Leap of Faith (21 page)

“Since Jacksonville’s an hour and a half away from here, I thought maybe we could get an apartment there. Is that okay with you? If we live together? Me, you, and Addy?”

He wants to live with me.

He’s going to hate me.

I’m going to lose him.

chapter

twenty-two

On Saturday, while Chris is working at his roofing job, Addy and I hit the neighborhood-wide yard sales that are going on. Mrs. B and Ivy are using Ken’s house as a base for selling their own junk. I left them organizing their stuff on picnic-table benches in the front yard.

The five bucks in my pocket is a fortune in old-junk-buying terms. Addy’s getting so long, the snaps on her clothes hardly fasten between her legs anymore. Hopefully we can find some baby clothes.

I get to Gail’s and freeze in my tracks. It appears as though her entire house has been turned inside out, with its contents strewn all over the lawn and haphazardly set out on tables. In the center of the chaos, I see her bent down between two boxes, her red bandanna wound around her head.

“Hey! Gail!” I push the stroller up her driveway. “You’ve got a lot of stuff here.”

“Well . . .” She swipes her brow with her forearm and looks around. “Yeah. Guess I do. Years of accumulated shit from a shit marriage.” She slumps down in a lawn chair. “I won’t need all of this when Jonathan and I move out. Just hope the house sells fast.”

“Whoa. Wait. You’re selling your house? Why?” My eyes run over the five-bedroom Tudor-style home. I’ve never lived in anything even half as nice.

Except now.

Now I live in a nice family home.

Now won’t last forever, though, only a few more days.

She shrugs. There’s a gleam in her eye. “I just won’t need my own house anymore.” She can’t resist the smile that tugs at her lips.

My chin drops. “You’re not moving into Ken’s when I leave?”

She nods, giggling and smiling. “Yes! That’s our plan. He said you and Chris are getting your own place in Jacksonville after you get back from Ohio, so we can make the upstairs a huge bedroom and playroom for Jonathan.” She claps her hands together. The sound smashes something inside my brain every time her hands ricochet off of one another.

This is not happening.

Chris is going to shit bricks.

I have to tell him—he’ll flip out if I keep this from him.

“Are you two getting married?”

She shakes her head and starts picking at her shoe. “No. He’s adamant about that. He will only ever have one wife.”

Addy starts blowing raspberries. I push her back and forth in the stroller. “And you’re okay with that?”

She stands, pulls a stack of old CDs out of a box, and starts sorting through them. “Yeah, you know. Whatever.” She tosses one back in the box. “It is what it is. I can accept it or not.” Her eyes meet mine. “I want him. So I accept it.”

I smile. “Sure. I understand. I’m excited for you!” I let go of the stroller and give her a hug.

I’m not excited for me. Chris’s head is going to explode when he finds out.

She makes a sweeping motion with her arm. “Go ahead. Look around. Whatever you want, it’s yours. Just take it.”

“Um, okay. Thanks.” I twist my ponytail, observing her piles of
stuff
. I don’t even know where to begin. A stack of T-shirts catches my eye, and I head over to them.

Gail’s taking Addy out of her stroller.

She must really love Ken. Some people will ignore a lot to be with the person they love.

My hands tug a red blouse from the pile.

I don’t know if Chris would ignore what I’ve done just to be with me. I don’t know if I could ask him to ignore it, or to forgive me for lying to him.

I have to stop this.

I hastily fold the red blouse and pick up a brown T-shirt.

Chris can’t follow me home. They’re going to arrest me as soon as I put one foot on Mom’s porch.

Across the road, Janine has Emma’s baby clothes hanging on a line. “I’m going to head over and check out Janine’s baby stuff. I really am happy for you.”

Gail smiles and starts to say something when there’s a huge bang from inside. “Jonathan!” she yells, placing Addy into my arms, then jogging off across the yard.

I laugh and shake my head, situate Addy back into her stroller, and push her across the street.

“Hey, Leah.” Janine’s counting money and stuffing it into a plastic container. “I was hoping you’d stop by. I have a ton of Emma’s stuff to sell.” She tilts her head, scrutinizing me. “I’ll give you a good deal. I hear you have a situation back home. The least I can do is help with Addy’s clothes.”

My mouth goes dry. “What kind of situation?” I ask her as she folds all the baby clothes and tucks them into a plastic grocery bag. “What did you hear?”

“I heard that you’re in some kind of trouble back home.” She ties the handles on the bag together. “You don’t have to tell me what you did. I just want to help where I can.” She hands me the bag, smiling like the cat that ate the canary.

“Thanks.” I’m shaking my head, like she’s full of it. “Where did you hear that?”

“Yesterday at church Mrs. B confided in me. The story is that Ivy confirmed with her family in Ohio that you have some issues back home to iron out. I guess it was in the newspaper.”

My heart stops.

“Figures,” I mumble under my breath, whipping the stroller around and racing down the sidewalk, running out on my conversation with Janine.

Ivy and Mrs. B come into view, sipping lemonade on the front porch steps next to a black cash box while a few shoppers browse through their old treasures. Mrs. B lifts her cold glass and runs it across her forehead. Ivy’s fanning herself with her blouse, making it billow with air.

I’m boiling over, from the heat and from anxiety as I shove Addy’s stroller up the driveway full speed. I just want to get inside and figure out what to do.

“Leah! Bring that darling baby girl over here!” Ivy calls.

“I need to change her first. I’ll bring her back out.” Like hell I will. I keep barreling toward the back patio.

When I get inside the house, it’s cool and silent, but my head’s still running in lopsided circles like our washer back home when it got unbalanced.

I have to leave. Ivy, or Mrs. B, could’ve called the cops. They might show up any second and take Addy away and me to prison, or a detention home somewhere for minors.

My feet pound up the stairs. The air dries the sweat on my body, making me sticky. I need a shower, but there’s no time.

I have to pack.

I have to finish my letter.

I have to leave.

I don’t make it. Chris comes home before I get the letter finished, but I’ve packed our bags and hidden them under my bed until I can tell him I’m leaving.

He knocks and opens the door. Since I heard him coming, I’m sitting on the couch holding Addy as she practices standing up on my legs, the letter stashed in a drawer. She can keep herself up for a few seconds before her knees buckle. He swoops over and gives us both a kiss.

“How are my girls? Find her any clothes?” His smile’s so bright. Eyes so happy-Chris-blue. It blackens my heart knowing I’ll wipe that smile off of his face for good.

“I got quite a few things.” Gail flashes into my mind. I can’t tell him about Gail moving in and then leave. There’s no freaking way I’m bearing that news too. He grabs my hand. “I have the best night planned for us. Grandma’s watching the baby, and I’m taking you out. Before we leave to take you home, I just want one more perfect night with you here.”

His lips kiss each of my fingertips.

My lips find the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his neck.

My life won’t ever be right without Chris in it.

• • •

Two hours later, we’re sitting in a booth in a steak house, picking at our salads, when he pulls out his wallet and hands me three hundred dollars. He doesn’t say a word, just hands it to me.

My hand shakes holding the bills. “What’s this?”

He rolls his eyes. “Do you really think I could take rent from you? I was going to open an account for Addy with it, but since you can’t work at the restaurant anymore because of the cop . . .”

My shoulders sag. I have no defenses against him. “I want to go home,” I whisper. A tear trickles down my face.

He comes to my side of the booth and scoots in beside me. “What’s wrong?” His thumb wipes the tear away.

“Nothing. I never knew a person could be so perfect. I want to go home with you. I don’t want to be here wasting time. Let’s just go home and go to bed.”

I need to be close to him.

I need to feel him against me.

I need to remember how it feels forever.

But he just laughs and squeezes my thigh. “We’ll get there. Let’s enjoy all of tonight.”

Next on his list is a moonlit walk around the pond in the park. We throw hunks of our leftover bread from dinner to the geese so they don’t riot on us. Chris has a plastic bag with him. I don’t know what’s in it. He leads me by the hand over to a picnic table and pulls out a bottle of wine and a plastic container of strawberries. The wine has a twist top, and we take turns chugging it from the bottle. Then we feed each other strawberries, licking the juice from each other’s fingers and lips, like the cake on the night of my birthday.

Soon, we’re tipsy and running around the playground. He follows me down the slide. We land in a heap at the bottom, where we roll around in the mulch, laughing our asses off. I hear my voice echoing through the dark night, and I know I’ve never laughed like this before.

“I don’t want this to end!” I scream to the moon.

“It doesn’t have to,” Chris says, pulling me across the mulch, into his arms. “We can have this much fun no matter where we are. Even in Ohio.”

God, he doesn’t get it.
I won’t be with you!
I want to scream.
I’ll be detained somewhere! Addy will be taken from us!

Before my mind can drag itself down deeper, Chris’s hands begin to work frantically, removing my clothes, so my hands do the same in return.

“I love you, Leah!” he yells to the moon, as loudly as I had screamed before.

It sounds like he means it, like he does love me and won’t ever stop.

But I know better.

• • •

It comes to me in the middle of the night, like all the best ideas do. With Chris sleeping in my bed, I slide his wallet out of his jeans, which lie in a heap on the floor. Then I sneak downstairs to his room, boot up his computer, and get online. I figure we’ll leave here in the evening tomorrow so Addy will sleep for about six hours. Then we’ll have to stop.

I pull up a map and find the city off of the highway, six hours north of here, right outside Atlanta. Then I find the closest airport and click on ticket information. I purchase a one-way ticket back to Akron on Chris’s credit card and leave a hundred and fifty bucks in rent money under his keyboard to pay him back.

Before I click off of the page, I notice the words “airport shuttle,” and jot down the phone number. Wherever we are when I ditch Chris, we’ll have a ride to the airport.

chapter

twenty-three

Chris is sullen. That’s a good word for it. Sullen. And brooding. It’s like he knows I snuck out of bed last night and bought a plane ticket—plotted leaving him.

“I don’t want to have a confrontation with your ex,” he says over breakfast, stabbing a forkful of scrambled eggs. When we came to pick up Addy this morning, Mrs. B made us stay, and she’s cooking us breakfast.

Mrs. B glances at me from the stove, manning a pan of spitting bacon. “Chris is going back with you to straighten out a
situation
with your ex?”

Oh, God, she knows the truth, and she knows I’m lying about it to Chris. I prop my elbows on the table and hide my face in my hands. “It’s . . . complicated.”

If only it were an ex that has me fleeing from the best place I’ve ever been, with an almost family.

“If it’s complicated, maybe it’s best if Chris stays here until you have it worked out.” Her voice sounds desperate. She wants me out of his life. I can’t blame her.

My arms collapse, and my head lands on top of them. “Maybe.”

“No,” Chris says, and pounds his fist on the table. “I’m going with you.”

I glance up. Mrs. B has her hand on Chris’s shoulder. His head’s dropped down, chin to chest. Her eyes meet mine. “Hurry and get things straightened out so you both can come home to us with my baby girl.” Her eyes are hard. She squeezes his shoulder.

Oh my God, my heart hurts so bad, I think I’m having an attack.

• • •

Chris and I are lying on our backs, side by side on my bed as Addy naps in her Pack ’n Play. My right leg is slung over his left, my hand in his. He rolls to his side and whispers in my ear. “I know about the newspaper article.”

I suck in my lips and squeeze my eyes closed. “What does it say?”

“That you disappeared with a baby.” He rises on his elbow to see my face. “But I knew that.”

I focus on the ceiling. “Anything else?”

His fingers find my jaw, and he turns my face toward his. “That’s all it said.
Is
there something else?”

I wrap my arms around him and roll him onto his back so I can rest my head on his chest. I want to hear the thumping of his heart—memorize the sound of it beating. But I don’t answer him. No more lies.

“Four hours until we leave,” he says, picking up strands of my hair and breathing it in. “I should pack the truck. Do you have everything ready to go?”

I nod into his chest. “Just need to grab some of Addy’s things that I left out, and pack up the diaper bag.”

His hands push against my shoulders to roll me off of him.

“No, not yet. We have time.” My fingers entwine with his, and I make him lie back again.

We fall asleep, and I don’t dream.

• • •

While Chris packs the car, I take Addy for one more trip to the park. It’s dusk, and everyone’s inside, lounging in front of their TVs or eating dinner.

Lawn sprinklers sprout up from flower beds and shoot jets of water, making a
cht, cht, cht
sound as they circle. The noise drowns out everything else in the world. The wind sends sprinkles of water across my calves, and chills creep up to my thighs.