Time Marches On
Chapter 1
Five years. In five years, Katie would have been in college. Hannah in high school and Lucas in middle school. He and Christine would have celebrated their twentieth anniversary. They would have bought a house. He would have retired. Christine would have finally been able to enjoy having him home.
But, it was not to be and Mike looked at the calendar on his wall and groaned. Five years before, he had kissed his wife and kids goodbye and got on the James. It wasn't the anniversary of their deaths, because he didn't know those dates, but he seen June 10th as a bench mark every year. From the first of June on, he remembered all the lasts. The last time he and Christine fought. The last time they made love. The last time he played basketball with Katie in the driveway. Cuddled with Hannah. Played dinosaurs with Lucas. Ate Christine's cooking.
Mike had retired recently and he was dwelling on the anniversary a bit more than he had. Maybe because he finally had a fixed address. A large five bedroom, three and a half bath, two story with a pool. Far more house than he needed. He didn't have it in him to start dating, but dreamed about filling the house with family…that didn't exist anymore.
He had quit investigating his family's disappearance. Stopped paying investigators that were just cashing the checks. He had given up. He knew he would die alone and it bothered him. Sure, his marriage had been flawed and there were questions as to whether he and Christine would have made it to that twentieth anniversary, but he had always imagined dying with her next to him, holding his hand and his kids gathered close, promising to take care of their mother.
It never occurred to him that he would be a widower. There was no word to describe losing not one but all three of his beautiful and amazing kids. For a child without its parents, they were described as orphans. A wife without her husband was a widow. A husband without his wife was a widower; but a father with no kids?
In anger, Mike picked his glass of whiskey up off the counter, drained it and threw it into the sink, shattering it. Somehow; a piece flew up and cut his hand, quite badly; just as the doorbell rang. Mike grabbed a kitchen towel, wrapped it around his hand and walked to the door; prepared to tell whoever it was on the other side to just leave him alone. Figuring it was a reporter who had found his address, he opened the door in a rage and was shocked to find Christine on the other side.
"Christine?" Mike asked; thinking he was hallucinating. He'd only had one small glass of whiskey.
"Yeah, its me." Christine said. She had her hands in her pockets and looked at him expectantly until she saw his hand. "Mike; you're bleeding!" Christine exclaimed as she rushed forward. Before they married, she had been a nurse, but about the time Katie came along; she hung up her stethoscope for the last time. She fixed the kitchen towel and put more pressure on his hand while Mike gathered his thoughts. Her touch was real. Her hand was warm and she smiled at him sweetly.
"The…girls?" Mike asked.
"About them…" Christine started and Mike's eyes welled up. Of course, he had known, but hearing it was something else. His little girls were gone. "No, no; Mike. They are alive. We just weren't sure what I would find here. They are back at the hotel. They are so excited to see you again." Christine answered. She reached up and wiped a tear away and gave him another smile.
"Where have you been? I looked everywhere." Mike asked; trying to control his emotions. He didn't want to look like an idiot. They were still standing in his entryway but Christine was assessing the house.
"It's a bit of a story. Let's sit in here." Christine said as she led him into his living room. The entire time; holding his bleeding hand. She settled next to him on the couch and began relating a horrific story to him. If Mike thought he was heartbroken before; he was wrong.
