Husband by Choice

Meredith gave herself over to it. Letting what would come, come.

“No, I didn’t tell him any of our secrets,” she said, looking Steve straight in the eye without blinking. By sheer force of will. He knew that she blinked when she lied if she had to look at the person she was lying to.

She hadn’t told Max about the bedwetting. But it wouldn’t have been a big deal to Max. A boy with urination issues was all in a day’s work to him.

“I need things from you, Steve,” she said. “And you need me. Because I know your secrets. And I love you. All of you. I’ve never thought any less of you because of those secrets. To the contrary, I love you more because of the way you rose above them.”

She took a deep breath. Thought of Max and Caleb. And teared up. Just as she’d planned. “My heart breaks when I think of the boy you were and then I think of the man who grew out of that and I couldn’t love you more,” she said. “You shouldn’t have had to struggle so hard to earn the respect you deserved.”

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and took one of her hands in his, rubbing it gently. Adoringly.

“You’ve got a good heart, Steve.”

A long time ago, she’d believed that about him.

“You’re a caring, giving man who wants to right wrongs.” He had been that man once, and in some ways, still was.

Head bowed, he nodded.

“It takes a very special man, a very strong man, to be sensitive,” she said softly, instilling any hint of love she’d ever felt for him into her voice. “Your father didn’t understand that. But I do.”

He glanced up at her. “This is why you’re mine, Meredith. You understand.”

“I do. I always have.”

Raising a hand to gently caress her face he said, “I love you so much, sweetie. And I am so, so sorry for all of the times I’ve hurt you. It’s going to be different this time.” His voice broke. A first.

And she knew it was now or never.

* * *

THE PHONES HAD started ringing as soon as the first image of Steve Smith had appeared on the news. And continued to come in when Meredith’s image followed. She’d been sighted on the beach. He’d purchased a six-pack of beer the night before.

She’d been spotted on Canal Street. In another state.

He’d had fast food for breakfast.

She’d been seen at a bus station with three kids.

He’d sky dived that afternoon.

All in all, over a thousand calls came in during the first hour.

“We’ve got operators and police following up on every single one of the tips, Max.” Chantel sounded breathless as she relayed the latest news. The sky had turned cloudy, hiding the sun. The house was growing dark, in spite of the fact that it was only midday.

As he took Chantel’s call, Max turned on some lights. He’d been pacing in the near darkness without realizing it. Now he paced in soft light.

It didn’t make much difference.

“Is it true that the longer she’s gone the less chance we have of finding her alive?”

“Don’t go there.”

“The statistics about the first three hours being critical—”

“Those are for kidnapping victims, Max. This is different. Meredith left of her own accord. The cameras at The Lemonade Stand confirmed that.”

He kept seeing a pool of blood on the street.