THERE WAS NO DOUBT ANYMORE, IF THERE HAD EVER BEEN. Nick had definitely gone to meet Beverly Gardener. He’d snuck out of bed with me in the middle of the night and driven back to town to be with her. It was incredible, hard to absorb, and humiliating but apparently true.
What was I going to do about it? What could I do? I was stuck out in Chester County with Molly, who was sound asleep.
After the phone call, I was spitting mad. I sat listening to sounds of the night, fuming. Feeling like a chump. The more I sat, the angrier I got. The isolation didn’t help. Was that the wind howling or the cry of a hungry wolf? Was it a tree branch scraping the window or the claw of some night creature?
Stop it, I told myself. No one’s out there. It’s just your nerves. Still, I walked around in the dark, checking doors and windows, making sure they were locked. I checked on Molly every few minutes, comforted by the steady sound of her breath. I went up to the loft and peered out the window, feeling trapped and frantic. Furious at Nick for bringing us there, at myself for having come. Up in the loft, I stared out at the night. I lay down, tried to sleep, pictured Nick with Beverly, sat up, and stared out at the night again. I paced, went down to the main room, back up to the loft. Despite myself, I could see what he saw in her; the woman had charisma. She was a celebrity. But I asked myself over and over why Nick had taken us there if he’d wanted to be with Beverly. I had no answers and eventually got sick of asking. All I knew was that I wanted out. I wanted to go home.
Finally, the sky began to lighten. It was almost dawn, and Nick was still gone. Downstairs again, I stopped pacing and stared at the front door. What was I supposed to do? Stay there all day and wait? The front door gave no reply.
But Charlie did. “Get out, Miss Zoe!” I heard him wheeze. “Hurry up. Leave before it’s too late.”
I didn’t argue. I wanted to get the hell out of there, not wait around to hear excuses and lies. But how was I supposed to leave? Nick had taken the car. Should I call a cab? Did they even have cabs way out in Chester County? At the crack of dawn?
Finally, as the sun rose higher, I’d had enough. I wasn’t helpless, didn’t have to stay there waiting. I had options. The Volvo was gone, but Molly and I had legs. There were snowshoes in the shed. We could walk back to Philadelphia if we had to, or at least to a highway. I’d take the cell phone, and when we found a main road I’d call Susan and tell her where we were. She’d come and get us. Good. I felt better already; I wasn’t trapped. I had a plan.
I gathered my clothing in a rush, but trembling, rushing, I had trouble putting it on. My feet kept missing, wouldn’t go into the leg holes of my jeans, got stuck halfway. The harder I shoved my feet into them, the more the fabric resisted. Finally, I gathered the material at the bottom and held it open, aiming my toes through the holes as if I were threading a needle. Calm down, I told myself. Find your socks. Put on your boots. My skin stung as my sweater rubbed spots Nick’s rough whiskers had scraped raw. Damn Nick. Cheating lying sonofabitch. Controlling manipulating two-faced bastard. Cursing him felt good. I straightened my sweater and smeared away angry tears with the back of my hand.
Finally, my clothes were on. I was ready to go. All I had to do was bundle up Molly and get the snowshoes. Then we’d hit the road.