Savage (7 page)

She squirted liquid soap into her good hand and gently rubbed the antiseptic around and into the wounds. That would be all that she would need, for the bite to get infected. Janice looked through the doorway of the bedroom bathroom at Alfred sprawled upon the floor, gnawing relentlessly on one of his toys. There was a part of her that felt a spark of anger toward the dog, but another that felt bad. The poor thing didn't know he had bitten her. He thought he was protecting himself.

Didn't he?

The French bulldog saw that she was watching him and locked eyes with her. She tried to find a sign that the dog was concerned for her, sorry for what he had done, but she saw nothing. It was like looking into the blackness of a doll's eyes.

But she knew that he loved her in his special way.

A faint noise from somewhere downstairs made Alfred bark, and she started, whacking her injured hand on the faucet. She swore at the explosion of pain, removed her hands from beneath the water, and turned the faucet off. Alfred had run off to investigate the sound, but she had already guessed what it was.

Who
it was.

She could feel herself getting immediately angry, the anger using the pain of her hand to fuel its severity. Grabbing a towel, she wrapped her throbbing hand, listening for the sound of his approach.

“Honey?” her husband called from downstairs. “You up there?”

No, I'm not. . . . I've gone away someplace where I never have to hear your awful voice again,
she wanted to scream, but instead—

“Yeah, I'm in the bathroom.”

She dried her hand while listening to hear if he would come up to bother her further. First there was the sound of multiple paws coming up as Alfred returned, followed by Ronald's heavier footfalls.

Janice didn't want him to see her like this—injured, in pain. She could just imagine the indignities she would suffer because of it.

From a cabinet in the corner of the master bathroom, she removed some bandages and antibiotic ointment.

“Honey?”

She didn't answer, willing herself invisible—
NO,
willing herself to another part of the world.
Another planet,
if it were possible.

Ronald pushed the door open wider with a creak. She could sense him standing there, hear the sound of Alfred breathing alongside him, and again she wondered how she could have gotten here.

How she could despise another human being so much.

She must have loved him once, but in all honesty, she could not remember. The hate was so strong now it had burned away all memory of their past life, but what she did remember was what her life wasn't.

It wasn't what it was supposed to be like in the fairy tales, or in the movies. Love so satisfying that you didn't even need to eat to continue to live. He was supposed to give her that, but she came to eventually learn that it was all a lie. Ronald was supposed to give her this fantasy, but instead he gave her the monotony of life.

He wasn't a prince, or an action hero, or even a college professor.

He was a middle-aged, balding, certified public accountant, and he had tricked her into giving away the best years of her life.

Janice closed the cabinet door, catching a reflection of herself in the mirror over the sink, and wondered who the old lady was looking back at her.

“It's really starting to blow out there,” Ronald started. “Got the lawn furniture into the shed before it could blow away.”

“That's good,” she said, watching the old woman's mouth move as hers did.

“Everything go all right at the vet? Alfred's teeth look good—nice and clean. Did he behave himself?”

She must've moved a certain way to show him her wrapped hand.

“What the hell's wrong with your hand?”

“Nothing,” she said, tearing her eyes from the old woman in the mirror. “Just a little accident.”

He was suddenly there beside her, taking her hand in his, unwrapping the towel. His nearness made her flesh crawl, the painful throbbing of her hand becoming almost unbearable.

“It's nothing,” she told him, trying to pull her hand away.

“It's not nothing,” he corrected her. “That's a bite. Who bit you? Did one of the dogs at the vet . . . Did Alfred bite you?”

Alfred was sitting on the bathroom rug, watching closely with his dark doll's eyes.

“It was an accident,” she said, getting away from him before she started to scream. “There was a fight, and I got bit as I was trying to break them apart.”

She left the bathroom as quickly as she could, the closeness of him like poison to her body. Alfred followed her into the bedroom, as did Ronald.

“Did you call the doctor? Maybe you should go to the emergency room . . . you're probably going to need a tetanus shot, and maybe rabies.”

“I'm fine,” she said, even though the pain was worse now than before. “I'm just going to bandage it up and keep it clean.” She hoped that her assurances would get him to leave.

She had put the bandages and tube of antibacterial ointment down on her makeup table and thought she saw him leaving the room—

But he came up suddenly behind her.

“Let me help you with that,” he said, taking the ointment from the table and grabbing her wrist.

And that was when she knew it was going to happen.

That was when Janice Berthold knew she would kill her husband.

The poor weather conditions were starting to intensify. Sidney held tightly to the wheel of her Jeep, struggling to keep control as the wind and rain threatened to push her from the road.

Snowy whined in the backseat, and Sidney reached back to scratch her nose, keeping her eyes on the road ahead of her. “It's all right, girl,” she said, as much to reassure herself as the dog.

The visibility was bad, but Sidney finally spotted the turnoff for the marina through the driving rain. The lot was nearly empty; she didn't even see Cody's truck. Had she come all this way for nothing? The lights were on in the main office, and since she was there, she decided she might as well find out.

Throwing the hood of her light jacket up over her head, she opened the door and motioned for Snowy to exit, and the two of them ran across the puddle-filled lot to the front door of the office and quickly entered.

Cody's dad looked up from a stack of papers on his desk.

“Hi, Mr. Seaton,” Sidney said, removing her dripping hood. “Is Cody around?”

“No,” he said, standing and taking the papers to a file cabinet on the other side of his desk up against the wall. He pulled open the first drawer and dropped the stack of papers into it.

Snowy walked across the room to greet the man who slammed closed the drawer and turned, holding his hand out for the shepherd to sniff.

“Anything I can do for you?”

“That's all right,” Sidney answered, feeling very uncomfortable. Cody's father had never been one of the most talkative of people, and he gave off an air of sternness that by instinct forced her to be on her best behavior. “I'll try and get in touch with him later.” She motioned for Snowy to follow her as she flipped the hood back onto her head.

“Are you here about the two of you?” Mr. Seaton asked.

Sidney froze as she was reaching for the door. “Excuse me?”

“About the two of you,” he repeated. “I know that you ended your relationship with my son the other night, and I'm wondering why you're back.”

Sidney had never felt more on the spot, as if a bright light shone directly on her and alarms wailed in the distance.

“It's nothing about that,” Sidney said, pulling her hood back down and playing with her hair. She wished she didn't do that when she got nervous and quickly took her hand away. “I've just got something that I need to ask him. A favor for—”

“Maybe that isn't such a good idea,” Mr. Seaton interrupted.

“What do you . . .”

“Maybe it isn't a good idea for you to see him . . . talk to him, right now.”

She didn't know how to respond.

“Cody was pretty broken up,” Mr. Seaton explained. “He actually talked to me about it when he came home late the other night.”

Mr. Seaton was standing very stiff in front of the file cabinet, as if attempting to keep everything that he was feeling from leaking out of his body, but she could see it on his face. He was angry.

At her.

“My son and I don't talk about things,” he continued. “Especially things like this—personal things. It was probably something better suited for his mother, but . . .”

Cody's mom had passed away from breast cancer their first year of high school.

“He came into the house that night, and I've never seen him like that before. He's a strong boy, a good kid, but the person who came into my living room that night . . .”

Mr. Seaton stopped, and Sidney could see that he was remembering.

“That wasn't my son,” he said, shaking his head. “That was just a shell.”

She felt even more uncomfortable, wanting to quickly open the door and run out into the storm. Yes, she would rather have been out in the storm than in the office.

“It was a tough night,” Sidney agreed. “But it had to be said.”

“You were done with him,” Mr. Seaton said. “It was fun while it lasted, but now it's time for you to move on.”

“It's not like that.”

“Accepted to a fancy college on the mainland, all kinds of new doors will be opening for you, so why would you want to have anything to do with what's back here?”

“Mr. Seaton, I don't think . . .”

“Clean house, tie up loose ends, move on, and start fresh. I get it. I'd probably do the same if I was like you.”

The words hit her like a blow to the stomach.

“Like me? What's that supposed to—”

“I never could understand what he saw in you,” Mr. Seaton went on. “I always figured you were just hanging around until something better came along.”

“You know what?” Sidney could feel the anger surge, and her eyes burned with tears. As if sensing her emotion, Snowy moved to stand with her. “I think I've heard enough.”

“Watching my nineteen-year-old son cry made me think of all the things I've lost, and how I'd never wanted Cody to ever feel as bad. And yet, I think he felt worse.” His voice trembled with emotion.

Sidney managed to get the door open.

“I won't tell him you were here,” he added as she and Snowy stepped out into the storm, slamming the door behind them.

Sidney stood trembling in the rain, not from the raw dampness, but from hurt and anger. Things she wanted to say raced through her mind, and she was tempted to go back inside and really let him have it, but something held her back.

Was he right?

Sure, she had loved Cody as much as any fifteen-year-old high school girl was capable of loving somebody, but that love had changed as she'd gotten older and began to realize that the world was a much bigger place than Benediction Island. Was it sad that their love had lessened? Sure it was, but it didn't mean that what they'd shared had been a lie. They'd loved each other once and that was great, but now . . .

She reached up with a trembling hand to wipe away the scalding tears that were running down her cheeks. Snowy was watching her with curious eyes.

“I'm all right, girl,” she lied to the dog. “Let's go back to the Jeep.”

She had just started to jog with Snowy by her side when she heard the car horn. A red Honda Accord was coming down the drive, and she watched as it pulled into a parking spot not far from where she'd left her Jeep.

Rich Stanmore climbed from the car, pulling the collar up on his jacket as he approached.

“Hey,” he said. “Did you talk to Cody?”

“No,” Sidney started, just as Cody's blue pickup truck pulled up in front of the marina's office. Could things get any worse?

“Hey, there he is,” Rich said cheerfully.

The door to the pickup swung open, and Cody climbed out, holding a large white bag.

“Hey, bro!” Rich called out, waving.

“Don't,” Sidney warned, already getting a sense that things were about to become very bad.

Cody started toward them, his pace quickening the closer he came. When he dropped the lunch bag onto the wet parking lot ground, she realized that her biggest fears were about to come true.

Cody had never liked Rich or her friendship with him. It had always been a sore spot in their relationship. He had even accused her of breaking up with him to date Rich. Having Rich here now was a recipe for disaster.

“I asked Sidney to talk to you, but since I'm here—”

Before Rich could finish, Cody lunged at him with a curse-laced growl, grabbing him by the front of his coat and pushing him back onto the hood of his car.

“Dude!” Rich yelled in surprise.

“Cody, no!” Sidney cried, trying to pull her ex from atop her friend, as Snowy barked frantically.

“I knew it!” Cody lifted Rich up and slammed him down onto the hood again.

“What the hell are you . . .” Rich asked, still trying to figure out why he was being attacked.

Sidney grabbed at Cody's hands.

“That's enough, Cody,” she said firmly.

“I can't believe you two,” he said, lost in his anger. “Coming here to rub my face in it.”

“It's not what you think,” Sidney said, and she managed to rip one of his hands from Rich's jacket, slapping it away as Cody attempted to grab it again.

“It's not what you think!” She screamed this time, thinking maybe the louder she said it, the better chance it might have of sinking in.

He batted her hand away and she shrieked. It hurt like hell, and for a second she was afraid of him, afraid of the boy she used to love.