then who will go to the pastor and tell him what Eric's done and I think my best bet is Jan Morgan. I'd like to call her and tell her what's been going on and see if we can stay with her tonight. Then tomorrow she can drive us to the airport, if she agrees. I'm positive that she'll tell the pastor and a few others what Eric did. I think that will hurt him worse than anything else I might do."

"I love it." Jeanie grinned.

Emily added, "But I don't want to do anything until I know that Eric's not going to walk in on us."

### Chapter 12

Sam decided that he should be the one to call his father and after a little thought and discussion, the others agreed. He waited until ten minutes after three, and then called the factory where Eric worked and had him paged. It was just a matter of minutes before he heard his father's voice, "Hello."

"Hello, Dad, its Sam."

"What are you calling me here for?"

"I'm invited to go roller skating tonight in Edmonton and Mom said that I can't go unless you say it's all right."

"That woman can't do anything on her own. Why in the name of all that's holy can't she tell you what to do, just once?"

"Can I go, please?"

"I really don't care what you do."

"Thanks, Dad." The phone went dead. Eric had hung up.

"He's at work." Sam turned to the others, trying to hide the hurt, which was so apparent in his face. He crossed the room and sat by his mother. "He didn't even say good-bye." The catch in his voice told volumes of the hurt he felt by the coldness of his father.

Pete spoke to his grandson, "Let's get this truck next door and get it loaded. Are you ready?"

Sam perked up, "I sure am."

"Have you got room in that truck for me?" asked Gary.

"We can find a spot, eh Sam."

"You bet."

The men left and Emily phoned Jan, who said that she would come to the house right away and help with the packing, then drive Emily and the boys back to her house for the night. She was speechless when Emily explained the circumstances surrounding her decision to leave Eric. She thought of the tall, slim man who had been so respected by everyone at the church. She also thought of the four boys who attended with their father, and always sat so quietly during services. Lastly, she thought of Emily, who always seemed to be withdrawn and aloof.

"Who would have guessed?" she thought, "I suppose we never know what goes on behind closed doors."

By 3:30, Grace was with the boys and the two women had gone next-door where the packing was in full swing. Emily was having a hard time getting around but was still doing all she could, until Jeanie suddenly walked up to her and took the dish she was wrapping out of her hand. "Enough, we need you to tell us what you want to have packed. We can do the packing. I don't want you playing out on us halfway through this. Now, go sit down and have a rest."

Jan arrived as Jeanie was talking, took one look at Emily and gasped, "Oh my goodness, you look like you were hit by a truck."

"Unfortunately, the truck has a name." Emily slowly lowered herself onto a chair.

"Wow! This is hard to believe. He shouldn't get away with this. I'm going to phone the pastor. He really should see you for himself. This is going to come as a real shock to him. He tends to think that the sun rises and sets on Mr. Thompson."

"No, please don't, I'm afraid that the pastor might call Eric before we get out of here and I really can't deal with him today."

"Oh, he wouldn't do that."

"I'm afraid to take a chance. No one is going to convince me to stay here, not Eric and not the pastor. You know, this isn't the first time he's done something like this, but I'm determined that it was the last."

"I'll talk to him and promise you that he won't call Eric."

"Well...all right. Maybe it's for the best anyway. I don't want this to be swept under the rug. Eric should have to pay for what he's done somehow. But I'd rather you wait until later, maybe after supper.

They ordered pizzas and coke and had them delivered. They were a hungry bunch by the time they arrived and everyone was glad for the welcome break. Emily was hungry but her face was sore enough that eating wasn't easy, although she managed to eat a little. While they were cleaning up the pizza boxes, Jan made the call to the Pastor. He couldn't believe what Jan was telling him. "This is impossible. Eric Thompson is one of the finest men I've ever met. He isn't capable of something like this. You must be mistaken."

"Pastor, I'm right here at their house looking at Emily. I think you should come over here and talk to her yourself."

"I'll be there in about half an hour."

"I promised Emily that you wouldn't contact Eric until she is gone. She's really afraid of what he might do. Please, promise you won't call him."

"Well, I don't like secrets but under the circumstances I don't think that I would be wrong in waiting until I've talked to Emily. I can promise you that I won't contact him until after I have spoken to her."

"Fair enough. Thanks, Pastor. Bye."

By the time Pastor York pulled into the yard and parked behind the rental truck, almost everything that Emily had planned to take was packed and on the truck, and it was still only about 2/3 filled. He entered the house with a troubled look on his face and seeing Gary coming toward him with a box, asked for Emily. "She's in the living room packing some stuff."

The pastor's face registered absolute shock when she put down the vase she had just finished wrapping and turned to him revealing her bruised, swollen and battered face. "My dear, I don't know what to say other than I'm sorry."

"This isn't the first time, Pastor. All those Sundays when Eric went to church without me, I was at home because he didn't want anyone to see my face."

"I had no idea that he was capable of doing something like this."

"My biggest problem right now is cracked ribs. He knocked me down and put the boots to my chest. I have two cracked ribs thanks to him. If it wasn't for pain medication, I wouldn't be able to move."

"All this time, you have been a member of my church and I had no idea this was going on. I failed you."

"It's not your fault. Eric is responsible for this. Nobody else."

"Where are you going?"

"My Dad has come for me and I'm going home to Toronto with him."

"How do the children feel about all this?"

"To be honest, Eric hasn't really been that much of a father and the boys are just feeling excited about the trip."

"Eric always appeared to be such a devoted father."

"Pastor York, Eric always appeared to be a lot of things. The truth is that he is a mean, vicious man. He has hit and kicked me, time and again, and been cold and cruel with the boys. I am terrified of him and so are they. None of us have good memories associated with Eric."

Pete came into the room as they were talking and added, "He put a lot of effort into separating her from her mother and I. Until yesterday, I had no idea where she and the boys were. Her mother died in the spring, without being able to see her only daughter because of that man. He has made life a hell for a lot of us for too long."

"I'm really sorry that I haven't been more help to you but I honestly didn't know any of this was going on."

"I know. This was a very carefully guarded secret."

"What can I do for you now?"

"I know Eric. He will convince himself that this is all my fault and that he's a poor victim. I don't want him to get away with this. He has hurt the boys and I, physically and mentally, but nothing compares to what he did to my parents. He told them that we were living in Winnipeg, tormented them until they got an unlisted number and destroyed all the letters I wrote to them. My parents didn't know where I was and my mother died without us finding one another and without her ever knowing her two youngest grandsons. I know the Lord expects us to forgive one another but I don't know how I can ever forgive him. It's important to me that you know the truth. When you talk to Eric, you can weigh what he says with what you know to be true. Talk to Jeanie. She took me to the hospital. Talk to Sam. He knows what his father is like. Just don't let him walk away from this like a hero. That's what I want you to do for me."

"That's certainly not asking too much, my dear. Now, let me help you load that truck."

Pete spoke up, "I guess you've figured out that I'm Emily's father." He reached out and the two men shook hands. "And I'm tired enough that I would be mighty pleased to have you help load. Curley-top, that load will ride a lot better if the truck is packed full. What else do you want from here? We have room for some of the furniture. Let's get your grandmother's table for a starter."

They removed the table legs and loaded it and the chairs. Then they put in the washer and dryer, the dressers and the coffee table and end tables.

"That's about all the room we've got." said Pete. "Take a last look around before we close it up."

Emily called Sam and together they walked through the house checking for things they might have missed. When they were satisfied that there was nothing more they wanted, they went back to the living room where the others were waiting.

"I guess that's it," said Emily.

Jeanie went next door to get the children while Pete and Gary went outside to close up the truck. Just as they started, Sam remembered the bikes in the garage and ran out to tell his grandfather, who managed with a bit of re-organization, got the bikes and Danny's stroller stowed in the truck. Pete checked his watch. It was 9:35.

Ten minutes later, they were all standing in the yard waving good-bye as grandfather and grandson began the long trip to Toronto. Pete planned to drive for a couple of hours and then stop at a motel and try to get a good night's rest, for he had done about all he was capable of for one day. He had tried unsuccessfully to rest the night before, because he knew that this would be a busy day, but he had tossed and turned all night, watching the hands on the clock slowly move forward, while he wanted so desperately for morning to come so he could get on the plane that would take him to the only family he had left since he had lost first his son, Mark, and then Angie.

All stood silently watching the big truck drive slowly down the long lane and turn left onto the road. Only when it was out of sight did anyone move. Emily and the three boys made one last check of the house to be certain that they had left nothing of importance behind. Then Jan started the car while Jeanie and Gary hugged the boys and helped them to get settled in the back seat. Emily shook hands with the pastor and thanked him for his help. She then turned to Jeanie and Gary and for a moment was unable to speak past the lump in her throat. Finally, she swallowed and spoke, "What would I have done without you two? Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

Gary stepped forward and gave her a gentle hug, "You just take care of yourself and those kids." His voice caught and he quickly turned away and climbed behind the wheel of his car. Emily turned to Jeanie and the two women hugged, both shedding tears and unable to speak. They stood together for a few moments, then pulled apart, both realizing that there was nothing more to say. The friendship they had shared was one that would continue for life, even though they would be thousands of miles apart. Jeanie reached for Emily's hand and squeezed it gently, "Write when you get to Toronto."

Emily nodded and got into the car beside Jan. In a moment all three cars were driving down the long laneway. As they made the turn onto the road, she looked back for one last view of the house that had been her home for such a long time and she noticed that the porch light was on. Eric would have no idea that anything was amiss as he drove down the laneway tonight. How she wished that she could see the expression on his face when he went into the house and realized that she and the children were gone. "Eric is going to get an awful shock when he gets home tonight," she commented.

"I'd love to be a mouse in the corner and hear what he has to say," laughed Jan as she stepped on the gas and left the big, brick house behind.

About an hour later Scott and Kyle were in the double bed in Jan's spare room with Danny beside them in another make-shift crib, while Emily was lying on the couch, talking with Jan and trying to wind down, so she could sleep. She looked at her watch and realized that it was 11:00.

"Well," she said, "This is it. Eric is just getting off work. He'll be home in 15 minutes and man, is he going to be mad."

"What do you think he'll do?"

"I'm not sure but you can bet that he'll do something. I'm afraid that Jeanie and Gary will face the worst of his anger, and I can't do anything to prevent it. I hope he doesn't find out that we are here. I don't want to make trouble for you plus I can't face him tonight."

"I can understand that. But I'm sure that you're safe here. Mr. Thompson would never think of you being here. I don't think he's ever noticed that I'm around. Anyway, on a more pleasant note, I like your Dad. You're lucky to have him to help you. He sure seems like a nice man."

"My Dad is so special. Funny, now that I've seen him again, I don't know how I ever thought that he would have cut me out of his life. I must have been nuts."

"Or you were listening to your husband."

"I guess so."

"How about a cup of tea? That might help us to settle down."

"Sounds good to me."

She returned before long with the steaming cups of tea as Emily checked her watch again, 11:05. Eric would be on the road heading toward the house by now. She couldn't help but picture what would be happening in a matter of minutes at the big brick house she had called home for the past eight years. As she reached for the cup of tea she realized that she was incredibly tired but so on edge that she wondered if tea could possibly help her 'settle down'.

### Chapter 13

The heater finally managed to get the interior of the car to a comfortable temperature as Eric turned off the highway and started down the road that led to the farmhouse where he lived. He looked at the clock on the dash of his car. It was exactly 11:10.

"Right on time," he thought with satisfaction.

Eric was definitely a creature of habit. Whenever he worked the afternoon shift, he would turn off the highway at 11:10, pull up to his door at 11:15, where he insisted that the porch light be burning, enter the house at 11:16, then relax with a beer until 11:45 when he would climb the stairs to bed.

He was apprehensive about going home tonight for he knew that Emily would be in an uproar. Yesterday had been an upsetting day for them both. He had been so angry, as a matter of fact, that he had decided not to go home last night. It served her right if she had spent the night worrying about his whereabouts. "Maybe she's had time enough to think about what's going on that she'll begin to realize that she's to blame for this. Things could be so different if she could learn to be a good wife and would give me a little respect at home."

His thoughts turned to Rita. She was the kind of woman a man needed. She made no demands on him and was always available whenever he had time for her. He had called her last night from work and she had invited him to her apartment. She had been waiting up for him and had done a really good job of taking his mind off the problems he faced at home; and he did have problems. That was becoming more and more evident. Right now, the biggest problem he faced was Emily breaking family rules and airing their dirty laundry in front of the neighbors. Thinking about it was making him really angry and he clenched his teeth as he decided, "I'll have to convince her that it's healthier to keep her big mouth shut. I should have shut her up before she got that woman next door involved. I can't believe that skinny broad had the nerve to come into my house, giving me orders and then taking the envelope addressed to Emily's folks. I'll bet their tongues did some wagging over that. Now the bitch is gonna have an attitude and the whole thing is gonna blow up again." He could feel the anger growing inside him as he anticipated the fight he was convinced he would soon have with his wife. The more he thought about the letter, the more wounded he felt, "What right has she to be mad about that letter? She's the one who wrote it asking for help to take my children away from me. It's a darn good thing that I read it. Now I can see to it that she doesn't rip the family apart and make me look bad. What would Pastor York and the others at the church think of me if my wife were to leave me? A man has to have some pride. But you never know what nutty ideas will be running through her head now that she knows about that envelope. Son of a bitch! Shit probably figured out what happened to the other letters. If she has, I'll just deny it. She can't prove anything. I was careful."

He turned into the driveway. "Good." He relaxed. "The porch light's on; everything's back to normal.

Two minutes later, Eric opened the kitchen door and flipped on the light switch. His mouth dropped open in shock as he looked around the room, which was empty of all but the fridge and stove. "What the..."

He stared for a moment at the spot where the table and chairs had once been, then walked into the living room. He shook his head in amazement. The chesterfield and chairs were about all that remained in the room. He stood and stared, unable to comprehend what had happened. "What is going on here?" He called out, "Emily!"

No answer. "Emily!"

Only silence answered him.

He ran up the stairs and into Danny and Kyle's room. It was empty except for Kyle's bed, which stood bare, under the teddy bears that danced across the wallpaper. Both of the boy's dressers and Danny's crib were gone, just as though they had vanished. In the room across the hall, there were only Sam and Scott's beds, for their dressers, too, were gone. He was furious. He stormed into the master bedroom. Emily's dresser was missing; the rest of the furniture remained where it had always been. This bed, unlike the others, was made up as usual; complete with the little lace cushion that Emily always leaned against the pillows. By this time he was so furious that he was beyond speech, his hands shook, his eyes bulged and his face was crimson. He needed to do something to relieve the tension that had built up in him or he would burst. He stormed across the room, grabbed the bedding and threw it in a heap in the corner of the room. With one swipe, he cleared off the top of his dresser, strewing everything across the room and then he pulled it over onto its front before running back downstairs and into the living room. The only thing left in the room that he could pick up was the large begonia sitting in its usual spot in front of the window. He grabbed it and threw it, pot and all, across the room, spilling plant and dirt across the rug. His fury took him next to the drapes, which he grabbed and pulled down, along with the curtain rod, leaving small holes in the plaster where the rod had been secured to the wall. As quickly as he had started, he stopped, sitting on the nearest chair, his anger spent.

"This isn't possible," he thought, "She wouldn't have guts enough to leave me. Or money enough."

He tried to imagine where she could have gone. She didn't have that many friends, but she certainly had one. "Jeanie!" He spat out the name.

He went to the telephone, which hung on the wall in the kitchen, and phoned next-door, where his call was picked up on the second ring. "Hello."

"I want to talk to Emily."

"She's not here."

"I don't want to play games, Gary. Put Emily on the phone."

"She's not here."

"Look, I just want to talk to my God damned wife."

"I told you before, she's not here."

"All right, you win. Just put Jeanie on the phone."

"Jeanie won't tell you any different. Emily's not here."

"Put Jeanie on the phone now." The cold fury in his voice worried Gary. The women were right. Eric could be dangerous.

"I'm sorry but it's late and Jeanie is getting ready for bed."

"If you don't put her on the phone, I'm coming over there and I'll find out where my wife is, one way or another."

"What makes you think we know where she is?"

"I know that your wife knows. She's had her nose stuck in my business over here for a few days now. She probably put her up to leaving."

"Eric, it's late. I'm going to hang up and go to bed. I'm sorry but there is nothing we can do to help you."

"I want to know where my damned wife is. She's my wife and I have every right to know where she is."

"Can't help you. Sorry." The phone went dead in Eric's hand. He stared at it in fury, and then pounded the receiver against the wall until he had made a hole in the plaster, before slamming it back on the hook. He began to pace around the kitchen. Suddenly, he stopped, returned to the phone and dialed. This time the phone rang seven times before it was answered sleepily, "Hello."

The anger was gone from his voice and replaced by fear and desperation. "Is Emily there?"

There was a hint of annoyance in the voice that answered him, "Mister, you got the wrong number."

"Dorothy, its Eric. Emily's gone."

"What? Where are the kids?"

"I don't know. They're gone too."

"Jeez, I'm sorry but I don't know where she could be. I haven't heard from her in a few days. Do you think something happened? Like, I mean a breakdown?"

"Probably. I don't know. Everything was fine when I left for work this morning and I just got home and they're gone."

"Is there anything we can do?"

"No. I don't think so. If you hear anything from her or think of where she might have gone, you can let me know. She probably needs help."

"For sure I will."

"I could kick myself, I should have made her see a psychiatrist."

"You'll find her. Meanwhile, we'll be praying for you."

"Thanks."

Eric replaced the receiver. "She needs help all right. And I'll certainly see that she gets it. She won't pull a stunt like this on me again. Up to now, I've gone pretty easy on her. But, no more Mr. Nice-guy. She's gonna pay for this one."

He got his beer from the fridge and took it to the living room. It was now 11:53. His schedule was thrown totally off. He leaned back in the chair, "Oh, boy, will she pay. She is going to regret the day she decided to walk out on me. Up to now she hasn't found out what real pain is but she's gonna learn. I'll make her the country's pain expert before I'm done with her."

He raised his bottle and toasted Emily, "Here's to you, sweetheart. 'Til we meet again and lesson-time begins."

### Chapter 14

The sun shining down on the billowy white clouds was the most beautiful thing Emily had ever seen. She laid her head back against the seat and stared out the plane window at the peaceful panorama that lay before her. She basked in the calm and serenity. She was free. Eric couldn't touch her now.

She looked at her sons who were enthralled with the new toys that Jan had given to them as they prepared to board the plane. "Wow, it has actually happened." She thought, "We're free! We're away from Eric. Funny how it never happened until I finally made up my mind and began to seriously make plans to leave. I wanted to leave for so long but didn't really believe that I actually would. But once I made up my mind that somehow I was getting out of there, things began to happen. And now here we are. And how is it possible," she wondered, "that after all the years of being consumed by the fear that I would be unable to care for the children without Eric, I'm here feeling good and full of confidence. I know that we will be fine, especially with Dad to help us. That's the most wonderful thing of all. Despite Eric's efforts, we aren't alone. We have my Dad."

She closed her eyes and thought about her father. What a change she had seen in him. He had always been so young and full of life, but in the past eight years, he looked as though he had aged twenty years. The jovial, vibrant middle-aged man she had left eight years ago was now an elderly gentleman, even though he was still only 64 years old. Much of that must have been a result of the months he had spent watching his wife slowly waste away, a victim of the terrible cancer that had taken her life. How she regretted that she hadn't been there to share those last days of pain and grief with her father. Perhaps if they had been able to face Angie's death together, it wouldn't have taken such a terrible toll on this wonderful, caring man. A wave of sadness washed over her as her thoughts turned to her mother and the knowledge that never again in this life would she see her, hear her voice or feel her fingers twist the curls on the back of her neck as she had done since Emily was a very small child. She and her mother had been more than mother and daughter; they had been best friends during the years she was growing up and for the first years of her marriage. She remembered the happy hours they had spent together while her mother taught her to cook, sew, knit and play piano. She had always been able to talk with her mother about anything that might be troubling her, whether the problem was large or small, and yet, she realized that when Eric's violence began, she had said nothing. Time and again she had tried to find the words to tell her mother how unhappy she was, but it seemed that something stopped her every time she attempted to put her pain into words. Many times over the years she had wondered why this had been so and had come to the conclusion that she was torn between wanting them to know what was happening to her and attempting to keep them from turning against her husband and making her life even more difficult. For had they known how he was treating her, they would have hated him, and the terrible balancing act she was doing to try to keep everyone happy would have crashed about her ears. It had not been easy to keep this from her parents, but she knew that it was the only way she could keep her parents in her life and maintain her marriage. Somehow she had to find a way to make him understand that he couldn't continue to hurt her and that if only he would stop, their marriage would be all right and they could both be happy, for she wanted desperately for her marriage to work. Eric was her first love and the father of her child and when she had married him, in her mind it had been for forever. Telling her parents about the state of the marriage would have helped her in the short term, but long term, if the marriage were to succeed, it had been imperative that they not know what was going on in her life. With ever growing resolve, she realized that now, that had all changed. The marriage was over. It made no difference at this point who knew the truth, for finally she knew that nothing would induce her to return to Eric and her marriage with him.

How different marriage had been for her parents. Many times over the years as she had grown up, she had listened to the stories her mother had told her about herself and Pete. She had loved to tell about the handsome, young barber who had come to work at the barbershop on the corner and had rented a room from her parents. He had invited her to a concert in the park, followed by hamburgers and root beer. On the way back to the house he had taken her hand and stolen her heart. After that, there were many dates; movies, dinners, dances, hockey games. "That father of yours," she would say with a smile, "My, how he could dance. No wonder I married him, I was dizzy from all that dancing." Another time she added, "I saw the other girls watching us and I knew that they would have liked him to give them the eye, but once he made up his mind that he wanted me, he didn't give them the time of day." And, "He was a good looking man, your father. I was proud to be seen with him." It was on Christmas Eve that he asked her to marry him, and then when she opened her gift from him on Christmas morning, she found a diamond solitaire. Six months later they were married, followed three years later by the birth of Emily's brother, Mark, who was two years old when she was born. Life had been good for the little family. Emily was four when they bought the house where she and her brother grew up and where her father still lived. It had been a happy home, full of love, laughter and lots of good times. The family had spent wonderful days together. They had all loved picnics, trips to the zoo, concerts in the park and fireworks displays. She and Mark quarreled occasionally, but for the most part got along remarkably well. Her parents, as far as she could recall, had never argued in front of the children and Emily's memories, as a result, were of a loving, peaceful home.

Mark went to a college across town the year he turned twenty and the white frame house on Broadview Street became filled with young men, raiding the fridge, playing the Beatles too loud and tracking up the floors faster than her mother could clean them. It was an exciting year for Emily, who loved the attention she got from Mark's friends. And it didn't hurt that she was the envy of half the girls in her class because of the number of college boys who passed through her home.

In March of that year a tall, very slender, dark, and handsome young man was sitting at the kitchen table with her brother one day, eating a ham sandwich, when she came home from school. He looked up with his mouth full of sandwich and his dark blue eyes looked directly into Emily's. She knew immediately that this boy was different.

He chewed and then swallowed, not for a moment taking his eyes from hers. Then, slowly he turned to Mark, "Well, are you going to introduce me?"

Mark looked up from his sandwich, "Oh, that's just my sister, Emily."

"Hi, Emily. I'm Eric Thompson."

She swallowed and tried her voice, "Hi." Her face flamed and she hoped that he wouldn't notice the blush. He did, and smiled. Emily fled.

Eric was at the house more and more as the days passed and finally, finding her alone in the kitchen one day, he asked her to go to a movie with him. She said she would and from then on, if any other young men came by the house she didn't notice. She was in love.

She and Eric were sitting in the bleachers at a neighborhood baseball game just one month later when her neighbor came looking for her to tell her that her father wanted her to come home right away. She knew instantly that something was wrong and as they hurried back to the house one possibility after another flashed through her mind. But the news that greeted her on her arrival was far worse than anything she had imagined. Word had just been received by the family that Mark, on a fishing trip with friends, had drowned. The overwhelming grief that filled the little house was almost more than Emily could handle. Angie was in a panic state refusing to admit that Mark was gone and at some point the doctor was called, who prescribed something to sedate her. Once the medication took effect, she became almost numb and it took both Emily and her father to get her settled into bed where she immediately dropped into a deep sleep. And then Pete, with a lost expression in his eyes, withdrew into his own thoughts, where he remained for weeks.

Eric was there in the background that evening as the family tried to come to terms with this tragedy that had thrust itself into their lives, and once her mother was asleep and her father in his own world not aware that she was even there, he took her for a drive to let her 'get away from it.' He parked in a quiet spot and held her while she cried, brushing the hair back from her face and kissing her forehead. How it happened, she was never sure, but they made love there, in the front seat of his Monarch. She would come to regret the fact that they had first made love on the day of her brother's death. She had been so grief-stricken that she couldn't remember clearly the act that should have been one of the great events of her life. Although that was the first time for her, it was not the last, and before the summer was over, Emily was pregnant.

Her wedding to Eric was a small affair and lacked the joyousness that should have been part of their marriage celebration. Mark's absence was a tangible thing, felt by everyone. Emily met Eric's parents for the first time on the day of the wedding and found them to be cold and aloof, not just to her, but to their son as well. They left the reception early without a word, and dropped out of the young couple's lives except for a Christmas card on their first Christmas together and a phone call on the day they brought Sam home from the hospital. She had spoken to Eric about the possibility of trying to build a better relationship with them but he had been totally unwilling, blaming his cold, nagging mother for him not wanting to be closer to them now that he had his own life apart from them. His father had a drinking problem, he explained, that was a direct result of his mother and her terrible treatment of the whole family. She was not a person that he would want around his wife and son. It was easy to believe that she was all that her son said, for she had certainly not given Emily the impression of being a very warm, caring mother when they had met at the wedding. She accepted his decision to keep a distance between them and the subject didn't come up again.

After their marriage, Emily and Eric had moved into a small apartment on Tennis Crescent, and with the help of Emily's parents, furnished it and prepared for the arrival of the baby. By the time Sam had been born, Emily's marriage, that she had seen as a fairy tale come true, was already beginning to unravel, for she had discovered that this wonderful man she had fallen in love with had a mean streak, a mile wide. His meanness, however, didn't erupt into physical violence for another year. She remembered the exact moment it began. At 7:30 in the evening, two days before Sam's first birthday, she told him that she had invited her parents over to celebrate the birthday. She had experienced his temper before, but never anything like this. It was the first time in her life that she could remember being struck and the act, as well as the swollen, cut lip that she was left with, shocked and horrified her. Then out of embarrassment, she lied. She told everyone that she had been going to the bathroom in the middle of the night without turning on the light and had run into the door. It was only the first of many similar lies.

She was roused from her thoughts of the past and brought back to the present by the stewardess asking her if she would like anything to drink. It took a few moments for her to become fully aware of where she was, "Pardon."

The stewardess smiled, "I wondered if I could get you a drink."

"Oh, yes, please. I'd like a ginger ale, and could I have two for the boys?"

When the drinks arrived, she poured a little from Kyle's bottle into the sipper cup she had brought for Danny and they settled back to enjoy the drinks.

After a short time Kyle turned to his mother, "Is Dad ever going to come to Toronto to live with us?"

"No, honey. Dad's going to stay back home."

"We aren't ever, ever going back, are we?" asked Scott.

"No, not ever."

"Will Dad be O.K.?" Kyle was the family worrier.

"Yes, I'm sure he will be fine."

"But he'll be all alone for Christmas."

"Perhaps he can go to the pastor's house."

Kyle thought about that for a minute then smiled, "He likes the pastor. He'll be O.K."

He thought again for a few minutes, then, "Mom, will Santa find us?"

"Yes, he sure will."

"How?"

"I'm not sure. But he's really good at finding boys and girls no matter where they are."

"What will we do if he doesn't?"

"You don't have to worry about that. I know he'll find us. But, my little worrier, I guess if he didn't we would just have to have a great Christmas anyway. We'd have the presents from one another, a turkey dinner and Grandpa. Do we really need more than that?"

"I guess not. But I sure like Santa coming."

Emily smiled, "He'll find you. Don't you spend even one more minute worrying about Santa finding you, his job is finding kids all over the world and he's really good at it."

"Mom." This time it was Scott. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Me, too." piped up Kyle.

"Come on." She got a diaper for Danny, then slowly and carefully got to her feet and led the way to the bathroom.

They were only back in their seats for a short time when dinner was served. The small tables that folded down from the back of the seats and the foil-covered trays of food spread before them amazed the children. This was truly an adventure.

Things were not as pleasant for Eric. Last night, he had polished off eight beers before finally climbing the stairs to bed and they had done nothing to improve his mood. He had still been furious; more so when he went into the bedroom and realized that he had to make the bed before he could get into it. He grabbed the fitted sheet off the floor and attempted to put it on the bed. No matter how hard he tried, it wouldn't fit. "I'll kill her when I find her for putting me through this." he shouted and threw the sheet back into the corner. Finally, he lay down on the bare mattress with only the blanket to cover him and tried to sleep. This night, however, sleep was a long time coming. He lay there for hours, cursing Emily for daring to take his children away from him, wondering where they had gone and how she had managed it so quickly.

He woke just about the time his family was boarding the plane. It took only a minute for him to remember the events of the night before and once again anger washed over him.

"I'll get that woman if it's the last thing I ever do." he muttered, as he tossed the blanket aside and got up. Two steps from the bed, he stepped on a pair of nail clippers, jerked his foot away, lost his balance and banged his shin on the over-turned dresser.

"Damn," he swore between clenched teeth. He picked his way carefully through the litter on the floor and went downstairs where he was met with more mess. He had a quick shower, and then put the kettle on for coffee. He used the coffee to wash down a couple of Tylenol, then made a second cup and went to the living room. He was trying to think of something he could do to find Emily and bring her back when he heard a knock at the door.

"Now who on earth could that be? Frig, I don't need company today."

He debated about whether or not to ignore whoever was there, but when the knock came again, he hoped that it might be someone with news of Emily and the boys, and anyway, his visitor could see the car parked outside and would know that he was home, so he got to his feet and made his way to the door. To his dismay, there stood Pastor York. His mind raced as he tried to decide what to say or do. This was the one person he wasn't prepared to see today.

"Good morning, Eric."

"Uh, h-hello."

"I thought you might need someone to talk to this morning so I came over."

"No, well...I guess...you see...uh."

"Can I come in?"

"Uh...I guess." Eric moved back from the door.

The pastor came in and Eric showed him to a chair in the living room. It was impossible to ignore the damage that had been done to the room and he searched desperately for an explanation. As he sat down in the other chair, he spoke, "Actually, I guess it's good that you came. Something terrible has happened. My wife and the children are gone and I have no idea what has happened to them. I've gone over every possibility. It's crossed my mind that maybe there is another man; or maybe she had a mental breakdown. She's never been very stable."

The pastor sighed and looked at this man whom he had regarded so highly for so long. "There wasn't any breakdown or any other man and I'm sure you know that as well as I do."

"Then how do you explain this? The house has been trashed. She must have thrown a fit."

"I was here last night and Emily was barely able to walk. She couldn't possibly have done this damage. As a matter of fact, I know that she didn't do it for the house didn't look like this when she left. I was here. I was right here."

Eric's face drained of color. "I-I don't understand."

"Last night I got a call to come out here to see Emily. She was leaving and wanted me to see her condition before she left. She had been terribly beaten by you, Eric."

"No, she was lying. I wouldn't..."

"She isn't the only person I spoke to. I know you beat her."

"You've been talking to Jeanie! You can't listen to her. She's never liked me and has tried to destroy my marriage. She must have lied too."

"You have a problem that needs to be dealt with, Eric. You have been a great help to me for some time now and we've become quite close and, because of that, I'll do whatever I can to help you, but only if you get help and do something about your anger."

"I don't need help because I don't have any problem except that you've decided to listen to Emily, who's been trying for years to destroy me and to turn everyone against me."

"I spent quite a bit of time with Sam and..."

"See what I mean. She's turned my own son against me."

Pastor York shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing from this man in whom he had placed so much faith for such a long time and thought he knew so well. "Eric, it's obvious to me that you hurt your wife, terribly. I can't believe that you are denying it. I'm sorry but until you face this problem and get help, I have a problem as well. You have played an important role in the church, but, for now, you'll have to stop assisting me and you will not be able to lead the group at prayer meeting until further notice. In time you can regain your status in the church but not until you get help with anger management. We can't have someone who has abused his wife standing as a leader in the church. The church leadership must be above reproach. I'm sorry to have to do this to you for I'm sure that it hurts you, Eric, and I want you to know that it hurts me too."

"When I find her, she'll tell you that I never laid a hand on her. I just need someone to tell me where she is so I can bring her home and we can straighten this all up."

"She's gone."

"Where is she? Do you know where she is?"

"Why don't you just let them go?"

"Not on your life. She's my wife and I have a right to know where she is."

"She's with her father."

"That's impossible!"

"Why is it impossible?"

"She hasn't heard from them in years and they don't even know where she lives."

"Now this makes me curious. How is it possible that they don't know where she is? She told me that she has written many letters. How could it be that they don't know where she lives?"

Eric felt the color drain from his face and looked down. He felt trapped by his own words and was unable to think of a reply.

"Come by the house and talk with me. There are anger management classes. You can get help. If you can get your temper under control, perhaps you can try again with Emily."

"You don't understand. Emily is the one who causes the problems. I don't need help because I don't have a problem. I just need my wife home here where she belongs."

"I believe she needs some time. I'm quite sure that she isn't ready to talk to you yet and perhaps won't be for a while. You need to give her some time and space to think things through. Perhaps if you were to get counseling or treatments and could show her that you realized that you needed help and did something about it, you might have some hope of convincing her to give your marriage another chance."

"She doesn't need time. She needs somebody to think for her. She can't look after herself, how on earth does she expect to raise my kids. They belong here with me and so does she. I have to know where she is."

"By now she's on a plane to Toronto. It's too late."

"Oh, no, it's not. I won't accept that. I'll get her back. Just you wait and see. She can't survive a month without me. I'll get her back, even if I have to drag her all the way from Toronto. Those kids are mine and she can't keep them from me."

Pastor York got up to leave, a defeated look on his face. "Eric, ask God for forgiveness. And when you are ready to face the truth, come and talk to me. I'll do whatever I can for you." With that he left Eric and headed for the car.

Eric sat motionless for some time after his visitor left. "This can't be happening. He actually believed her. That ungrateful schmuck believed her, after all I've done for him."

Once again white-hot rage was building up inside him and his eyes swept the room looking for something on which he could vent his anger. His eyes fell on the half-filled coffee cup beside him. He picked it up and threw it against the wall above the chesterfield and watched the liquid pour down the wall and spread its stain across the fabric. There was a sense of satisfaction in seeing the tangible evidence of his anger but this satisfaction was short-lived when he realized that there was no-one there but him to repair the damage and clean up the mess that he had made all around him.

"None of this is my fault. That useless waste of skin I married is to blame for all of this and she's gonna pay, big-time."

How on earth was he expected to deal with these circumstances that had been thrust at him? Not only was most of the furniture and dishes gone, but also the house was in a terrible mess, and on top of everything else he was hungry. That useless witch should be here and should have lunch ready for him. Why in the name of all that is good and great did he have to deal with this? She had no right leaving him in this kind of situation, with no one to look after him. He had problems enough to think about right now without having to worry about making lunch. He paced for a few minutes, wondering what to do and then decided, "I've got time to grab something to eat on my way to work. This mess will keep." He headed toward the stairs to get changed into his work clothes. "Emily will keep, too. I'll figure out what I'm going to do about her later."

### Chapter 15

For some unknown reason, Emily found that her limbs refused to move. She concentrated all her energy on her arms but was unable to get any movement at all out of them. She gave up and began to put all of her strength and energy into getting movement from her legs. There was none. Perhaps she would do better to try something smaller; like her right index finger. Surely she could get it to move, at least a little. All her efforts were to no avail; there was not the slightest movement. She became conscious of a baby crying in another room and tried even harder to move. What on earth was wrong? That baby needed attention, and it appeared that there was no one else to go to it, or if there was, they were pretty slack, for the baby cried on, unattended. There had to be some way to get her body moving. Things like this weren't supposed to happen. Suddenly, she heard footsteps on the stairs. Eric. She struggled even harder to move. The footsteps kept coming. She began to sob, "No, no. Please go away." Ever closer came the footsteps as the baby continued crying, and Emily lay on her bed totally powerless, unable to move even a finger. She screamed.

Suddenly, she found herself safe in her old room, in the bed that had been hers for most of her childhood. Eric was almost 2,000 miles away, her limbs would move and the crying baby was actually Danny, fussing in the borrowed crib in the corner of the room.

"Thank God," she said, "It was just a nightmare."

"Mum, Mum. Up." Danny raised his arms to her; glad that she was awake, for now he knew that breakfast was not long away.

Getting out of bed was proving to be easier every day although it was still quite a chore. She took her time and carefully slid out of the bed, crossed to the crib and lowered the side allowing Danny to climb down without her having to lift him, which she still found caused her a lot of pain.

She smiled as they entered the living room and spotted the Christmas tree in all it's decorated splendor in the same corner of the room where it had stood during Emily and her brother's childhood. Scott and Kyle had spent yesterday afternoon, while Danny had his nap, putting up the tree. She had tried to help but decided that she would be wiser to conserve her strength for things that she had to do. The quieter she stayed until her ribs healed the better. So instead of helping with the tree, she spent the afternoon making suggestions and admiring the boy's handiwork. Emily and Danny stopped now to admire it, for it was a thing of beauty, despite the bare spots, and the branches that held more than their share of ornaments, and the tinsel that was not put on the way she would have done it. She knew that the pride the boys felt and their sense of accomplishment made up for any lack of symmetry. She also knew that Eric would have destroyed that feeling of pride. He would have insisted, first of all, that the boys not touch it and that the tree be trimmed to meet his rigid standards and she would have worked on it until he was satisfied. "Thank God he's not here to spoil this," she thought. Danny clapped his hands with joy, "Tee, Mum, tee."

His happy chatter woke the other boys and they joyfully tumbled out of bed in the room that had once belonged to Mark, followed closely by an excited tail wagging Bandit, who it appeared had gained a new lease on life with the boys in the house.

Emily bathed and dressed Danny while the older boys washed and dressed for the day, then she fixed a breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast and orange juice for the family while they waited for the arrival of Helen, who rang the doorbell about an hour later, looking like a fur-covered butter ball, and ready to help Emily do the shopping. They had talked a number of times on the telephone since Emily's arrival two days earlier, and last night she had offered to come and help with the children while they shopped. Helen, who had been left a childless widow at a very young age, had never remarried. Although she had built a quiet life for herself with which she was quite contented, she was grateful for this chance to share in some of the children's excitement. She had spent Christmas with Pete and Angie for many years and was so very relieved that this dreaded Christmas without Angie would not be the sad occasion she and her cousin had anticipated. When she took the gray fox coat off, Kyle marveled that she was as round without the coat as with it. Her hair, without the fur hat, was a mass of gray curls and the blue on her eyelids with the bright pink lipstick she wore made him think of the roly-poly clown Santa Claus had left for him one Christmas.

As the two women began to clear up the breakfast things before leaving, Emily announced, "Dad phoned around 11:30 last night. They have been making pretty good time although they ran into a snowstorm that slowed them up for a while. He thinks they'll be here sometime this afternoon."

"Wonderful! Just in time. I didn't want to say anything about it but I've been worried that they might have problems and not get back for Christmas." Helen's bright smile flashed. "This Christmas is going to be so much better than we thought it was going to be. Don't get me wrong; your mother will be sorely missed. There's no doubt about that. But still, I'm so glad you and the children are home."

"Me too. I can hardly believe we'll actually be here for Christmas. And Dad and Sam will be here for Christmas Eve dinner. Will you stay and have dinner with us tonight? Better than that, why don't you stay all night and be here for Santa Claus in the morning?"

"Thanks dear, the offer is tempting but Muffin and Whiskers will expect me home. I'll stay for dinner tonight but then...I suppose you will think this is silly, but I always have stockings for them. They are like my children. However, once they get the treats out of their stockings tomorrow, I'll come over."

"All right. Well, I guess we're ready to get this shopping done."

Their first stop was the pawnshop where Emily sold one of the diamond rings. Despite the fact that just a few short days earlier, the ring had cost her well over two thousand dollars when she bought it in Edmonton, the pawn shop owner was willing to pay only six hundred dollars for it. It took her only a matter of moments to agree to the offered price, for six hundred dollars was more than she needed to see that her children had a good Christmas.

With the money safely in her purse, they headed for the mall, where, after deciding a time and place to meet again, they separated, with Helen taking Scott with her and Emily taking Kyle and Danny. This was the first time the boys had ever been Christmas shopping and they were thrilled with the array of treasures before them, from which they could choose gifts for their family. Scott and Kyle were each armed with a list of the people they needed to buy for and with the help of the women, choices were made and gifts purchased and bagged. At the arranged time, they met at the food court as they had planned and enjoyed a drink and a chance to relax, then Emily took Scott and Danny with her while Helen took Kyle and they returned to the rush of last minute shoppers who scurried about the stores, hastily selecting those last minute gifts. Soon the boys were satisfied with the gifts they had found and they met again at the food court and headed off to the super market for groceries, which were next on the agenda. They bought turkey and all the trimmings, as well as fruit, candy, soft drinks, tape and wrapping paper. After a great deal of arranging and rearranging, they managed to squeeze themselves into Helen's car amid the parcels and bags of food that filled every available spot with things for their Christmas. Back at the house, after a quick lunch, Danny went down for his nap and Helen stayed with the boys, helping Scott and Kyle wrap gifts, while Emily called a taxi and returned to the mall to finish her own shopping.

All of the gifts were wrapped and under the tree by 4 o'clock and all was in readiness, waiting for Pete and Sam to arrive. By 4:30 they were beginning to get worried. By 5:00 Emily had that familiar knot in her stomach. The boys spent their time watching Christmas specials on the television while Emily and Helen made small talk, all the while keeping one eye on the clock. Suddenly, Helen got to her feet. "Enough of this, I never could stand sitting around waiting for things. You stay here and rest. You've already done too much today, I can see it in your face. I'm going to start dinner. Perhaps you boys could help. I'll put the lasagna in the oven. How would you guys like to set the table? Make sure you put on places for Pete and your brother. They will be here for supper. I'll make a big pot of tea. Pete will want tea when he gets here."

Before long the smell of the lasagna heating in the oven had filled the house and was making everyone hungry. The table was set, garlic bread made and ready to pop in the oven, water boiling for the tea and all in readiness for this first Christmas Eve supper at Pete's. Suddenly, hearing something out front, Scott jumped to his feet and ran to the window. "They're here," he shouted.

A sense of joy and excitement filled the little house, as everyone crowded around the front door to welcome home the travelers. Sam was the first one to come in and his mother couldn't help but notice the look of relief that crossed his face at the sight of her up and about and obviously healing. She couldn't help but think of the worry over her that this boy had carried on his shoulders for so long. The sorrow she felt at the thought was quickly replaced by absolute joy at having all of her children here with her away from Eric. Pete stepped into the doorway and for a moment, before the family noticed him standing there, he was able to quietly watch the love and joy of his new-found family as they hugged one another and tried to talk all at the same time, while Bandit jumped about trying to be everywhere at once. "This silent, empty house looks like it's about to burst at the seams." He chuckled. "Feels pretty good." At the sound of his voice, the attention turned to him and he became swept up in the noise and excitement as it moved to take him in. Just then, Helen appeared in the doorway, "I've got a big pan of lasagna just out of the oven. How fast can all of you get to the table?"

"Give us 5 minutes." Pete answered, "Come on, Sam." They returned to the truck to get a few necessary items and then parked it, to be dealt with after Christmas. The parcels that Pete and Sam had purchased on their way into the city were secreted in the hall closet to be wrapped later and the family moved to the dinning room table where dinner was spread out before them. At last the Christmas festivities began in earnest.

Later that evening, with the children in bed, Sam and Scott downstairs in the family room and Kyle and Danny in Mark's room, Pete and his daughter sat down to talk. Over another pot of tea, they talked for hours, discussing the eight years they had lost, Eric, and the problems she and the boys had faced, the problems they might yet face with him, and they talked about Angie and the last few months of her life, grieving for the loss of her and shedding healing tears. Finally, they filled the children's stockings, put out the gifts from Santa Claus and went to bed.

### Chapter 16

Christmas was a wonderful day for the family, from the moment the children began to stir until the last head rested on a pillow. It was a day that Emily would long remember; for the luxury of being able to relax and enjoy the day without having to be on guard for the word or act that would cause all hell to break loose. The children, too, were relaxed and laughter rang often through the little house. Stockings were emptied and the gifts from Santa Claus played with, but they all agreed to wait for Helen before opening the gifts they had purchased for one another.

When she finally arrived, she barely made it through the door and got her coat off when Kyle came barreling out of the living room, "Good, you're here. Let's open the presents." The boys, like all children, were thrilled with the abundance of toys, books and games that filled the room. Emily was especially pleased to see the joy that shone in their faces as their gifts to other family members were opened. Later she mentioned it to her father, "Dad, did you look at the boys when we opened the gifts they gave us. They've discovered the joy of giving," she smiled in complete contentment, "And realized that giving is the real joy of Christmas."

Emily and Pete had put the turkey in the oven while they waited for Helen and before long the mouth-watering aroma of turkey filled the little house. Once the gifts had been opened and the mess of Christmas wrap gathered up, the three adults finished getting the meal ready and on the table. They feasted on what Pete announced was the biggest turkey that had ever walked the face of the earth. Mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, vegetables, salads and hot rolls accompanied the turkey and they all groaned from the amount they had eaten as the plates were emptied. Emily and Helen excused themselves and returned a few minutes later with a flaming plum pudding. The boys clapped with excitement and Pete groaned, "Now I want to warn the whole bunch of you. If anyone hears a strange rumble they better run as fast as their feet can carry them for it's going to be me about to explode. Then to everyone's delight he shouted, "But, bring it on. I'll take the chance."

Not once during the day did the boys ask about their father and Emily was glad. She had wondered what to do if they asked permission to phone him, and had decided that she would have to say 'no' for she knew that contacting him would be foolhardy. They now had distance between them but that distance could change very quickly if he thought there was some chance he could come here and make them go back with him. Perhaps, someday, she could let the boys talk to him but not yet. Fortunately the problem hadn't come up for they hadn't asked.

Eric, too, had a pleasant Christmas. He had turned down a few invitations from friends explaining that he couldn't possibly celebrate while his wife and children were missing and that he needed to be at home in case they needed him and called. In actual fact, he had spent the day with Rita, at her home, and later went with her for dinner at her parents.

Earlier in the month, on the day after Emily and the children had moved out, and shortly after Pastor York had left the house, he had called his parents to tell them that Emily had taken the boys and left him. Before making the call, he had considered taking a few days off and going home to visit with his parents for the holidays while attempting to get in touch with her, for a visit home would have put him right in Toronto where Emily was living and he might have been able to find her. But just a matter of minutes on the phone with them convinced him that there was no way he could stay at their place. He would have to come up with another plan to get in touch with her. He was certain that if he could just arrange to be alone with her for a little while, he'd be able to convince her to come home. He realized after that he should have known that this call to his parents wouldn't help him or his plans, and rather than calming him and giving him some comfort, the conversation made him even more angry. It would have been better he thought if his father had answered the phone. But, instead it was his mother who had answered in the flat nasal voice, that had annoyed him for years and from that unpleasant beginning, the conversation had gone straight downhill.

The grating voice answered after the second ring, "Hello."

"Hello, Mom, its Eric."

"Well, imagine hearing from you. I had begun to think that maybe there weren't any phones where you live."

Eric recoiled at the sarcasm in her voice. He took a deep steadying breath, and then continued, "How are you?"

"Fine."

"How's Dad?"

"He's all right."

"Can I talk to him?" Already he was sorry that he had called.

"I suppose." His mother's voice was cold.

Soon his father was on the line. "Yeah."

"Dad, how are you?"

"I'm all right. Why?"

"No reason except I haven't talked to you for a long time. I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas."

"Yeah, well, same to you."

"I was thinking about coming home to spend Christmas with you."

"Why?"

"Why not. For Pete's sake, you're my parents. Do I have to have a reason for coming to visit my parents?"

"I can't believe that out of the blue you decided that you want to come for a visit. You never call here unless you want something. And why would you want to come now, at Christmas? You got yourself a family - spend it with them?"

"Look, Dad, the truth is I'm alone. Emily took the boys and left me."

"Oh, so that's it. What am I supposed to do about that?"

"I just want to come home for a few days."

"Dammit, Eric. It's Christmas and we got plans. Anyway don't you think that it's pretty far to come for a couple of days? You never were too sensible with money."

"Jeez, I just wanted to visit you for a couple of days. I'm not asking for a kidney or something, you know."

"Well, it's not good timing. Come some other time."

"Fine. My mistake. Why do I always end up regretting it whenever I call you? I should have known that you wouldn't do anything for me."

"We raised you. What more do you want from us? You got problems. O.K., I'm sorry. But your problems got nothing to do with me. You are the one who got yourself mixed up with that fancy little woman. I had nothing to do with it. Maybe if you'd buckled down on her in the first place, none of this would have happened."

"Sorry I bothered you, Dad. I thought for a couple of minutes that I had a family. Guess I was wrong."

"Don't get smart with me."

"Aw, drop dead. I gotta go."

Eric slammed the receiver on the hook. "What a jerk! I should have known better than to have phoned them."

He spent the rest of the evening trying to think of a way to get to Emily. He was sure that sooner or later, he would meet her and when that day came he would have a plan ready to take care of her. Whatever plan he came up with, he would make sure that he didn't fail. Either she would come home with him or she would regret that she didn't for the rest of her life. He promised himself that. "Perhaps," he decided, "It's just as well that I didn't go to Toronto right away. I could really mess things up if I made a move before I'm ready. Better to wait until I have a foolproof plan. Then nothing will stop me."

That night, after work, he called Rita and arranged to spend the holiday with her. "Emily can keep. I'll worry about her later. Meanwhile Rita is better than nothing." he decided as he hung up the receiver.

### Chapter 17

Once Christmas was over, Emily, too, began making plans. She knew that she had one great advantage, for until she could decide how to support her children, they would all be welcome to stay on with her father. Money, at the moment, wasn't a major problem, thanks to Eric and his Visa, but she knew that eventually, it would become her most pressing problem. Meanwhile, whenever she needed cash, she would take one of the rings to the jeweler and, although she was getting enough money to survive, she knew only too well that it wouldn't last long. The obvious answer was for her to find a job although that presented it's own problems. There was no sense taking any job unless it paid enough to support her and the four boys and without any training or experience, jobs that paid well would be hard for her to qualify for. As well, Danny had to be taken into account. She had decided long ago to be a stay-at-home Mom, at least until the children were in school. Their change in circumstances meant many adjustments, but she wasn't certain that she could live with the thought of Danny spending every day in the care of someone other than herself. This decided to think about her options carefully and not to make any hasty decisions. Fortunately, she had time to think about it, and wouldn't have to jump into anything. "Thank God for Dad." she smiled, "I don't know what I'd do if he wasn't here for us."

"For goodness sake, child," Pete looked at his daughter in amazement, when she sat down to discuss the problem with him, "Do you really think you are an inconvenience? You and those boys have brought a bit of life into this old place. Before you arrived, Bandit and I were in danger of boring one another to death."

"Thanks, Dad. You always say just what I need to hear. But we've nearly taken over the place. I don't feel right about staying here, even temporarily, without paying our way."

"Honey, you can stay as long as you want and I don't care about money. The good Lord knows I'm not rich, but he's given me enough, and I don't have much to spend it on. The big question here is what do you want to do?"

"That's the problem. I don't know what I want to do and to be truthful I honestly don't know what I can do. You know I've never had a job. I got married straight from high school and then all I wanted was to be a wife and mother."

"You don't need to be in a hurry, Curly. Danny's pretty little yet. Anyway, I was doing some thinking in the truck on the way home and I had a thought. I didn't say anything at the time because I wanted to be sure. Since Christmas I've thought a lot more about it and come up with an idea that just might be the answer to your problem. You know that with Mark gone, you're the only child I have and the house is going to be yours when I'm done with it, so why shouldn't we share it now?"

"Oh, Dad, you've seen how noisy the kids can be. I'm afraid that they'll drive you around the bend."

"Well, I've thought about that too. We've got room in the kitchen for the big table so we don't really need the dining room. We could make a sitting room in there for me and put up a divider in the family room in the basement to make a bedroom and a playroom. That gives us another bedroom and a place for the boys to burn off energy, as well as a place for me if I decide that I need some time to myself. And that means that you don't have to be in a big hurry to move away. Instead, you get a chance to relax and give yourself some time to decide what you want to do. I think this could work out for all of us."

Emily hugged her father, "I love you, Dad."

Eric looked around at the clutter and destruction that lay about the room. Besides the dirty dishes, beer bottles and take-out containers, there was the broken curtain rod, with the drapes hanging lopsided from it with the bottom of the right one dragging on the carpet, coffee stains on the furniture and wall, and soil from the spilled begonia strewn across the floor. He threw another beer bottle halfway across the room and remarked, "Frig, this place is a pig pen."

He opened the last bottle he had brought into the room with him, tipped it up and took a long drink and decided, "I guess it's time to do something about this."

Picking his way across the room through the debris, he made his way to the kitchen, pushed a small pile of dirty clothes off the chair by the phone, sat down and called Rita.

"Hi, baby, it's Eric."

"Eric, This is a surprise. I didn't expect to hear from you tonight."

"I was just sitting here and I started missing you." It didn't seem to matter how thick he piled it on, she would fall for any line.

"I miss you too. But it's only been 3 hours since you left here."

"I don't care how long it's been, I can still miss you, can't I?" He shook his head as he said the words that he knew she wanted to hear.

"Actually, I like to hear that you miss me. When will I see you again?"

"The sooner the better, as far as I'm concerned." This would almost make a man gag.

"Sounds better all the time."

"How about tomorrow? You're not working tomorrow are you?"

"No."

"Why don't you come out here tomorrow and plan to spend the night?"

"Oh, Eric, really? I'd love to. You've never asked me to come to your house before."

"I'm asking you now. I've got to warn you though. That blasted woman I married left this place a terrible mess when she took off. I've tried to clean it but every time I start to get at it I get so upset about everything that's happened, that I just can't bring myself to clean it up. Sounds weird I suppose, but when I'm here all I can think about is my boys and the fact that they're gone."

"Oh, Eric, how I wish I could do something to take the hurt away."

This was working out so well. He couldn't help but smile. "You do that now. The only thing that seems to get them off my mind is you spending time with me. Except for when I'm with you, I can't seem to forget for even a minute that they're gone." Is it possible to pile it any thicker? He smirked and thought to himself, "I should get an Oscar for the performance I'm putting on. And she's eating up every word of it. The way to handle women is just to tell them what they want to hear. They'll buy anything."

"I wish I was there right now."

"Me too, but I'll get through until tomorrow just thinking about being with you again."

"Why don't I come tonight? I could be there in 20 minutes."

Eric grimaced; maybe he went too far with this. "No, I can't ask that of you. Don't come tonight. It's awfully late."

"I don't mind, darling."

"But I do. Wait until tomorrow. I'd feel guilty if I brought you out in the cold tonight. Please, honey, wait until tomorrow." Eric was grabbing at straws. For all his talk, he really wasn't in the mood for her tonight. He just wanted her here tomorrow in time to clean up the place.

"Not another word. I'm on my way. Bye, darling." Click.

"Aw, nuts. Why tonight? Is everyone in this whole bloody world trying to drive me around the bend?"

He slammed the receiver into the cradle and reluctantly began to pick up the empty beer bottles. When they were all stowed away in the case, he gathered up his dirty laundry and put it in the hamper, then he looked the room over and decided to leave the rest for Rita to clean up. "She's gonna be here anyway, she might as well have something to keep her busy."

Next morning after a pleasant breakfast, Rita began cleaning the house. By mid-afternoon, the house was relatively tidy and Eric had made inroads on another case of beer. With a long face and deep sigh whenever she was near him, he explained that he couldn't help her because it upset him so badly to see what Emily had done to the house for which he had worked so hard. And there was no doubt that he was upset. Getting the house organized was more than he could handle. He had been sleeping on the couch in the living room since that first night after his family had left, when he had been unable to make up the bed, but last night with Rita there, they had climbed the stairs to the master bedroom and Rita had asked for his help to stand the dresser back in it's place. Then she began to make up the bed and Eric discovered that he had been unable to put on the fitted sheet, because he had been trying to fit it on sideways and was trying to make the width of the sheet fit the length of the bed. He added this to the list of grievances that he would Emily pay for.

He lay in bed that night beside Rita with thoughts of Emily uppermost in his mind. He decided that he would offer her a choice. Either she could come home like a decent obedient wife or she would pay dearly for upsetting his life so completely. If she refused to come back to him, he would fix her good and when he was done with her he would make sure that nobody on this earth would want her. He wasn't sure just what he would do, but he knew that he wouldn't go so far as to kill her. No way was he going to spend the rest of his life in jail. Perhaps he would cut her up really good, until she was left scarred for life. He could see one big drawback to this - a plastic surgeon would be able to fix the damage he was planning to inflict on her. Maybe cutting wasn't the answer. He mulled options over in his mind. Burns would prove to be another story. If he burned her face real good, the medical people could do their best to fix it up, but she would never look really good again. Best of all she would be alive - alive to think about what had happened and to spend the rest of her life regretting having left him.

His thoughts turned next to her parents. In his mind, he placed them under her name on his mental list of who needed to be taken care of. "When I get finished with them, they'll regret having helped her. But, I'm not going to go rushing into anything. Getting them is one thing I'll need to think over very carefully. Pete is a stubborn old coot and could make a lot of trouble for me if he should get a look at me. It might be better if, whatever I do, I don't meet them face-to-face. If they got the idea that I was after them, they might warn Emily and then she might end up somewhere out of reach. I'll have far more chance of getting to her if she is feeling secure and isn't hiding from me. Yep, for sure, I need to keep a low profile even though that means that getting at them will be a real challenge." He rolled over and continued working on this problem of revenge that was keeping him awake. Soon his thoughts were churning with anger and frustration that he had to lay here helpless to avenge himself for all these wrongs done him. It wasn't helping that Rita kept snuggling up to him. He moved away from her for the third time, realizing that if this continued he'd soon be on the floor. He rolled over to face her and began to gently push her away. It worked. She rolled over with her back to him and he was able to again find a comfortable spot in the bed. He lay there, wide-awake still, searching for a means to even the score and suddenly a thought occurred to him. "Pete was always working on that house of theirs or puttering around in the yard. I'd guess that house is bloody important to them. Perhaps that's what I should go after. It would sure be the safest course of action. Yeah! I like that idea. I could start a little fire and 'son-of-a-gun - they're homeless'. Yep, a fire might just do the trick. What could go wrong? The fire department, that's what! If they got there too quick, they could get it out before it did too much damage. I need something that will work faster, just 'boom' and it's done. 'Boom', that's it - 'boom' - a bomb. I'll just blow the place up. Now that would be spectacular." He couldn't help but smile in the darkness at the thought of it. "This will take careful thought and planning to pull off but all good things are worth waiting and working for." A comforting feeling of satisfaction settled over him and he began to drift off to sleep when suddenly the thought of Jeanie flashed into his mind. "That nosey bitch will pay for what she's done to me, and this is one that I don't have to wait to put into action. Man, when I get done with her she'll be mighty sorry that she ever stuck her nose in my business." He toyed with a number of ideas and let the wild thoughts of what he could do to her flow pleasantly over him. He sat bolt upright as a workable plan flashed into his mind. "Brilliant," he muttered as he slipped out of bed without disturbing Rita, and quietly crept across the room and down the stairs. "There is no better time than right now to put the plan into action." He didn't need to turn on the light to find the phone so he stood in the darkened room and called next door. After a few rings, Jeanie answered it sleepily. When he heard her voice, he was tempted to tell her what he thought of her but he wasn't about to blow everything just for the momentary satisfaction of giving her a piece of his mind. Instead he stood perfectly still as she repeated, "Hello, is anyone there?" Silence. "Hello, hello." Still nothing. She hung up the phone and Eric immediately dialed the number again. It was picked up once more. "Hello." As before, there was nothing. "Hello, who is this?" Eric began to breath heavily into the receiver. Quickly, she hung up. He thought about placing another call, but decided it would be better if she were left standing there for a while, waiting for the phone to ring again. He went to the spice rack next and lifted down the bottle of celery seed, which he emptied into the garbage. Then he filled the empty bottle with sugar and slipped it into his coat pocket. Contented now, with his nights work, he went back to bed and quickly fell asleep.

Next day, he left Rita at home cleaning, while he drove into town to rent a carpet cleaner. As he drove past his neighbor's house, he slowed down and looked the house and yard over carefully, checking the layout. The little white bungalow sat on a slight rise about thirty feet from the road, with a wide driveway on the east, in which both cars were parked beside one another, making it obvious that both Gary and Jeanie were at home. The doghouse, with the big collie secured to it, was on the opposite side of the driveway from the house, only about 20 feet from the road. "Oh, so peaceful," he chuckled, as he accelerated and continued on his errand. He bought some rat poison at the hardware store and a pound of ground beef from the grocer before renting the carpet shampooer and loading it into the back seat of the car. After he had arrived home and Rita was hard at work cleaning the carpet, he took a juice glass from the kitchen cupboard and with a hammer crushed the glass into tiny particles. Then he mixed it and a good quantity of the rat poison into the hamburger, then wrapped it carefully and hid it in a tool box where he knew it would be safe until he could retrieve it after Rita left and put it in the freezer to await the opportune moment when he could put it to use.

Phone calls to the house next door became a nightly ritual. Sometimes he accompanied the calls with heavy breathing, sometimes silence, and sometimes strangling sounds. Only once did he speak, using his best godfather impression. "I hope your accident insurance is paid up, you never know what's in the future."

After five nights of these phone calls, a new element was added. The frightening calls began to come at any time of the day; morning, afternoon or evening. Jeanie was frightened to the point where she was uncomfortable being left at home alone, even in the daytime, which was exactly what Eric was waiting for. He wanted the house next door to be empty, just long enough for him to get even with Jeanie and to finally prove that he was back in control. Him - Eric Thompson, in total control and able to make her dance to his tune, for he could never let any woman get away with ordering him around in his own house.

By this time, more than two weeks had passed since he had come up with his plan for revenge. He was working the afternoon shift and was just getting ready to leave for work when he decided that it was time for another call. This time there was no answer. He waited a few minutes then tried again but there was still no answer. His heart beat faster as he hung up the phone and hurried to get ready to go next door before someone returned. He got the poisoned meat out of the freezer, defrosted it in the microwave, grabbed his coat, checked in his pocket for the small spice bottle and his gloves and after one last call to the little house next door, which still went unanswered, he hurried out the door.

Jeanie's car was the only one parked in its usual spot in the driveway. Gary's car was missing so he assumed that they had gone somewhere together. So far everything was going perfectly. He parked on the road in front of the house and went to the door, pulling on his gloves as he went. He knocked loudly on the door and stood there waiting as the big collie barked a warning. He had a contingency plan for had anyone answered his knock, he would have pleaded with them for any information they could give him about Emily's whereabouts. He would have asked and then begged for their help to find his lost family. He knew they wouldn't give him any information, so after a few minutes of pleading he would leave, no harm done. But, fortune was smiling on him, for as he hoped, there was no answer to his knock. To be on the safe side, he knocked again, louder. Still no answer. He could hardly believe that things were falling into place so easily.

Quickly moving to the side of Jeanie's car he reached into his pocket and retrieved the spice bottle he had placed there previously. He checked the road but seeing nothing coming in either direction, he unscrewed the gas cap and poured the sugar into the gas tank. Quickly he replaced the cap and shoved the bottle deep into the recesses of his coat pocket from which he removed the meat. He checked the road again and still there was nothing to be seen in either direction, so he unwrapped the hamburger and tossed it to the dog, making sure that he kept the wrapping paper from it in his hand. He hurried back to the car that he had left idling on the side of the road and jumped in, tossing the meat wrapper on the car floor. Since he had worn gloves, and the snow in the driveway had been well packed down by the many boots and tires that had traveled over it, he left not a trace to show that he had been there. As he drove away, he felt positively elated and filled to overflowing with an enormous sense of satisfaction. "Wow! That was wild! I'll make a couple more phone calls just for fun," he decided, "then I'll quit. I think that this has pretty much settled the score with little Mrs. Nosy Bitch. She'll think twice before she gets in my way again."

The smell of chicken was making Eric hungry. It had been some time since he had enjoyed such a feeling of well being. He had a case of cold beer, a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken and a clean house to go home to. Best of all, Rita had gone home this morning, so he didn't have to put up with her tonight and just yesterday he had taken care of his nosy neighbor. Life was definitely on an upswing. He thought about stopping for the mail as he would be passing right by the post office, but decided that it could wait until tomorrow. The chicken smelled so good that he didn't want to have to wait for it any longer than necessary. Yet despite his decision, when the post office appeared in his view, habit won the day and he hit his signal light and pulled to a stop. It took only a couple of minutes to get the mail from his box and jump back into the car, where he took a minute to flip through the envelopes to see what was there. "Nothing important," he decided. There was an ad for a water softener, another sale flyer from Canadian Tire, his phone bill and the Visa bill. He tossed the pile on the passenger seat beside the bucket of chicken before starting the car and heading for home.

Half an hour later, he pushed a plate of chicken bones away from him and reached for the bills. The phone bill held only one surprise and it was not something that was there but rather something that wasn't there. He had expected to find a call to Toronto listed on it, which would offer some clue as to how Emily had contacted her father, but none appeared. "That's strange," he muttered. He tossed the phone bill aside, took a swig of beer and opened the Visa bill. His eyes scanned the list of purchases and his mouth dropped open in amazement. "What the..." His eyes moved on down the page until they fell on the total at the bottom and he stared in shock and disbelief: $9,946.78. "No way. No God damn way."

He stared at the paper in utter disbelief. Then, slowly, the truth dawned on him. Emily was the only one who could have done this to him. There was no other explanation. It had to have been her.

A white, hot anger, unlike anything that he had ever experienced before washed over him and he felt as though he would drown in its depths. His breath came in shallow, angry gasps and he hit his head with the heels of his hands as he tried to accept the thought that mousy little Emily had somehow managed to get up the nerve to do this to him. It was almost more than he could accept, and yet the evidence was here in his hand. Emily had screwed him royally. He dumped the chicken bones on the floor and kicked them across the room. He stormed around the room looking for something to throw but there was nothing except the beer he had been drinking. Finally, he grabbed the beer bottle by the neck and threw it against the wall, putting a hole in the plaster and spraying the carpet and himself with beer. He kicked the bottle and hurt his foot, then sat on the couch, with fists clenched, furious that she had managed to get him again. "You are as good as dead, lady," he shouted, his nostrils flaring as he began to draw in deeper breaths. "Nobody does this to me and gets away with it. Certainly not you." He began to get himself better under control and mutter to himself in a cold, furious voice, "You'd better be watching over your shoulder, sweetheart, because when you least expect it, I'll be there."

### Chapter 18

Winter dragged on and the snowdrifts in the front yard piled higher and higher. People everywhere grumbled about what a long winter it had been and longed for at least a hint of spring. Emily would smile to herself whenever she heard one of these complaints for she felt as though spring had come into her life on Christmas Eve when the truck with her father and her son had pulled into the driveway by the house. Not snow, ice or freezing weather could put a chill on the joy she was feeling about her life here in her father's home. For her and the boys, this was a winter of healing. Although Eric had never physically abused the children, the mental abuse had been very real. His temper, authoritarian ways and abuse of her in front of the children had damaged them as surely as if he had struck them. They had spent their lives living on guard, being careful not to do anything to upset the father who couldn't or wouldn't be satisfied with anything they did. Here in Toronto, they spent many hours doing things together as a family without the tension that had been such a constant in their home in the west, and the children began to see another way to live. Through Pete they began to learn that not all men were cold and uncaring. Emily also spent many hours that winter looking back at the chain of events in her life that had brought her to this point. In time she began to understand why she had made certain choices, where she had gone wrong and what she could have done to make her marriage turn out differently. She realized most of all that although she was not to blame for the onset of the violence that began so early in her marriage, she did hold some responsibility for allowing the abuse to continue, for she had done nothing to stop him. She had never gone to the police and pressed charges, or asked anyone for help. Her failure to take action had given him the idea that he could get away with it and that he could totally control her without worry of consequences. From the first day of their marriage, he had been overbearing and had forced his ideas and opinions on her. She could see now that even at that point his treatment of her was definitely abusive although it didn't become physical until a few months later. And then, when the physical abuse began, she had lied to cover up for his actions. It wasn't easy to have to admit that she was in part responsible for what had happened but she had to be honest with herself and admit that she had allowed the abuse to happen. She should have gone for help and seen to it that everyone knew what he had done. And she should have pressed charges. Perhaps from a jail cell he might have figured out that his behavior was not acceptable and would not be tolerated. But, even though she was partially to blame, she realized that Eric had a much larger share of the blame to carry, for nothing gave him the right to hit her, especially as she had done nothing to provoke him. It often seemed that just the fact that she existed was enough to set him off. She knew that no-one had the right to hurt another human being like he had and that most people wouldn't hurt an animal the way he had hurt her. She thought that there must be something wrong in Eric that made him think that he had the right to act like this toward another person and then refuse to accept the possibility that he was in any way to blame. In his eyes, it had always been her fault and as time passed she began to believe that as well. If only she could have been a better wife, if only she hadn't said or done whatever, if only she could keep the house in better order, if only, if only. Now with the clearer vision distance gave her, she realized that there were no 'if only' that would have made any difference at all. Eric wanted to have complete, total control over her. Add that to a real mean streak and a belief that there was a different set of rules just for him and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that the majority of the blame rested squarely on Eric's shoulders.

With a great deal of relief, she also realized that there was nothing wrong with her mind. Her 'confusion' and 'forgetfulness' had been some kind of sick game her husband had been playing with her. It was hard to imagine why he had wanted to toy with her mind. Perhaps he had the idea that doubting her sanity might have kept her more dependent on him and less likely to find the courage to leave him and strike out on her own. If that is what he had in mind, for a long time it had worked, for she had been very frightened of trying to manage on her own.

She also spent a lot of time during the winter trying to figure out where her strengths and talents lay as she debated the direction she should be taking in looking to her future and her ability to provide for her sons. She knew that her role as mother had to come first and no matter what the consequences, any plans for a future career would depend largely on what was best for the children. Again she was grateful to her father for allowing them to live with him, for it meant that she could remain at home until Danny was a little older. Although she was grateful that she didn't have to rush out to work, she regretted that she was forced to rely on her father to support them, for he had already raised his family and it wasn't fair to expect him to take on the responsibility of another even larger one at his age. How grateful she was for the money that she had realized from the jeweler she had brought from Alberta with her. Although it didn't give her a lot of money, it was enough that she didn't have to ask her father for any when she or one of the boys needed something.

Best of all, during these pleasant, stress-free winter days, she began to like herself again. Was it so bad that she was easy-going and didn't make many demands on her husband? If that was her greatest fault, she decided, she could be a lot worse. But she knew that if by some miracle she were ever to fall in love again, she would not be so easy going. From the very beginning she would set boundaries and see to it that they weren't crossed, for never again, she vowed, would she allow anyone to hit her and get away with it.

It was a healing time for the boys as well. The biggest change was in Sam, who lost the cold, angry look that had so often clouded his face. All of the boys became less guarded and after a short time didn't panic whenever they dropped or spilled something. What Emily noticed most of all was the laughter. She hadn't realized how little of it there was in the big brick house in Alberta until she began to hear the laughter that could erupt at any time in the little house in Toronto. Indeed it was a good winter.

True to his word, Pete hired carpenters to divide the family room into a bedroom and a playroom and when it was finished Sam and Scott moved down to the new bedroom there, leaving the upstairs bedroom that had once been Mark's for Kyle and Danny. The dining room table was moved into the kitchen and although it made the room somewhat crowded; it made it possible for Pete to have a place where he and Bandit could have a measure of peace and quiet when they felt the need to get away from Emily and the children.

The work was finished and all trace of the carpenters and their mess gone and the boys were settled in their new room in time for Scott's birthday, which was celebrated with the first birthday party he had ever had. He had been allowed to invite six friends from school and a lot of thought and discussion went into the choosing of these six. The party, which was held in the new playroom in the basement turned out to be a real success. The whole family, Pete and Bandit included, had enjoyed the noise and activity, as well as the cake and ice cream that ended the day.

The family settled into a pleasant routine with the three boys enrolled in the school where Emily and her brother had once attended. Pete suggested that the family start going to the old church down the block where he and Angie had attended and where Mark and Emily had gone to Sunday School, but after spending so many years with the hypocrisy of Eric, Emily couldn't see herself there and for a couple of months stayed at home with Danny while Pete and the older boys attended. When she finally decided that she needed to get out and see people, the church seemed to be the best place to make a start. Other than short shopping trips, she hadn't strayed out of the house at all and she was very nervous at the prospect of venturing out. She had felt so secure in Pete's house that she had become quite loath to leave it. It took a few Sundays before she was comfortable around so many strangers, but gradually she began to speak to some of the people who had tried to be friendly and welcome her into their midst. The children had no problem being friendly and enjoyed their Sunday School classes, just as they enjoyed every new experience that came their way. Once again, attending church services became part of their routine, although this time it was very different without Eric there to control it all.

One day, while getting some boxes out of the way for the carpenters, Emily had found a box of fabric remnants left in the basement by her mother and began piecing together a quilt top. She soon realized that the time spent working on the quilt was doing her more good than she had ever imagined possible. It afforded her hours of peace and calm. She took great pleasure putting the matching and complimentary colors together and sewing tiny stitches in this thing of beauty that she was creating with her two hands. She remembered as a child learning the art of quilt-making with her mother and the quilt became a bond with Angie and with each stitch she took came a small measure of comfort, until she was often able to think of her mother without feeling pain and loss. Instead she could often smile as she remembered times they had shared and things they had done together over the years.

There hadn't been a word from Eric since they had left Alberta and she was hopeful that the day would come that he would be little more than a bad memory. Still though, her sleep was occasionally interrupted with dreams of him and she would wake with a sense of dread and fear that would melt away as she would realize that she was safe in Toronto and Eric was safely in the past, not able to hurt her or the children again.

Spring came reluctantly that year, but finally it arrived. Each day seemed a little warmer than the last. The boys spent more and more time outside with their friends and Emily was pleased to find that they made friends readily and to see how many friends they had. They had settled into the neighborhood as though they had always lived there. Pete bought some lumber and with the help of the boys, repaired Mark's old tree house. From then on it seemed that there was always a troop of boys in the back yard. "Does this ever bring back memories. I thought I'd never get grass to grow back there by the time you and your brother got through with that yard," Pete's smile assured her that he wasn't in the least upset by the steady flow of small feet trampling his grass.

Emily smiled and gave her father a quick hug. It was so obvious to everyone that having a family in the house again had been very good for him. His eyes held a sparkle that had been missing for a long time and there was a lightness in his walk that made him appear years younger than he had seemed before they arrived. As the house filled with joy and laughter, the years seemed to melt away from his face. Helen had been coming for Sunday dinner for a long time and the habit continued. She had worried a lot about Pete as she watched him grow old before her eyes during Angie's illness and now she was grateful that he had this new lease on life and her infectious laugh when she was there added to the happiness of the house. The two women spent many enjoyable hours together chatting and Emily discovered that she had a true friend in this chubby little woman. Helen gently coaxed her to get out of the house and make friends but so far, other than church, Emily seemed content to remain at home with her family and didn't have a need for anyone else in her life.

One Sunday evening after a roast beef dinner followed by Emily's first attempt at chocolate éclairs, she showed her finished quilt to Helen, "This is what I've been spending my time on this winter. I found all this fabric in the basement and couldn't see it going to waste so I tried making a quilt."

"This is beautiful. I had no idea that you knew how to quilt."

"I wasn't sure that I could do it when I started. Mom had the quilting frame in the basement and Dad helped me set it up. I remember when I was a little girl helping Mom quilt in the family room and I guess I hadn't forgotten. It was nice to have time to just think of Mom. Somehow I felt closer to her when I was stitching on this."

Helen turned the quilt over and examined the stitches evenly laid out on the fabric. "This is really wonderful, dear. I'm impressed."

"I enjoyed doing this one so much that I started another. It is a different pattern. Would you like to see it?"

"I certainly would."

Helen recognized the quality of the work she was seeing and inspected the quilt carefully. "You know, I do remember your mother teaching you to quilt when you were just a wee girl. She would surely be proud of your work on this. You've done a really good job on it."

Tears clouded Emily's eyes as she thought of her mother's patience teaching her to take the tiny stitches. "I know it takes longer to make your stitches small," she had said, "but the pleasure you will get from knowing you did it right will make up for the hard work you are doing now." She had done her best and her tiny stitches had brought praise from her mother. "This is so good, sweetie. Don't ever think that this is just an old quilt - it's a masterpiece that we have created with a eye for color and a steady hand for stitching."

"Do you know," Emily mused, "I think it would make her happy to see me doing this and using her quilting frame. She loved quilting. She would put some music on to play and stitch by the hour. She said it brought her a wonderful sense of peace. Now I understand what she was talking about."

A couple of days later, an excited Helen phoned, "What do you plan to do with that quilt you made?"

Emily, who had been washing the lunch dishes when the phone interrupted her, wiped her wet hands on her apron and answered, "I haven't really given it a lot of thought. I guess I'll just put it on one of the beds next fall."

"Can I have it to show to a friend of mine? I had an idea and I'd like to check it out."

"Sure, I suppose. What's your idea?"

"Hand-made quilts are worth a lot of money, you know. My friend has a little shop where she sells hand-made items and she's interested in looking at your quilt. If she likes it, she'll sell it and any more that you make, if you are interested. She could probably sell as many as you can make."

"Oh, gosh, I can't imagine that anyone would pay much for my quilt."

"I think they will, dear. But if I'm wrong and my friend won't pay enough, then you can just forget about it - nothing lost. All right?"

"All right."

What a wonderful surprise it was to Emily when Helen called with exciting news just a couple of hours after picking up the quilt. "Em, she loved your quilt. She wants to meet you to talk money. Can you come down here?"

"Are you serious?"

"Very serious. I'm at the store right now. Can you come down here this afternoon?"

"Yes, I guess. Where is it?"

"It's on the corner of Yorkdale and Yonge, called Kristie's Krafts."

"I'll be there in about an hour."

Pete agreed to watch Danny, which left Emily free to go downtown to meet with Kristie. He called a taxi while she slipped into a gray wool pantsuit and bright, red pullover. She had applied some lipstick and was putting on her gold hoop earrings when the taxi arrived.

"Wish me luck."

A short drive brought her to the craft shop where, within minutes, a deal had been made. Kristie would buy Emily's quilts for $350.00 each, and providing they sold as well as she expected, would take as many more of the same quality as Emily could provide. They shook hands solemnly to seal their agreement and Emily left for home thrilled at the prospect of being able to earn money to support her children while remaining at home with Danny.

Alberta and her life with Eric seemed very distant. In all the months she had been in Toronto, she had heard nothing from him, and she had begun to become complacent. Perhaps all her worry had been for nothing and he would leave them alone after all. The boys didn't seem to miss him, and her nightmares were happening less and less often. This deal for her quilts was the icing on the cake. Life indeed was good.

To celebrate her newfound prosperity, Emily decided that a celebration was in order and for dinner ordered Chinese food, complete with chopsticks. The house rocked with laughter as the family tried mostly without success to get the food from plate to mouth. After a while, when no one had managed to get anything to eat, they gave up and resorted to forks. The dinner was a huge success and they ceremoniously opened the fortune cookies amid the clutter of dirty dishes and take out containers. Danny had enjoyed the meal immensely, the proof being the amount of rice that he had scattered on the table and floor all around his chair. Kyle surveyed the mess and in a small voice remarked, "We sure made a mess. Dad would be some mad. He'd yell at us for sure."

"I know, sweetheart," his mother answered, "but we don't have to worry about your father anymore. We can make as much mess as we want and he can't yell at us. He's not going to hurt any of us again."

"Promise."

"I promise."

As she got up to begin clearing the table, she said a short prayer. "Dear God, keep him away from us, please."

### Chapter 19

Eric had been busy. He had avenged himself on Gary and Jeanie and acted properly shocked when the police had come to talk to him, as he knew they would, for it was obvious that his name would come up in connection to what had happened next door. But, as he also knew, there was no evidence \- he had been very careful. It had paid off to wait until the time was right and not to act rashly. There was nothing to connect him to any of the goings-on at his neighbors. He had heard rumors that they were going to sell, but so far they hadn't, at least he hadn't seen any 'For Sale' signs on the property and he was watching.

Pastor York had also made it to the 'get even' list and had proved to be an easy target. He had run into one of the most talkative of the pastor's flock at the grocery store and stopped to chat. "Mrs. Wright, how are you?"

"Fine, thanks. How have you been?" She smiled broadly and her eyes glittered in anticipation of finding out if any of the rumors about Eric were true, "We haven't seen you or your family in weeks."

"I've been fine." He smiled, knowing that she was fishing for information and determined not to provide any. "How is the pastor?"

"Why, he's fine."

"That's good. I was quite concerned when I heard."

"Heard..."

"Well, I'm sure there's no truth in it, but it must have been upsetting."

Alarm leapt into her eyes and it was only with some effort that he stifled the chuckle that threatened to erupt at the way this was playing into his hand. She stammered slightly, "I - I don't know what you are talking about."

"Oh, I thought everyone would have heard by now. Sorry. I guess I should have kept my mouth shut. Anyway, there's no truth to the story, so just forget I even mentioned it."

"If there is something I should know..."

"No, nothing. It's nothing."

"Mr. Thompson..."

"Really, it's nothing. I tried to tell them both that they were mistaken, although I'm not sure that they believed me. I've known Pastor York for some time now and one thing I'm sure about is that he is as honest as the day is long. I told them that they had better not accuse him of mismanaging donations to me, for I absolutely refuse to entertain that thought for even one minute. I don't care what evidence they think they have, I know he wouldn't do something like that." With satisfaction, he watched her mouth drop open and the color drain from her face. "Anyway, I've got to go. My frozen food won't be frozen long if I stay here and visit all day. Have a nice day, Mrs. Wright."

Eric couldn't stop the broad smile that creased his face as he walked away from the speechless woman. "I've never seen her at a loss for words before." he chuckled, "Bet she makes up for it later and finds lots to say before the day is over. She will have this spread to at least half the congregation before bedtime and I'll bet the story grows each time she tells it. It wouldn't surprise me if she demands his resignation before she's done." Fortunately for Jan, he had no idea that his family had spent the night with her prior to their flight to Ontario, so her name never made it to his 'get even list'.

"Now," he decided as he stowed his groceries in the back of the car and slid in behind the wheel, "there is only one other score to settle before I can turn my full attention to Emily - her interfering parents. Her father's done more than anyone to convince her to leave me. I don't know how he found her but how doesn't really matter. He got to her and now he's going to pay. I won't rest until that score is settled." He had spent a lot of time coming up with the best way to get them and could think of nothing safer or more sure to do the job than a few sticks of dynamite placed at the right spot at the back of the house where he could get to it through the back alley. Using the alley meant that he should be able to get away undetected after setting the charge, and he certainly had no intention of getting caught. No way would he go to jail for them. He was sure that once they were dealt with, he would feel as though he had some control over his life. Once her parents were out of the picture, and an explosion at their house should keep them busy enough with their own problems to keep them out of his business, then all he would need to do would be to get Emily and take her and the boys back home where they could get back to a normal life.

He had worked out a plan very carefully that he knew would require a great deal of patience but he couldn't imagine anyone who could be more patient than him, especially when the end result would mean having his wife back where she belonged. "I'm not going to rush anything," he decided, "I'll just let things happen in their own time. I only need to be in the right place at the right time and be ready when the opportunity opens up."

He began to put his plan into action by going to a bar that he knew was frequented by pipeline workers, who worked out of a supply yard that was just outside Edmonton. It took a couple of nights sitting there nursing beers before he met a couple of men who might be able to supply him with the information he needed. Had he been a pool player, he would have had an easier time fitting in but Eric had never spent much time in bars and had never been to a pool hall so his knowledge of the game was almost non-existent.

It came as a bit of a surprise to him that the men who drank there were so friendly and so easily accepted him, for it took only a few nights and a bit of friendly banter before he noticed a slight change in attitude. People were welcoming him when he came in and stopping to chat with him. It seemed that in just a matter of days he had been accepted as one of the regular crowd at Smitty's Tavern. He had a real ability to put on whatever face he felt was appropriate for the people he was with at any time and although he appeared genuinely friendly and relaxed, in actual fact, he worked hard at blending in and becoming one of the group. He laughed at their jokes and listened to their complaints about their women and their jobs. He seemed not to be overly interested in discussions about their workdays but was actually listening carefully as they talked among themselves and in time he began to get a mental picture of what was in the company's yard and storage area. Finally, one night about three weeks after he had begun going to the bar, he heard what he had been listening for - the location of the storage shed on the lot where they stored the pipeline's supply of dynamite.

He made a few trips past the construction site, checking out the area and making sure that he could find the shed that contained the dynamite. He finally spotted a locked shed about 70 yards from the main gate that he was sure held what he so desperately wanted. Now he had only to bide his time waiting for the right opportunity to get closer and make certain that he had the right shed. Another two weeks went by before the opportunity he had been waiting for presented itself.

Eric was sitting at a table in Smitty's with a group of four pipeline workers enjoying a normal night of friendly banter, boasting and boozing, when Dave Cummings looked at his watch and announced, "Well, this old boy is heading for home. Six o'clock seems to be coming earlier all the time." There was a general agreement that it was time to drink up and head out, except for one man, Wayne Prichett, who had been watching a couple of girls at the pool table for most of the evening and wasn't about to give up yet on the idea of getting a name and phone number before the evening was over. "You guys go ahead," he suggested, "I'll grab a taxi."

"You sure?" Dave, who had the wheels tonight, wanted to know.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

The others left and Wayne took his beer and wandered over to where the two girls were standing and began to chat with them. Eric waited to see what would happen aware that this might be just the opportunity that he had been waiting for all this time. Within ten minutes, it became painfully clear that Wayne was not going to have much success with the two girls tonight. To his credit, he didn't give up easily, but it was to no avail. The girls were simply not interested and finally even Wayne knew that it was hopeless. He carried his near empty beer back to the table and sat visiting with Eric while he finished it and ordered another. When he reached the bottom of that bottle he pushed back his chair, "Well, I guess I'm heading home."

"Yeah, me too." Eric got to his feet and added. "How are you getting home?"

"Cab."

"Want a ride. I'm leaving anyway."

"Aw, I don't want to put you out any."

"No trouble. I expect you'd do the same for me."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Think I'll hit the can before I head out." Eric headed toward the men's room.

"Good idea." Wayne ambled along behind him.

Eric hurried and before Wayne exited the washroom door, he was back at the table and had pocketed Wayne's cigarettes and lighter and was reaching for his coat. He was just shrugging it on as Wayne reached the table and picked up his coat. Eric tossed a handful of change on the table and said, "All right, let's go."

Next morning he began to put Step 2 of his plan into action. He got up early and drove down to the pipeline supply yard where he headed for the shed that he had surmised contained the dynamite. Trucks were loading up for the day and as he had hoped the shed door was ajar. He was able to get a good look inside and confirm that this was the explosives storage shed. In minutes one of the workmen noticed that he was a strange face in the yard and stopped him. "Can I help you with something?"

"I'm not sure. I'm looking for Wayne Pritchett. Is he around here somewhere?"

"I think he's over there." He pointed in the direction of a truck that was being loaded across the yard.

"Thanks, buddy." He soon located Wayne and gave him the cigarettes and lighter with the explanation that he had found them in his car that morning. They chatted for a few minutes and then Wayne returned to work and Eric to his car. It might not seem like much but it had been a very successful morning. He had the information he needed and now once again he just needed to bide his time for a while until his visit was forgotten and then he could go back, this time in the dead of night and get a few sticks of dynamite - enough to pull a certain house down around the ears of some people who really deserved it.

He waited just over a week and finally the perfect night presented itself. It was cloudy and the moon was all but hidden, when Eric cut through the chain securing the front gate and approached the shed, crowbar in hand. In no more than a minute, the lock was broken, and Eric was inside the building. He pulled the door shut behind him and with the aid of his flashlight, located the boxes of dynamite. He had planned to take only two or three sticks but when it appeared to be so easy, he stuffed his pockets full of all that he could carry, took a roll of fuse, shut off his light and hurried back to his car. There he removed his gloves and with a satisfied smile, drove home.

Next evening he was back at his usual spot at Smitty's. The conversation among the pipeline workers was largely about the break-in at the yard and the theft of dynamite from the shed. The yard foreman had estimated that less than two dozen sticks had been taken along with a roll of fuse. The police had been notified, but had found no clues and since the loss was a small one, no one expected that much would be done about it. There was a lot of talk and speculation about what was behind the theft, and some concern about where the dynamite would turn up, but then someone suggested that it could just be someone with some stumps to get rid of and that became the theory most widely accepted. The whole incident was enough to cause a bit of discussion but not a lot of concern. Eric added nothing to the conversation and appeared to be only half interested and after a short period of time the talk moved on to more interesting topics.

Eric continued sitting at the bar most nights for another week and then causally mentioned that he was starting a couple of weeks of afternoons. Now, no one would even bat an eye when he wasn't there anymore. Probably, once a couple of weeks had passed, he would be a dim memory and the men at Smitty's wouldn't give him so much as a passing thought. Mission accomplished.

Now, he was ready to go to Toronto. He had four days off coming up in just two days time and he knew that he needed to act now. He drove to the airport and paid cash for a one-way ticket in the name of John Dennison. His ticket home, purchased in Toronto would be in yet another name. Although one-way tickets were more expensive, he knew that they would be harder to trace and it made him feel much safer to do it that way.

There was only one person who would miss him if he disappeared for a few days - Rita. There was no way he would chance having loose ends that could trip him up and he certainly didn't want her questioning where he had gone in case anyone thought of him in connection to trouble with his in-laws. He had to get her to leave him alone and not call for those days that he would be away. Now that would be a real problem for she was calling more and more often all the time. He decided to have a bit of fun with her while he was handling it. It would be interesting to find out how committed she was to him and how far he could push her away and still have her running back and eating out of his hand.

When he got home from the airport he opened a beer, put his feet up and phoned her. After a bit of small talk, he brought up one of his favorite topics - the frustration and depression he was feeling about the loss of his sons. He liked this subject for it always brought out the tender side of her and she would do anything for him at that point to 'cheer him up'. "I'm reaching the end of my rope." he said, "I still have no idea where my boys are. I don't know how much longer I can cope not knowing how they are or where they are. I worry about them all the time."

"I know, darling. I wish I could do more to help you through this."

He smiled at how easy it was to wrap her around his finger. "I appreciate all you do now. But I've started having stomach problems. I went to the doctor today and he thinks I might have an ulcer."

"Oh, Eric."

"It just goes on and on. There won't be an end to this torment until my boys are back where they belong."

"Oh, darling. I feel so bad for you. Why don't I come out there tomorrow and have dinner ready for you when you get home from work."

"You know how much I love having you out here but I think that what I really need is a little space to try to figure out what I should be doing to get my boys back."

"I wouldn't bother you, Eric. I just want to be there for you."

"Rita, you are always here for me. Sometimes I think that you are here too much. You are smothering me. I need a bit of space."

"But..."

"You have been crowding me. You've got to admit that. I love you but I need to be concerned about my boys now and I can hardly get time to think about them because I have to spend all my time thinking about you. It's not right. Ever since Emily left you have acted as if you live here."

"That's not fair. You wanted me to come out there and clean the place."

"You wanted to come. Be honest about it. I think you are hoping I'll let you move right in. Women are always looking for someone to look after them so they can sit back and not have to worry about anything. Just like Emily."

"That's not true. I'm not anything like Emily. I work for a living."

"Yeah, you work for a living. And still you take money from me."

"I what?"

He noted the disbelief in her voice at his unfair accusation, yet he continued, "Whenever we go anywhere, I pay. If we order pizza or anything, I pay. Whatever, I pay."

"First of all, we don't go anywhere. And when you decide you want to order something, yes, you pay. I don't know why you are doing this. I thought we were going to get married eventually. I thought we were in this together."

"Who said anything about marriage?"

"You did. You've said many times that you wanted to be with me forever. That sounds to me like marriage. I just assumed..."

"Well, don't assume."

Rita began to cry and at that Eric smiled, "Look, Rita, things are just coming at me too fast. Give me a few days, maybe that's all I need. Perhaps I need to get away from the house for a bit, too. What do you think?" He had pushed enough. Now was the time to start reeling her back in.

"Whatever you want."

"I'm sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was to upset you. You are my lifeline here. I get so upset with Emily and then I take it out on you and it's not your fault, I know that. It's hers. Maybe I do need a break from everyone and everything. I could go away somewhere. Perhaps, fishing. Don't you think that a fishing trip up into the mountains might be good for me?"

"Yes, I guess it might."

"I could leave here at 4:00 or 4:30 in the morning, drive to the lake, spend the day fishing and be home by midnight. Maybe a couple of days of that will give me a chance to do some thinking. I might even come back prepared to divorce Emily and start over. I know I'll come back a new man." "Sure, honey, if that's what you need to do. But why don't you take a tent and stay over night. It would mean a lot less driving."

"I don't have a tent."

"I do, and a sleeping bag. I'll be working all day tomorrow but I could get them out of the closet and leave them in the hall if you want to come by and pick them up."

"What would I ever do without you?" He couldn't help but feel proud of himself for having handled her so well. The hope in her voice, though rather pathetic, proved how much control he had over her. "I can read you like a book, sweetheart." He thought before speaking again into the phone, "I'll call you as soon as I get back."

"O.K. I love you, Eric."

"I know. Me, too. Bye."

"Bye, darling."

This was coming together perfectly. He had planted the thought in her mind that perhaps he wasn't going to marry her and then just as quickly dangled a 'marriage' carrot in front of her again. He would get the tent, open it in the yard for a night so she would know that it had been used, and she would be certain that he was 'gone fishin'. Then he could go to Toronto, do what he had to do, and get back without ever raising any suspicion with her. She would spend her time while he was gone hoping that he was getting prepared to marry her. When he finally got back and called her, she would once again be eating out of his hand. All he had to do now was run in to her apartment, get the tent, pack a small suitcase and wait until time to catch his flight. Sometimes life just fell into place perfectly, and this was one of those sometimes.

### Chapter 20

The warm spring weather brought with it baseball. The boys thought of little else. They discussed baseball with their breakfast, played baseball at recess and lunch breaks, and after school turned the back yard into a neighborhood baseball diamond. Pete spent many happy hours in the backyard tossing balls to them as they practiced batting with their new bat and catching with the new gloves Emily had bought for them at the Canadian Tire Store. Six-year-old Kyle, even more than his brothers, couldn't get his fill of the game. His new glove went everywhere with him, including to school. It sat on his lap during dinner, on the bathroom floor during his bath and in his bed with him at night. One night as Emily checked the boys before she went to bed, she discovered him sound asleep, the glove on his hand tucked under his little face. "Dad, bring your camera, we've got a 'Kodak moment'." This was one of those pictures that she knew would be imprinted on her memory forever and yet, even knowing that, she wanted to capture it in a picture she could hold in her hand and treasure. She had no way of knowing how important this picture would be to her in the years to come, or the number of tears she would shed as she gazed at it and remembered the wonder of this precious blond haired little boy and the joy he experienced that wonderful, carefree spring with his introduction to the game of baseball.

Teams were being organized in the neighborhood and all three of the older boys had their mother sign them up. Schedules were handed out and taken home to study and discuss. Scott's team had the first scheduled game to be played, followed next night by Kyle's team at 6:30 and then Sam's team at 8:00. Pete and Emily were almost as excited as the boys as the big day approached for the first game. They ate dinner and then the whole family went to the park to watch. Scott played right field and fortunately not too many balls came his way, for he had a hard time throwing the ball in the direction he wanted it to go. (Pete made a mental note to let him do the throwing for a while.) He appeared nervous when he first got up to bat and let a ball go by that he should have swung at. He looked to the stands toward his family as the umpire called 'strike one' and then prepared for the next throw. Again he let the ball go by and the umpire this time called 'ball'. Now he seemed to stop worrying about the family watching, and prepared to swing at the ball. The pitcher threw again, the ball was good and so was Scott's swing. He hit the ball, which just narrowly missed the shortstop's glove, and began to run. He made it to second base before the shortstop recovered the ball and threw it to second. It took two more hits from other players to get him home but he made it. He struck out once, but his other turns at bat showed him to be one of the better hitters on the team, which made his family proud, particularly his grandfather, who couldn't have been more proud if he had hit the balls himself. The game ended, with much cheering, with Scott's team ahead by three runs.

"Good game, son." Pride sounded in Pete's voice.

"Yeah, ya did good." Sam, too, was proud of his little brother.

"Who wants ice cream?" asked Emily.

The celebration moved to Frosty's Ice Cream Parlor where Emily treated everyone to ice cream sundaes and the game was discussed and marveled over. Emily smiled at her father as she remembered evenings long past when he had brought her, her mother and brother here to eat ice cream following other ball games in which she or her brother had taken part. She marveled that in such a few short months such a change had come into their lives. The boys were able to experience a normal life with friends dropping by to play in the yard, baseball, birthday parties and even a dog. This had been her dream for them and thanks to her father it had been unfolded before them.

During the walk home they rehashed the game, play by play and once there, Sam began a homework assignment and the younger boys went to bed. Kyle had a hard time settling down to sleep, for tomorrow he would play his first game. Once again the glove went to bed with him.

Later that evening, Pete and Emily were in the living room enjoying the routine that had become the usual days end for them, in front of the TV with Bandit in his usual spot with his head resting on Pete's feet and Emily across the room cutting small squares from a piece of peach colored cotton for another quilt she was planning. The Man From U.N.C.L.E. had just ended and a Tide commercial had come on when Pete spoke, "Sam and I were talking about his upcoming birthday this afternoon and the talk turned to his father. He's surprised that there hasn't been any word from him and frankly, so am I."

"Me, too. It's not in his make-up to just let us go without some kind of trouble. I keep expecting him to just drive up."

"I hate to think what I'd do if he had the nerve to show his face here."

"I don't know what I'd do either. I'm scared of him, Dad. But since he hasn't threatened us or anything, I don't suppose we could call the police even though I know I wouldn't feel safe around him. I don't know what is going on with him but I don't think he's going to just leave us alone. I can't imagine that he would want the boys but I'm sure it drives him crazy that someone else has them. He could do anything."

"If he should happen to show up and try anything or even hint that he might try something, I want you to call the police. Whether they do anything or not, just get them here. And whatever you do, don't trust him or think for one minute that you can handle him. I've thought a lot about what I'd do if he showed up and I think it would be wise for either one of us to call the police and let them handle him for I think I'm too old to take him on. And I don't want you to even try dealing with him. Just get help here. Promise me."

"For sure, Dad. Promise."

"Can we go now? I don't want to be late." He was so excited that he couldn't sit still for a minute.

"You won't be late. Your game doesn't start for more than an hour. Come on Kyle, eat your supper."

"I'm not hungry. I just want to go to the park."

"All right, six more mouthfuls and then go get your glove. I'll wait to do the dishes until I get back after the game."

"Wow, great. Hurry up, everybody." He shoved a forkful in his mouth and began to chew as quickly as possible. The meal soon ended and within minutes they were putting on their jackets and Emily was getting Danny settled in his stroller in preparation for the walk to the park, which was only four blocks away. Two games were on the roster for tonight. Kyle's team first, followed by Sam's immediately after. They arrived early and the boys had time to play on the swings for a while until the coach and more of the player's arrived and then the coach got the team together to prepare for their game.

It didn't take long before it was apparent that Pete's coaching had helped the small boy. He was one of the few who could catch the ball as well as throw it. His first time up to bat, he hit the ball and even though the inning ended with him stuck on second base, he was thrilled. The game was all that he had dreamed it could be. They were scheduled to play only five innings and they had last bat. As the second half of the fifth inning began the game was nine to fourteen for the other team and Tommy Hayes, a little boy in Kyle's class, was the first up to bat. He made it to second. Duncan Parks came up next and stuck out, while Tommy got to third base. David Harris was next with a walk and then Kyle came up. He swung at a low ball, missed and heard the call, "Strike one." The next ball was good and he swung his hardest. He heard the 'crack' as the bat hit, dropped it and ran as fast as he could. He was at third base when he heard the coach call 'stop'. He stood there while Paul Boomhower struck out and Jason Brockman got a walk. When Chuck Lahay swung twice and missed, Kyle, and most of those watching, were sure the game was lost. But when the third ball came toward him, he swung and connected. The three boys began to run and by the time the ball had been caught, dropped and picked up, all three had made it home and the game was tied. It was then that Ronnie Sagriff, who had been unable to even come close to hitting the ball, took his turn at bat. A few people groaned, but the boys cheered their friend on. "Come on, Ronnie. You can hit it." He watched one ball go by and then hit the second. Everyone cheered as the stocky boy ran to first base. Allen Peterson got the next hit and got to second base while Ronnie advanced to third. They were now back to Tommy. He watched one go by, swung but missed the next, watched another go by and then got a hit. Ronnie headed for home while the boy on second base scooped up the ball and threw it to the catcher. It went wild and the catcher missed, then scooped it up and managed to stop Allen at third. Once again Duncan came up to bat and struck out but no one cared, for the game had been won fifteen to fourteen. An excited group of boys shook hands with the opposing team and prepared to leave the field as the older boys began moving onto the benches, getting ready to play their game.

It was a proud little boy who joined his family in the bleachers. The praise from his mother paled compared to the praise he received from his grandfather. "You played a good game, son. Best of all you seem to be a team player and that's not something you can learn in the backyard. It's something you either have or don't have, and it can make a big difference in whether or not you win games. I'm real proud of you."

Kyle beamed as he sat beside Pete and watched his brother's team move out onto the field. Sam, since he had never played on a team before, was somewhat less skilled than his teammates, who had a few years play over him. He was in right field and it was obvious that he was doing his best. The coach gave him encouragement and suggestions and as the game progressed he appeared to be more at ease. By the third inning, it was past Danny's bedtime and he had begun fussing so Emily decided to take him home to bed.

As she gathered up her purse, insect repellent and Danny's diaper bag, she turned to Kyle, "What do you say, pal, bed-time?"

"I don't want to miss Sam's game."

"I know, but there will be others. You didn't get much sleep last night and you need to get up for school tomorrow."

"Next time he plays is Friday. Can I stay to watch all of that game?"

"I don't see why not."

"O.K."

They were almost to the gate when Kyle asked his mother to wait a minute. He ran back to his grandfather, threw his arms around his neck and said, "I love you, Grandpa. Tell Sam I'm sorry to miss the end of his game. 'Night, Scott." With that, he hurried back to his mother and brother and they walked on home.

Danny was in his crib and asleep minutes after they arrived home. Kyle kneeled beside his bed with his mother to say his prayers, "Dear Father, thank you for this day. Thank you for Mom and Sam, Scott and Danny. And most of all, thank you for Grandpa, and for letting us live with him so I can play baseball. Bless my family, and Bandit and the coach. And look out for my Dad. In Jesus name, Amen."

He hopped into bed and Emily tucked the covers around him and kissed his forehead. "Sleep well, little one. I love you."

She turned out the light and went to the front of the house where she washed up the dishes, then turned on the radio and settled down contentedly with her latest quilt top.

Emily was not the only one feeling good about life at that moment. Eric was humming contentedly as he stepped off the bus at the bus stop around the corner from Pete's house. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and smiled as he thought of how much he had enjoyed his flight. He had amused himself during the trip with tales to his fellow travelers about the mission to Africa on which he was embarking. He had done an amazing job of describing the mission where he would be stationed for the next four years and of the need that he would help to fulfill there. His description came directly from a film that had been shown about six months earlier at the church by some missionaries who were there raising funds to help support the mission where they would be returning when their speaking/fund raising tour was completed. He had left a group of fellow passengers at the airport amid wishes for a successful trip. One elderly lady even shook his hand and with a 'God bless you' slipped $50.00 into his hand. He clasped her hand in both his, "No, dear lady, God bless you. This money will do such good for the poor souls in Africa. The Lord is very pleased with your support of His work." He watched her walk away with a smile on his lips and a murmured, "Dumb broad."

He spotted Pete's house and pulled his hat down to partially conceal his face, while strolling by and continuing on around the block until he came to the entrance of the alleyway behind the house. He had seen only two people on his way around, one mowing his lawn and another sitting on the porch reading the paper and he was grateful to note that neither of the two men had paid any attention to him. He walked back to the corner and looked down the street toward the house. Everything on the street was still quiet. He returned to the alley and watched the back of the house for a minute. No sign of life at all. He strolled around the block once more, this time coming from the opposite direction. As he passed the house, he glanced causally at it and noted that all was quiet; the only sign of life was one light burning in the living room. "They must be watching TV," he decided, "Man, are they ever in for the surprise of their lives."

He checked his watch. The bus was due back at the corner in exactly four minutes. He had to act now. According to his calculations, he had just enough time to set the charge and get back to the bus-stop before the bus pulled up. Quickly, he walked up to the basement window, unzipped the backpack and removed three sticks of dynamite with the roll of fuse already connected. He sat it on the ledge of one of the basement windows and unrolled the fuse across the yard as he made his way back to the alley. He looked around again, and when he was assured that no one was watching, he bent down and lit the fuse. He had to hurry, for he had timed this whole thing perfectly and he had less than a minute to get out of the alley and get to the corner. He was in his seat and the bus had gone nearly two blocks when the explosion sounded.

"Yes." He whispered, "That takes care of them."

Emily was totally unaware of the danger at the back of the house although with afterthought she felt that she might have guessed that something was happening, for Bandit was acting very restless. He had begun whining and pacing back and forth across the room and she had just put down her sewing to get up and let him out when the explosion threw her forward out of her chair. Danny's scream filled the air and she rose to her feet unsteadily from the spot more than three feet in front of where she had been sitting and rushed toward the room were her boys had been sleeping just moments before. The china cabinet lay on its side in front of the bedroom door with broken dishes spewed out across the floor. She pushed it out of the way, struggled to get the door open and, through the air thick with dust, saw the overturned crib. Quickly she scooped up her son and scrambled back through the door, looking for more light to check the screaming child for injuries. Suddenly she stopped. With horror, she realized that there wasn't a sound coming from the other side of the room where her other son had lain peacefully in his bed just moments before. She looked back and in disbelief faced the gloom of late evening in the backyard and realized that a portion of the back wall had toppled onto the bed where the small boy had been sleeping.

"No," she screamed, "Kyle, baby, are you all right." She picked her way back through the rubble, still holding Danny in her arms and once she was at the spot where she thought the bed should be, she tried with one hand to pull the debris off Kyle. She soon realized that her efforts were futile. She made her way back to the living room and grabbed the phone, realizing that she would need help if she were going to find her son under the pile of debris on the bed. In a state of panic, she stood; phone in hand, trying to think of whom she needed to call. She finally dialed the operator, and only then realized that the phone wasn't working. She was standing there, in shock, wondering what to do, when she heard someone pounding on the front door. Once she managed to get it open, the next-door neighbor, Fred Yateman burst in. "Is everyone all-right?"

"Kyle." Emily gasped.

"Where is he?"

"In there," she pointed toward the open door. "He's buried under the wall."

She laid the wailing baby on the couch and followed Fred into the destroyed room, fighting to keep hysteria out of her voice. "He was sleeping on the bed, under there."

Fred's heart sank, as he looked at the pile of debris on the bed, then upwards to the ceiling that was hanging precariously over them. Regardless of the danger he began as quickly as possible to help his neighbor remove the bricks, boards and plaster, hoping that the emergency people his wife had called would get there soon. They had still not reached Kyle when they gratefully heard sirens approaching the house. He turned to Emily, "Go out there and show them where to come."

Emily ran to the front of the house just as two policemen came through the open door. "Kyle is in there," she screamed, pointing toward the bedroom. Within minutes an ambulance and a fire engine were on the scene, followed in just moments by Pete, Sam and Scott. One of the ambulance attendants joined the frantic rescue efforts in the bedroom, while another examined Danny, who had a small cut on his shoulder, another on his leg and bruises over his body, including a large bruise and swelling on the side of his head. As he peered into the terrified eyes of the small child, he heard the shout, "We've got him." He handed the sobbing child to one of the firemen and joined his partner who was working feverishly on Kyle, trying desperately to get him breathing and stable enough to transfer to a waiting ambulance. A second had been called to transport Danny and Emily, who, also, had a number of cuts and scrapes. Fred approached Pete, "I'll drive you and the boys to the hospital."

Outside they were faced with a crowd of neighbors and curious onlookers. The police were keeping the people back from the house and were in the process of putting emergency tape around the area to keep people away. The fire department were in the backyard doing a preliminary investigation as they tried to discover the cause of the blast. They would spend the night trying to insure the safety of the neighborhood by ensuring that there was no gas leak, etc., although they already thought that it looked like someone had set off some kind of explosion. In the morning when the sun was up, they would search every inch of the house and yard. Police were assigned to make sure that nothing was disturbed until the investigation could be completed.

Eric was celebrating with a beer in 'the Corner Pocket' when the TV over the bar caught his attention with a news bulletin. "An explosion tonight has rocked the quiet of a peaceful neighborhood on Toronto's east side, destroying a home occupied by a 34 year old woman, her four children and her father. Two of the children, ages two and six, are in hospital tonight suffering injuries from the blast that shocked this usually quiet residential neighborhood. Hospital spokesman, Dr. Frederick Bowerman, at Sunnybrook Hospital where the children were

taken, list the younger of the two as stable while his older brother is listed in very critical condition. Fire officials and police are investigating. Northern Gas reports that there are no gas leaks in the area and the house where the explosion occurred did not subscribe to gas. We have a reporter on route to the scene of the explosion and will keep you updated as news becomes available."

"It can't be...Why were they...Ah...damn." Several heads turned toward him. With hands shaking, he raised the bottle to his lips. "I'd better be careful," he thought. "I could get in a lot of trouble over this. How was I supposed to know that she took the kids there? It's all that blasted woman's fault. If she had kept them at home where they belonged this would never have happened." He got up and headed for the door. He knew he would find Emily at the hospital. Standing on the sidewalk, he realized the foolhardiness of this. No way could he go there. And he couldn't contact anyone for information. The best thing for him to do would be to go to the airport and get a flight back to Edmonton as soon as possible. Then he would just have to wait for someone to contact him. "What a nightmare."

"I'm sorry, sir, the last flight to Edmonton left an hour and a half ago. There won't be another flight until 7:45 tomorrow morning."

"You've got to be kidding. I've got to get to Edmonton tonight."

"I'm sorry, sir, but there is nothing I can do about it. There are no flights until tomorrow."

"What about Winnipeg? Could I get there tonight and then catch something from there going to Alberta in the morning?"

"Sorry, sir. There is just nothing going that way tonight."

"I can't believe this is happening."

The girl smiled and shrugged. Eric glared at her but said nothing as he turned away and stalked across to a bench near the airport smoke shop and sat down. After just a couple of minutes he rose and began to pace back and forth, from the bench to the smoke shop and back again. Over and over again he covered the distance between bench and smoke shop, becoming more and more frustrated with every passing minute. He kicked the bench viciously, hurting his foot, then looked into the face of the young cashier in the smoke shop who was watching him out of curiosity as he vented his anger. His rage boiled over and he glared at the young girl and shouted, "I sure hope you're enjoying the view, sweetheart." She turned away, an embarrassed blush burning her cheeks as he limped to the center of the bench and sat down.

### Chapter 21

It didn't seem possible that so many machines could be attached to such a small body. Pete watched the respirator breathe for his grandson and shook his head in disbelief. How could this have happened? For the past few hours he had gone over and over in his mind everything that was in the basement and still he could think of nothing down there or at the back of the house that could have blown up. And he heated with oil, not gas, and oil didn't explode. There was no rational answer for what had happened. The small body on the bed was motionless. He was still heavily sedated from the surgery he had undergone just hours earlier and except for what the machines were doing , there was no sign of life. This little grandson was unconscious and holding on to life by a mere thread. A resident doctor and a nurse were in the room, constantly measuring, checking and adjusting. Pete stayed back, out of their way, watching their efforts to keep Kyle alive. The grave determination on their faces was in some strange way reassuring.

Pete prayed. He had stopped praying for a while after his wife's death but after a while the habit, for so many years a part of his existence, seemed to naturally return. His prayers for Angie had not been enough to keep her alive and yet now, reminiscent of those terrible days at his wife's bedside, there was nothing else that he could do. He felt the frustration of needing to do something and having the power to do anything completely out of his hands. All he could do for his young grandson was to plead for his life.

Danny had been admitted for observation although fortunately, there were no serious injuries. Aside from cuts and bruises, he was suffering primarily from a bad headache. "No," he had sobbed as the emergency doctor attempted to remove his little hands from before his face and eyes, "Hurt." After some gentle coaxing he allowed the doctor to check his eyes, which were very light sensitive and causing him pain. There was no evidence of concussion but Dr. Jackson knew that if nothing else the child would have a severe headache as a result of the explosion and he had him admitted to the pediatrics floor, explaining to Emily that it was merely a precaution - he would be kept under observation. Now his mother sat by his bedside, caressing his little hand until he finally fell asleep. She lay her head against the metal rails of the bed and, for the first time since the explosion, let the tears flow. A nurse came into the room, and then slipped quietly out again. This mother, she knew, would benefit from a good cry and heaven knows, she deserved it. After a few minutes, Emily wiped her eyes, rose, and collected Sam and Scott from the playroom where they nervously waited with Helen and the four made their way back to the Intensive Care Unit.

A tall, stocky, red headed policeman with kind eyes and a ruddy complexion stood when she came into the room. "Are you Mrs. Thompson?"

"Yes," she answered.

"I'm Jim Walsh from the Toronto Police. I'm sorry to bother you. I know this is a bad time but I need to ask you a few questions."

"Can I check on my son first?"

"Sure, no hurry. Go ahead."

A different doctor was busy in the room injecting medicine into the I.V. solution and when asked, explained to her that nothing had changed. Pete held out his arms to her and she gratefully walked into the comfort of them. They stood together for a moment, gaining strength and comfort from one another, until Emily remembered the policeman waiting for her in the waiting room. She pulled away from her father, "I'll be back in a few minutes." She returned to the waiting room.

Jim Walsh had been a police officer for 18 years and during those years had seen enough tragedy to be convinced that he had seen it all. If there was any way to hurt a fellow human being, the after-effects had been paraded in front of him. He had first hand knowledge of the sordid side of life, and of the greed and the hate that simmered under the surface of city life. Yet, as he looked into the pain-filled face of the woman who had seated herself across from him, and thought of the two small boys who had been brought here just hours earlier, anger at the injustice of it stirred in him and he determined that if this explosion had been deliberately set, as it appeared it had, he would find the person responsible, no matter what was involved. He opened his notepad. "I'm sorry to have to ask you these questions at such a terrible time but we're just trying to figure out what happened tonight and the sooner we get at it the better. Now, I want you to tell me exactly what you remember. Go back as far as you like and tell me everything - every little detail that you can think of, whether you think it might be important or not."

Emily began with the ball game, then told of walking the boys home, putting them in bed, doing the dishes, and finally sitting in the living-room, working on her quilt."

"Did you see anything out of the ordinary while you were walking home?"

"No. Why."

"We're quite sure that this wasn't an accident. It appears that dynamite was used on the back of the house."

"What? No, that's not possible."

"Until we find out differently, we are assuming this was deliberate."

"Who on earth would want to hurt us?"

"That's what we are trying to determine. Now, please think carefully. Was there a car driving slower than it should have past the house or past you and the children when you were walking home? Or the same car passing by a couple of times? Someone carrying a gym bag, or a parcel? Someone you hadn't seen around before? Or someone who has been hanging around a lot the last few days? Anything at all different?"

She thought for a couple of minutes, and then shook her head. "Nothing. The dog was restless for a few minutes before the explosion, just pacing back and forth and whining. I wish I had let him out. Maybe he would have chased whoever was out there away. But it never crossed my mind that we could be in any kind of danger."

"Is there anyone you can think of who might have some grudge against you or your father."

"No, of course not."

"Have either of you had a problem with a neighbor, a boyfriend or with anyone who might be angry?"

"No. This is crazy. I don't have a boyfriend. Nobody would..." she hesitated, the color draining from her face for a second before she shook her head and said, "No, it's impossible."

"You thought of something."

"I recently left my husband," she glanced at Sam and Scott who were watching the questioning intently, "but there is no way he would hurt the children. I'm sure he wouldn't do that."

"Tell me about him. His name, where he lives, and why you thought of him in connection with this."

Quickly Emily sketched a scene of the life she and the boys had lived with her husband and explained about the separation. "I couldn't live with him any longer. He was very violent and the last time he beat me, he broke my nose and a couple of ribs. I called my Dad and he came out to Alberta to get us. I haven't heard from Eric or spoken to him since we left there."

"So he hasn't made any threats?"

"No. There hasn't been so much as one word from him."

"But he could be upset with you or your father."

"Yes, if he knows that Dad came out for us, I'm sure that he'd be furious."

"I need his full name, address and telephone number. I'll have someone from Alberta go talk to him tomorrow, unless he's on his way here."

"Oh, gosh, I didn't even let him know what happened. I never even thought of him. I guess I'll have to call out there." She got to her feet.

"Go ahead. After you speak to him, will you call the station and leave a message there for me. I want to know what he plans to do. If he's coming here, I'd like to talk to him."

"All right."

"And if you think of anything at all that might have any bearing on this, however small, I want you to let me know. Also if you need me for anything, call. I'm going to get to the bottom of this."

"Thank you." She hesitated for a moment, and then looked into the face of the policeman before her. "If it's true that somebody did it, please find whoever it was. That sweet little boy didn't deserve to be hurt. Whoever is responsible has got to pay for this."

Something in her voice caught his attention and he looked into her eyes. "We'll get whoever did it and the sooner we get on it the better. Is your father still here?"

"Yes."

"I'd like to talk to him as well. Perhaps he has some ideas."

"I'll get him."

"I'm going to make a promise to you that I won't let this rest until we find out who was behind it."

"Thank you." Somehow Emily felt reassured and comforted by the calm determination of this big, red-headed man. She went into the room where Kyle lay and touched her father's arm. "Dad, there's a policeman out there who wants to talk to you."

"All right."

"Dad, he says it was dynamite that caused that explosion."

"Dynamite! That's impossible! There was no dynamite around there."

"They don't think it was an accident. They think it was deliberately set off."

"What! No! Why would anyone want to do that?"

"I have no idea."

"Oh, my...You don't think Eric..."

"I did think of him. But Dad, they are his kids. Surely he wouldn't do anything to hurt them."

"I know they're his but you know better than anyone what he's capable of. It's probably eating him alive that you have those kids, and you know what a mean cuss he is. I wouldn't trust him for anything."

She nodded. "You better go on out there, he's waiting for you."

"All right but I won't be long." He bent over his grandson and kissed the top of his head before going out to the waiting room.

Emily moved up beside Kyle and gently stroked his forehead. So much fluid had been pumped into his body that it was hard to recognize him now. Yet the soft golden curls were unchanged. She ran her fingers through them, feeling the plaster dust on her fingers and swallowing the lump in her throat spoke softly to him, "Kyle, darling, Mum is here. I love you and I want you to just rest and get better. Everything is going to be all right. We are all here with you and we all love you very much. Just get better." She turned to the young doctor who was checking his blood pressure and asked again, "Has there been any change at all?"

"No, none. But we're not really expecting any change too quickly. He's holding his own. We've got to be grateful for that."

She sat by her son stroking his face for quite some time trying to take in all that had happened in the past few hours. It seemed impossible to her that this nightmare could have happened and yet she had only to look at the small unconscious boy lying before her, with tubes running into and out of his injured and almost unrecognizable body, to know that it was only too real and that for some reason, someone had deliberately done this to him. The nurse moved up beside her, "Sorry, Mrs. Thompson, I'll have to ask you to step out for a few minutes. I've got some work to do with him. Can you give me about ten minutes?"

"All right, I have to make a phone call anyway. I'll be back shortly." She left the Unit and went to the hospital lobby where she found an available pay phone. In a few moments she was listening to the phone ringing in the house she had once shared with the man, whose name had come to her mind in connection with this horrible act, and who, apparently was not at home. She hung up and phoned the plant where he worked and spoke to his foreman who told her that Eric had a few days off so wasn't there. She stood with the receiver in her hand, speechless and unable to move. "Could it be possible? Could Eric have done this?"

Suddenly, she needed desperately to hear Jeanie's voice. Her voice had been the one of strength and sanity during those years of turmoil with Eric and a voice of encouragement during these past months with her father and right now she desperately needed that strength that she knew she would find in her friend. It was just past 1:30 a.m. in Toronto, which meant that it was just past 11:30 p.m. in Alberta, but despite the late hour Emily called her friend. When she heard a sleepy 'hello' she fought back the tears and tried to speak.

The silence on the phone brought back memories of the frightening calls that had been coming in during the winter and Jeanie was afraid that they were starting again. There was a note of fear in her voice when she answered again, "Hello, who is this?"

"Jeanie, it's me, Emily."

She knew immediately that something was wrong - terribly wrong and the concern was evident in her voice. "What's the matter?"

"There was an explosion at my Dad's house. Kyle is hurt."

"Oh, no, Emily. How bad?"

"Really bad. He's in Intensive Care. They aren't sure that he's going to live."

"Oh, no. Did you say it was an explosion?"

"Dynamite. Somebody blew up the back of the house."

"What!"

"Oh, Jeanie, it's awful."

"Was it Eric?"

Emily remembered Jeanie telling her about the strange phone calls, then about the dog being poisoned and her car motor being ruined and was not surprised that she thought of him. "I don't know. It could have been."

"Em, if he's anywhere around there, you be careful. Be very careful. He is capable of anything."

"I know he is. This has been so awful. I feel like I'm moving around in a fog. I know that this happened but at the same time I think that it's impossible and it didn't really happen at all. I look at him and wonder how anyone could hurt such a little child. Then all of a sudden I just needed to hear your voice. I'm sorry to call so late."

"My goodness, that's all right. When did it happen?"

"Tonight, around 8:30. Danny is in the hospital, too, but he's not hurt too badly. The blast gave him a bad headache and he's bruised and cut up but it doesn't seem to be anything serious. Kyle though..."

"What about Sam and Scott, are they all right?"

"Yes, they were away with Dad."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, I got banged up a bit but I'm all right. I'm just so scared. I can't stand the thought of having to go on without Kyle."

"I wish I could be there with you. I'll talk to Gary. Perhaps I can come."

"I can't even offer you a place to stay. I don't know where we will be. The house is destroyed."

"If I get there I'll find a place to stay. Don't worry about that. Can you call me tomorrow? By then I will know what I'm going to do."

"All right. But now I've got to get back to Kyle."

"Be brave and keep your chin up, girl."

"I'll try. Bye."

She tried Eric's number again to make sure that she hadn't dialed wrong and when she again got no answer, she hurried back to Intensive Care. Pete was waiting in the hall, "Honey, you can't go in there for a bit. They had a problem and they are working on him right now."

She felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her and her mouth went dry. Was this how Kyle's short life would end?

Pete saw the look of horror that crossed her face and longed to be able to tell her that everything was going to be all right but he couldn't say the words, for he was as frightened as she was at the thought of losing Kyle. He decided that just giving her the facts of what had happened might help to prepare her for whatever was ahead.

"There was no change that I could see in him but, all of a sudden an alarm sounded and another doctor and two nurses rushed in and they all started working on him. A nurse told me I'd have to leave."

"Oh, Dad, I'm so scared. What if he's..." Sam crossed the room and slipped his arm around her. "He'll be all right, Mom. He's just got to be all right."

She hugged her son and a moment later felt Scott's arms slip around her. The three clung together, comforting one another.

The family was in the waiting room a few minutes later when the doctor came out to talk to them, "Mrs. Thompson?"

"Yes." Emily answered, apprehension in her voice.

Dr. Powell sat down. "Your son has had a cardiac arrest caused from fluid around his heart. We were able to get the heart beating again and we have drained the fluid. He is stable at the moment although his condition is still very grave."

"What are his chances?" Pete wanted to know.

"I don't want to raise your hopes. He has suffered serious trauma. Our biggest concern is his concussion, for there is considerable brain swelling that we are keeping a close eye on. If there isn't any improvement soon, we will have to remove a piece of his skull to relieve some of the pressure. His left leg is badly fractured. There is a possibility that we won't be able to save it. He needs surgery on it as soon as possible but he isn't stable enough at present to tolerate surgery. When he is stronger and more stable, we will work on the leg. It's not a priority right

now. He also has broken ribs and a punctured lung as well as a broken collarbone and pelvis. His liver is bruised, too. These are all serious injuries on their own. Combined, this child has suffered terrible trauma. At the moment we have him on life support so that his body can have total rest and just heal. That's about all I can say. Personally, I think nothing will change much in the next few hours and you people should get some rest. It's been a long night. We will keep you up to date with what's happening."

"Can I see him now?"

"Give them about five minutes and there shouldn't be any problem."

The doctor left and Helen spoke up, "Emily, dear, I think I should take Sam and Scott home with me and tuck them in for a sleep. It looks as though Scott has had about all he can take for today." The boy was seated across the room in a chair fighting to keep his eyes open.

"That's a good idea. Dad, perhaps you should go too. You have been with him for so many hours you must be exhausted. I doubt that I could sleep tonight anyway but if you could get some rest tonight and then could come back tomorrow, then perhaps I can leave and get some sleep."

"Perhaps I should at that."

"Mom," Sam asked, "Can I see Kyle for a minute before I go?"

He stood in the doorway and stared in shock at the machines that beeped and throbbed continuously in the otherwise silent room. The body lying on the bed was completely motionless except for the raising and falling of his chest as the respirator forced air in and out of his lungs. Sam stepped up beside the bed and looked into the unrecognizable face that lay there. "Kyle?" He reached out and touched his brother's swollen hand. When his mother noticed how his shoulders sagged and saw the tears welling up in his eyes, she stepped over to him and put her arm around his shoulders. They stood together for a few moments, both crying for this tragedy that had happened to them. "Why would anyone want to hurt Kyle, Mom?"

"I don't know. I still have trouble believing that this has happened." Emily reached for tissues for herself and her son, then suggested, "Why don't you go on home with Helen and get a bit of sleep. It will soon be morning."

"O.K." He bent over his brother, "Kyle, you've got to get better. You've just got to. I'll go home and find your glove and look after it for you until you get home."

### Chapter 22

In less than an hour, Jim Walsh was back in the intensive care unit after hearing from his desk sergeant that Emily had called with information and would like him to return to the hospital as soon as possible. She was sitting with Kyle when the nurse came to tell her that he had returned and was asking for her. She met him in the waiting room. "Thank you for coming. I wanted to tell you that I know who is responsible for this. It was Eric, I'm sure of it. I called him, twice. He's not there. And when I called his job, the foreman told me that he has four days off. That's plenty of time for him to come here and do this. You've got to find him and arrest him."

"Well, that certainly gives him opportunity, but it isn't enough. The fact that he has four days off looks suspicious but it doesn't necessarily mean that he is guilty of anything."

"You need to check the airport. He would have flown. With only four days, he couldn't have come any other way."

He shook his head. "I don't expect that going to the airport would help much. He probably wouldn't have used his own name. I've already requested that someone from the Edmonton detachment go out to his house tomorrow. I think that's about the best we can do for now."

"Now is the time to do something. Give him enough time and he'll come up with some way to explain where he's been and a way to squirm out of this. You have to do something about it right now so you can catch him off guard."

"I understand how you feel but we have to go by regulations. Our hands are pretty much tied unless we get some evidence to tie him to this. At the moment all we know is that he's not home. There could be a hundred explanations."

"Yes, so you need to go out and get the evidence."

"There's nothing I can do about it right now."

"In other words, because nobody saw him do it, chances are he'll get away with it."

"If he is guilty of this, we'll get him."

"He's not stupid and right now you can be sure he's busy covering up for himself. You're giving him an opportunity to hurt my children and walk away from it. I can't deal with this right. I'm going back to my son."

With a sinking heart, Emily returned to the bedside of the little boy who hovered so close to death. 'If he's guilty.' The words kept coming back to her as she sat by the bed, watching the lines on the heart monitor. "If he's guilty. If he's guilty! Of course, he's guilty." The longer she thought about it the more convinced she became that Eric was responsible for the explosion that had destroyed her father's house and harmed her two sons and the more convinced she became that he would find a way to avoid punishment for his actions. She became more and more angry the more she thought about him. "If he's guilty! I don't know why he would do something like this, but I know that he did it. And I know that somehow he is going to squirm out of it. He always seems to come out of things looking innocent even when he's as guilty as sin."

She bent over the small boy and kissed his forehead. "You don't deserve this, Kyle. You really don't deserve this but I don't know how I can convince the police to go after your father for doing it. I wish I knew what to say or do to get through to them. They have to do something about him. They don't know him like I do or they would understand."

She resumed her seat and buried her face in her hands. The old familiar feeling of hopelessness washed over her and with it came self-doubts about her ability to make decisions for herself and the children. "I felt so good about this move and look what has happened. Perhaps I should have left well enough alone. He'd have had no need to hurt the boys if I had stayed with him." She began to cry tears of despair and frustration and she rocked back and forth, back and forth, as waves of discouragement washed over her.

Eventually, her tears dried up and she sat quietly, head aching, as she watched her son and the machines that were connected to him. She shivered in the coolness of the hospital room and folded her arms across her chest to hold her body heat to herself. As she sat there in a stupor of despair she began to think of her life and the events that had brought her to this point. She began to wonder what she could have done differently. In time, the despair and hopelessness in her eyes were replaced by anger and determination and the change went much farther than her eyes. She sat a little straighter in her chair and spoke aloud. "No, never again. I won't take the blame any longer for what he does. Not even for one second will I regret having left him. What happened to Kyle is his fault, one hundred percent his fault, not mine. My only mistake was letting him walk all over me for all those years. But no more. I'm worth more than that. And so are my boys. And I will not sit by while he gets away with this. If the police won't go after him, I will. I'll look him right in the eye as he goes to jail for what he did to Kyle. I swear before God, that man will answer for this." A sense of courage that she had no idea she was capable of, filled her and she knew that she could do this. She could make certain that Eric was brought to justice and she resolved to do exactly that. But she would proceed carefully and not act until she was sure of the right course of action. She would think very carefully about each step that she needed to take. She tried to put herself in Eric's place. "Now, what would he have been thinking. I can't imagine that he would have set out to hurt the boys and yet he blew up the house with them in it. That just doesn't make sense. So, could he have hurt them just to upset me? If he did, it worked. But I don't think he'd do that. He would be more likely go after me directly. And yet that's not what he did. I've heard absolutely nothing from him. So if it wasn't me or the boys he was after, it has to have been Dad." Her mind raced. "Of course, that's it, he was trying to hurt Dad. He'd be furious with him for helping us to get away and he'd want to get even. Eric always had to 'get even'. So he flew here and set off some dynamite to destroy Dad's house and if he'd been in it - oh well, so be it. One thing that I'm sure about is that he would have had to fly here. The four days off would attest to that. I bet he thinks he's perfectly safe, too. And I'll bet that he'd think no-one would be smart enough to catch him so he wouldn't bother to disguise himself. But would he use his own name? Not likely. He might be cocky but he isn't stupid. No, he probably used another name, and it could be just about anything. But someone would remember him, because he would call attention to himself in some way. His ego needs to be constantly stroked and he would do something to make people pay attention to him. The airport is the answer. Someone at the airport is going to recognize him. I'll have to get a picture of him from the house and take it out there."

As the hours passed, her determination to face Eric became steadily stronger. She wasn't going to wait in hopes that the police would decide that they had enough reason to check further into his whereabouts at the time of the explosion. This was her problem and she wouldn't wait for anything or anyone. "I'll find you out," she spoke in a whisper. "Whatever it takes, I swear, I'll do it and I'll find you out myself. This time, I'll come out on top or die trying."

As she thought more about it she realized that it wasn't just for Kyle that she was determined to follow through on this. Perhaps if she could stand up to him just this once, she would be able to finally put him completely behind her. These months in Toronto hadn't really consisted of freedom, for she was still being held prisoner, not by her husband but by fear of him. She knew that the love she had once had for him was gone and had been for a long, long time. He had beaten that love out of her, punch by punch. It had finally been replaced by fear, which was the point where she found herself now. And now she was determined that she would cut lose this last hold he had on her. She wanted to be totally done with him, to not spend the rest of her life watching over her shoulder for fear he would be out there somewhere waiting for the chance to get her alone.

For so many years after the beatings began, she had been paralyzed by the fear that he would kill her. It had taken a number of years for her to realize that she was tougher and more capable than she had ever thought possible. Not only had she survived his abuse, but also she had managed to escape from him, even though she had needed help to do it. Still the fear of being hurt, even though it was a normal fear, often held her back from enjoying her new-found

freedom as she should. She hoped with all her being that he would never have the opportunity to hit her again but she was convinced that even if he did, it would be different. He would never be able to get away with it again for something deep inside her had changed. No longer would she be the quiet, meek Emily who tried to be a good little wife and not cause waves. She pulled the chair closer to the bed and laid her head close to Kyle's shoulder. She was sure that she wouldn't be able to get any sleep but wanted to at least rest her eyes. Tomorrow she would have a lot to do and she needed as much rest as possible tonight. She would just wait for sunrise and her father's return so she could leave the hospital to get a picture of Eric from the house and take it to the airport. She reached up and took her son's motionless hand in her hand and in minutes had dozed off.

She was wakened about half an hour later when the nurse came in to suction Kyle's lungs but then was able to fall asleep again until the nurse returned. This continued throughout the remaining hours until morning arrived. Kyle had survived the night. She was asked to leave when the shift changed and she took the opportunity to go to pediatrics and reassure herself that Danny was doing all right and then she returned to ICU. The sense of calm that had finally settled over her during the night was still with her and came as a surprise, for she had expected to be filled with fear as the time approached to put her plan in action. At ten minutes to eight, Pete arrived and Emily explained to him what she planned to do. After announcing that he positively refused to allow her to go and arguing with her for some time, he accepted that he could do nothing to change her mind. He held her for a moment, kissed her on the forehead and whispered, "Curley-top, I can't lose you again."

"I'll be fine, Dad. I know that I'll be fine and I'll be back. I feel as though I'm so much stronger than I was that there is absolutely nothing he can do to hurt me. I'm not really afraid of him anymore, either. I think that half the control he had was just my fear of him. I don't know why Dad, but I'm not afraid anymore. I know that I have to do something, though. I can't sit here helpless and hope that someone else will come along and take care of this. Years ago, I gave away control of my life and now I have to get it back. I promise to be careful but I have to do this. Please understand. It's something that I just have to do."

"I'm not sure that I do understand. But if you feel that you have to, then I guess I can't stop you."

"No, you can't. I'm sorry but that's the way it is. You nor no one else can stop me. You'll have to look after the boys until I get back."

"I will."

"They might send Danny home today."

"I'll talk to Helen, I think she will take him home so I can stay here with Kyle."

Emily took the elevator up three floors to pediatrics once again. As she walked down the hall to the room where her youngest son lay, she smiled at the Disney characters that pranced across the walls. With all that had happened in the past 12 hours, it was hard to comprehend the normalcy of these happy pictures of Mickey and Minnie Mouse, Pluto, Goofy, 101 Dalmatians and Pocahontas. The floor was just coming to life and the early morning commotion, like the pictures on the wall, were almost too ordinary to be real. She made arrangements at the nurse's station for her father to take responsibility for Danny and then went to her son's room to spend some time with him. He was thrilled to see her and once gathered into her arms, didn't want to be put down, not even for a minute. She helped the nurse by getting him washed and ready for the day, then gave him his breakfast and rocked him for a few minutes. "Mommy has to go, darling, but Grandpa will be here to look after you until I get back. I love you, little pet." When the baby realized that his mother was about to leave, he wailed in anger. Last night he had been hurt, had strangers poking and prodding him and had wakened up in a strange room without his mother. Now that she was here, he would not let her get away without protesting at the top of his lungs. She gently pried his small arms from around her neck and with tears streaming down her cheeks, stumbled from the room.

Back at Kyle's bedside, Emily allowed herself the luxury of more tears. All the calm

resolve had faded as she faced actually leaving the children here at the hospital. Leaving Kyle was especially hard for there was always the possibility that he could die before she returned. "This isn't fair," she sobbed, "I need to be here with my children. Why won't the police go after Eric? I shouldn't have to do this. I know him, Dad; he'll figure a way out of this if they give him enough time. Right now he'll be off center. If there is any hope of getting proof, it has to be now."

Pete patted his daughter on the shoulder, unable to find words of comfort for her. "If only I could fix things and take us back to yesterday," he said. "I couldn't do a damn thing when your mother was so sick and I can't do a damn thing now."

Emily dried her eyes; sorry that she was making this harder for her father. "Yes, you can, Dad. You can be here for the boys so I can do something about their father." She kissed Pete, then turned back to her son and stroked his forehead. "Kyle, I'm going to have to leave you for a while but your grandfather will be here with you. I love you. But this is something I have to do." She closed her eyes and fervently prayed that this small life would be preserved, "Dear God, don't take my son. How could I go on without him? Keep him safe...at least until I get

back."

### Chapter 23

Getting access to the house to get a picture of Eric wasn't easy. She explained that she needed 'some things' but without permission from the lead detective investigating the explosion, the policeman guarding the house wasn't about to allow her or anyone else to enter during his shift. No amount of coaxing or bullying made the slightest difference. Emily was every bit as stubborn and it became a complete stand-off, with her demanding entrance and him refusing and barring her way physically. They both stood their ground with her refusing to leave until she had retrieved what she had come for and him refusing to allow access for even a minute. Finally, a call was made to headquarters and Jim Walsh, who hadn't left the station yet, was dispatched to deal with the problem. Very quickly, he realized that the woman he was dealing with today was very different from the one he had spent time with the evening before. Last night she had seemed meek and resigned to whatever life had to offer her. This morning she was a woman with a mission. He explained - she argued. He reasoned - she insisted. He insisted – she demanded. She won.

The compromise they worked out was that he would accompany her, she would touch nothing that he advised her was not to be touched and nothing could be taken out unless it passed his approval. With this deal struck, they entered the house together. In the light of day, the damage proved to be more extensive than she had realized. Furniture was overturned and tossed about the room as though a tornado had passed through. Glass was broken, plants and their soil were flung everywhere and plaster dust coated everything. She was terribly saddened to see things that her mother had treasured, strewn about the floor, broken and left to lie there like garbage. She cried out when she found her parents wedding picture, glass broken, on the floor. "Please, can I pick up my Mom and Dad's picture?"

Jim Walsh didn't have the heart to refuse. "Sure, go ahead." She picked it up and blew the plaster dust off of it. "It's all right," she said. "The glass is broken but the picture is fine. Thank you." He was strangely touched by the simple 'thank you' and wished that there was more that he could do to put her shattered home and life back together.

They made their way carefully across the living room to Emily's bedroom which was every bit as bad as the rest of the house. Almost everything in the room was upset and on top of all the mess were chunks of the plaster ceiling that had been knocked loose. An overpowering smell of spilled cologne added to the discomfort of the room and hastened the job of getting the picture from the closet and locating her purse. She also got a change of clothes, as those she was wearing were torn and blood-stained. "All right, I'm ready to go."

"Why the picture, Mrs. Thompson?" He saw no real problem with her taking a picture, but was curious about the reason she had for wanting it. It had not been an afterthought, but rather was the first thing she had hunted for when she entered the room.

She debated about lying to him but decided against it. "It's a picture of Eric. I'm going to find out whether or not he has been here in Toronto."

"Why don't you let us worry about that? That's what we get paid for you know."

"I'd gladly let you do it but it needs to be done now."

"I explained to you..."

"But you are wrong."

"I can't let you interfere and ruin the investigation."

"Tell me what investigation. It seems to me that there isn't much of an investigation. If there was, I wouldn't need to do anything."

"Why don't you just give me the picture and go back to the hospital. If the department decides that a crime was committed, and that any evidence exists that points to your husband, I'll, personally, go straight to the airport."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "Too little, too late. Do you really think that he would leave evidence behind. He's not stupid, you know. He would be very careful. I am taking this picture to the airport and I am going to find out if anyone saw him there. I'm certainly not going to give you this picture unless you will take it to the airport yourself, right now."

"I've already explained. Someone will talk to him today. If anything at all points to him, we will question everyone at the airport until we know if he was there. Now, just let us handle this."

"I can't. This is something I have to do. And it has to be done now."

As the taxi pulled away, Jim stood watching it, shaking his head, surprised at the determination of the young mother inside. Although her refusal to listen to his advice left him feeling frustrated, he couldn't help but admire the spunk she was showing and he suddenly realized that besides feelings of admiration and frustration, she was stirring other responses in him, that he was totally unprepared for. When his wife had left him, unable to cope with being a cop's wife, he had given up on the thought of having a woman in his life. Most of the women he had come in contact with in recent years had certainly done nothing to change his resolve to remain alone. Even last night, despite her obvious pretty face, there had been nothing in this woman that had interested him. But today there was a difference. What it was that caught his attention, he wasn't sure, perhaps the fire in her eyes and the determination in her voice. "I honestly don't know what it is about you, girl," he spoke to the departing cab, "But I intend to spend some time figuring it out."

In the airport washroom, she washed and changed into the navy slacks and navy and white striped sweater that she had brought from the house with her, and then tossed her torn, bloody clothes into the garbage can and began her search for someone who might have seen Eric at the airport or on the plane. First, she made inquiries to find out when any flights had arrived from Edmonton the day before and then she began to question people in hopes of finding someone who might have been on the flight with him. None of the airport personnel she approached were able to help her at all. No one could remember seeing the tall thin man in the picture either yesterday or this morning and after spending more than three hours approaching people, showing the picture and asking questions, following such a traumatic night with little sleep, Emily was getting very tired and discouraged. "I need a pick-me-up," she decided and stopped at the coffee shop for a hot cup of coffee, hoping that it might wake her up somewhat.

When a stewardess sat down next to her, she pulled the picture from her purse once again. "Excuse me," she turned to the uniformed woman seated next to her, "I'm looking for anyone who was on a flight from Edmonton yesterday and might have seen this man."

"Sorry."

"Would you look at the picture anyway? Perhaps you saw him around here this morning."

"It's not likely, I haven't been here very long."

"Please, just look."

Something in the woman's voice made the stewardess look up and for a moment she studied the tired, distraught eyes that were watching her. "I can look but I honestly can't help you."

"How can I find out who worked on that flight?"

"Did this guy run out on you?"

"No." She sighed, then looked straight into the stewardess's eyes, "I think he blew up my Dad's house and hurt two of my boys. There's a good chance my six year old might not live."

"Oh, wow. Those are the kids I heard about on the radio. Look, I think I know someone who might have been on a flight from Edmonton late yesterday afternoon. I can't give you her name, policy, you know, but I can take yours and ask her to call you. Sorry, but that's the best I can do."

"That would be great."

Emily tore a blank page out of her address book and wrote her name on it. She was about to write her phone number on it when she realized that she no longer had a home or a phone. She explained the problem and then gave the hospital number complete with the ICU extension number as well as Helen's home number. On request, the stewardess wrote her name and number in the little address book and then wished Emily well in her search before hurrying away to begin her day's work.

Revitalized by the small success she had just had, she began again to approach people, showing Eric's picture to anyone who would take the time to look. By mid-afternoon, she was so tired and discouraged that she considered going back to the hospital waiting room to try to get some rest, but instead, spotting a bench near the smoke shop, she sat there to rest. "Perhaps I'll just sit here for a minute or two," she decided. She let her head fall forward and closed her eyes for a moment. Her head was aching and the effect of the Tylenol she had taken earlier had worn off long ago. "They'll have something over at the smoke shop," she decided. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a pretty dark-haired girl go into the smoke shop, remove her coat and hang it in a closet behind the counter. "Shift change." She smiled. "Of course. The afternoon shift would have been here last night when Eric was here. No wonder no one saw him. None of the people I've been talking with would have been working last night."

She bought the Tylenol and a soft drink to wash them down and then with renewed resolve, she began again. One ticket agent thought that she might have seen him but she couldn't be sure. That was the closest she had gotten to an identification yet today. It was something but definitely not enough. Two hours later she had covered the whole airport and spoken to hundreds of people and still had no positive identification. She was back at the bench across from the smoke shop, by now feeling very discouraged. She sat there for a few minutes and then got up with a sigh. "Why not! I've asked everyone else."

Just a quick look was all that the pretty sales clerk needed to recognize the man who had been so angry with her the night before. "Sure, I remember him. He was here about 10 o'clock last night and he was some mad."

"Are you positive it was him." Jackpot!!! But she needed to be one hundred percent sure.

"Oh, yes. It was definitely him. I watched him pacing back and forth between here and that bench for a long time, getting madder by the minute."

"Would you identify him to the police if they asked you to?"

"Gosh, I don't know. I hate getting mixed up in police business and I don't really want to have anything to do with that guy. He stared right at me last night and there was something really scary about his eyes when he glared at me."

"All I need is someone to say they saw him here. It's really important. Please."

"What did he do? Why are you looking for him?"

"Our house was blown up last night and two of my boys were hurt and I think that he's the one who did it."

"Cripes, they've been talking about that all day on the radio. You really think he did it?"

"Yes, I do. But I need someone who saw him here to be willing to tell the police so they will arrest him."

Well, I suppose if they asked me I'd have to tell the truth, but I'm really not keen on having anything to do with that guy."

"You won't have to even speak to him. I just need proof that he was here and you are the only person I've found so far who saw him. I really need your name and phone number, please." Her voice echoed the desperation she was feeling.

Looking into the tired eyes of the woman standing in front of her, the girl knew that she had no choice. She needed to do the right thing. "All right, I'm Allana Beckett. I'll write my number down for you."

Within minutes, Emily was in a taxi with the two names and phone numbers tucked safely in her purse. She laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, hoping that the Tylenol she had just taken would soon kick in and give her some relief. She had only two hours to see her father and the children and get back to the airport to catch today's last flight to Edmonton.

At the hospital, she hurried to Intensive Care and found her father with Kyle. She was shocked to see how the last twenty-four hours had affected her father, for he had visibly aged. She walked into his arms and hugged him. "You look so tired."

"So do you, Curly-top."

"I am. Has there been any change?"

"No. He's still 'holding his own' whatever they mean by that."

"Dad, he was here. Someone identified him from the picture. He was at the airport last night."

"Was he absolutely sure it was Eric?"

"It was a she and she was sure. He spoke to her. She's very sure."

"Now what?"

"I'm going out there. There is a plane in an hour and a half and I plan to be on it."

"No! Not on your life. You let the police handle it."

"I have to do this myself. The police don't seem to be in a hurry and I am. I've tried to explain that this can't wait. The time to deal with him is now. They don't seem to think that there is any hurry but I know that there is. I'm sorry to worry you, Dad, but this is something I have to do. I know how you feel but I have to do this, not just for the boys but for me, too and I need your help." She spoke quickly, hoping to get it out before her father had a chance to object. "I have a name and phone number of the girl that saw Eric and I want you to get it to Jim Walsh. I also need your Visa to pay for my flight. I'll pay you back later but I need a credit card to book the flight. Actually, I don't have much time. I wonder if you would book it for me. Dad, even though you don't approve, please, I'm begging you for help, please call the airport and make the reservations for me?"

"Well, you're right about one thing, I certainly don't want you to go out there. I'm scared to death of what he might do to you. He could hurt you, or worse. I lost you for eight years, I don't want to lose you again."

"I'll be careful. Honest. But this is important. I don't want to be afraid for the rest of my life and I think that going out there and facing him will get rid of this fear once and for all. And I need to show him that I'm not afraid of him anymore.

The brown Mercury she had rented from Hertz nosed out of the parking area at Edmonton airport and turned north. Just half an hour away, was her destination, the house that Emily and the children had left so many months before. She turned north on the highway and checked the clock on the dash. It read 11:45. Hopefully, Eric would be at home and in bed. She had only to get him up and convince him to tell the truth. And then what? She had intended to spent the hours on the plane figuring out just how to go about approaching him, but instead had fallen into an exhausted sleep, which had certainly done her a lot of good, but left her without a

clear plan. The closer she got to the house the more uncertain she became. It would be a big mistake to go to the house without being prepared. He wouldn't easily give himself away and then even if he did admit to having caused the explosion, he would just deny it later. She might ruin her chances by going there unprepared and she had every intention of etting the upper hand and keeping it that way, for she had to be the one in control this time. She chewed her lip and wondered what to do. The only sensible course of action would be to spend the night somewhere and then in the morning, face Eric. She knew that she would be welcome even at this late hour at Jeanie and Gary's, even though it would mean waking them, and for a few minutes that's what she planned. But then she thought more about it and decided that for tonight she wanted to have no distractions, no-one to visit with and no-one to take her mind off the reason she was here and the difficult situation that she had to face in the morning. That settled in her mind, she began to look for a motel on the outskirts of town where she could get a room. Once there, she would come up with a plan to make him admit that he was responsible for the horrible explosion that had torn her family's lives apart. And she needed some way to get proof of any admission he might make. Could she get a tape of him confessing? It would be worth a try. She pulled the car into the Starlight Motel that had a vacancy sign lit up out front and rented a room for the remainder of the night. In the morning she would get a small tape recorder and then face Eric.

### Chapter 24

Despite worry for her son, back in Toronto fighting for his life, Emily slept quite well and woke ready to do whatever was necessary to get a confession from her husband. She phoned the hospital and learned that Kyle, although still unconscious, had spent an uneventful night. "At this point," the doctor again assured her, "We aren't really expecting a quick recovery. 'No change' is not bad. He seems to be a fighter and he is holding his own, which is good."

She took time for a quick shower, then dressed and left the motel to go find a place where she could buy a tape recorder. As she pulled out of the parking area of the motel she spotted the Pay-Rite Pawn Shop and decided to start her search there. She could hardly believe her good fortune for they had exactly what she wanted, a voice activated recorder for only $25.00. "If I was superstitious," she thought, "I'd take this as a real good sign." The owner of the pawnshop showed her how to operate it and she tucked it into her purse then drove to Radio Shack where she bought a package of six tapes. Now she was ready to face whatever waited for her at house where her husband was living. She turned the car north. A quick stop on the way for coffee and a muffin gave her a chance to try out the recorder. She fitted the small microphone into the clasp on her purse where it was hardly noticeable, turned on the recorder and went into the shop. When she got back to the car, she played back the recording and there it was, clear and easy to understand, the voices of herself and the girl in the do-nut shop.

"Right on, it works really well," she thought. "I'm on my way, Eric. And you aren't going to lie your way out of this."

Before pulling into the driveway behind Eric's car, she decided to play it safe and let Jeanie and Gary know that she was in Alberta and had gone to the house to talk to Eric. When she discovered that her friends weren't at home, she left a note, and then returned to the house that for so long had been her home.

Eric had slept poorly and had wakened in a foul humor. He had landed at the airport shortly after noon yesterday, afraid that the police would be waiting as he exited the plane, ready to arrest him for the fiasco that he had left behind in Toronto and when they weren't there he got his car from the parking area and drove home with one eye on the rear-view mirror, expecting them to appear behind him at any moment. Even after arriving home, he continued to worry, fearing that they would appear on his doorstep, handcuffs in hand. He knew that it was

imperative that he come up with a plausible story of where he had been yesterday, but he couldn't seem to get his mind to function. There was always the 'gone fishing story' but he would have to have time to drive up to the lake to get his story straight. He was certain that he had left nothing behind that could point to him but still he was worried. He had planned this whole affair so carefully and followed his plan exactly, yet nothing had gone the way it was supposed to go. He was again filled with anger as he thought of the person who was to blame for all these problems that he was facing - Emily. If only she had stayed home where she belonged, none if this would have happened. He would have had no reason to go to Toronto, no reason to have been at her father's house and certainly no reason to have set off the dynamite that had resulted in hurting Kyle and Danny. Why on earth had she taken the boys there? How on earth was he supposed to have known that they were there? Yet he would be held responsible for hurting them if the truth were ever to be found out. Once again, Emily would be considered the innocent party even though she was to blame for putting them in a position where they could be harmed. It just wasn't fair. He sighed as he realized that there was no hope that he would get any more sleep and that he might just as well get up and see what the day would bring.

He wished that there were some way to find out how badly the boys had been hurt. According to the radio, Kyle and Danny were pretty seriously injured, but there had been no mention of Sam and Scott. Had they also been injured? Is it possible that they weren't at the house when the accident happened? He had to assume that they were all right or they would have been named on the radio report. How he wished he could just phone and find out what.

was going on there. He had hoped that Emily would phone last night after he got home but she hadn't. Was there any chance that she would call today and tell him about what had happened to his boys? Not likely!

He threw back the covers and got up. He decided to get dressed, grab a bit of breakfast and then drive up to the lake. When his sock drawer proved to hold nothing but one woolen sock without a mate, he boiled over and kicked the dresser. "Ouch! Blasted dresser," he muttered as he grabbed his dirty socks and limped down the stairs and across the kitchen to put the kettle on to heat for coffee.

Just as he was finishing his breakfast, he heard a car out front. By the time he got up from the table and went to the window to see who it was, the driver was already knocking at the door. He didn't recognize the car and quickly scanned the room to assess the disorder before answering the knock. He couldn't believe his eyes when he opened the door to see Emily standing on the doorstep. He had only to look into her eyes and note the determined set of her jaw to realize that although this was Emily, there was definitely something different about her. She seemed so sure of herself and there was no sign of the frightened woman he had last seen. Her gaze was steady, as she looked him straight in the eye; it wasn't the furtive look that he had become so accustomed to. He was speechless.

Her voice was assertive as she spoke, "I need to talk to you."

He stepped back to let her enter the kitchen where she had spent so many hours during the eight years that she had lived in the house. Although she didn't really care what condition the house was in, she couldn't help but notice that the once clean and tidy room was now littered with garbage and dirty dishes and the floor was in desperate need of sweeping and mopping.

"What...why are...what are you doing here?" he stammered.

"I came to ask you why you tried to blow up my Dad's house."

"What are you talking about? I didn't try to blow up anything."

"I know that you did it. You were right there in Toronto. I talked to someone who saw you at the airport. Eric, why?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I know what you've done. I just don't know why. But I do know that you can't get away

with it."

"You don't know anything."

In a calm, even voice, Emily stated, "I know that you lied to my parents about where we had moved to. I know that you fixed things so that I lost contact with them. I know that my mother died and I didn't have a chance to see her before she died and that she died not knowing that she had two more grandsons. I know that you were in Toronto the night before last. And I am positive that you are responsible for blowing up Dad's house and hurting Kyle and Danny."

"You can't prove anything," he snarled.

"Oh, yes, I can." Emily's voice began to rise, "I most certainly can."

"Don't you dare to raise your voice to me. Who do you think you are that you can come here and yell at me after what you did to me?"

"After what I did to you! Eric, you just about killed me."

"Yeah, I know. Poor Emily! Poor, little Emily who had a nice house, food on the table, and whatever she needed and never had to work a day in her life. I worked every day for you and when did I get any appreciation."

"It's hard to appreciate black eyes and broken ribs."

"Yeah, I know, you had it so rough."

"I'm not here to argue about something that's ancient history now and frankly, at this point, I don't really care what happened in the past. What I do care about what you did to my boys. I've came out here so I could hear you admit that it was you who hurt them."

"Your boys! Your boys!" Eric shouted, "They are my boys, and don't you ever forget it. You have no right to them and I'll get them from you if it takes me the rest of my life."

"Forget it, Eric. Those boys are more than possessions. You have always put on a good show of how much you care about them, but if you really cared you would have at the very least asked how badly Kyle and Danny were hurt, but you didn't." Her voice lowered and there was a hint of disgust in it. "I can't believe that you didn't ask, but you didn't. I think that tells volumes about how much you care about those boys."

"Shut up." Eric shouted, "Shut your filthy mouth." The back of his hand caught her across the face and sent her reeling into the wall as her glasses flew onto the floor.

"Don't you dare ever do that again." Emily faced him with fury in her eyes.

"Well, what is this?" he sneered, "We've got another Emily. You're sure not the woman I married. But even with this new you I'll do as I please." He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her up against him.

"Get your hands off me." The cold, even voice stunned him for a moment and he dropped his hand. Emily stepped back. "I won't let you get away with this anymore. I won't be your punching bag. For once in your life, be a man, and admit what you did. Tell me why you hurt the boys."

"I'd never hurt the boys."

"But you did. You did. Why, Eric?"

"I had no reason to hurt the boys and you can't come up with any reason why I would want to hurt them. So forget it."

"I've already talked to the police."

"You have what?"

"I told the police that I'm convinced that you're responsible."

Again, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her towards him. "Now get this through your head, there's nothing to connect me to this, nothing."

"We both know the truth, Eric. Why can't you just own up to what you've done and admit it."

He yanked her hair and pulled her down onto her knees. "I'll admit nothing."

Emily closed her eyes and willed herself to stay calm. She had promised herself that she would never put up with this again and yet her best chance of getting a confession on tape would be if he were to lose control and let something slip that could be used to prove his guilt. "You hurt those two boys and we both know it. Admit it, Eric. For once in your miserable life take responsibility for what you have done."

His knee caught her under the chin and snapped her head back but the grip he had on her hair kept her from falling onto the floor. "I don't have to admit anything to you. You get that! I'll admit nothing."

"What could you have against two little boys? Danny's just a baby."

"Shut up" he screamed, twisting his hand in her hair and pulling it until she cried out.

"You're a grown man. Why would you want to hurt children?"

"I didn't want to hurt them." He let go of her hair and punched her in the mouth. "Now, will you shut up."

Nothing could stop her now. She was sure that he was about to say more and she knew that she had to keep up the pressure a little longer. This was one time when a beating would be worthwhile. She wiped the blood from her mouth on the back of her hand and asked again, "Why, Eric, why did you do it?"

"Shut up." he screamed.

"Come on, Eric. Think for a minute. What kind of a father would do this to his own children?"

Again his fist hit her in the mouth. "I told you to shut up. How was I supposed to know that you took them there? They shouldn't have been there. It's your fault that they were there. Not mine."

The purse she had held so carefully slipped unnoticed to the floor as she fell back against the wall. Her tongue explored the inside of her mouth. The front teeth were loose but were still in place. The blood was coming from split lips. She looked at this man she had shared her life with for so long and spoke with hatred in her voice, "It was my Dad you were after. You wanted to kill my Dad."

"That's crazy!" His voice was shrill and panicked, "I didn't want to kill anyone. Why would I want to kill him? I just wanted to teach him to mind his own business. He had no right to come here and take my family away. I got him where it hurt. That house was always his pride and joy. He won't be so proud of it now. That explosion was loud enough that I know I did a good job on it. He always thought he was better than me. I finally showed him that I'm better and smarter than he is. I got him good and he had no idea it was coming"

Emily stumbled to her feet. "Yes, you showed him all right."

"Yeah," he snorted, "I sure as hell did."

She started toward the door but had only taken a couple of steps when he grabbed her by the arm and spun her around to face him again. "Now, you don't really think I'm stupid enough to just let you just walk out of here, do you?"

Her mouth went dry. How was she going to get out of this? She had the confession that she had come for, now she just needed to take her purse with the recorder and get away from here. That was when she realized that her purse was gone. She looked around the room but didn't see it. She began to panic. Without the tape, this was a wasted trip and she had put herself in danger and been hit in the mouth for nothing. She jerked her arm out of his grasp and moved a few steps backwards to a point where she could better see around the room and there, under the table she spotted the shoulder strap of the purse. Her mind raced. Should she retrieve it and chance calling attention to it or wait for an opportunity to get it without him noticing. Her palms became sweaty and she wiped them on her pant legs as she watched him warily, wondering what she should do.

"Now, where in hell am I going to put you until I figure out what to do?" he asked.

The time to get the purse would have to be now, she decided, for goodness knows what he would do next. She looked again towards the purse and then noticed her glasses, lying a little further on. "My glasses," she murmured, "I need them." She moved towards them expecting at any moment to feel his hands hauling her back, but fortunately he didn't appear to be too concerned with the possibility of her escaping and she was able to pick up the glasses and then, as she moved back towards him, to stoop over and pick up the purse and sling it over her shoulder. She was very relieved that he made no moves to touch her and didn't seem to pay any attention to the purse at all. They stood facing one another for a moment, Eric having moved to a point where he was between her and the door, successfully blocking any hope of escape. Her mind raced trying to think of some way to get out of the predicament she found herself in and coming up with nothing.

Finally, he spoke, "I want you in the basement. Now move."

"Please, Eric, let me go."

"Get moving, or I'll push you down those stairs. And wouldn't it be a crying shame if you broke your neck? Now hurry up."

She willed her feet to move, hating the fact that she was so very much in his control. "Eric, let me go. I have to get back to the boys. They need me."

"Shut up and get down those stairs. I'm warning you. It wouldn't take much for me to give you a good shove."

She was filled with dread at the menace in his voice, but she dreaded even more the thought of putting more distance between herself and the kitchen door and she hesitated at the top of the basement stairs. He immediately moved towards her menacingly and she began a slow but steady descent to the basement with Eric close behind her. From years spent living in this house, she knew without looking that there was no escape from this basement except through the door into the kitchen above. She was trembling in fear but knew that it was imperative that she remain calm for although things were progressing quite badly, they could be worse. He had, at least, stopped hitting her and in time Jeanie would find her note and when she didn't show up there would begin a search. Once someone arrived to look for her, Eric would have a hard time explaining the strange car in the front yard and sooner or later she'd be found. Meanwhile she'd have to make herself as comfortable as possible and wait to be rescued. Once she was freed she could take the tape in her possession to the police and then it would just be a matter of waiting for justice to be served.

At the bottom of the stairs, he grabbed her arm in a vise-like grip and pulled her toward the furnace room. Despite her decision to stay calm she couldn't stop herself from pleading with him once more, "Eric, please, you can't do this."

"Sweetheart, I've done it." He pushed her into the room and slammed the door shut behind her. She heard him moving about and then his hammer pounding on the door, nailing her inside this makeshift prison.

"Now keep your mouth shut. I've got some thinking to do." His footsteps resounded first on the stairs and then across the kitchen floor.

Emily sank down on the cold, hard cement floor. She, too, had some thinking to do. There were two things that she had to somehow accomplish. First, she had to make sure that Eric didn't discover the tape she had made, and then she had to find a way to get out of this basement alive. The best thing to do would be to hide the tape somewhere that Eric couldn't find it. Once she was free, she could always come back to retrieve it. Finding a hiding place in this basement room should be easy. She looked around the room carefully and took stock of all that it contained. Besides the furnace, the room contained some tools along one wall, a cardboard box with some partial rolls of leftover wallpaper and behind the box, a plastic tarp. She wrapped the tape in an envelope that she found in her purse and then deposited the it in the bottom of the cardboard box, under the rolls of wallpaper, then she continued to study the room. The window was very small, about 18 inches wide and 8 inches high. There was definitely no hope of escape there. She could hear Eric walking around upstairs, so she tried to move about as quietly as possible as she searched the gloomy room for some means of escape. The door was fastened securely and didn't give at all as she pushed against it. Two walls were cement, but the other two were wallboard. Perhaps she could go right through the wall. She checked the pile of tools, and among them found her gardening tools, discarded here last fall when she had prepared the flowerbeds for winter. The most promising thing she found was about two feet long with a 'V' shaped cutting edge for digging dandelions. This might be just the thing she would need to break through the wall and free herself, but she would have to bide her time and wait until he was either gone or asleep before she would dare to begin working on the wall. If he were to catch her in the act of breaking out, the beating she had sustained so far would be just a taste of what he would do to her. This was definitely the time for patience. She decided to hide the tool in case he came back and removed anything from the room to keep them out of her hands. With it hidden she would have to just bide her time and wait for the right time to use it. She searched for a hiding place, finally settling on the top of the furnace, away at the back where it was totally invisible. She put it there carefully so as not to disturb the dust and when she was done there was not a sign that she had touched the surface of the furnace and she felt confident that Eric would never guess that she had hidden something there.

She sank back onto the floor with her back against the wall and closed her eyes. Her head was pounding. She reached for her purse and rummaged in it for the Tylenol she had put there the day before. After swallowing two of them, she took the tape recorder, set it up with a new tape and looked for a place to hide it. She realized that sooner or later, Eric would search her purse and if he were to find the recorder he'd know that she had taped him and he'd suspect that there was a tape hidden somewhere and he'd search until he found it and her having come here and put herself in danger would all have been for nothing. She considered for a moment hiding it under her clothes, for that way she would have it with her if he were to take her from the room, but she decided that she already had the information that she had come for and carrying the tape recorder with her increased the chances of him finding it. Again, her eyes combed the room looking for a hiding place. The furnace seemed to provide the best hiding spot she could find especially since Eric had turned it off and was very unlikely to turn it back on before fall. She struggled to her feet again, her head protesting the movement, and wedged the tape recorder between the fire wall and the outside of the furnace, then fastened the microphone to the outside of the door by the hinge, where it was hardly visible, yet was ready to pick up any sounds in the chilly little room.

The tarp, spread out on the floor with a portion rolled to make a pillow, afforded her an opportunity to lie down, which helped her headache to some degree and shade herself as comfortable as possible to wait her chance to escape. Her watch read 11:35 a.m. She had been in the house for just a few minutes less than an hour, yet it was hard to believe that so much could have happened in such a short space of time.

She had been laying on the tarp for only about ten minutes when she heard the pounding of Eric's feet on the basement steps. The sound brought a stab of fear to her heart and she sat up. "Now what?"

He pried the nails loose from the door and strode in, "Give me that," he grabbed her purse that lay on the floor beside her and rummaged through it. "Where are the car keys?"

"They're in my pocket." She pulled them from her jacket pocket just as he pulled her father's Visa from her purse.

"Up to your old tricks." he snarled, "I still owe you for that one."

He threw the purse down and advanced on Emily, grabbing her arm and pulling her to her feet. He took her left hand and checked her fingers, "No rings, I see. You must have thought you were pretty smart, ripping me off like that, but we aren't finished on that score yet."

She grimaced as he bent her fingers backwards. Finally, she cried out, "You're breaking my fingers."

He released her hand and laughed. "Poor baby, my heart breaks for you." He took the keys from her and left the room, nailing the door shut again behind him.

She sat back down on the tarp and rubbed her fingers. They weren't broken or dislocated but they were certainly hurting. In minutes she heard the front door slam, then all was quiet for about five minutes. She was trying to decide if this was the time to dig through the wall, when she heard the front door again, followed by Eric's footsteps on the floor above her. "He must have hidden the car somewhere near the house," she decided, "Perhaps behind the garage or in the old shed west of the house."

At 12:45 she heard the doorbell, followed by Eric's footsteps crossing the kitchen floor and the door opening. At 1:10 the door closed again, followed by Eric's footsteps pacing back and forth across the floor. The footsteps stopped. Then suddenly, she heard them bounding down the stairs. The nails were once again pulled from the doorframe and Eric, white faced and shaking with rage, entered the room and pounced on Emily where she cowered on the floor.

"You bitch," he screamed at her. "You sent the cops here after me. What will the neighbors think?" His fists hit her again and again as she tried unsuccessfully to protect her head and face with her arms. "I'll kill you," he shrieked, "So help me, I'll kill you."

Emily rolled away from him and tried to get to her feet in an effort to escape the blows. She was on her knees when Eric grabbed a fistful of hair on each side of her head and began pounding her head into the wall. She heard a crack before she lost consciousness and wondered for a split second if it was her head or the wall that had given way first.

### Chapter 25

Consciousness was not something she wanted. The pain would flood over her whenever she began to waken and she would just let the darkness wash over her again and take the pain away. In this manner she drifted in and out of consciousness for a long time. At some point she became aware that she was terribly cold but felt powerless to do anything about it. Still later, she became aware that she was too hot, but again, doing anything about it took more effort than she was able to come up with, so again she let the darkness wash over her. Sometime later her pounding headache roused her and this time the darkness wouldn't take the pain away. She had no choice but to awake. Something puzzled her. Her eyes wouldn't open. After some minutes of struggling, she managed to get them open to some degree, although they were mere slits that afforded her very limited vision. All she was able to make out in those first moments was sunlight shining on a spot of floor just in front of her face. For a few moments she marveled on this one spot of sunlight in the otherwise dark room but then she realized that even this took more effort than she had to spare. She sighed, closed her eyes and drifted away to that place where pain could not reach. When she awoke again, the heat was gone. She thought of the small spot of sunlight that had seemed to be the only comfort to be found in this terrible place and forced her eyes open to find it. With a deep sense of despair, she found it was gone and she was alone. She tried to remember where she was and how she came to be here. All she was aware of right now was how horribly her head ached, that there was a terrible ringing in her ears,

and that she was getting cold. But, try as she might, she couldn't remember how she came to be here in this dark, cold place. She reached out with her right hand, hoping to feel something familiar that would help her remember where she was but the only thing that she became aware of was even more puzzling, for it appeared that she was tightly wrapped in something that felt like heavy plastic. Her thoughts groped desperately through the fog that seemed to have invaded her mind. Why would she be wrapped in plastic? Nothing seemed to make sense. Then she remembered something. She had been lying on something blue. Suddenly, it became clear to her; she was in the basement lying on something blue and plastic. It was there, floating near the edge of her memory – it was a tarp. She was in the furnace room laying on a tarp. She tried to focus on the room. Eric had locked her in here and now she had to get out. She struggled to get up, but found that she could not. Moving was too difficult, so she lay back and attempted to figure out what was going on. What was happening? Eric had beaten her, but he had done that many times before and she had been able to get up afterwards. She needed to know how badly she was injured this time so she decided to check out her body, feeling each part to discern where her injuries were. Her left kneecap hurt and although she couldn't reach it, she moved it slightly and decided that it was probably just skinned. Her left hand was very sore, and judging by the sharp pain that resulted from her attempt to move it, she was quite sure that something in her hand was broken. Her arms were also sore but, unlike her hand, could be moved without undue pain and therefore she was quite sure weren't broken. Breathing was no problem and there was no pain in her chest, back or stomach. It appeared that the most damage was to her head. This headache was, by far, the worst she had ever experienced. Just trying to move her head the least bit made her feel nauseous. She also believed that she had never been so thirsty in her whole life. There was a strange taste in her mouth, as well. It tasted as though something had crawled in there and died. It took quite a bit of effort to free her right arm from the tarp that was wrapped quite securely around her but she managed and cautiously, felt her face with her fingers. She was shocked to realize that nothing felt familiar. Her eyes were swollen almost shut, her nose was pushed to one side and her lips were swollen and crusty with dried blood. Her jaw, when she tried to move it, refused to work and sent pain shooting through her face. She was sure that it must be broken or dislocated. She knew that she needed to get out of this basement and get medical attention and water and she needed to get out soon and find help before her strength failed her completely, for even now she realized that it would be easy to just lay back, close her eyes and wait for death to take her away from this pain. After a tremendous struggle, wrestling with the tarp, she gained her feet and leaned against the wall, waiting for the dizziness she was feeling to pass. She peered through the slits where her eyes were almost hidden and gasped in horror. This was not the furnace room where she had been. This was a shed, empty except for a pile of rotting lumber and some old rusted paint cans; and it was not the shed that she was familiar with, that stood behind the house where she had been held captive in the basement. This shed she had never seen before.

"This isn't the basement!" she thought, "Where am I?"

She looked around. Nothing was familiar but the tarp that she had been wrapped in. She slowly and carefully made her way to the door, pushed it open and then stepped out. The sun was low in the sky and she estimated that darkness was only about an hour away. In the dim light that the evening sky provided, she was able to look around at this strange place where she found herself. She was standing outside a dilapidated machine shed beside an old barn that had already collapsed on one side and threatened at any minute to complete the job. Hope rose in Emily as she spotted an old house less than a hundred yards away. Perhaps someone there could help her. She stumbled out into the weedy yard and made her way to the house, arriving exhausted and bathed in perspiration. After resting for a few minutes on the back step, she knocked on the door. When there was no answer she pounded with what was left of her strength, then finally turned the knob and pushed the door open. It was obvious that no one had lived here for many years. Despair threatened to engulf her. She sat on an overturned washtub that lay on the old porch by the kitchen door and sobbed. As darkness fell, her sobs subsided and the flow of tears dried up. They were replaced with anger when she thought about the reason she was in this predicament. She knew that Eric had been the only person in the basement with her so it was obvious that Eric had to have been the one who had done this to her. The anger that washed over her somehow gave her strength. "He must have thought that I was dead," she decided, "And dumped me here where he figured it would be unlikely that anyone would find my body."

She got to her feet, stumbled away from the dark house and turned towards the road. "Surely someone will come along and help me," she thought. By the time she reached the road, her strength was nearly gone. "Please, God," she whispered, "Help me."

She wasn't sure which way to turn, and hesitated at the side of the road for a moment then turned left and forced herself to take one step after another down the dark, deserted road. It seemed as though she had been walking for a long time and must have covered a considerable distance, when she stopped and looked back. From the outline of the buildings against the night sky, she realized that she hadn't gone more than 50 yards. Tears blinded her and she stumbled. "I can't do this." She sank down onto the road to rest for a few minutes and then aware that she had to keep going, began to struggle to get to her feet once again. Her body didn't seem to co-operate and she was soon shedding tears of frustration as she tried again and again to get to her feet only to lose her balance and fall again onto the road. She was still struggling unsuccessfully when she heard a vehicle approaching and turned her head to peer into two bright lights coming straight towards her. She couldn't get out of the way. All she could do was put up her hand to shield her eyes from the blinding light.

Hank Clement couldn't believe his eyes. As a matter if fact, he had been so sure that he was seeing things that he had almost driven by the figure huddled on the side of the deserted road. He certainly never expected to see anyone here. He wouldn't have been here himself except that there had been reports of cattle being rustled, so after work, he had driven back to check on some of the young cattle that were pastured here for the summer.

"Are you all right?" he asked after stopping the truck and getting out to check on her. He took her arm and helped her to her feet. She didn't answer but took a couple of steps toward the truck before her knees buckled and she began to pitch forward. She would have fallen had he not caught her. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the passenger seat. As he placed her in the cab of the truck, the interior light gave him his first clear view of her face and he stared in shock. He had never seen a face so swollen and damaged. One eyebrow was split open, both eyes swollen shut, her nose flattened and pushed to the right side of her face, her lips split and dried blood over her face, and streaking her clothes and hair were horrifying to look at.

"Hang on, lady, I'll get you to the hospital."

She shook her head and mumbled something that he couldn't understand. As he got in behind the wheel, he heard her again mumbling but didn't take the time to try to figure out what she wanted, he wanted to get her to the hospital before she died right here in his truck. Within twenty minutes, she was in the emergency ward of the hospital, where a nurse finally realized what it was that she had been trying to say, "Po...li..., po...li...ce."

"We've already called them. They should be here soon."

Sure enough, in minutes Officer Ben Morgan, came into the cubical where Emily lay and began to question her. "Can you tell me your name?" he asked.

"E...ly Tah...son." Her words were not much more than a moan.

"Elly Johnson?"

She shook her head and tried again. "E...um...ly Tah...son."

"Elly Thompson?"

She sighed and tried again. "E...um...ly, Em...ly."

"Emily? Emily Thompson?"

She nodded slightly and he continued. "What happened? Who did this to you?"

"Hus...and. Er...ic."

"Your husband? His name is Eric, you say?"

Emily nodded.

"Eric Thompson?"

Again she nodded.

"Have you been to this hospital before? Would they have your address on record here?"

Again she nodded.

"We'll pick him up. Any more questions can wait until you are feeling better." Before he left, he asked for pictures to be taken for evidence and requested a copy of the medical report. Tests revealed minimal brain swelling despite a skull fracture, a broken and dislocated jaw and broken nose, as well as two bones broken in her hand and numerous facial cuts. A plastic surgeon was called in to work on her face and within hours her jaw was wired in place, her nose repaired and 28 stitches had been used to close the cuts in her lips and eyebrows. Orthopedics set the bones in her hand and put on a cast. Once out of the recovery room she was moved to a room on the third floor and had just been settled in her room when Officer Morgan returned with news for her. "How are you doing Mrs. Thompson?"

"Tired." The voice was an almost inaudible whisper.

"We went out to pick up your husband and there was no sign of life there. We're keeping an eye on the place and sooner or later we'll get him. Meanwhile, I went back to the station and ran your name and discovered that there was a missing person report on you from Ontario, as well as one out here. Your father got worried because he didn't hear from you and put out a missing person report. And then a Jeanie Stoltz called to say you had stopped at her house and then gone missing. I talked to an Officer Walsh in Toronto and he's flying out here.

He should be here in the morning and I'll bring him by as soon as he gets out here."

"How...is...son?"

"He's holding on. Walsh said to tell you that he's still listed as critical but that he's no worse."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Well, like I said we've got a cruiser out there watching your husband's house and just as soon as we see some sign of life, we'll move in. We're gonna get him. You can bet on that."

After the policeman left, she lay there going over and over in her mind all that had happened during the last few days. Things had been so good and then in a split second, it had all changed irrevocably and life would never be the same again. She couldn't for a moment forget the sight of Kyle lying so motionless in his hospital bed with tubes and wires running from his small body in every direction. The sounds of the machines in the room both fascinated and terrified her. She had found herself constantly listening to their beeps, frightened that the sounds would change or stop. However, despite her worry over the small boy, so far away fighting for his life, exhaustion finally claimed her and Emily fell into a deep, drugged sleep and her body once more began the healing process.

### Chapter 26

Next morning, Emily insisted on being released from the hospital. She was prepared to put on her clothes and just walk out if the doctor didn't sign her out, but he realized that she was determined and signed the necessary form. She called Jeanie and although she had great difficulty speaking she managed to ask for a ride. It took only ten minutes from the time she hung up the phone until she was dressed in the soiled, bloodstained clothes she had been wearing the night before when she had been found. Then the anxious wait had begun, for she had every intention of returning to the house and retrieving the tape. She definitely wasn't done with this yet. The tape, in Eric's own voice admitting that he had been responsible for what had happened, needed to be in the hands of the police and she wouldn't rest until it was safely turned over to them. Nothing was going to stop her from seeking justice for her son. She had been nervously pacing the floor, fueled by impatience to be gone and at the same time working some of the stiffness from her limbs and had stopped to look out the window in the hope of seeing her friend's car drive up, when she heard someone at the door of her room and spun around to find herself looking into the face of Jim Walsh.

He had already been informed about the terrible beating she had taken and since he had seen people injured many times before, he had thought that he was ready for the sight of the courageous woman who stood facing him across the room. He found, though, that he was totally unprepared for the emotion her swollen, bruised and stitched face stirred in him. He wanted to cross the room and hold her in his arms and make a solemn promise to her that he would never allow anyone to hurt her again. And he wanted five minutes alone with the man who had done this to her. His face drained of color as he stepped into the room. "Emily?"

Emily, too, was surprised at the emotion she experienced at seeing this man standing here before her. She longed to walk into his arms and to be held in the safety of his embrace. The poignant moment was broken when Officer Morgan, sensing the awkwardness of the emotion they were experiencing cleared his throat and broke the long silence. "Ahem - we - uh- just stopped to see how you are doing on our way out to arrest your husband."

"Is he there?" The words were not easy to understand as she forced them through her wired jaw.

"They've been keeping an eye on the place since last night and we got a call that Thompson just arrived home about fifteen minutes ago. I asked them to wait until I get there to make a move, unless he decides to leave, in which case they'll pick him up. I want to be there to get him myself." Jim Walsh sounded determined.

"I'm...going too." It was not much more than a whisper.

"That's impossible." His voice was kind but Officer Morgan knew that police procedure didn't allow anyone to come on an arrest.

"He's right." Jim answered. "You can't come."

"Please, I want...to...be there."

"We couldn't ensure your safety and it's definitely against policy," Officer Morgan added.

Jim Walsh stepped forward and took her good hand in his. "Emily, I know that you want to be there and I think you've probably earned the right, but there's nothing we can do about it. It wouldn't be safe and it's definitely against department policy. What I will do, is get you as soon as he's in custody and bring you down to the station. We will need you to give us a positive ID and fill out a report anyway."

"Proof...proof at house."

"What proof."

"Tape...in the...base...ment."

"A tape? What's on it Emily? What proof?

"He blew...up...the house."

"And you got it on tape?"

She nodded.

"Where will you be? Once we pick him up, I'll come get you."

"Eric's."

"No way and I mean it, Emily. You are not to go near that place. Now where can I find you?"

"Next...door. Jeanie Stoltz...pick me up."

"I'll see you there." He squeezed her hand slightly then turned away.

She shook her head. "Eric's." The determination was back in her voice.

Jim smiled slightly as he walked away from the room. He liked the fire he had discovered in this girl. A man could spend a long time discovering the two sides of this woman. He had seen glimpses of them both, the loving mother, quiet and pleasant, and the spirited, determined woman who would fight to right an injustice, regardless of the difficulty involved. "It's going to be a pleasure to see this jerk in cuffs," he said, as they got into the cruiser. "I can't figure a man who could do this to any woman, much less the mother of his kids."

"This morning, before your plane got in, we drove out to where he dumped her. We wanted to get the tarp he wrapped her in and see if there was anything else there." Barry Morgan added, "It's a deserted farm in the middle of no-where. He just dumped her like a bag of garbage."

"Let's get him." They pulled out of the parking lot unaware that Jeanie had arrived while they were going down in the elevator and was just now leaving Emily's hospital room a couple of steps behind Emily who was hurrying as quickly as she could towards the elevator.

A pot of chicken noodle soup was bubbling on the stove and Eric was just putting the finishing touches on a ham and cheese sandwich when he heard a car pull up in front of the house. "Now, who the heck can this be?" he thought, half annoyed and half concerned. "I've only got two minutes until the 'The Price Is Right' starts". Eric had never liked people coming to the house unannounced, so he wasn't happy about unexpected company at the best of times and the last few days had certainly not been the best of times. He regretted having opened the door as soon as he saw the two policemen standing there, and his face paled as his mind groped for some way to avoid letting them come in. For days now he had worried that he might have inadvertently left some small clue behind at the house in Toronto that could be used to prove that he had been the one who had caused the carnage at his father-in-laws house, or here in this house, where he had locked Emily in the basement and later killed her. He had been so very careful, yet there was always the possibility that he had over-looked some small piece of evidence. For the tenth time at least, he mentally checked the list, Emily's body had been disposed of where it wouldn't be found for months, if not years, the rental car had been returned with the keys left in the glove compartment, he had informed them over the phone that she had returned home unexpectedly and wouldn't need the car any longer, her purse and it's contents were in a land-fill sight fifteen miles away. He had washed the blood from the wall and floor in the basement and he had carefully checked the trunk of his car and determined that it was clean thanks to the old tarp that had been downstairs. His mind raced. It couldn't be Emily they had come about, he was certain that he was safe from detection for Emily's murder. These cops had to be here because of the explosion.

He swallowed nervously, "Yeah?"

"Mr. Thompson, I'm Jim Walsh from Toronto and this is Barry Morgan from the Edmonton RCMP detachment. Can we come in? We need to ask you a few questions."

Eric licked his lips nervously. "I already told two of you all I know day before yesterday."

"Something has come up and we have a few more questions."

"All right. I suppose." He opened the door a bit wider to admit the two policemen. "What do you want to know?" He stood with the door ajar, hoping that this would encourage them to leave sooner.

"We wondered if you have any idea where your wife is?"

"No. She took off months ago."

"Then you haven't seen her in the last few days."

"Nope, haven't seen her since before Christmas."

"You sure she wasn't here day before yesterday."

"Yes, of course I'm sure. Somehow I don't think I'd forget that."

"We have reason to believe that she was here. Right here in this kitchen, talking to you."

"Well, take it from me, she wasn't."

"Well, I think she was. I think she flew out here to talk to you and that she came here and stood right in this room and argued with you, and I think that things got a little nasty and I think that you know exactly what happened to her after that."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He tried to keep his voice calm and not let them see the fear that was taking hold of him.

"Come on, Thompson," Morgan had been quiet up to now, letting Jim take the lead. "We know what happened. It will go a lot easier on you if you just tell the truth. Your wife was here and things got a bit out of hand. It could happen to anyone."

"Well, it did not happen to me and I am telling the truth. I haven't seen Emily since she took my kids and almost everything I ever owned and walked out of here last December. I swear to you I haven't seen her and I don't know for sure where she is, although I think she is in Toronto."

Just then the door was pushed open wider and Emily stepped into the room and spoke through her wired jaw. "Funny...I've seen you."

Eric eyes opened wide with shock and the color drained from his face. "No, you can't...you're..."

"Dead? No, I'm...not."

Jim Walsh stepped forward, "You're under arrest..."

"No." Eric shouted as he grabbed Emily and pulled her in front of him, putting his arm around her throat, and moving with her across the floor toward the basement door. "Stay back or I'll push her down these stairs," he shouted as he reached the cellar doorway and realized that there was movement behind him. He had moved so quickly that he had gotten control of the situation before anyone could react. The attempt the police made to reach him before he and his hostage escaped through the door was much too little too late. In seconds they were through the door and he had pulled it shut behind them. He shouted over his shoulder, "I've got a gun down here and I wouldn't think twice about shooting her. Stay away from that door." He hurried Emily down the stairs as he tried to plan his next move. He knew that the two policemen upstairs were not about to leave. They would undoubtedly call for more cops and the house would become a circus, with cops all over the place, totally surrounding them and cutting off any means of escape. He had a hostage, but that wasn't much advantage with them trapped down here in this basement. He knew that no matter what, once he was even more outnumbered, he would not be allowed to leave with Emily and he also knew that he couldn't leave her behind to tell what she had learned here two days ago. There had to be some way out of this mess, and he would have to figure it out quickly, before they had time to formulate a plan or call for more help. Unfortunately, the only way out of the basement was through the door they had just used and it was not a viable escape route because of the two armed policemen on the other side. Still he had no choice. He would have to use Emily, who was his only chance.

"Come on." He pulled her over to the shelf where his tackle box was stored and took out

his fish knife.

"Now, we are going back upstairs. Walk slowly and don't do anything stupid and you'll live through this."

She was absolutely terrified. He had tried to kill her once, so she knew without any doubt that he was capable of finishing the job this time. All she could do was co-operate and wait for a chance to get away from him. Still standing behind her, with his left arm tightly around her neck, he pushed the point of the knife against the right side of her throat. Slowly, they began to climb the stairs. "We're comin' up," he shouted. "Stay back and let us pass or she's dead."

When they reached the top of the stairs, he pulled her tightly against him and spoke softly

with his lips against her ear, "Open the door."

She felt for the doorknob and turned it slowly, then pushed the door open. Standing in the doorway, he looked around the room and saw that Jim had disappeared. "Where is he?" Panic was evident in his voice as he shouted at the RCMP officer. "I want to be able to see him or she's dead."

"Come on, pal. Stop and think about this. You don't want to kill her."

"Shut up. Get him out here where I can see him. Now."

Jim stepped forward out of the corner where he had hidden in hopes of being able to jump Eric as he came through the door. Now, the two officers were forced to stand by, poised and waiting for any opportunity to make a move, as Eric prodded the back of Emily's legs with his knees and they began to move slowly into the kitchen.

With his eyes constantly moving from one police office to the other, Eric nervously licked his lips and barked out an order, "Back up against that wall. Now."

Feeling totally helpless the two policemen did as they were told but remained ready to move in and get control of the situation, whenever an opportunity presented itself. Unfortunately, he afforded them none as he and his captive slowly backed across the kitchen toward the open door. Emily's mind was racing. If she went through that door she would be on her own with Eric. And the knife, pressing against her throat, convinced her with absolute certainty that he was capable of killing her. She had to do something or she would die, and it had to be done before she reached that door.

"Move it." It was barely a whisper in her ear.

Reluctantly, she moved on across the room aware every moment of the knife pressed against her neck. Step by step the door loomed closer. Her eyes sought Jim's, silently pleading for help, but he was helpless to do anything other than remain alert and watch for an opportunity to move in and rescue this woman, who was in such mortal danger. Emily knew that both men were ready to spring into action. "I have to do something to him. What do I have to lose?" she thought, "I'm as good as dead anyway." Her heart was pounding and her mouth was dry as she tried to think of something she could do. Suddenly an idea occurred to her.

"This is it," she decided and with a loud, "No", she stomped backward onto the top of his foot with all her weight. He shrieked with pain and surprise and for a moment loosened his arm from around her throat. Before he had a chance to recover his hold on her, she dropped to the floor and rolled away from him. The two policemen sprang into action. In a matter of seconds, the three men were in a pile on the floor, Jim Walsh's knee on the wrist of the hand that held the fishing knife. He pulled the knife from Eric's hand and forced his arms behind his back where Morgan put handcuffs on him. They pulled him upright and only then was Jim able to turn his attention to Emily. He gently pulled her to her feet and looked carefully into her ashen face. She was trembling uncontrollably as he took her into his arms and held her until the trembling began to ease. "It's all right," he assured her. "You're safe. That was a smart move, Emily. You did good."

"I was so scared."

"It's all over now."

A sneering voice sounded from across the room. "How sweet. But you can't put me in jail, you haven't got any proof. It's just her word against mine and I'm telling you right now that she's lying."

She stepped back and turned to face him, "Wrong." She turned towards the basement stairs. "There's a tape."

"Move it, you're coming with us." Morgan grabbed Eric by the upper arm and pushed him toward the open basement door.

In the furnace room, she located the recorder and the hidden tape and played them back for the two police officers to hear. The voices came out clear enough for them all to hear Eric explain why he had blown up the house in Toronto. She switched tapes, and they listened to his shouts and the sounds of his fists hitting her, then of him dragging her out of the furnace room. The tape ended and silence filled the room, broken by the click as Emily shut the machine off.

Jim jerked Eric around to face him, "Well, buddy, looks like you're busted. Now, I want you to listen real good. I want to be really sure that this is done one hundred percent by the book. You lousy jerk, I am arresting you for the attempted murder of Emily Thompson and her sons Kyle Thompson and Danny Thompson. Are you listening carefully? It is my duty to inform you that you have the right to retain and instruct counsel without delay...

### Chapter 27

Eric was safely locked in a cell at the Edmonton jail waiting for the paperwork to be done to expedite his transfer to Ontario, when Jim and Emily boarded the plane that would take them back to Toronto. People couldn't help but stare, for the woman moving slowly through the airport had a face battered so badly that she would be unrecognizable to even her closest friends and family. Jim noticed the stares and moved closer to her in an attempt to protect her from embarrassment. He slipped an arm around her and placed his hand on her back and was

rewarded by feeling her body relax somewhat as the tension she was experiencing lessened. Together they found their seats and he attempted to make her as comfortable as possible. They settled back in their seats to await take-off and she turned to him and struggled to speak, "Thank you - for...calling the hospital."

"I'm just glad the news was good. I know that he's not out of the woods yet but they did say there was some improvement. I have a feeling if he's anything like his mother, he'll make it. You're a brave woman."

"No, I'm scared."

"You don't need to be scared. Eric won't hurt you again."

She shook her head, "No, my face – what will my boys think."

A look of understanding crossed his face. "I'll call from the airport when we land and prepare them. Emily, this is just temporary. You know that don't you?"

A tear slowly ran down her stitched and swollen face. "I'll have scars."

He took her hand in his and turned to face her. "I want to tell you something. It's important to me that you hear me out for this comes from my heart. Perhaps we went through enough together today that I feel I can say this. For whatever reason, here goes. From the moment I first met you, I thought there was something different about you, for you tugged at my heart in some special way I hadn't experienced before. I think you are a beautiful girl, but more than that you have wonderful, expressive eyes that a person could get lost in, and once the swelling is gone they will be back. I have never seen your smile but you have wonderful full lips that I would expect would make for a dazzling smile. I want to be there when things are better in your life and I can have the chance to see that smile. I'm betting that it will be worth waiting for. You may have a few scars, but I think they will fade and be barely noticeable in time. But you know, they are 'battle scars' and you earned them. I can't believe the bravery you showed going after that man who hurt your son. I feel proud. I may not have the right to be proud of you, yet I am. Not many people would have done what you did. You knew what he could do and yet you went after him anyway. If you are left with any scars, you should wear them with pride. You are quite some woman. I'd like to spend a lot of time getting to know you better. Do you think you could put up with an old cop hanging around?"

Had her eyes not been hidden behind the swelling, he would have seen the sense of wonder in them as she peered at him through the slits that had been left her. He did see the nod and the hint of smile she gave him, and he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the palm gently. She placed her hand on his cheek and caressed it before returning the hand to her lap. Jim settled back in his seat and slipped his arm around her shoulders drawing her towards him. As the plane took off, she laid her head on his shoulder and enjoyed these moments of relaxation

before they would have to return to earth and the worries that awaited her in Toronto.

Even though conversation was almost impossible due to Emily's jaw being wired shut, they felt, as they left the plane at the end of their journey, that they had come to know one another better and that the problems ahead would be faced by them together. True to his word, Jim phoned ahead and warned Emily's family of the injuries she had suffered, and then together they got a cab and headed for the hospital.

Despite the warning, the sight of Emily came as a terrible shock to her family. Pete immediately blamed himself for allowing her to go to Edmonton. It took reassurances from both Emily and Jim that there was nothing he could have done to stop her. The children had seen her bruised and swollen before and although this was the worst they had seen, they were saddened but not shocked by the sight of their mother. Kyle, by this point, had begun to drift in and out of consciousness and the doctors were reasonably optimistic that he would live, although his recovery would not be fast or easy.

Because of the difficulty Emily had trying to speak, it was left to Jim to tell the family all about the taped confession that she had obtained and about the vicious attack that had resulted in Eric's arrest. He also told them that he planned to be on the scene from then on and that he cared deeply for this woman who had come into his life in such terrible circumstances. Pete shook his hand warmly, for he liked this burly man and he was pleased that his daughter could have a chance at a normal life. The boys seemed wary and Jim realized that he might have a big job ahead. Not only would he need to prove to them that he wouldn't hurt their mother but he would also need to show them that an important part of being a man was being gentle with the people around you. This could not be accomplished overnight, but would take a long, long time. "But," he thought, "I have plenty of time. Perhaps I can stretch this job out so that it will last for at least forty or fifty years."

### Epilogue - one year later

The screen door slammed for what must have been the tenth time and Scott's voice sounded once again, "Mom, is he here yet?"

Emily put the lid back on the pot of potatoes and laid the fork she had been using to test them on the counter before answering. She tried to keep the impatience from her voice, "No, Scott. I've already told you that I'll let you know as soon as he gets here."

"All right. But, gosh, I wish he'd hurry."

Once again the screen door slammed behind the young boy who this time ran out onto the back porch and cleared the three steps to the ground in one jump.

Emily turned back to the supper she was cooking and turned down the heat under the vegetables before going into the dining room to make one last check of the table and the seven place settings there. She was happy with the new set of china that she had chosen and with the bright dining room that held the old table she had brought with her from Alberta a year and a half earlier. Even after more than six months in this new house, built on the lot where her father's house had once stood, she marveled at the newness of it all. It contained as much as they were able to salvage from the home that had so suddenly been destroyed on that beautiful balmy evening when so much had changed in their lives. They now had a two story, five-bedroom house, with an in-law suite on the side for Pete and Bandit. A slight shadow passed over her face as she thought of the fifth bedroom, which had been a family room in the architect's plan of the house. Instead it had become Kyle's bedroom, with room for him to manipulate his wheelchair and room for the exercise equipment that was needed for him to strengthen the leg that had been saved but which was almost useless to him. She was proud of the hard work he did with the physiotherapist and with her, faithfully doing the required exercises. Slowly, she was able to see improvement in the strength of the leg and she held great hope that someday he would walk again.

She looked out the big bay window, hoping that Jim would arrive soon, for the dinner was ready and by the sound of things, so were the children. They were very excited, for tonight; there was a real feel of celebration in the air. Eric's trial had ended more than three weeks ago, and two days ago, he had been sentenced to fifteen years to life. Five years minimum for each of them; Kyle, Danny and her. Now, that part of her life was 'the past' and it was time to move on and concentrate fully on whatever the future might hold for them.

The big house in Alberta that had once been their home, had been sold. Eric's half of the proceeds had gone for legal fees, and her half, added to the insurance money, had provided them with this beautiful large home. Rita had packed Eric's personal items as well as a few of the things that were important to him, and had sold the remainder at auction. The money from this had also gone to his lawyer. She had also looked after the sale of the house, for Emily had no desire to ever see it again. She still felt some degree of guilt for having left her son at the hospital while she went after Eric. It had been a foolhardy thing to do and yet she was glad that she had done it. As a result of having finally stood up to him she felt that she would never have to fear him again. Justice had been done, to the best of man's ability to do it, despite the fact that nothing could ever make up to Kyle for the pain he had endured, both physical and emotional. She had struggled with him over his inability to walk and cried with him this spring as baseball teams were formed and the children in the neighborhood began to prepare for the season ahead. Pete spent hours in the yard tossing the ball to him, while he caught with the glove that Sam had, true to his promise, found in the rubble at the back of the house after a search that had lasted for days.

Just then, she heard the crunch of tires in the driveway and looked out to see Jim's Suburban come to a stop. Her heart soared and she marveled that just the sight of him always had this effect on her. She crossed to the front door and opened it to welcome him.

He wrapped her in his arms and was about to kiss her when the back door burst open and Scott's voice again rang out, "I heard his truck. Is he here?"

"This has been going on for the last hour. What have you characters got up your sleeves?"

Jim laughed, "Nothing! Eh, pal?"

"Yeah, right, Jim. Nothing."

"O.K." She stepped away from Jim. "I know when you guys are ganging up on me. Call your brothers in to get washed up for supper. I'll dip it up."

"I'll get your father." He reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder as he walked past. "Oh, by the way," he turned back. "Dessert will be along in a while. I didn't have time to pick it up, so I'm having it delivered."

"That's fine."

After dinner, the family worked together to clear the table and load the dishwasher. Emily put dessert dishes and forks on the table in anticipation of the dessert that would soon be arriving, and then the family moved into the living room to wait. As often happened, Pete and Jim sat near one another and began a conversation about the days events. A camaraderie had developed between them that added a great deal to the elderly man's life and they spent many enjoyable hours together, for although Pete had separate living quarters, he ate dinner at night with the family and spent a good portion of each evening with them.

Emily was puzzled that, if anything, the sense of excitement in the house was increasing as the evening progressed. The children, especially Scott, seemed to have a hard time sitting still. Finally she could stand the suspense no longer, "O.K. you guys. What's going on?"

"Nothing." Scott was quick to answer.

"There is something going on here. I don't know what but you are sure making me curious."

Jim smiled, "What do you say, fellas? Should we let her in on the secret?"

"Yes, you should. Don't do this to me. What is going on?"

Jim got up, "Be right back," he said.

He was. In moments, he was back, holding the crutches that Kyle had been struggling with for the last few months. "Now, Emily and you, too, Pete, close your eyes. The boys and I have been working on a surprise for you two."

The boys scurried into position and Scott said, "All right, you can look now."

Kyle was standing across the room, balanced on the crutches. He began to make his way toward his mother and grandfather, and then stopped. Sam and Scott stepped up and took the crutches from him and with Jim behind him, prepared to catch him should he fall, he took one faltering step and then another. Emily held her breath in awe as she watched the miracle that was happening here, this magic night. She and Pete stood together and held out their arms to the brave little boy who was slowly making his way to them. He fell into their arms and Emily found that she couldn't stop the tears of joy that coursed down her cheeks. "Oh, Kyle. It's so good to see you walk again. Nothing on earth can top this."

Scott brought the wheelchair over and Kyle lowered himself back into it. He explained how he and Jim had planned this surprise and how they had worked on it for weeks. She looked around for Jim and found him sitting across the room watching with a contented smile, the scene before him. Their eyes met and a look of pure love passed between them.

After a ten minute rest, the process was repeated and he again took a few halting steps, to the joy and amazement of the whole family. What celebration filled the house! Everyone was still talking excitedly about Kyle's triumph, when the doorbell rang and Emily suddenly remembered the dessert that they had been waiting for. "Can you get that, Sam?"

Jim spoke up. "I wish you would get it, Emily."

She was surprised at the request but agreed and opened the door to greet four men dressed in matching uniforms, the first one carrying a cake box. They began to sing the Carpenter's hit song, 'I'm on the Top of the World', as they filed into the house and handed the cake box to Emily. Jim came up and slipped his arm around her as Pete and the children gathered around. The song ended and the men, smiling and waving went out the door, leaving Emily almost speechless but happy. What a wonderful man she had found. She looked at him with love shining in her eyes.

"Thank you, Jim, that was wonderful."

"You're welcome. Now, how about a piece of cake?"

He took the box from her and carried it to the table, then opened it and removed the cake. "There, you can cut it." He moved away and Emily stared with joy and wonder at the cake that sat there on the table. Written in icing across the top were the words, 'Will you marry me?' and in the center nestled amidst the petals of a yellow rose was a beautiful diamond engagement ring. She turned to him and saw the nervous, hopeful look on his face and realized that he was not completely sure of her answer and her heart melted. She wanted to say 'yes' and to reassure him of her love for him, but before she gave her answer she knew that she had to be sure of her family. She was answering for them as well as for herself, for she was now a package deal. Danny, she knew would be thrilled to have Jim living here. He had no memory of any other man in their lives but Jim and, of course, Pete, and he loved them both completely. Pete had hinted before that he would welcome Jim into the family. The ones that she needed to be concerned about were the three older boys. They were old enough to remember the bad years and to understand that marriage doesn't always mean joy and happiness and she didn't want to force them to accept another man into their lives if they weren't ready. She looked at Scott and couldn't help but notice the longing on his face that was very easy to read. He, too, loved Jim and he wanted a father desperately. There wouldn't be any opposition from him. Kyle, too, she realized, trusted Jim and would also be happy with him in the family. The only impediment would be Sam. Unlike his brothers, his face was unreadable and as she studied it to try to figure out what he was thinking, she remembered the times this child had cared for her, after she had received beatings at the hands of his father, and the anger that had developed in him. He was the one most affected by the violence in the home and she wanted to be sure that she did nothing to disrupt the healing that had been taking place in his heart. Could he accept Jim into their lives on a permanent basis? He met his mother's eyes with a puzzled expression, not sure why she was looking at him so intently. Suddenly, he sensed why she was hesitating and shook his head, "Well, I guess she's in no hurry to get married, Jim. Do you want me to introduce you to my cute science teacher? She's single." Amidst a burst of laughter from everyone in the room she turned to Jim, "I guess you don't need any cute science teacher. If you're foolish enough to take on this whole crew, I won't be the one to stop you." With glowing eyes, she walked into his arms. "I can't imagine anything I want more than to marry you."

Later that night, before sleep claimed her, she thought back to the events of the past week and to the changes she had seen occur in her life over the past two years. She realized that she was in part to blame for the life she had spent with Eric, for she had allowed herself to become little more than a doormat. She had been so passive that he had been enabled to abuse her without danger of discovery. She was in no way afraid of Jim, he was not the type of personality to be abusive, but even if he were, she knew that never again would she allow herself or her children to live in circumstances like those they had endured. This was a new beginning. Her family now had a good life and it would remain good, of that she was certain. Kyle would continue to improve and no one but he, himself, could say to what heights he would reach. With joy in her heart, she closed her eyes, snuggled deeper into her covers and fell asleep.

THE END
About Marion Leavens

Finally retired, Marion has her days free to continue her life-long love affair with books. She and husband Jim read constantly and never go anywhere without a book in hand. Following a dream, she tried her hand at writing a novel and 'Leaving Sharpstone' was the result. Since that she has not stopped writing. She is very involved in the women's group of her church and recently with the seniors group in her community. The grandchildren who live with them keep her young and occupied with teenage issues and as a family, they travel to different local venues to enjoy country music, especially 'The Emerald Festival' on Amherst Island.
Other Books by Marion Leavens

Maggie's Diary

The Grey Lady

The Amber Disk – Nobody's Children

For the latest list of Marion Leaven's writing, see http://marionleavens.com
Contact Marion Leavens

Please visit my website: http://marionleavens.com

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