The New Husband(113)

And that’s when Nina shared what she really did when she’d gone upstairs to call the police from Simon’s place using Simon’s cell phone. Obviously, she could have made the call from his basement.

She had gone to the bedroom at the end of the hall, and again saw the picture of Allison Fitch, who bore such an uncanny resemblance to her. But she had other things on her mind.

She opened the closet door.

He said it was here, didn’t he?

There was hardly anything in the closet, making it easy to locate the box she was after. It was big enough to hold a pair of hiking boots, but there was no footwear inside.

“Two hundred thousand dollars, cash, tax free,” Nina told Glen. “I put the box in my car before I called the police. I didn’t tell the kids. They don’t need to know.”

“You clever girl.” Glen was smiling.

“We deserve that money for what we went through. But I’m putting some of it into a nonprofit in Hugh Dolan’s name to support addiction recovery.”

Glen nodded in approval.

“You know, he killed Hugh,” he said. “He broke into his apartment, subdued him, shoved a fentanyl-laced injection into his arm—revenge for his interference, that’s what he told me.”

Nina wasn’t surprised. She already knew Simon had spied on her Facebook messages, so in a way, she had played a role in Hugh’s death. The money wouldn’t cleanse her conscience, but it would help take away some of the guilt.

“Remember how we met?” Nina said.

“Match dot com,” Glen said with a laugh.

“I always wanted a better story to tell,” she said. “My broken jar of pasta sauce. We might not have the greatest how-we-met story, but we do have a good story to tell.”

From a pocket, Nina produced a business card belonging to a major book publisher. A large figure was written on the back.

“I suspect it’s too soon for you to tell our story right now,” Nina said. “It’s too soon for me. But when we’re ready.”

Nina had plans for that money. In addition to funding drug treatment in Hugh’s name, she intended to provide for Detective Wheeler’s widow, and fund an effort to track down Allison Fitch, and if necessary, try to locate her remains. There was no way to make this up to Dr. Wilcox, but fortunately she was back on her feet and eventually she’d be able to resume her practice.

Glen’s eyes misted over as he leaned in, put his mouth close to Nina’s ear, and whispered, “I’m just so grateful we’re alive to tell it together.”

They hugged.

At last, finally, after all this time, she harbored no doubts. This was her husband. The man she loved. True, he had made a terrible choice by not confiding in her, but she had made terrible choices of her own. They were flawed together—like all marriages, perfectly imperfect. With time and counseling, Nina had total confidence she could get over Glen’s deception and his lone indiscretion. The mind was funny like that. It could adapt, shift, change directions like sand in the wind.

In another week, he would be officially discharged and they’d move back in together as a family. Nina had rented a new house in Seabury. She had the money. Ginny and Susanna were helping with the move—once again, the comfort of friendship.

As Nina pulled away from Glen’s embrace, she caught sight of something, or someone, over his shoulder. Simon was in the room with them, a gaping wound in his neck, blood splatter in his hair, on his face, his clothes. She didn’t flinch, didn’t scream. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him.

Nina closed her eyes, opened them, and when she did, he was gone.





EPILOGUE



MAGGIE GARRITY, ESSAY FOR THE DARTMOUTH COLLEGE ADMISSIONS APPLICATION.

QUESTION: The lessons we take from obstacles we encounter can be fundamental to later success. Recount a time when you faced a challenge, setback, or failure. How did it affect you, and what did you learn from the experience?



It is easy to judge other people. It takes no effort at all. Sit back, look at their choices, and decide what you would have done. It’s as simple as that. But when you’re safe inside your home, on your couch, petting your dog, it’s easy to overinflate your capabilities. Why not imagine you’d be a superhero. Of course, you (amazing person) would punch and kick your way to safety—whatever the danger. But here’s what I’ve learned after my ordeal, the greatest obstacle I’ve ever overcome: until you live it, you don’t know what you would actually do. What you think you’d do is nothing but a fantasy.

If you google my name, you’ll see story after story about what happened to my family and me. It wasn’t pleasant. It was the worst time in my life. I nearly died. We all did. Some people judged my father harshly for what had happened. They called him a coward for not finding a way to get a message to me, or even trying to make an escape. They thought the man who had taken him prisoner had brainwashed him into developing a psychological alliance with his captor, which is known as Stockholm syndrome.

But these people who judged him weren’t shackled inside a 512-cubic-foot room for nearly two years. My father did what he had to do to survive.

We all did.

So don’t judge.

I wasn’t always good at this myself. There was a time before that I judged kids who are different—kids who are super studious, kids who don’t look or act “cool,” kids who don’t do sports, or any of the “right stuff.” That’s a lesson I learned the hard way.