Plain Protector. Alison Stone
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moment of weakness, but then never used. Sometimes just knowing she had a phone, a way to reach out, made her feel less lonely.
Tonight she had reached her breaking point. No one could trace the call, she reasoned. She needed her mom. What girl didn’t? She needed to hear her mother’s reassuring voice. Tonight of all nights.
Sarah flipped on a light. Her hands shook with the knowledge of what she was about to do. Sarah fumbled with the packaging until she freed the phone. It fell and clattered against the pine table in her kitchen. She scooped it up and held it close to her beating heart, feeling as if she were doing something criminal.
The tiny hairs on her arms stood on edge and she couldn’t shake that feeling that someone was watching her. She lifted her head and stared toward the back window, her reflection caught in the glass. Beyond that, the yard was pitch-black. A surge of icy dread coursed through her veins. She’d have to save up for curtains. Sitting here like a duck on a target stand with a big red bull’s-eye over her head didn’t do anything for her nerves.
She gathered up the phone’s instructions and turned off the lamp. She hurried into the downstairs bathroom, closed the door and turned on the light to read the instructions. In short order—after installing the battery and activating the phone—she was calling the familiar phone number of her childhood home. The same phone number Sarah had since the time she could reach her mother’s rotary phone mounted on the wall in the kitchen. The phone had been updated, but little else had in her mother’s cozy home.
Yeah, the Gardners didn’t have the fanciest gadgets, but they did have each other. Sort of.
With shaky fingers, Sarah pressed the last digit of her home phone number and held her breath. Silence stretched across the phone for a long time. Sarah pulled it away from her ear and glanced at it, wondering if it actually worked. A distant ringing sounded in the quiet space, and Sarah quickly pressed the phone to her ear. It was getting late, but she knew her mother didn’t sleep much nowadays.
...Three, four, five...
She counted the rings.
“Come on, Mom, answer the phone.”
She imagined her mother pushing off the recliner—maybe asleep in front of whatever show happened to be on right now—muttering about the nerve of someone calling so late. No matter how many times she told her mother to keep the portable phone by her side, her mother insisted on placing it in the charger.
Every. Time.
...Eight, nine...
Sarah’s body hummed with impatience.
“Hello,” came her mother’s curt greeting, startling Sarah who had all but given up hope that she’d reach her mom tonight.
Sarah swallowed a knot of emotion. “Mom.” The word came out high-pitched and tight.
“Sarah...” her mother said her name on a hopeful sigh.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
Her mother’s tone shifted from surprised delight to concern. “Is everything okay?”
Sarah touched the bandage on her head. “Yeah, yeah, I just missed you and needed to hear your voice.”
Her mother made an indecipherable sound and started to cough, a wet, popping noise. Her mother tried to talk, but the racking cough consumed her.
Sadness, helplessness and terror seized Sarah’s heart.
She envisioned her mother reaching for a tissue and holding it in a tight fist against her mouth as her pale face grew red from the exertion of coughing. Her eyes watering. A loud gasp sounded across the line as her mom struggled to catch her breath.
Sarah muttered a curse against Jimmy. She should be there caring for her mother. Not hiding an hour away, alone in someone else’s house.
After a moment, when the coughing slowed, Sarah asked, “Are you okay?”
Her mother seemed to have collected herself. “I think I’m coming down with a cold.”
Her poor, sweet mother, always trying to protect her only daughter. Sarah hadn’t magically forgotten that her mother had lung cancer.
“Have you been keeping up with your doctor’s appointments?”
“Yes. There’s just so many. Sometimes I’ll have a coughing jag when I’m driving...” Her mother forced a cheery tone. “Now, don’t worry about me. I’m as tough as they come. Now tell me about you. I thought we were only supposed to write letters. Safer that way.”
“I called on a disposable phone.”
Silence stretched across the line. “Jimmy came here the other day.”
Sarah’s heart jackhammered in her chest. “What did he want?” You, stupid, stupid girl! Suddenly the phone felt like a hot coal in her hand. What if he tracked her down here? How? It was a disposable phone.
Jimmy was resourceful.
She looked up at the lavender walls of the small downstairs half bath. She’d have to run again. This time farther away. Away from her mother.
“Jimmy acted like he was checking up on me, seeing if I needed anything—boy, that man could charm a lollipop from a baby—but I knew better. He was fishing around to see if I knew where you were. Same as he’s done the other times he’s swung by the house on the guise of checking up on me.”
Sarah pressed the phone tighter to her ear, her racing pulse making it more difficult to hear. “What did you tell him?” Sarah’s mouth grew dry as she anticipated her mother’s answer. They had rehearsed before Sarah left as to what her mother should say or do, but Sarah constantly worried that her mother’s illness, medication or just a plain old slip of the tongue would jeopardize her location.
Sarah knew she was being irrational, but having someone mess with your mind for two years straight had forced an otherwise sane girl to consider every crazy scenario.
Her mother started coughing again, but regained her composure more quickly this time. “I told him what we agreed upon. Again. That you had a job opportunity in California. Lord, forgive me for lying, but I do it to keep you safe.”
“I imagine he’s pressing you for an address. A phone number.”
“I told him it was best if he moved on now.”
Sarah could imagine Jimmy’s reaction when he was told to give up on something. Jimmy Braeden wasn’t a quitter. Or one who liked to lose. And losing Sarah had come as a huge blow to his ego.
“Mom, there’s no way Jimmy believes I moved to California for a job. Not when you’re not feeling well.” Not feeling well. That was an understatement. “He’s going to keep pushing.” Maybe they should have come up with a different story.
Jimmy would never stop looking for her. That much she knew for sure. Knees feeling weak, Sarah grabbed the towel bar and lowered herself onto the closed toilet lid. She reached forward and turned the lock on the bathroom door.
One swift nudge with a strong shoulder would send the door into splinters. How pitiful. She had locked herself into the bathroom of the home where she lived alone.
“I’m sorry I’m not there for you.” Sarah fought to keep the tears from her voice.
“I’m managing fine.”
Sarah cleared her throat. “What did the doctor say last time you were there?”
She envisioned her mom waving her hand in dismissal. “Oh, the same as always. If I believed everything they told me, I’d be buried next to your father already.”
Cold dread pooled in Sarah’s stomach. She feared her mother would never tell her the truth when it came to her prognosis.
Sarah traced the round edge of the brass door handle. “Maybe it’s time I came home.”
“I’m