“A dead woman pushed you down the stairs?”
“Maybe Cindy,” she muses.
“Don’t bring her into this.” His eyes narrow in annoyance.
Defensive, Deborah says, “I think someone wants to hurt me.” Tears start to cloud her eyes, and seemingly taken aback by her emotion, Robert shifts uncomfortably on his feet.
“I know since they built that prison, this place hasn’t felt safe,” Robert says empathetically. “And I’m sure that random act of violence didn’t help matters.”
“How can you be so sure it was a random act?”
“I think they thought you’d have cash or jewelry, a robbery gone bad. One of our other neighbors got their place cased for the very same reason.”
She says, brooding, “Do you think I’ll ever know who wanted to hurt me?”
“Doubtful.” He sighs. “If they stole something, there would be serial numbers to trace or something to find.”
Rankled, Deborah stares off into the distance at nothing but fields and an endless highway. She wishes she could go back in time, before she knew of anyone named Jonathan or Robert, before she had to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“Maybe you’ll remember specific details along the way,” he offers. “Has your memory been jogged since you came home from the hospital?”
Unsure if she should admit this, Deborah says quickly, spitting the words out in a jumble, “I swear they had blond hair.”
“Because of what?”
“They had light-colored eyebrows. That’s about all I could see in the eye slits.”
“What about their eye color?”
“Unnaturally dark, like charcoal.” She automatically tenses up. “I could only see for a moment on the porch.”
“You think it was a guy with blond hair and dark eyes?”
“I don’t know,” she admits. “But it definitely was a man.”
Deborah thinks about this as they pack up their fishing gear. If it was a chance encounter with a stranger, then why does she have an unsettled feeling of being watched?
Shuddering at this idea, she doesn’t hear what Robert says until he lightly taps her on the shoulder. Deborah leaps backward before she realizes he’s asking her a question. “Are you okay?” He frowns.
“Yeah, I, uh, I just was thinking about all of this.” She waves a hand around. “It’s a lot.”
“I know,” he agrees. “That’s why I just asked if you had given any more thought to my suggestion.”
After the assault, Robert asked if she’d consider seeing a psychologist, psychiatrist, or hypnotist. Sensitive about her past and feeling harped on, she told him to drop it.
“Look,” Robert says, “you told me you can’t sleep since the . . . since the incident. You’re sleep deprived, and I’m sure it’s not helping you function. I mean, you’re skin and bones, and you didn’t have the weight to lose to begin with.”
Without looking at him, she stares straight ahead. “You think a shrink can fix me because I’m crazy?”
“Yes. I mean, no.” Robert clears his throat. “That’s not what I mean. I’m worried about you.” She stiffens when Robert lays a hand on her arm. “What happened to you was disgusting and senseless. Random or not, it doesn’t matter. There’s no way to escape unscathed from something that awful. You’re a strong woman, but dammit, there are limits, Debbie.”
“I know,” she murmurs.
He hunches his shoulders. “I’m just scared, is all. I don’t want to lose you.”
Flippant, she asks, “Are you afraid I’ll lose my mind again or that someone will finish the job?”
“Both.” He shakes his head sadly. “Both, Deborah.” It’s not the answer she wants, but it’s the truth.
“I don’t want you to be worried for me.” She threads her small fingers through his large ones as they walk back toward the house.
Deborah can’t help but notice his troubled expression at the sight of the thin gold wedding band she has on. “How could you still wear that?”
“It comforts me.”
“That ring isn’t symbolic of peace. A lot of lives got ruined.” His tone is harsh. “I’d hardly call that reassuring.”
“It reminds me of how relieved I felt when that night was over,” she explains. “It was like a resurrection of sorts.” Deborah could breathe again, and it was as if she had risen from her own grave, even if it meant putting Jonathan in his.
And it felt good.
Wholesome, even.
She can tell by Robert’s clenched jaw he disagrees. “That might be why you feel Jonathan’s presence. Maybe it’s time to think about a change.”
Not wanting to rock the boat, she tugs on his fingers. “Do you really think trying to talk to a professional again will help?”
“It couldn’t hurt,” he chides her. “We need a fresh start, Debbie.”
“I’ve been burned before,” she divulges. “I don’t want to be taken away and force-fed pills.”
“I wouldn’t let that happen to you.”
Inside, she screams, You let it happen before, but she knows that’s not fair. It was a different time, and there were others to consider. It was selfish to ask him to put her needs above everything else.
“Being assaulted had to be traumatic for you.” He tightens his grip on her hand. “I hate that it happened and I wasn’t around to protect you. But if it hadn’t . . .” His voice trails off.
“What?”
“I doubt we’d be standing here right now.” His sorrowful eyes peer deeply at Deborah, the mood becoming somber. “It’s a terrible thing to say. I just . . . I’m glad we reconnected.”
His old pickup truck is pulled around the garage, hidden in the brush, just in case his kids or their neighbors drive by. They both agreed they aren’t ready for tongues to start a-waggin’ again, at least not this soon.
After setting his fishing pole and tackle box in the bed of the truck, he slides his hands gently around her waist to give Deborah a warm embrace.
After they separate, Robert gives her a kiss and climbs up into the driver’s seat. “Wait.” He opens the middle console, rummaging through the contents until he finds what he’s looking for. “Ah, here it is.” Pressing a business card into her hand, he seems ambivalent. “A friend gave me this
