Fleeting Moments (8 page)

I peer around. The parking lot is still empty. It’s as if nothing ever happened, but his shirt is proof that something did. I rub my face, trying to remember what he said to me but I was a mess and it’s hazy. All I know is that he was here. He keeps telling me to stop looking for him, yet he keeps popping up. How the hell am I supposed to make sense of that?

I turn the key, starting my car, then I glance at my phone, still sitting on the passenger seat. I pick it up, and see it’s on. I narrow my eyes and bring it closer. I turned it off; I know I did. I unlock the screen and my memo app is open. Words confront me and my heart pounds as I read them.

I am as good as a moment, Lucy Girl.

You need to let me go.

One day, we might meet again.

That time isn’t now.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat and hit save.

I no longer have the strength or the will to walk away from him.

I put the car in drive and head home. I know what I have to do; I know what’s fair. Gerard deserves better, and the person I am now is not the person he married. It’s not fair to keep putting him through this.

The very thought of what I’m about to do hurts. It puts an ache in my heart that I never wanted to feel. Once, I thought I could never love anyone the way I loved him. I truly believed that would never change.

But it has.

Circumstances took my feelings into their hands and crushed them.

It takes me twenty minutes to get home, and when I do, the tears are already welling beneath my eyelids. I hate what I’m about to do, but I have to be honest with him. I have to let him go. Maybe, when all this is over, it’ll be different but for right now, Gerard no longer has all of my heart, and he deserves so much more, something better.

I get out of the car and walk inside. Gerard stands by the kitchen counter, his hands resting against it, his back to me.

“I saw your email.” Gerard’s voice hits me, cold, broken, and empty. He’s given up, too. I can’t blame him for that.

“Gerard,” I whisper, walking towards the kitchen.

“Why did you send it? Why did you do that when you know it makes me uncomfortable?”

“Because I needed to find him. I sent it back when I got out of hospital . . .” I say to my hands.

He spins around, and his eyes drop to my shirt. “Whose shirt is that?”

“I went to the baseball stadium last night, and he was there.”

His face contorts in irritation. “So you slept with him?”

“No,” I cry, jerking backwards. “No, of course not. Jesus, Gerard. I was a mess, soaked from the rain. He told me he can’t see me and he drugged me. I woke up this morning in the car, alone.”

His face twists. “He drugged you?”

“Yes.”

He shakes his head sadly. “Where did you really get that shirt, Lucy?”

My mouth drops open. “I just told you.”

“You’re not telling me the truth.”

“I am,” I snap. “That’s exactly what happened.”

“So this mystery stranger found you soaking wet, drugged you, changed you, and disappeared?”

“Yes!”

He shakes his head and furrows his brows, looking horrified. “Are you hearing yourself? You need help. You’re creating stories that are completely unrealistic.”

My heart pounds so hard I can barely hear. “I’m not lying, Gerard.”

“To get to the point you actually got another man’s shirt and made up a story like this to get me to believe you . . . honestly . . .”

“I’m telling the truth. He was there!”

“He doesn’t exist,” he screams so loudly I flinch. Gerard very rarely yells at me. “He doesn’t fucking exist, Lucy. You need help. God dammit, you need help.”

I spin around. “I don’t!” I cry. “I don’t need help. I just need you to believe me.”

He shifts, his entire body stiff. “So you can chase another man?”

I shake my head. “This is not about you and your jealousy.”

“Jealousy?” he roars. “Of course I’m jealous. You’re home, but you’re not really here. Your mind is on him all the time, I can see it. Your focus is on him. It’s all you think about. What about me? What about what I’m feeling?”

“I care about how you’re feeling,” I yell. “I do, Gerard. I wish I could take your pain away, but it’s very hard when you refuse to have my back.”

“You want me to support your need to chase a non-existent man?”

I shake my head. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”

His eyes flash. “Neither can I, Lucy. You’re my wife, I want to help you, but I can’t do that until you let this go. Are you willing to do that so we can go back to the way we were?”

I study him.

Really study him.

He’s asking me to let it go, completely. He’s asking me to agree that Heath doesn’t exist and just move on.

To pretend.

That would be lying to myself and him, and that isn’t fair.

I can’t give my husband what he’s asking. “No, Gerard. I’m not willing to let it go, and you deserve better than to have to put up with it.”

He looks at me sadly, then shakes his head. “I can’t be here anymore.”

My heart pounds, reality washing over me. “No, I don’t think you can.”

His face twists. “You’re not the same person I married, and until you get the help you need, I can’t do anything else.”

“So much for better or for worse, right?” I mutter, trying to fight back my tears.

He runs a hand through his hair. “You’re asking me to be okay with this, and I’m not. I’ve pushed for you to get help, but you refuse. I’ve tried to be there for you, but you won’t let me in. I can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped, and I also can’t sit around and watch you chase another man.”

I shake my head, so hurt I can barely breathe. I know this is for the best, but to hear us both giving up so easily surprises me, and hurts me, and makes me realize I’m doing the right thing. We had a perfect marriage, but it was all on the surface. When it came down to the hard stuff, neither of us was willing to put in the good fight.

This is for the best.

“This is for the best,” I tell him. “For both of us.”

“Promise me you’ll get help. I’m scared to leave you alone believing there is a man out there that isn’t real.”

“He is real,” I pathetically argue.

“He’s not,” he roars so loudly I flinch. “He’s not real. You need help.”

“Gerard, we’re not doing this. Clearly neither of us is willing to put in the effort.”

He stares at me sadly. “I thought you were the one. I was wrong.”

That hurts.
So bad.

He turns, grabbing his keys and disappearing out the door, slamming it so loudly the windows shake.

I lower down to the ground and sob.

There goes the last of my life, breaking into a thousand tiny pieces.

M
y phone rings and rings.

I ignore it.

It’s Gerard’s sister. Her place is where he would have gone. She hates me; she’s always hated me. She and Gerard are extremely close and when he married me, she felt like that was taken away from her. She automatically began to resent me, like it was my fault he fell in love. She’s never been nice to me, and she’ll thrive on this drama between us. She’ll be feeding it, too.

I don’t have the patience to deal with her.

I turn my phone off and throw it against the wall with a yell. I can’t take any of it anymore. I push to my feet and on shaky legs, I go into my bedroom, pulling out a suitcase. I pack a bag and find my car keys, then I lock up our house and leave, finding a hotel in the city. A place where no one can find me, where no one can bother me.

I leave my phone on the ground at home.

I need time. I need to figure my mind out, and the only way I can do that is to be away from it all.

I settle into my hotel room, then pull out my laptop and check my emails. There is an email from the baseball stadium, telling me they can’t give out any information. Of course. After seeing him last night, my frustration levels have hit an all-time high.

Doesn’t he understand that every time he leaves I’m going to search harder? I open a search bar and look up the religious group that caused all of this mess. I read articles and eventually find out where they’re located. Heath knew a bit about them; would he be there?

I make a spur-of-the-moment decision and decide tonight, I’m going to see if I can find this place. It’s probably not the smartest choice I’ve ever made, but I want to know more, not just about the mysterious stranger who saved me, but the people who would take so many lives without even blinking. Until then, I need some rest. I curl up in bed and cry myself into a deep sleep. Gerard is the last thing on my mind as I drift off, and I’m sorry for him. I really am. I failed as a wife and partner.

I wake early evening, and it takes a good few minutes for me to realize where I am. Disorientated, I sit up and glance around. I recall the day and my chest sinks. Right—my husband and I broke up and here I am. I glance at the time. It’s getting dark enough for me to make the drive, so I get out of bed, shower, and change into a pair of jeans and a tank, then I get my keys and exit the hotel.

I get into my car, punching the address into my GPS navigation, then I start driving before I have the chance to reconsider my plan. I drive south of the city for about an hour. I follow the directions down a dirt road that leads into the middle of some thick woods until finally I come to a massive barbed-wire fence. There are lights in the distance, a good few miles in.

It’s going to be hard to see anything like this.

I park my car off to the left of the main entrance near some thick trees, and climb out. I don’t have a flashlight, so I just move to the fence and slowly start walking around it. I shove through trees and keep to the fence line, using my fingers to feel for it. As I near the lights, I begin to hear faint voices. I shift closer, trying not to make any sound as the picture in front of me becomes clearer.

I stop at some trees and peer through the fence, my fingers tangled in the wire as I bring my face close enough to get a good view. There’s a fire pit, and around it are a bunch of people dressed in white gowns, chanting and holding each other’s hands. I squint and try to see what they’re all dancing around, but it’s hard to get a good view past the roaring flames and their flowing clothes. I don’t know what they’re chanting about; I can’t hear clearly.

I keep watching, mesmerized. They part after a few minutes and I see a girl in the middle of the ground near the fire, naked. She’s on her knees, her head lowered to the ground, her tiny body on display. Vomit rises in my throat and I watch in horror as a man, probably around sixty, steps forward and brings her up to her feet. She couldn’t be more than twelve.

She’s so young. Long black hair flows around her body, covering most of her nakedness. The man grabs hold of her, pulling her to his side, resting his hand on her barely developed body. Vomit stings my throat. It burns like fire, and tears well in my eyes as a man comes forward and tells the crowd that the young woman now belongs to him, but will be given to all the males of the group as part of God’s will
. God’s will.

Oh my god.

That girl needs help. Someone needs to get her the hell out of there. Panic grips my chest, and I start fumbling around for my phone only to realize I don’t have it. I need to call the police, child services—something. She’s too young for this. She’s too young. Maybe I should go in. Maybe I should demand they give her to me. Maybe . . .

My thoughts come to an abrupt halt as a hand clamps around my mouth, and I’m jerked backwards.

I scream, but it’s muffled.

“Don’t move. Don’t scream.”

That voice.

Heath.

My body goes slack, and I stop fighting, letting him pull me backwards through the trees. Only when we’re far enough away that we can’t see anyone does he let me go. He spins me around, but I can’t see him in the dark.

“What the hell are you doing here, Lucy?”

“Heath?” I croak.

“Answer me,” he barks, low and throaty.

“I . . . I was looking for you.”

“You need to stop looking for me. You need to stop asking questions. You just need to go—do you understand? I don’t want you to ever come back here again. Do you hear me?” he hisses angrily.

My heart sinks. “I just wanted to—”

“No,” he growls. “No. I won’t ask you again.”

My throat grows tight. He doesn’t want to see me.

“I’ve lost everything,” I whisper. “Please don’t make me leave.”

“This is unsafe and dangerous. You need to leave and never come back.”

“Not until you tell me why I can’t talk to you,” I protest weakly.

He grabs my arm again and pulls me in the direction of where I parked my car. When we get to it, he reaches into my pocket, jerking my keys out and unlocking my driver’s side door. He pulls it open and twists, putting me in the front seat. The interior light is on now, and I can see him. My breath catches in my throat as he stares down at me, both hands on the roof of my car, his head bent down low so he can pin me with that silver glare. 

“How did you find this place?” he demands.

I meet his eyes, and I can’t speak. I just want to throw myself into his arms. I want him to take it all away.

“Lucy,” he prompts.

“I found it on the internet.”

“Fucking internet,” he mutters. “You need to stop searching for whatever it is you’re searching for.”

“I was searching for
you
.”

“Stop,” he growls. “I can’t keep telling you that.”

“No,” I whisper, holding his gaze. “You drugged me last night, but you don’t get to keep doing that. You don’t get to keep running from me.”

“Lucy,” he warns. “I’m protecting you.”

“People think I’m crazy,” My voice trembles. “They think I’m losing my mind because the police won’t tell me where you are. They’re all acting as if you don’t exist.”

“You ever think that’s how it has to be? You need to stop asking questions, stop searching. Just let it go.”

“You saved my life,” I whisper, “then you disappeared, and now you want me to just forget it?”

He sighs, and his eyes drop to my mouth for a few seconds before he looks away. “I can’t be anything to you right now. I’m working something serious and I need you to understand that.”