He had drawn a finger across his neck, and made a sound like having his throat slit.
Abby had shivered, moved his finger out of the way, and kissed his Adam’s apple.
But that was also the good news-the little white lies came easy to her, but no lies at all came easily to Mitch. Even listening to him ask Rex to cover for him, she’d heard how tense he had sounded, how quickly he’d hung up, as if he didn’t want to dwell on it. Abby figured she would be able to tell if Mitch ever lied to her. She took it for granted that he was as loyal as he was honest. What he said he’d do, he’d do. And if he didn’t, he’d tell her the truth about why not. Which also meant, however, that if her mom or dad caught him on the stairs and asked him what he was doing there at this hour, in his bare feet, poor Mitch might blurt, “I’m going to get a rubber so I can screw your daughter for the first time!” At the thought of it, Abby felt contented laughter bubbling up from her heart, and before she knew it, she had to bury her face in her pillow to hide her giggles again.
Then she heard a phone ring, but not in her room, and her giggles died abruptly.
It was her father’s medical emergency line, ringing on that phone in their bedroom.
“No!” Abby whisper-yelled into her pillow. “Please, please, please! Not tonight, please, please don’t anybody need him tonight!”
Thank God the Reynoldses had wall-to-wall carpeting everywhere, Mitch thought, as he crept down the second floor landing, and then down the carpeted stairs to the first floor. And thank God Margie Reynolds believed in night-lights, so there was at least some illumination for his trek. As well as he knew this house, which was nearly as well as he knew his own, he still didn’t know it well enough to move blindfolded in the dark.
He made himself think about what he could do or say if either of Abby’s parents woke up and discovered him sneaking through their house in the dark. Mrs. Reynolds might forgive him, but Mitch had a feeling Doc Reynolds might not be so easy on him.
“Mitch?” he’d say in that bass, raspy, rumbling voice of his that made everything he said sound well-thought-out and important, even if he only said hello or good-bye or pass the pie. When Quentin Reynolds told people they were cancer-free, they took it as a pronouncement of Gospel truth; if he told them they had three months to live, they believed it, and tended to follow orders by folding their mortal tents on or about three months later. It was well known in town that you wanted to be real careful about what kind of information you asked Doc to give you, and make sure you could handle hearing it. Mitch’s father said that when dealing with Quentin Reynolds, it was best to be a person of independent mind. Quentin also had a dry sense of humor that confused people who lacked one. Mitch could just imagine him saying, “I could have sworn that I got out of bed and that I’m not dreaming. But there you are, sneaking down my front stairs…”
Mitch crept through the kitchen toward the door that led into Doc’s office and examining rooms. He’d eaten two pieces of Mrs. Reynolds’s cherry pie in that kitchen that very afternoon while Abby’s father worked on the other side of the wall, but it seemed a lot longer ago than that now.
Doc Reynolds kept to the old-fashioned tradition of conducting his medical practice at home, instead of at an office downtown, and so Mitch walked in the dark through a compact addition that had been built onto the house before he was born. Padding silently in his bare feet, he passed through a small waiting room, a reception and nurse’s office, and then down a short hall where there were five doors leading to Doc’s office, two examining rooms, one bathroom, and a large supply closet.
If he thought that explaining what he was doing in the house would be difficult, explaining what he was doing in the medical quarters was going to be impossible.
“Oh, just stealing amphetamines, Doc. Why, is that a problem?”
Mitch pushed open the door to the supply closet, and offered up a prayer to the god of young virgins. On second thought, he changed that line of defense, too. The god of virgins might not be too pleased that he was about to lose two of his best disciples.
That thought made Mitch’s knees go so weak that he nearly sank down onto the tile floor.
When the phone rang like a tornado siren going off, he jumped as if a doctor had poked a needle in his ass.
For a few blessed moments after the phone rang, Abby didn’t hear anything from the direction of her parents’ bedroom. She let herself imagine that she and Mitch were still safe. But then she heard their door quietly open, and her heart managed to both sink and to race at the same time. She heard her father hurry down the hallway toward the stairs, and all she could do was hide her face in her hands. Her dad was being quiet, but not that quiet, so maybe Mitch would hear him coming and find a place to hide-
Galvanized by the need to warn Mitch, she sprang out of bed and raced to her door.
“Dad!” she called out. “What’s going on?”
He barely glanced back over his shoulder long enough to say, “Shhh. Go back to sleep.”
“Is somebody having a baby? There hasn’t been a car wreck, has there?”
He didn’t even bother to turn around to shush her, but just kept on going.
Abby retreated to her bed. At least she had tried to warn Mitch. He had to have heard her!
Holding her breath in suspense, Abby squeezed her eyes shut and prayed, Please!
When she saw light through her closed eyes, she opened them. But then, when she realized it was headlights coming up their driveway, she knew they’d lost their chance. The only good news was that she wasn’t also hearing anything to indicate that Mitch had been caught by her dad. He must be hiding in the house. Or maybe he was already running home.
Oh, no! Through the snowstorm, without his shoes or coat…
Abby turned her face toward the ceiling, feeling horrible. She felt disappointed, mad, sad, scared, nervous, worried about Mitch, guilty, every bad feeling she could possibly have. Why did love have to be so difficult?
Mitch dived into the dark medical supply closet seconds before Abby’s dad pushed open the door from the kitchen. Light from approaching headlights flooded the dark rooms as somebody drove up to the entrance to the doctor’s office. For several moments, Mitch stood frozen in the dark, trying to catch his breath without anybody hearing him gulp it into his lungs. Abby’s voice, calling “Dad!” had scared the hell out of him. Now, he cringed at the sight of the long sliver of light that came in at the edge of the supply closet door. He hadn’t dared to close it all the way, since that might make noise. Would Doc notice it was ajar?
Oh, God, he thought, what if Doc had to get something in the supply closet?
Desperately, he stared around, but saw only open shelves, including the one with the box of condom packets. They looked like a bad joke now. Ha ha. Not tonight, sucker.
Mitch’s heart pounded so hard in his ears that he felt deaf. As through a percussive din, he heard doors slam outside, then the outside door to the office opened, and then he heard the voices of men. With a shock that felt like a kick to his stomach, he recognized them. Jesus H. Christ, it was Rex’s dad and Patrick. Oh, great! Was his own dad coming next?
Feeling as if he had little left to lose, since they were bound to catch him, Mitch inched closer to the crack of light. He might as well take a look. But what he saw shocked him more than his own predicament did: Preceded by Doc Reynolds, Rex’s dad and brother were carrying a naked girl down the hallway, coming right toward him.