Scream (10 page)

"So what's happening in the exciting life of Ginny Grisham
tonight?" Jody asked when they arrived at their cars.

"Not much. I'm just gonna go home to my lonely house, put
on a movie I shouldn't waste my time watching, and stuff myself
full of junk I shouldn't eat. Sounds pretty enticing, huh?"

"You're not goin' out with Brandon?"

Ginny stuck out her lower lip in a pout. "He's working nights
this whole week."

"How are things comin' along with him? Gettin' serious yet?"

"I don't know," Ginny said, shrugging. "I'd like to think they
are. But I don't want to get my hopes up. I mean, I think Brandon's great. He's kind and caring and responsible and treats me
like a queen. But..."

Jody crossed her arms over her chest. "But what? You think
he's too good for you?"

"Well ... yeah, in a way."

"Ginny-"

"I know, I know," Ginny said, holding up both hands. "I
shouldn't feel that way. I should be happy that he likes me and
not be so hard on myself. I know. But I've been burned before,
you know? And it hurts. I don't know if I can take that kind
of rejection again. Besides, every time I look at myself in the
mirror, I wonder what in the world he sees in me."

Jody leaned her weight forward and tapped her foot on the
ground once. "He sees a kind, caring, responsible, and attractive woman. One that makes him happy. One that he adores
and just can't live without."

Ginny laughed. "You flatter me."

"It's true. I may be a lotta things, but I ain't no liar."

"Thanks. You always know what to say to make me feel
better." She looked up at the clear sky and filled her lungs
with the crisp air. The sky was awash with pinpricks of light
set against a black velvet backdrop. Stars, like grains of sand,
speckled the night sky, reminding Ginny of endless autumn
evenings spent lying under the stars with her two sisters, trying
to identify the constellations. "It's amazing how when the
weather turns colder, the stars just seem to pop out."

Jody leaned her head back and whistled. "You know, I don't
think I ever noticed before, or if I did, I never thought about it."

Ginny opened her car door and looked once more at the
starry sky. Pointing northward, she said, "Look, there's the Big
Dipper and the Little Dipper."

"I got an idea," Jody said. "Why don't you come over to my
house, and we can sit out back and watch the stars. It'd be a
shame to waste such a beautiful evening sittin' by yourself in
your apartment. I have snacks too. We can eat and talk and I'll
flatter you some more. How's that sound?"

Ginny felt a smile part her lips. She hadn't tried to smile; the
idea of sitting under a star-spangled sky with a good friendlike a sister-just brought a smile to her face. "That sounds like
an excellent idea."

Judge looked at his watch: 10:28.

Where is she? He dropped his sleeve and shoved his hand
in his pocket, rolling a quarter between his middle finger and
thumb. Twenty-eight minutes ago he'd thought maybe she
stopped for gas or milk. But it didn't take this long to pump
gas. Something was wrong.

Change of plans. OK, Virginia. You're one up. Fair enough.

She was out there somewhere. And sooner or later he'd catch
up to her. Sooner or later she'd come home on time as planned.

Sooner than later.

He'd come back tomorrow, set the trap again, and wait.
Again.

HERYL STONE LEANED BACK ON THE PARK BENCH,
crossed her legs, and squeezed the wadded tissue in her
sweatshirt pocket. Huge, pillowy clouds drifted by overhead. Some were as white as cotton; some were beginning to
gray. Behind them, the sky was as blue as she'd ever seen it. The
meteorologist was calling for rain later. Severe thunderstorm
warning for Allegheny and Garrett counties. But it sure didn't
look like rain in the sky.

"Have you heard from Mark lately?" asked Wendy Beaverson,
sitting next to her on the park bench. It had been almost two
weeks since Jeff's death, and Wendy was holding up remarkably
well. For the first few days, she was a wreck. And understandably so. Cheryl had slept at Wendy's house to help with the
children. Wendy stayed in bed most of the day, eating little
and sleeping less. Cheryl had tried to get her up and out of the
house, but it was useless. She just lay in that bed, curled around
Jeff's pillow, staring at the wall. Said she could still smell him
on the pillow and didn't want to lose that. Cheryl's heart broke
every time she looked in the bedroom and saw Wendy's face
buried in the pillow, sobs shaking her thin shoulders.

The day after the funeral, though, Wendy was like a new
woman. She climbed out of bed on her own, showered, ate
breakfast, and finally tore those sheets off the bed and washed them. "I have to get on with life," she'd said. "I miss Jeff and
think about him every second of every day, God knows I do,
but I need to move on ... for the kids' sake."

Now, sitting next to her in a yellow sweatshirt and wornin-the-seat jeans, hair pulled back in a ponytail, Cheryl came
to the conclusion that Wendy no longer needed her daily care.
Here she was, just lost her husband, and she was asking about
Mark. Remarkable.

Cheryl looked up at the clouds. A flock of Canada geese
flew by, honking their intentions to find warmer weather. Little
Gracie, just three years old, squealed as she slid down the sliding
board, "Mamma, looky look!"

Mark. She really didn't want to talk about him, but maybe
she needed to. Maybe it would be therapy of some kind to get
things off her chest. And now was as good a time as any. "No.
The last time I spoke to him was at the..." Her words trailed
off into awkward silence.

"The funeral?" Wendy said.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"It's OK. Are you going to get a divorce?"

That was something Cheryl didn't want to think about, hadn't
thought about. At least not seriously. Walking out on Mark was
one thing. Moving into her own apartment was another, and
difficult. But divorce? There was something about it that was
so final. She knew she should divorce him; he deserved it. She
deserved it. After what he did, she deserved to be rid of him
for good and forget about him. But why couldn't she? Sure, she
was angry with him, hated him at times. And, yes, during those
times she'd thought that she never wanted to see him again. But
there was something there, something that lingered way down
deep in her heart, way down in the shadows where even she
didn't dare look too long, that felt an awful lot like love. Could she still love him after what he'd done? Of course not! After
everything they had shared together-the vacations, the laughs,
the struggles, the tears, the intimacy-he had just trampled on
it all and disrespected her and their love. Yes, she was sure of
it: she hated him.

"-Cheryl?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

Wendy placed a hand on her leg, by the knee. "Divorce. Is it
on the table?"

Cheryl sighed. "I don't know. I want to, and I don't want to.
Sometimes I hate him so much I could kill him. And then at
other times ... I don't know. I try to tell myself maybe there's
some hope. Maybe I can find it in myself to forgive him. But
then I feel like I don't want to forgive him. I don't want to see
him, or hear his voice, or ever be around him again." She looked
at Wendy and tried to force a smile, but a lump had risen in her
throat and her eyes blurred from tears. "Am I crazy?"

Gracie squealed again.

Wendy patted Cheryl's leg and handed her a new tissue. She
had a look of such compassion and understanding in her eyes
that Cheryl almost lost it right there. "It's OK to feel that way.
It's only been, what, six weeks?"

"A little over."

"Just take it slow. There's no need to rush into anything just
yet. Mark's not looking for a divorce, is he?"

Cheryl shook her head, pressing the tissue against her eye.

"Give yourself some time to sort through your feelings. OK?
You'll know what to do."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching Gracie climb
the steps of the sliding board and whiz down, hands reaching
for the clouds, smile a mile wide. Way off to the left, just above the horizon, another flock of geese floated by, their honking
just barely audible.

An Allegheny County sheriff police cruiser slowed and eased
up next to the curb on the other side of the playground. A nasty
glare reflected off the passenger's side window, washing the glass
white and blocking any view of the officer behind the wheel.

"Is he watching us?" Wendy asked.

Cheryl shrugged. "Maybe he's just on patrol and decided to
sit and see what law-abiding responsible citizens do with their
time. We could teach him a thing or two, you know."

Wendy laughed. "What? Like how to stay so busy working
and taking care of children that you don't have time to break
the law? I'd like one day of irresponsibility." She looked at
Cheryl and had a mischievous grin on her face. "I think we
deserve that, don't you?"

Cheryl laughed and smiled wide. It'd been awhile since she'd
smiled like that. It felt good. "Yes. Definitely. One day would
be all it would take to get it out of my system. Then I could go
back to being a responsible taxpayer again. You think we could
go talk to the officer and arrange something? Maybe convince
him to turn his head for one day?"

But as if the policeman behind the wheel had heard her, the
cruiser slowly pulled away from the curb, stopped at the intersection, and made a left-hand turn away from the park.

Wendy sighed. "Well, there goes our chance. Looks like we'll
have to go on being boring, stressed-out, overworked, underpaid, responsible citizens. Whoopee."

Cheryl patted Wendy's back in mock sympathy. "Maybe
some other time. We'll get our chance to play Thelma and
Louise someday."