PART 5
There was no choice, not for him.
He had to think. It wasn't simple, this thing. It wasn't like a movie or a television show where the problem was only one thing and could be solved in an hour, where it happened to someone else and not to you. No. It was her, Annie. Not just a part of her but the complete her, what she was.
He wanted to believe in menopause, to believe that it was just that simple and that it would go away in time, but this was more than that. Much much more. Menopause was hard, but it didn't make you hate your children. He was sure about that.
But that wasn't the important thing right now. What was important now was to think, to do what had to be done. The important thing was to settle things down regarding Lucy, was to make sure the other kids were all right. Then he could approach Annie, could make sure she went to her appointments with the counselor, the way she had promised. Get her help so she could get through this.
And that meant he would have to do other things, things he would never have thought he would have to do.
Like this.
He drove now, the back of his car filled with bags that held the possessions of his daughter. He had gone through her room, through everything, Ruthie at his side identifying things for him, claiming those that were her own, watching as he put the rest in bags; clothes, jewelry, shoes, books, personal things.
Everything.
And Annie sometimes appearing as he did, watching him from the door.
I am a traitor and I am a liar, he thought now.
#
The church appeared ahead. He turned into the parking lot, parked in his reserved space by the back door. Shutting off the motor, he climbed out and opened the back doors, lifted the first bag and carried it to the back door of the church. Fumbling for his keys, he opened the door and stepped inside.
There was a storeroom, seldom used, near his office. He lugged the bag there, unlocked the door, stepped inside and turned on the light. There was a lot of stuff there; old Christmas and Easter decorations, a few boxes, some boards and plywood.
He worked as quickly as he could, bringing the bags inside, then tagging them as his, then moving some of the other things in the room aside and putting the bags behind them, out of sight. This done, he locked the door again and closed up the back door of the church, returning to his car.
He sat for a moment before starting up the motor.
On the seat beside him sat a small box. He had come upon it as he packed Lucy's things, had slipped it into his pocket while Ruthie's attention was on something else. Now he reached over and opened it.
There were checks inside, unused. Lucy's New York account, set up for her college needs. His name was on the account too, and Annie's; it had seemed natural to do this, especially after what had happened with Mary. He had looked for the checkbook itself as he had bagged her things, then here at the church he had searched for it in the bag Annie had filled before he arrived.
Nothing.
Lucy must have taken it with her.
He glanced at his watch. It was Friday. The bank should still be open.
Eric Camden started his car, then backed out of his spot and drove in the direction of the bank. When he arrived he went to the ATM, withdrew several hundred dollars. Then, the cash in hand, he stepped into the lobby.
It was quick; just fill out one of the deposit slips from the unused groups of checks and hand it and the cash to the teller. Then he asked for a current balance and a printout of recent activity from the account.
The teller watched him as he scanned the printout.
There. He indicated an entry with his finger.
"Can you tell me where this check was cashed?"
Later, as he left the bank and returned home, Eric Camden allowed himself a moment to relax. It wasn't a lot, but it was something.
A first step, maybe.
There was no choice, not for him.
He had to think. It wasn't simple, this thing. It wasn't like a movie or a television show where the problem was only one thing and could be solved in an hour, where it happened to someone else and not to you. No. It was her, Annie. Not just a part of her but the complete her, what she was.
He wanted to believe in menopause, to believe that it was just that simple and that it would go away in time, but this was more than that. Much much more. Menopause was hard, but it didn't make you hate your children. He was sure about that.
But that wasn't the important thing right now. What was important now was to think, to do what had to be done. The important thing was to settle things down regarding Lucy, was to make sure the other kids were all right. Then he could approach Annie, could make sure she went to her appointments with the counselor, the way she had promised. Get her help so she could get through this.
And that meant he would have to do other things, things he would never have thought he would have to do.
Like this.
He drove now, the back of his car filled with bags that held the possessions of his daughter. He had gone through her room, through everything, Ruthie at his side identifying things for him, claiming those that were her own, watching as he put the rest in bags; clothes, jewelry, shoes, books, personal things.
Everything.
And Annie sometimes appearing as he did, watching him from the door.
I am a traitor and I am a liar, he thought now.
#
The church appeared ahead. He turned into the parking lot, parked in his reserved space by the back door. Shutting off the motor, he climbed out and opened the back doors, lifted the first bag and carried it to the back door of the church. Fumbling for his keys, he opened the door and stepped inside.
There was a storeroom, seldom used, near his office. He lugged the bag there, unlocked the door, stepped inside and turned on the light. There was a lot of stuff there; old Christmas and Easter decorations, a few boxes, some boards and plywood.
He worked as quickly as he could, bringing the bags inside, then tagging them as his, then moving some of the other things in the room aside and putting the bags behind them, out of sight. This done, he locked the door again and closed up the back door of the church, returning to his car.
He sat for a moment before starting up the motor.
On the seat beside him sat a small box. He had come upon it as he packed Lucy's things, had slipped it into his pocket while Ruthie's attention was on something else. Now he reached over and opened it.
There were checks inside, unused. Lucy's New York account, set up for her college needs. His name was on the account too, and Annie's; it had seemed natural to do this, especially after what had happened with Mary. He had looked for the checkbook itself as he had bagged her things, then here at the church he had searched for it in the bag Annie had filled before he arrived.
Nothing.
Lucy must have taken it with her.
He glanced at his watch. It was Friday. The bank should still be open.
Eric Camden started his car, then backed out of his spot and drove in the direction of the bank. When he arrived he went to the ATM, withdrew several hundred dollars. Then, the cash in hand, he stepped into the lobby.
It was quick; just fill out one of the deposit slips from the unused groups of checks and hand it and the cash to the teller. Then he asked for a current balance and a printout of recent activity from the account.
The teller watched him as he scanned the printout.
There. He indicated an entry with his finger.
"Can you tell me where this check was cashed?"
Later, as he left the bank and returned home, Eric Camden allowed himself a moment to relax. It wasn't a lot, but it was something.
A first step, maybe.
