Finding Libbie (26 page)

“I heard she cheated on her husband, and that was why he left her,” June said.

Libbie listened to her friends with little interest. She didn’t care who the woman was or what she’d done. When Libbie finally met her one sunny day, she was struck by how stunning the woman was. She was tall and slender, with long, straight dark hair and big dark eyes fringed in thick lashes. Her skin was tanned a golden brown, and the sundress she wore showed off her shapely figure. Libbie was sitting outside at their patio table, trying to concentrate on a magazine article and failing miserably. The woman walked over, smiling brightly, and introduced herself.

“Hi. I’m your new neighbor,” she said, raising her hand to shake Libbie’s.

Libbie shook it. “Hello. I’m Libbie.”

“I’m Alicia. Alicia Alexander. It’s nice to meet you, Libbie.”

They talked about the weather and what Alicia did for a living. She told Libbie she worked as a secretary at a local law firm. She seemed nice, so Libbie didn’t give her a second thought. That is, until she saw Alicia talking to Jack one evening. He had just come home, and Libbie heard his truck drive up. She’d walked into the living room to glance out the window and see why it was taking him so long to come inside. He was standing on their lawn, talking to Alicia. He was smiling and nodding, and at one point Alicia squeezed his arm with her hand and Jack laughed.

Libbie’s heart pounded. She suddenly understood why the neighborhood women didn’t like Alicia.

When Jack came in, she jumped him immediately.

“What were you and Alicia talking about?”

Jack looked at her, surprised. “She came over and introduced herself. Then she commented on my uniform and asked if I was a mechanic.”

“You both were laughing like old friends. What was so damn funny about that?”

Jack grinned. “I said, ‘No, I just like to roll in grease all day.’”

Libbie felt angry heat rising up to her face. That was exactly what Jack had said to her, years ago, when she was flirting with him at the gas station. That had been their joke, and he’d used it on Alicia. She turned on her heel and stormed off to the kitchen. She wanted a drink so badly, but she didn’t dare have one in front of Jack.

Jack followed her. “What? We were just talking.”

“Yeah, right. I see how pretty she is. And she’s divorced. She’s probably looking for husband number two.” Libbie stood over the stove and stirred the gravy for the pot roast. Her motions were so violent, the saucepan spun on the burner.

“Hey, careful there,” Jack said soothingly, coming up behind her and gently placing his hand on her arm. “We don’t want you to get burned.”

Libbie dropped the spoon and spun to face him. “What do you care? You can go running to Alicia if I drop dead.”

Jack frowned. “Don’t talk like that. Why is this such a big deal? She came over and talked to me. I didn’t start the conversation. Besides, she’s at least ten years older than we are.”

Libbie pulled her arm away from him and ran out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door. Her heart pounded and her hands shook. She leaned against the counter, hugging herself and rocking back and forth.
Stop acting crazy. Stop acting crazy. He’ll leave you for sure.

Jack knocked on the door. “Libbie? Come on. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Libbie grabbed the bottle of Valium out of the medicine cabinet, opened it, and took one. She leaned against the wall, waiting for the pill to take effect so her heart would stop pounding and her thoughts would stop racing.

“Libbie! Please. Open the door!”

Libbie slid down the wall and sat on the floor as tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t have a baby, she’d lost control of her life, and next, she’d lose Jack.

Jack avoided his new neighbor at all costs after the scene Libbie had made over his talking to her. He only waved when he saw Alicia and continued on his way as fast as he could. He hadn’t understood Libbie’s jealousy that night, and he didn’t understand it now. But he didn’t want a repeat of Libbie’s jealous behavior.

After Libbie had locked herself in the bathroom, it had taken him an hour of coaxing through the door to get her to unlock it. He’d been ready to knock it down, but thankfully, he hadn’t needed to. Libbie had finally come out, meek as a kitten, and hugged Jack close, crying on his shoulder. He’d held her a long time as she cried and apologized, then cried some more.

He didn’t understand her moods, and it was wearing on him as much as it was on her.

He knew something was terribly wrong with Libbie. She’d lost so much weight that her clothes hung on her, and her eyes looked dull and lifeless. He asked her over and over again if she felt okay, and each time she brushed his concerns away:
I’m tired; I just overdid it today; I’m getting a cold.
Those were her excuses, but he knew there was more going on than tiredness or a cold. But when he asked if she should see a doctor, she flew into a rage and stormed into their bedroom, refusing to come out. So he gave up asking.

Time was wearing Jack down. Two years of working full-time and taking on additional work had taken its toll. He worried constantly about paying the bills and about Libbie’s health. Instead of feeling like a kid of twenty-two, he felt like an old man. He barely had the energy to keep himself going, let alone take care of Libbie when she fell to pieces. He tried, but he knew he was failing, and that made him feel even worse.

On a hot August evening, Jack came home directly from work instead of heading over to his uncle’s garage to work on a car. He was so tired; he just didn’t want to look at another engine that day. He hadn’t called to tell Libbie he’d be home early. He figured he’d shower, change, and then take her out for dinner. He hoped it would cheer her up.

When he walked into the house, he immediately noticed how quiet it was. Spence came over to greet him, and Jack scooped the cat up. Suddenly, an eerie feeling crept over him. It felt like he’d done this before. He shivered, despite the heat of the day. Turning toward the living room, he saw Libbie. She was lying on the sofa, one arm hanging limply to the floor. On the table beside her was an overturned bottle of red wine. It had left two tiny droplets of red liquid on the glass coffee table. They looked like blood.

Jack’s heart pounded. He dropped the cat and covered his face with his hands. “Oh God, no. Please, not again.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

For the next two months, Jack came home most nights to Libbie passed out on the sofa or lying in bed. There was always a bottle of wine with her, and he knew now that she was also taking the Valium again. That first night, he thought for sure she’d overdosed again but was relieved to find that her breathing was normal. She’d passed out from drinking too much. He’d carried her off to bed and then lain down beside her for a long time, making sure she was okay. Tears stung his eyes to see her this way. She’d been such a vivacious, spirited girl when they’d first dated and married. What had happened? Her entire personality had changed, and Jack had no idea what he could do to make things better.

Libbie had broken down in tears the next morning when he’d asked her why she was drinking again. She’d apologized and promised she wouldn’t do it again. He wanted to believe her, but when each night came and he found her either passed out or staggering around trying to make dinner, he knew she couldn’t keep her promise.

He tried taking on less work and coming home early more often, but soon the bills piled up and he had to start working nights again to pay them. Besides, it didn’t matter if he came home on time or not now; Libbie would almost always be drunk or on her way to being so by the time he got home. It had become routine for him to come home, feed Spencer, and then carry Libbie off to bed. The refrigerator soon emptied of anything edible, and Libbie no longer shopped to fill it up. Yet she always had a bottle of wine and Jack had no idea how she got it or where she was hiding it. He searched the house several times, but never found where she kept it. Was someone bringing it over? And how was she paying for it? He’d stopped giving her money and had opened accounts at stores around town so she wouldn’t have cash on hand to buy wine. But that still didn’t stop her from getting it.

Arguing had also become the norm in their household. If Libbie was awake when he came home, she’d pick a fight with him:
All you do is work. You don’t care about me anymore. You don’t appreciate all I do.
It went on and on. Excuses for why she hadn’t made supper or gone shopping or done laundry. He never pointed a finger at her or complained. He didn’t want to stress her out more. Jack would stop by the grocery store after work and pick up food or bring home burgers for dinner. He did his own laundry, and hers, too, if she hadn’t done it. He never said a word to her about it, even when he was too tired to do it all. But she’d find a reason to fight, and it always ended with her running off and locking herself in the bathroom or bedroom. Jack gave up trying to coax her out. He was too drained.

Jack began blaming all their troubles on the house. He hadn’t wanted to accept the house from Libbie’s parents in the first place—he had known they couldn’t afford it. He’d agreed to it to make Libbie happy. But the house didn’t make her happy. He obviously didn’t make her happy, either. He soon began to resent and hate the house, as if it was at the core of all their problems. If they didn’t have the house, he wouldn’t have to work long hours, and Libbie wouldn’t have gone back to drinking again. At least that was what he thought, because he couldn’t bring himself to believe the alternative—that he was the reason she drank.

One chilly evening in early October, Jack came home around eight, after another shift at his uncle’s shop. It was dark out, and winter was already in the air. When he pulled into the driveway, he was startled to see the front door open. Hurrying inside, he saw Libbie lying on the sofa, a bottle of wine on the table. He wondered why the door was open. Had someone been here?

Then he remembered Spence.

He ran all over the house, searching under tables and beds for the orange tabby. He opened every closet and cupboard, checked the laundry room, and even pushed aside the shower curtain to check the tub. Spence was nowhere. Jack bent over Libbie, gently shaking her, trying to wake her up.

“Libs! Libs! Wake up! Spence is missing.”

She only raised an arm to push him away and curled deeper into the sofa.

Jack hurried outside and began looking through every bush and up in every tree for Spence. The cat had never lived outside, and Jack worried that he might get into a fight with a stray and get hurt. He knocked on doors telling everyone who answered that Spence had gotten out and was missing. Soon, the entire neighborhood was searching with flashlights for the cat.

“Where’s Libbie?” June asked. “She must be frantic.”

Jack lied and said she was too distraught to come out and look. He couldn’t bear to say she was passed out on the living room sofa.

An hour passed, and Jack was in a panic. He feared for the cat, but his worst fear was how Libbie would react if anything happened to Spence. She loved that cat dearly, and if he never came home, it would tear her apart. Especially if she found out she’d been the one to let him out.

Finally, a neighbor at the end of the block called out that he saw a cat in the bushes, and Jack ran there to check. He got down on his knees and flashed his light under the thick bushes, and there was Spence, huddled and shaking.

Jack heaved a sigh of relief. “Come on, Spence. It’s okay. I’ll take you home,” he said softly to the cat. Jack reached out and pulled the cat to him, picking him up and holding him tight. Everyone who’d been searching was circled around him, cheering that he’d found Spence.

Jack thanked his neighbors and hurried home. When he got there, he placed the scared cat in the kitchen and fed him. Then he walked on tired legs to the living room and looked down at Libbie. She was sound asleep, completely oblivious to the drama that had taken place.

He knew that he could no longer ignore Libbie’s condition. By leaving the door open, she’d put herself in danger. What if a stranger had come inside? Or she’d stumbled out into the night and become lost? As painful as it was to do, it was time he admitted she had a problem. He had to do something to help her.

Jack entered Mr. Wilkens’s office tentatively. He’d taken an hour off work to come see Libbie’s dad and ask for help. He hated asking, but he’d decided that if anyone knew what to do in this situation, it would be him.

“Hello, Jack,” Mr. Wilkens said, standing up from behind his heavy mahogany desk to greet him. “Isn’t this a surprise.”

Jack walked over to the desk and sat in the chair that Mr. Wilkens had motioned to.

“What can I do for you, son? You look tired. You must be working too hard.”

Jack stared at Mr. Wilkens as he tried to find his voice. Jack hadn’t seen him in a while, and he noticed that he looked older and thinner. He, too, looked tired.

“Libbie isn’t doing very well,” Jack began, and he saw a worried crease form between Mr. Wilkens’s brows. “She’s been drinking again and taking pills. I don’t know what to do about it anymore. I thought you could help me.”

Mr. Wilkens ran a hand across the back of his neck and his face dropped, as if the smile he’d been wearing when he’d greeted Jack was all that was holding it up. He sighed. “I told you before, son. Libbie is sensitive. She’s like a delicate flower and needs extra care. You have to take care of her. She’s your responsibility.”

Jack stood and circled the chair, coming to face him again. “I have been taking care of her,” he insisted. “But I can’t be there twenty-four hours a day. I have to work. I’ve done everything I can to keep her from buying alcohol, but she still manages to get it.”

“Then you have to try harder. You have to spend more time with her.”

Jack slammed his hand down on the back of the chair. “How? How can I do that when we have that damned house to pay for and all the other bills? I’m working day and night just to keep us afloat. I can’t be with Libbie all the time.”

Mr. Wilkens stood and walked around the desk to face Jack. “What do you expect
me
to do? I already have my hands full between running my businesses and Abbie being sick so often. Even with Gwen’s help, I’m burning the candle at both ends. I can’t take on your problems, too.”

The two men stared at each other, each with frustration creasing his face. Jack had never heard Mr. Wilkens yell like that before—he was usually so calm and even-tempered.

Jack dropped into the chair, defeated. “I don’t know what to do. I love Libbie so much. But she needs help. I’m afraid for her.”

Mr. Wilkens pulled a chair up next to Jack’s and sat, placing his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, son. I’m just so frustrated myself. I had no idea Libbie was doing so badly. I’ve been consumed with her mother’s problems.”

Jack stood. “I’m sorry I bothered you. I just thought that you might know what could be done to help Libbie. I’m at my wits’ end.” He turned and walked to the door.

“Jack.”

Jack turned and looked at Mr. Wilkens, watching as the older man took a deep breath.

“There is a place where Libbie could go. It’s a nice place, where doctors would treat her problem and help her to get better.”

Jack stepped closer. “What kind of place?”

“A hospital of sorts, with a peaceful country setting on a lake. It’s more like a retreat, where she can relax and get healthy again. Doctors will set up a treatment plan for her, and she’ll no longer have access to alcohol.”

“How long would she have to be there?”

“Probably two weeks. Maybe longer. It will be up to the doctor to decide.”

Jack stood quietly a moment, thinking about his options. He couldn’t help Libbie get better on his own. But sending her somewhere for a long period of time scared him, too.

“I can see you’re hesitant, son,” Mr. Wilkens said. “I understand. But it is a good place for her to get well. I promise you. I’d never send Libbie anywhere I didn’t trust. You know that.”

Jack looked up at him. He knew it was true—Mr. Wilkens loved his daughter dearly and wouldn’t suggest anything if he thought it wasn’t a good idea. “Has Mrs. Wilkens ever gone there?” he asked.

Mr. Wilkens nodded. “Yes, she has. But she was much older than Libbie when she went and more set in her ways. Libbie is young. Maybe if we catch her problem now, she can beat it and won’t have to fight this the rest of her life.”

Jack nodded. “Okay. How do I set this up?”

“I’ll take care of the arrangements,” Mr. Wilkens said. “And of course, I’ll pay for it. I’ll let you know as soon as everything is set up.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wilkens.”

“No thanks necessary, son. We’re family. Family helps each other. We’re going to get our Libbie well again, okay?” He looked optimistic.

“Yes, sir,” Jack said, before leaving the room and walking out into the crisp October day.
We’re going to get our Libbie well again.
He prayed that Mr. Wilkens was right.

On Friday, Jack took half a day off work and headed home. He hadn’t told Libbie that he and her father were going to take her for help with her drinking. He figured if he told her only minutes before they had to leave, there would be less of a struggle. When he arrived home, Libbie, not surprisingly, was already halfway through a bottle of wine.

Libbie looked up at Jack in surprise when he walked through the front door. “What are you doing home so early?” she asked, slurring her words.

Jack walked over to where she sat on the sofa. She had the television on and Spence was snuggled up on the blanket in her lap. Jack kneeled down in front of Libbie and took her hands in his. “Libs, I came home early so your father and I could take you to a retreat to get well. You can’t keep going on like this, sweetie. I’m afraid I’ll lose you if we don’t do something to help you feel better.”

Libbie’s eyes grew wide. “Go away? No. I’m not going anywhere. You can’t make me go.”

“You’re not well, Libbie. You’ve lost so much weight, you’re not eating enough, and your drinking is out of control. You need help. And your father has assured me that you’ll be going to a wonderful place that will help you get well again. Please, Libs. Please do this. For me. For us.”

Libbie pulled away from him so violently, Spence flew out of her lap and ran out of the room. Libbie stood and backed up several steps from Jack. “I’m not sick. I don’t need help. You’re just trying to get rid of me. You think I’m crazy and you want to lock me away. I won’t go. I won’t!” She ran into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her.