Evidence of Life. Barbara Sissel Taylor

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ drive north of Houston, and the clouds drifting here in this piece of Texas sky were small and as white and innocent as dandelion fluff. Abby noticed them, but only subliminally, as she made her way into the barn to freshen the stalls.

      Her mind was still on Nick, her sense of his unhappiness. She was thinking how he used to help care for the horses. He used to ride nearly every day after work, too. Often he and Lindsey had ridden together. Now Abby couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything with the horses other than complain about the feed and vet bills—which were enormous, Abby had to admit. He was always ranting about expenses, though. The way they lived wasn’t extravagant, but it wasn’t cheap either, what with taxes and upkeep on the house and property, never mind the kids and cars and college. Abby leaned on her rake. It had been her idea to move out here, to the Land of Nod, as her mother called it, and she’d never regretted it. But maybe Nick had. More than she realized. The commute alone was a nightmare, and traffic got heavier every year. On the occasions when she made the drive herself, she always wondered how he stood it.

      Abby led Miss Havisham and their other mare Delilah back into their stalls, filled their feed and water troughs and walked back to the house. At the foot of the porch stairs, she slipped out of her wellies, grabbing the porch rail to balance herself. She’d forgotten it was loose and sat down hard when it gave underneath her. Sat looking at nothing, thinking how Nick had once tended to every little chore on the place, but now his mind was elsewhere. She pushed herself up off the ground. Where was elsewhere?

      Later on, she switched on the television to the Weather Channel, but there was only a string of commercials and she cut the set off. She wouldn’t go near the TV again until Saturday when the flooding in the Hill Country would be approaching near-epic proportions. It would seem unbelievable to her that she hadn’t paid the slightest attention. She would wonder what she’d been thinking, doing...with her delightful alone time. She was sitting at the kitchen table poring over a seed catalogue when Lindsey called Saturday evening on her cell phone to say they were in Boerne.

      “Boerne?” Abby repeated. She went out the front door onto the wide porch and sat on the swing, nudging it into motion with her toe. Boerne was northwest of San Antonio. The campground, on the Guadalupe River, where they ordinarily went when they didn’t stay with Kate and George, was farther west.

      “What are you doing in Boerne?” Abby asked. “Is the weather bad?”

      “We spent last night in San Antonio. Dad says we’re taking the scenic route.”

      “The scenic route? What does that mean?” There was a pause, one so long that Abby had time to think: How weird. To think: Nick never takes the scenic route.

      “Mommy? I have to tell you—” Now Lindsey’s voice broke with tears or static. In all the awful months that followed, Abby would never be able to decide.

      “It’s about Daddy—” something-something— “I’m in the restroom—” something— “Shell station and—”

      “Lindsey, honey, you’re breaking up. Can you go outside? Is Daddy with you?”

      Her voice came again, but now it was as if she were talking through soap bubbles or sobbing.

      Abby’s heart stalled. “Lindsey! What’s wrong?” But there was no answer. Only static. Abby redialed Lindsey’s cell number and got her voice mail. She punched in the number again with the same result. She tried Nick’s cell phone and listened to his recorded voice suggest she leave her name and number and he’d get back to her. When? Where was he? Where was Lindsey?

      A Shell gas station. Was that what Lindsey had said? I have something to tell you...it’s about Daddy. Abby frowned at the cordless receiver, unsure now of what she’d heard. She put her hand to her stomach. It was too early to panic. Lindsey would call back or Nick would. As soon as they could get a signal.

      But the phone didn’t ring, not that whole long evening. She finally sat down at her computer and typed out an email in the hope that Nick would switch on his laptop. She kept the television tuned to the Weather Channel. At first tornadoes in Iowa took precedence, but once those played out, the rain in the Texas Hill Country rose to center stage. Warnings were issued for the increasingly hazardous driving conditions and the growing threat of a major flood in the area. The waters in the Guadalupe River and in countless other smaller but no less vulnerable rivers were reported to be flowing over their banks.

      Abby thought of calling Jake, but there was no point in worrying him needlessly, and surely it would be needless. She would hear something any minute. But she didn’t, and by ten-thirty, when she tried first Lindsey’s phone and then Nick’s, a canned voice informed her that the mailboxes were full. Of her messages, she thought, each one increasingly distraught. Who knew how many she’d left?

      She sent several more emails for all the good it did.

      Then at midnight when she called, she got nothing. Not even the recordings. She pressed the receiver hard to her ear and heard no sound. Dead air. It was as if she had dialed into a black hole. She would never be able to describe the sense of desolation that swept through her then. Even the canned voices had kept alive some sense of a connection, but that was gone now, and without it, Abby had no antidote for the panic that came, fiendishly, merrily, as if it had only been waiting its chance. It was a struggle to breathe. She couldn’t think.

      From rote, she dialed Kate’s number, her landline, got a busy signal. Not the usual, steady rhythm of sound, but the rapid-fire drill that meant the phone lines were down. Abby dropped the cordless onto the sofa, dropped her head into her hands.

      God...what should I do?

      She desperately wanted to call her mother in Houston, but Julia went to bed with the chickens and Abby couldn’t bear to waken her. Or Jake. For nothing. It had to be nothing. She was letting her imagination run away with her. Why do you always think something’s wrong, Abby? Nick’s admonition crept through her mind. She felt his palms on her cheeks, the trueness of his kiss when he’d pulled her close. I don’t want you to worry, he had said, and his tone had been so heartfelt and tender. He’d wanted to make up for before, when he’d been short with her. He hadn’t wanted to leave her mad. They’d promised early in their marriage they wouldn’t, and they’d tried to stick by it. Sometimes it had been hard, but every marriage, even one as good as hers and Nick’s, had hard times.

      Abby left the great room and went into the kitchen; she made toast and poured a glass of milk, but then both ended up in the sink. At some point she dozed on the sofa in the den and woke at dawn to the sound of rain pattering lightly on the windows. She sat up, licking her dry lips. For one blessed moment, as she loosened the pins from her chignon and ran her fingers through her hair, she didn’t remember, and then she did and the panic returned. It rushed out of her stomach and rose, burning, into her throat. She jerked up the cordless, dialed Lindsey’s and then Nick’s number. There wasn’t even a ring now. She listened, but there was only the rain scratching at the window as if it meant to come in. How she would come to hate it, the sound of rain.

      * * *

      Her mother answered on the second ring. “Abby? Honey, is everything all right?”

      “No, Mama.” Abby sucked in her breath, almost undone by her mother’s loving concern, and when she explained the situation her voice shook. “I’m going out there,” she said.

      “Abby, no!” Her mother’s protest was sharp to the point of vehemence, but then she paused, gathered herself—Abby could see her making the effort—and went on in her more customary moderate fashion. “I don’t imagine they’re letting people through. СКАЧАТЬ