The Ravine (13 page)

—Sophocles

M
ITCH DIDN
’
T MAKE
it to daybreak. He awoke a little before five, while it was still dark outside. Once the ugly reality settled in, he knew sleep was out the question. He silently grabbed his sweats, stepped over the boys, and crept down to the kitchen. Sleep, blessed sleep, was a gift on this day, so the last thing he wanted to do was to wake anyone prematurely. He was grateful for the rest he did get, because he expected the day ahead would be emotionally grueling. In this instance, ignorance
was
bliss. Mitch didn’t know how right he was about the day to come, nor did he realize that the reality of yesterday’s events was far worse than had yet been revealed.

He curled up in his favorite easy chair and sat quietly with a glass of orange juice, gazing through the sliding glass doors. Little by little daylight overtook the night. He hoped Carolyn would sleep in a bit, not only to spare her a few moments of pain but to give him a little time to sit alone and consider the jumble of facts that were plaguing him.

He was an architect by training, and so his initial instinct was to evaluate a project and try to figure out how it all fit together. A magnificent bridge was worthless if it couldn’t support the weight it was intended to carry. As a child, he would spend hours building a structure
out of blocks, and then slowly add more and more blocks, one at a time, until it inevitably came crumbling down, determining the load-bearing weight. Everything had a breaking point, a threshold. It was just a matter of how much weight or pressure was applied, and eventually it would collapse. So he looked at yesterday’s revelations in much the same way, and was utterly confused. This felt more like a massive collision than a trickle, but what did he really know? And why hadn’t he seen it coming? Had he just been too preoccupied with his own life to notice anything? With something so monumental brewing, how could he have been so unaware?

He prided himself on being observant. He paid attention to the little things because they were often indicators of major issues lurking just below the surface. These habits showed up in the way he raised his children and managed people, and in his keen ability to read the body language of a client or, more importantly, smell that a junior architect might have cut corners or been a little sloppy. Buildings needed to survive
all
eventualities, not most eventualities. When they didn’t, disasters could occur—not the time to discover a structural problem. So Mitch generally followed his sniffer and, if something was amiss, he usually uncovered it.

The more Danny’s actions sank in, the more confused he became. There were dozens of unanswered questions. He presumed he would get some clarity later today when they met at Tom Schroeder’s house, but he just couldn’t push away the image of Danny shooting and killing his wife and child. It was just too horrible to contemplate.

Unfortunately, Mitch knew that murder-suicides were all too common. The ritual was for television reporters to flock to the crime scene like jackals to prey, poke a microphone in the mouth of a hapless neighbor or relative, and probe for answers about the personality of the murderer. The public demanded to know “why.” Everyone longed to uncover the motive, as if there would be one singular “ah-ha” moment
that would explain why an otherwise loving father and husband would commit such a heinous act. Invariably, the bewildered individual would respond along the lines of “he was a nice guy, I never would have expected him to do something like this,” which was not terribly comforting for the populace at large, because it meant that your next-door neighbor or perhaps even your Uncle Dave might be capable of the same sort of violence and was worthy of suspicion. However, had Mitch been asked about Danny, he certainly would have said he was baffled by the situation, and probably would have defended him until all the facts were known.

Twenty-four hours ago he believed Danny and Rachel had a typical suburban marriage. There were hints of trouble, but nothing major. He thought back to the last time he had seen them, two weeks ago in Cleveland for dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant, Johnny’s Bar on Fulton Road.

It was just the four of them that night. Carolyn and Rachel focused on each other, their conversation jumping back and forth breathlessly, while Mitch tried to coax an unusually quiet Danny into opening up. Sports seemed to be about the only safe topic, and on that subject, Danny could astutely analyze the last Browns game or rate the depth of the Indians’ bench. LeBron James was the topic of conversation for most of the night. Hopes were high for the Cavaliers with this nineteen-year-old phenom. Finally, Cleveland was getting some respect. Mitch loved sports as well, but had begun a period of self-exploration in the last several years that he felt had been instrumental in his growth as a father and a husband and had contributed to his success in business.

He had read dozens of books in his exploration of spiritual matters and the connection between personal satisfaction, spiritual growth, and achieving one’s full potential. There was no doubt in Mitch’s mind that this pursuit had allowed him to overcome barriers in all aspects of his life. He had always felt that the best self-help book ever written was the
Bible and that, for sheer simplicity, there wasn’t a better guide to living than the Ten Commandments. Faith was the bedrock of his existence, and he tried to follow the section in the second chapter of James, about how “faith without works is dead,” to combine the spiritual with the practical.

However, when he was in his thirties, he purchased a Tony Robbins book after seeing him on a television show. At first he was put off by Robbins’s excited attitude, but after listening for a few minutes, he started to understand that this person was sincere, and really excited about life.

It wasn’t long before he’d purchased the CD program and then parted with a few thousand dollars to attend two seminars. He found them to be life-altering. One process in particular made a great impression on Mitch. He discovered he could walk across hot coals without experiencing pain or burning his feet! Even after he did it, he still thought it might be a hoax, so he volunteered to place the coals for a group later in the day, and discovered it was totally legitimate. After that, he gave up some of his skepticism and cynicism, and he began to recognize the self-limiting beliefs he carried around subconsciously. He started to see that what looked impossible often was very possible. And he wanted to share this newfound knowledge with his friend.

About a year ago, Mitch purchased tickets for Danny and one of his buddies to attend a Tony Robbins seminar when he was appearing in Cleveland. After Danny went, he called Mitch and thanked him for the tickets, but told him he hadn’t gotten much out of it because he already knew most of the stuff they had presented, and he didn’t see any reason to explore self-improvement because he was pretty happy with the way things were. Mitch got it. Some people didn’t want to be bothered challenging themselves, and some of the concepts in the program were meant to force oneself to confront uncomfortable truths. It wasn’t for everyone.

After his stint in jail, Danny’s life had gone pretty well. He had a wonderful wife and two beautiful sons, and Maryann had become a devoted a daughter who completed their family unit. He was able to move to a comfortable house in Akron largely because his brother worked so hard to expand his small chain of sporting goods stores into fifteen locations.

Danny had a great gig managing a region that included five stores, which also gave him plenty of freedom to spend his days as he liked. Sometimes that included a round of golf in the afternoon, and sometimes it meant shacking up with a woman he’d met on the road. Despite the fact Danny wasn’t known for his work ethic, Tony didn’t seem to mind, and paid him handsomely.

Danny went to church regularly with his family, as did Mitch, and he and Rachel even attended a Bible study with Mitch and Carolyn, but they rarely had anything to say at those meetings. Every once in a while, Mitch would bring up God, and Danny would evade the question or just change the subject. He just seemed like a happy-go-lucky guy.

It was true that Rachel had found out about one of the girlfriends, and that seemed to be a bone of contention. A few summers ago both families rented a house for a week on Put-in-Bay. They arrived on Saturday; then, on Monday afternoon, after Danny and Rachael returned from the supermarket, Danny announced that he had a problem at work and had to head back to Akron that night. Rachel didn’t seem pleased, and on Wednesday she decided to return. There seemed to be a problem, but neither of them talked about it.

Thinking back, Mitch could see the invisible moat drawn around his friend that was intended to keep people at bay. Rachel and Carolyn seemed to be able to explore their most personal matters, and their bond was immovable. Yet Carolyn hadn’t a hint from Rachel that there were any serious problems, or at least nothing she had shared with Mitch.

Now he felt guilty because he had to admit he had allowed his relationship with Danny to drift apart after they moved to Akron. The last time they’d spent any real time together was when Danny came over and helped Mitch build a deck. That was the sort of guy Danny was. He would never turn you down even for something as unappealing as deck building. In that respect he was a true friend. If you were in a foxhole, Danny was the guy you would want next to you.

But thinking back on that hot summer day, after they had finished the deck, and were sitting on it having a few beers, he remembered a comment Danny made in passing.

“You know, Mitch, sometimes I wish I had it all to do over again.”

“What do you mean? Your life has gone pretty well.” Mitch presumed Danny was making an oblique reference to his time in jail, but knew enough never to specifically refer to that topic.

“It’s just about freedom, man. You know, being able to do what you want when you want to, not being tied down all the time.”

“Whoa, dude, do I hear a midlife crisis coming on?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I guess I should just go buy a convertible, but some days . . .”

“Some days what?”

“Some days I just feel like pointing my car west and driving off to a place where no one can find me.”

“Yeah, but you’d turn around at some point and go back to Rachel and the kids. You love them too much.”

“Ya, think so, don’t ya? Maybe yes, maybe no, but there’s no doubt I’d land somewhere where at least the team in town had one decent starting pitcher!”

And that was how most serious conversations went with Danny. If you peeked under the hood a bit, it usually got slammed shut as soon as you veered too close to the truth.

Mitch took a sip of his orange juice and felt another pang of guilt for not having made more of an effort to reach out to Danny, now that he knew there must have been serious problems in his life. This was one time his sniffer certainly had not worked.

That night at Johnny’s something had been different about Danny. He and Rachel had arrived early, and they were involved in what appeared to be a heated exchange when Mitch and Carolyn walked in. They both immediately went from pained expressions to happy greetings and wide smiles. However, when Mitch and Danny had their usual man hug, Mitch noticed a reticence from Danny, and, over dinner, he seemed guarded and withdrawn. He remembered thinking that Danny seemed preoccupied all evening. Was it possible he was already contemplating this horrible deed? Mitch preferred to think not—that something out of the blue had just happened to suddenly trigger a terrible series of events. It must have been some unexpected emotional explosion, rather than a plot. He would have been surprised but not shocked if Danny and Rachel had announced they were breaking up. And, while it seemed as though every segment of
Dateline
had a story about a guy killing his wife or vice versa, it was inconceivable that Danny would ever harm his children. He rarely even raised his voice to them; even when they were misbehaving and doing things that would anger most fathers, Danny would simply let them be.

He remembered his last glimpse of the two of them: that night, walking to their car down the hill from the restaurant, engaged in conversation. He waved, but they didn’t notice. Mitch had the sense that something was wrong. For some reason, something told him just to stand there and watch them. They got smaller and smaller and finally turned the corner.

He said something to Carolyn about his concerns as he started the car, but they let the subject drop, involved in whatever issues were going on in their lives at the moment. He never could have imagined that
when they disappeared into the shadows, it would be the last time he would ever see them.

Now Mitch didn’t know what to make of the person he had known for more than twenty years. Was he a monster who plotted to murder his wife and child, or someone who was mentally deranged, who, for some incomprehensible reason, committed the ultimate evil and then punished himself by taking his own life?

He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer, and then dozed off for a few seconds. When he lifted his head he was astonished to see Rachel standing by the sliding-glass doors. She looked radiant, but the glare of the sun behind her made it hard to discern her features. He could recognize her face, despite it being obscured by her hair, which was gusting in the wind. She was smiling, almost laughing, and speaking, though her lips weren’t moving. “We’re all okay, Mitch, but I need you to ask Carolyn to do me a favor.” He thought he heard her trademark giggle. “Tell her she has to speak at my funeral. I know she won’t want to do it, Mitch, but tell her I will be with her all the way.” He woke with a start, thinking someone had poked him in the shoulder.

As he shook himself awake, he heard stirring upstairs and knew the day was now beginning in earnest.