The Light Through the Leaves(10)

“Yes,” Ellis said. “I need to get on the road. Can I give your address to the bank?”

“Ell, you’re freaking me out. If you’re leaving your kids, something really bad happened. Does Jonah blame you for what happened? He better not, or I’ll—”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

Another lie. Obviously Jonah—and everyone else—blamed her. She deserved the blame.

“Please just answer,” Ellis said. “All you have to do is throw my mail into a box. There won’t be much. Just a few bank statements.”

“Of course I’ll keep your mail. But when will you come get it?”

“I don’t know. Are you at the same address I sent the baby announcement to?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you. I have to go—”

“Wait!” Dani said. “Will I still be able to call you at this number?”

Tears streamed down Ellis’s cheeks. Getting rid of the phone would be cutting the last cord that connected her to Jonah and the boys. And Viola. “No, I won’t have a phone for a while.”

“Ellis, what’s going on? You need to have a phone. I have to know you’re okay!”

“I’ll let you know when I get a new number. Bye. I love you.”

Ellis ended the call.

Her phone service would turn off by the end of the week. Jonah had wanted her to keep it on, even said he would pay, but Ellis had to dump it along with everything else.

With shaky hands, she opened a new bottle of pills and popped one into her mouth. She’d found a doctor at a small clinic who’d given her prescriptions. To help with the stress of her divorce. And her baby’s abduction. If she had to spill the gory guts of her life to get the meds, she would.

She entered the bank to deliver her new address. A house in Gainesville, Florida, a town in a distant state she’d never visited.

By the time she left the bank, the pill had taken the edge off. But no amount of pills could prepare her for her last task.

She drove to the first real house she’d ever lived in. She wouldn’t miss it. It had always seemed ridiculously large to her: 4,200 square feet, four bedrooms plus an office, four and a half bathrooms, three-car garage. It was surrounded by an acre of lawn and plants that needed too much water, fertilizer, and trimming. Jonah had wanted the house—he’d said they needed a big place because they were having twins—and his mother had agreed. The down payment had been arranged in secret, as a wedding present, which meant Ellis couldn’t decline.

Ellis pulled the SUV into the driveway. She was relieved to see Mary Carol’s car was gone. She had told Jonah she wanted her gone when she came to see the boys, and for once he had let Ellis have a little bit of control.

Jonah met her on the sidewalk. “I’ve told them you’re leaving. As you asked me to.” He needed to remind her it was her idea and not his.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Please don’t do this,” he said.

“You know I have to. You’ve seen the damage I’ve done to them.”

He didn’t disagree. “Why not stay here and check yourself into a recovery program?”

“And have them visit me there, seeing their mother in such bad shape that she had to lock herself up?”

“That’s better than not seeing their mother.”

“Is it?” She thought of those times she’d seen her mother passed out in a pool of vomit, or worse.

“Of course it’s better!” he said. “And when you recover, you can buy a place nearby and see them whenever you want. I promise I’ll let you.”

“How kind of you.”

“Ell, come on. You can’t leave them.”

“I can and I will. I couldn’t stop you from wrecking our life, but I will control how it ends. I won’t come begging to see my boys with Irene and Mary Carol hovering. I’ve seen how that goes, and so have you. All the fighting over the kids. The new partners of the divorced couple getting involved. The kids confused by their loyalties. Kids shouldn’t be consigned to Hell because their parents made mistakes.”

“It doesn’t have to be Hell!”

“It will be, the slow-burn kind. And that’s almost worse. I’ve lived it. I know.”

“Goddamn it, Ellis! This is not your childhood! It’s theirs! You need to get help to see that!”

Tears burned in her eyes. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry. Not in front of the boys. Not the last time they saw her.

He came closer. He looked about to comfort her with an embrace, but his arms stuck at his sides as if they didn’t know how to hold Ellis anymore. Or didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” he said. “Just . . . please don’t go. You’ll regret it. You know you will.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that!” she said. “I left my baby in the woods. I know the regret of leaving a child behind very well. I feel the agony of it in every moment.”

“This isn’t the same! You don’t have to leave your boys to punish yourself. You have to forgive yourself for what happened to Viola.”

“Have you? Have you forgiven me?”

Every second that he paused was a knife that drove deeper into her chest.