From This Day Forward

By Modean Moon

"Ms. Moon writes with a spellbinding intensity that will keep you up till the wee hours of the morning ."
Romantic Times

A VOW TO LOVE

Ginnie had been an idealistic young woman when she'd married dynamic Neil Kendrick. She'd wanted to be a good wife to her husband and a wonderful mother to his son, Todd. But Ginnie quickly learned that Todd's resentment toward her would destroy her marriage, and that even her deep love for Neil couldn't overcome the child's meddling ways.

But now, years later, Ginnie desperately needed help. A web of danger was quickly surrounding her, so she turned to Neil the one man she could trust the one person who could truly protect her. And in doing so she discovered that the love they shared had never really died .

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jul 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781460880807

Book preview

Chapter 1

The ringing of the telephone didn’t alarm Ginnie. Why should it? It had rung repeatedly all evening as her friends called with season’s wishes and last-minute revisions in holiday plans. She barely heard it over the recorded music-box Christmas carols and the laughter of her best friend Cassie’s three sons, roughhousing on the floor with their present to her, a ten-week-old collie pup.

She did hear it, though, and handed the armload of coats to Cassie. It’s probably Frank. She grinned and paused long enough to pluck a handmade ceramic ornament from the carpet and hang it high on the tree before stepping around opened toys and piles of discarded ribbon and paper. I’ll bet he’s worried about what’s keeping us.

She was still grinning as she picked up the receiver, more interested in Cassie’s attempts to get the boys into their coats and away from the dog than she was, at the moment, in the call.

Hello. Her voice carried her laughter.

Will you accept the charges on a collect call from Todd Kendrick?

Ginnie’s hand clenched on the receiver and she stood stunned into silence, unaware of anything, not even the feeling of her nails digging into her palm. One by one, sensations returned to her—the pleasant mingled scents of bayberry and fresh fir, the glow of the dying fire, the giggles of the boys and Cassie’s frustrated coaxing.

No! The word roared through her, then whimpered in her mind as her thoughts darted without coherence, as fleeting and random as the tiny lights on the tree across the room. Why now? Where is he? Oh, God, what can I do? Can I just hang up? What does he want?

Ma’am? the operator repeated more distinctly. Will you accept—

Yes, Ginnie said quietly, acknowledging that something far beyond her control had been set in motion, knowing that she had no choice but to talk to him.

Ginnie? His voice was deeper, no longer the childish one she remembered. Mom?

Mom. After all those years of waiting, and praying, now he’d finally said it. She stood quite still, consciously not allowing herself to show any weakness by slumping. Yes, Todd? Her voice was barely audible. It was the best she could do. Her heart pounded against her breastbone, its sounds competing with those coming over the faintly crackling line. What do you want?

I’m coming home for Christmas, he announced triumphantly.

It was a joke. It had to be a joke. Didn’t he know what torture he was putting her through? Or did he know and was he doing it deliberately?

She put one hand against the wall for support. Where are you?

Oh. He paused for a second. I don’t know. Some pay phone just off the highway. It’s awful cold out here. Tell Dad I’m going to be a little late, because I’m having trouble getting rides.

Pay phone? Highway? Todd? Tell Dad? Todd. She fought down the urge to yell at him. Your father and I—you do remember that your father and I—

Sure, he said. Do you still have the Christmas tree in front of the big bay window? I love it over there.

Todd? Todd, your father and I— She had no idea of how to reason with him. We don’t live on the farm anymore.

Oh, gee. That’s too bad. Don’t worry. I’ll find you.

Todd. She knew she was going to scream any moment now. Where are you?

Ginnie. He lowered his voice and ignored her question. I haven’t forgotten.

She bit down hard on her lower lip. No. He wouldn’t have forgotten. He had sworn not to.

See you, he promised. Soon.

Too late she remembered the operator who had connected the call. Too late she clicked down on the buttons, trying to summon her, trying to find out where the call had been placed. She continued clicking them long after the dial tone announced an open line.

Ginnie?

Cassie stood in the doorway with Ginnie’s coat draped over her arm as she studied her intently. What’s wrong? There hasn’t been an accident, has there?

An accident? Vaguely Ginnie remembered the snow that had so uncharacteristically begun drifting down late that afternoon, powdering the trees, the lawns and the streets.

No, she said, attempting to reassure her friend. No accident.

She saw by Cassie’s still-worried expression that her attempt hadn’t worked.

Then what...You look just awful, Ginnie. What was that phone call about?

Ginnie shook her head slowly, as if in denying Cassie’s question, she could deny all that had just happened. It’s probably nothing, she told her, but I have to make some calls.

She glanced at the slim watch on her wrist. It’s almost eleven thirty. The choir will be starting soon. If you don’t get a move on, you’ll miss Frank’s solo.

What about you? Aren’t you coming to Mass?

Yes... No...

I don’t know? Maybe? Cassie finished for her as Ginnie tried to find an answer.

Maybe, Ginnie said. Now, go on. She smiled, knowing that Cassie still wasn’t reassured. If I can get the answers I need, I’ll be there. If not—if not, I’ll try to explain tomorrow at dinner.

She kept her smile firmly in place until she saw Cassie and the boys safely in the car. It slid from her as she collapsed against the door, twisting the dead-bolt lock and leaning her head against the door facing. She took a shuddering breath and pushed away from the door. I will be calm, she told herself as she walked mechanically through the house, checking the locks on all the doors and windows and turning on the pitifully few outside lights.

I won’t panic, she insisted, but her fingers fumbled on the pages of her address book. She would simply ask for information. Nothing else. She wouldn’t ask him for help, and she wouldn’t be disappointed or vindictive when he didn’t offer any.

She had only the number for his Little Rock law office. Somewhere in her papers was the card on which she had written his unlisted home number, but she had no idea where. She counted each ring until, on the fifth, an impersonal female voice answered. Good. He still kept his answering service.

I need to talk to Neil Kendrick. Good. Her voice didn’t break.

I’ll be happy to take a message, but Mr. Kendrick won’t be back in the office until the twenty-sixth.

I realize that. Ginnie spoke evenly, knowing she didn’t dare relax her tenuous control, not even in her voice. But I also know that he has given you a number where he can be reached in an emergency. Please call him and tell him to get in touch with Virginia Kendrick, immediately, concerning an urgent family matter. Good. She’d managed to make it sound like a calm, competent request.

Oh.

Ginnie could sense the operator’s curiosity, but she remained silent, waiting.

Yes, I do have a number Ms.—Mrs.? Kendrick. But — you did say that it’s urgent?

In spite of her own anxiety, Ginnie felt a smile quirk her lips. At one time, Neil’s temper had been the topic of discussions from Fort Smith to Memphis, but she doubted that this woman would ever see anything but his charm.

Urgent, she repeated softly.

All right, the operator said, sounding as though she were only half-convinced but had decided to go ahead. I’ll call him.

Thank you. Good. Now all she had to do was wait the few minutes until Neil returned her call. Being calm and rational wasn’t all that difficult. Not if she set her mind to it. Not if she stayed busy. She could stay busy a few minutes.

She gathered discarded wrapping paper and put it in the trash. She put another log on the fire. She stacked the opened packages under the tree. She set her alarm clock for the following morning. She rechecked the front-door lock. She even added water to the base of the tree, and while doing so she found one unopened package.

Oh. She rocked back on her heels and stared at it numbly. Frank’s sweater, she murmured. Cassie forgot to take it.

The telephone rang, and she forgot Frank’s sweater as she scrambled to her feet.

What is it, Ginnie? Neil’s rich, assured voice floated to her over a backdrop of music and laughter, telling her that he was at a party, probably having as good a time as she had been having before her own unexpected phone call. And she had interrupted him. She could imagine the irritation that he masked.

What is it, Ginnie? he repeated. It’s been too long for this to be holiday nostalgia, so it has to be something you consider important.

Years of hearing censure in everything he said to her had conditioned her well. So he was upset with her for disturbing his plans? She was going though hell, and he was upset? In an instant, her resolve to be calm and rational deserted her.

Damn you, Neil Kendrick. You promised you’d tell me if they ever let him out.

Silence crackled through the line before she once again heard his voice as she had heard it too many times in the past. Patient. Resigned. What are you talking about?

Todd! she cried. You promised you’d tell me if they ever let him out.

And I will.

When? After he comes knocking on my door?

Ginnie, I saw him this morning. By now he ought to be sound asleep. In his bed. At the sanitarium—

Well, if he is, she interrupted, how did he get to a pay phone, God knows where, to call me and tell me he is hitchhiking home for Christmas?

Neil’s voice cut through her rising hysteria. Tell me exactly what he said.

Damn! He didn’t know. He hadn’t told her because he didn’t know. Maybe—maybe Todd wasn’t looking for her. As coherently as she could, Ginnie repeated the conversation.

I’ll call you right back. Neil spoke quickly, and his clipped words told her he wanted no argument at this time. Lock your doors.

Once again she was left holding a dial tone to her ear. She replaced the receiver and looked around the room. Neil was probably right. She heard herself laugh helplessly. Todd was probably at the sanitarium. By now, he might even be asleep. And there was one more wedge between her and Neil, driven there by herself. As though one more could possibly make things worse. But why had she yelled at him? Hadn’t the divorce and time healed anything? Why did he still have the power to set her off like that?

She checked the lock on the back door and began loading eggnog cups into the dishwasher. Neil was right. Todd was there. Asleep by now. But on the first shrill ring of the telephone, the cup in her hand slipped free and shattered against the sink.

Yes?

Ginnie, there’s probably no reason to worry—

He wasn’t there! Where is he?

He’s usually not violent.

"Where is he?"

She heard Neil sigh. No background noises intruded now. Had he moved to another room? Or had his party ended as abruptly as hers had?

They don’t know. He was in bed at nine but he’s not there now. They’re notifying the local authorities.

Three hours, she whispered. And they didn’t know?

He’s — bold on. She heard a muffled sound through the line and then Neil’s voice, distant, talking to someone in the room with him. I don’t know yet. I’ll be out in a minute.

I’m sorry for the interruption, he said to her. Todd has walked away a couple of times. He’s always come back. But he’s never left at night before.

Ginnie looked around the old-fashioned kitchen with its gay red gingham curtains. The bright red telephone in her hand mocked her. She’d always felt so safe here.

Do you mean that he’s been able to leave when he wanted...all this time?

No! No, Neil said more softly. It’s just that he’s been...well-behaved, lately. When he’s that way, they relax some of his restrictions.

And he repays that trust by walking away?

Ginnie, I know you’re afraid. Do you have anyone with you?

No.

Do you have anyone you can call, or anyplace you can go?

And hide? she asked. Just waiting for him to find me?

Listen carefully. Calm down and listen carefully. I know we all agreed that it would be better if you didn’t visit Todd, but if you had, you might not be so frightened. Todd — Todd gets lost in time. Sometimes just for minutes, but sometimes for days. And when he’s...lost, he’s reliving something that happened, maybe years ago, maybe only in a fantasy. If he does come to you, find out where he is. In his head, he may be only twelve years old, coming home for Christmas.

She held the phone to her cheek a long time before she could speak. But he may be sixteen?

She heard Neil’s voice break then. Yes. He may be sixteen. For just a moment he sounded as defeated as she felt. Have you called the police department yet?

No.

I’ll call them for you. Then I have to run by my apartment. But I’ll get to your place as soon as I can.

Had she even hoped he’d do that? She couldn’t tell, now. You’re coming here?

Of course. His voice was lower, comforting her across the miles and the years that separated them.

But it’s — it’s Christmas, she stammered.

I know.

And it‘s—it’s—

It’s what, Ginnie? he asked softly.

It’s— It was what? Unexpected? That went without saying. Devastating? That he would drive through the night to be with her? Not her, she reminded herself. His son. Necessary, she realized as she felt tears sliding down her cheeks. Oh, so necessary. It’s snowing, she said, trying to stop her tears, wanting to keep any knowledge of them from Neil, and knowing she hadn’t.

Then the drive may take a little longer. Will you be all right?

She nodded and then realized the telephone line couldn’t carry that answer. Yes.

Ginnie heard the church bells a few minutes later. It was midnight, only midnight, and she felt as though the night had gone on forever. It would have before Neil could get here, she thought. She clicked off his schedule in her mind. Pleasant Gap was an hour and a half north of Little Rock, in the daylight, on dry roads. The mountains would be treacherous tonight. And he still had to make telephone calls. And say his goodbyes. And go by his apartment. It was going to be a long night.

She struck a match, lit a burner on the antique Roper range, filled her red kettle and stood for minutes trying to decide between tea and hot chocolate. When the kettle whistled, demanding a decision, she still hadn’t decided. She turned off the burner and went into the living room.

A very long night, indeed.

The puppy whimpered in his sleep, a log popped in the fireplace and outside a branch scraped against a window screen, but all else was silent. Oppressively silent.

She turned on the stereo and set it to play repeatedly. The tinkling music-box sounds seemed, now, inappropriate, and yet they filled the corners of the room and the shadowy recesses of her mind. They filled them innocuously, true, and perhaps they couldn’t drive out any large demons, but the little ones, the ones that were lurking about ready to make mischief, would find those spaces filled and have to move on.

Ginnie parted the sheer curtains and looked out into the now fiercely swirling snow. On the street below, barely visible, a police car crept past, the light from its spotlight refracted into thousands of tiny crystals as it tried to scan the ancient and overgrown privet hedge that guarded her boundary lines. So. He had done that. He had called them. That was one thing less he had to do. Was he on his way yet?

She settled down on the floor beside the coffee table, tucked her feet under her long wool skirt and leaned back against the couch, staring into the fire.

She had sat that way for countless evenings, enjoying her solitude, but now the isolation bore in on her, reminding her of how alone she really was, while out in the night Todd made his way to her.

How had it started? When could they have done something about it?

Ginnie glanced at the tree. The first Christmas. The Christmas when she was so full of being a new wife and a new mother. Todd was twelve. Was he ever really only twelve? Although small for his age, he had always seemed so much older. They had bought a tree that year. Living in Little Rock, they bad no way to cut one. Todd had helped decorate the tree. She’d taken one special ornament from the box and explained to him that it had been on every tree she’d ever had. He’d reached for it and she’d let him hold it a moment before she took it and hung it among the pine needles. It was the last ornament to be placed, and she and Todd had stood back to admire their handiwork. Neil had come to stand beside them, put his arm around her and hugged her close. She’d turned into his embrace, full of love for him, and met his light kiss eagerly, The next day, she’d noticed a small cut on Todd’s finger, and days later, when taking down the tree, she’d found what was left of her special ornament.

Had that been the first sign? You have a memory that just won’t quit, Neil had said to her—no, had yelled at her later, much later, just before the final fight. You never forget anything. But do you ever understand the significance of it?

Maybe he was right; maybe she didn’t understand, she thought, resting her forehead on her knees, but her memory served her well in spite of that. If she worked at it, she could remember all the bad times, concentrating on them and relegating the good times to a deep dark closet to be taken out only when the pain was bearable.

She caught a glimpse of something shiny peeping out from under the edge of the couch and reached idly for it, finding a Polaroid snapshot, one of many they had taken that evening, one that must have been misplaced in the excitement. It showed her, on the floor with Paul, Cassie and Frank’s youngest, laughing as he tied a big red bow around the wriggling puppy.

She leaned closer to the soft pool of light from the floor lamp and examined the picture and the stranger she saw in it. The emerald-green wool draped gracefully over her small figure. Its color matched that of her eyes and complemented the warm honey blond of her hair, caught now in a loose knot atop her head, but with its soft curls as willful and unrestrainable as ever. The cowl collar of her dress was a perfect foil for a long slender neck and a delicate, almost fragile jaw and