Never Let You Go(43)

“But that was years ago.”

I stare at her, trying to remember that she’s a teenager, too young to comprehend obsession and realize that years don’t matter. I’d told her everything he’d done and thought that would enough warning. I never considered that fear would have a time limit in her mind. Maybe I should have told her about the sleeping pills, maybe then she would have better understood his rage, but it’s too late now. I sit down hard. “How did this happen? How did he contact you?”

“I wrote him. Then he wrote me back and sent it to Delaney.”

“Of course. That project you said you were working on. You lied to me.” I start laughing, a hysterical bitter laugh that I can’t seem to stop. “Of course.”

“He told me that he doesn’t drink anymore—and he’s really sorry.”

“It’s not just about drinking, Sophie. It’s about what is going on inside him. He’d need to be in counseling for years and I don’t even know if that would help.”

“He got counseling in prison.”

“Your father can’t handle his emotions, and that makes him dangerous. He’s only been out a few months and look what’s happening. You can’t see him.”

She looks away, her face flushing to a deep red.

“Oh, no. Tell me you haven’t met with him.”

“Only twice. I thought it would be okay. Then I could tell you that he was different so you didn’t have to worry. He was nice. We went fishing.…”

His hands are around my throat again, choking. The thought of them sitting together. I don’t want Andrew to have those precious moments with his daughter. He hasn’t earned them. He doesn’t deserve them. “You can’t see him again. Not while you’re living with me.”

“You’re threatening me?”

“He will kill me, do you understand?” I pause, holding her gaze, making sure that the words are connecting. “The only way your father will ever let me go is if I’m inside a coffin being lowered into the ground.” I reach out, grab her hand. “I know he’s your dad. I know how it must feel when all your friends have fathers and you don’t. I know how much you want things to be different and how much you want to believe him. I felt the same way for years. I gave him so many chances, Sophie. So many. But he can’t change. He just can’t.”

“He’s different, Mom. I can’t explain it. Maybe it wasn’t him in our house.” I can see in her face how much she needs this to be true and I hate that I’m the one who has to break her heart.

“It’s an act. It’s a game to him. All of this. He’s using you. I know that hurts to hear and maybe it makes you feel like you aren’t enough or something, but it has nothing to do with you. You are amazing. I love you with all my being, but to your father, we are possessions.”

She’s silent for a long time, her gaze focused on her pizza. She’s not crying anymore, just sniffling once in a while. I keep talking, trying to make her understand things that took me years of self-help books and joining a support group to finally realize, things I still don’t truly grasp, how love can go so wrong, how I could have fallen so far off the path and lost myself so deeply. How he can be so sweet and wonderful and charming and so vicious and cruel a minute later.

“I don’t feel very good,” she finally says.

“Me neither.”

“I’m never going to be able to eat pizza again.”

“Something tells me that’s not true.” I pull her closer. “I’m really sorry, kid.”

She lets out her breath in a sigh against my neck. “Do we have to move?”

“Not yet. We’re going to be careful and see what happens, okay?”

“Okay.” Her body sags into mine and I hold her close, crave the weight of her, and remember how she used to fill my arms. She’s slight as a bird. “I just wanted a father,” she says.

“I know, baby. I know.” I think I’ve gotten through to her, but I’m still unsettled at how easily he’d crept back into our lives. I thought I’d had it all covered, hoped that if I gave Sophie enough love she wouldn’t miss having a father. But she had. And he won’t give up. Not now. Will she be strong enough to withstand him? Is she stronger than me? God. I hope so.



Friday afternoon Corporal Parker calls with news that the judge has issued a summons for Andrew to appear in court Monday morning.

“Now we have to track him down so we can deliver the summons. We aren’t sure if he’s in Victoria or Dogwood Bay. He’s fallen off the radar.”

“That’s not comforting.” Andrew has a plan, I can feel it. Even if I packed our bags tonight, I have no doubt he would find us. “He could be waiting in my bedroom with a shotgun.”

“There are safe houses, and—”

“There are no houses safe from Andrew.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “I understand your fears, okay? I really do. And I want to help you. This is a step in the right direction. We’re going to get him.”

“I hope you’re right.”

When we pick up a tree from the mall on Saturday, I park where there are lots of people and hold my key between my fingers as I walk toward the entrance. At home we decorate the tree, then I clean up the fir needles, halting my vacuuming every few minutes to listen. Greg comes over after he’s finished work and installs a dead bolt and suggests we sleep at his house for a while, but I don’t think Sophie will like that. I’m grateful for his help but I feel distracted, and pull away when he tries to be affectionate—teasing him about smelling like his work truck.