Troy eats a bite of his. “It is good. I’ll have to get Nova one for her next birthday.”
An image flashes in my mind of Troy celebrating Nova’s birthday with her and Olivia. A happy family. With kids and a wife and their dog.
I stuff another piece of cake into my mouth, unable to look at Troy, my gaze on my tattoo.
I can’t go through that heartbreak again.
I can’t have another child at the risk of losing her.
I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
40
JESSICA
August, Present Day
Maple Ridge
Thursday,Bailey and I walk to the park where we usually spend our lunch hour. The reporters are no longer hanging out in Maple Ridge, hoping for an exclusive from me. I’m finally no longer newsworthy. I’m free to go wherever I want without them stalking me.
The day is warm and sunny, and the park is busy with families enjoying the last days of summer before school starts in less than two weeks.
Bailey and I sit on the grass, away from other people, my straw hat pulled down to hide my face. The protesters aren’t bothering me so much now that the reporters have left town, but a dozen or so protesters haven’t given up their fight. They show up at the house before Troy picks me up for work, and they’re in front of the house in time for him to drive me home. According to Delores, they don’t hang out during the day anymore.
I remove my laptop from my bag and place it on the blanket. A weird prickling at the back of my neck has me turning. No one is behind me, but that doesn’t get rid of the feeling that someone’s watching me.
I shrug it off as nothing more than paranoia and blame it on everything else that’s been happening lately. Robyn is away on summer vacation for another week, so I can’t even talk to her about it. I also have to wait to talk to her about my grief over losing my daughter.
I smile at the beautiful design on my forearm. The shell and flowers ease some of the pain that’s been a part of me for so long.
I quickly eat my sandwich and power on my laptop. It whirs to life.
I turn on my phone timer and once again become lost in Angelique and Johann’s story.
The timer goes off forty minutes later. Too soon as far as I’m concerned. I’d be more than happy to spend the afternoon here working on the story. Troy probably wouldn’t care if I was a few minutes late to the office, but I can’t do that. My job comes first.
I pack away my laptop.
The prickly feeling at the nape of my neck returns and has me glancing up from my bag. I scan the area. No one appears to be paying attention to me.
It’s because of the chapter I just wrote.How could I not be paranoid after writing about the Gestapo and SS? The story has rewired my brain and my body, making me feel like I’m Angelique.
Bailey doesn’t seem worried, so I push to my feet and gather up my stuff.
As Bailey and I walk back to work, I rhythmically squeeze my arm muscle with my free hand, grounding myself like Robyn taught me to do. It’s a trick to keep me from having a flashback.
The feeling of being followed is familiar. It’s one I suffered through during the latter part of my marriage when my husband had been stalking me.
Bailey and I enter the building where Troy’s company is located and walk along the corridor. A white envelope with my name scrawled on the front sits perched against the glass door to Carson Construction’s reception area.
I pick up the envelope, unlock the door, and step into the office. I toss the envelope onto the desk. It lands next to the computer keyboard.
I stow my backpack and purse in the empty, bottom desk drawer. Bailey settles herself on her dog bed next to my chair.
I sit down, bring my computer to life, and open the envelope. I pull out a piece of paper and unfold it. The letter is written in the same scrawl as the name on the front of the envelope. But it’s not addressed to Jessica. It’s addressed to the woman from my past.
Savannah,
