Roger's Return Read online

  Copyright

  ISBN 1-58660-628-X

  © 2002 by Mary Davis. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version ®. Niv ®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover illustration by Jocelyne Bouchard.

  One

  A small velvet box slid across Jackie’s menu and into her line of sight. She smiled at it. She had wondered when Roger was going to give it to her. She had seen him pull it out of his dresser drawer. She had also seen him tuck an envelope into the same drawer, but then they left for Manny’s and there was no time to question his actions. Her gaze met his.

  “Happy anniversary.” Roger’s jet black hair had just enough wave in it to give it a little body, and his dark eyebrows almost shadowed his eyes, giving him an air of mystique and danger.

  She could hardly believe it had been a whole year. They’d had a few rocky times as any normal couple would, but overall it was a great year. “I love it.”

  He chuckled. “How do you know? You haven’t even opened it.”

  “I love it because it’s from you.”

  He shook his head with a playful smile. “Just open it.”

  She eagerly did as he commanded. First the red ribbon. Then she tilted the lid up. She lifted out a delicate gold chain, and from it hung a gold cross with an inset diamond. “It’s beautiful!”

  Roger came around behind her and took the necklace. She scooped her hair out of the way. His warm hands brushed her neck several times as he seemed to have difficulty getting it clasped. “There.” He caressed her neck with a gentle kiss.

  Ten thousand volts of electricity shot through her. She took a deep breath. Maybe they should skip dinner and head back home.

  As Roger was returning to his chair, the waiter came to ask if they were ready to order yet. Roger requested another minute and raised his menu to scan the dinner selections.

  She fingered the cross. Should she tell him about his gift now? It would be eight months or so before she could give it to him, but she could tell him now.

  “Roger.” She folded her menu.

  “Yes, my love.” His gray eyes peeked over the top of his menu. “Have you decided what you want?”

  “No,” was the only breathless word she could manage. Roger could have been a leading man thirty feet tall on the cinema screen. At times it was still hard to believe he was hers. All hers.

  Her parents had had reservations about him, but they had been wrong. Roger doted on her. When his loving gaze lit on her, it still sent her heart racing and a thrill coursing through her. Sometimes, like now, it made her feel like the first time he told her he loved her and she realized she loved him too.

  “I’m due for some time off, maybe in a month or two.” He leaned over the table closer to her. “I was hoping I could get it for our anniversary, but the timing was off. What do you say to a drive down the coast, find a cozy little bed and breakfast, and hide out for a week or so, just the two of us?” His gaze pierced hers, and her heart went into double time.

  “Roger, really! Can you really get it off? Oh, I’d love it.”

  Their waiter stood by the table, his pen poised. “Are you ready to order?”

  Roger ordered steak, and Jackie ordered the grilled salmon. After the waiter left, she thought she would tell him now, but his gaze took her breath away. Too good to be true. She had everything she wanted right here, a loving husband and a baby on the way. Thank You, Lord.

  The beginning of a smile tipped the corners of Roger’s mouth. “I could sit here all night and feast my eyes on you.”

  His intense gaze sucked away not only her breath but her thoughts as well. What was she going to tell him? That’s right, her surprise. She opened her mouth to speak while she still knew what she wanted to say, but the hostess handed Roger a slip of paper.

  Roger raised his index finger. “Hold that thought.” He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and pressed the on button. “I just need to make a quick call.”

  Grr. How she hated that thing. He had turned it off so they could have the evening to themselves. He would turn it on for only two people, her and his boss. She folded her arms across her chest and mouthed, “Mr. Moore is a control freak.” And she would tell him so if she ever met the man. She didn’t even know the man’s first name. Roger referred to him only as Moore. He was as elusive as Roger’s job description.

  She couldn’t make any sense out of the one side of the conversation, but she could tell from Roger’s tone their anniversary dinner was about to come to an abrupt end. Mr. “I want” Moore always called Roger away from her. Not this time! Not today! Not on their anniversary! Roger would have to make his boss understand that tonight was off limits. He could have Roger all day tomorrow. He had turned the phone off for a reason.

  Roger slipped the phone back into his pocket, his gaze averted. When he finally raised his gray eyes to her, the regret in them confirmed it. “I promise to make this up to you.”

  “Not tonight!”

  “I wouldn’t if I didn’t absolutely have to.”

  Just once she would like for him to tell Moore no. A big fat NO!

  “If things go well tonight, we can take that trip sooner.”

  Okay. She would wait until then to tell him her surprise.

  “Please don’t be mad at me. I have no choice.” He came over to her chair and kissed her before leaving. “Moore’s picking me up. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

  She wanted to grab him and keep him there but instead let him go, choosing to focus on their upcoming romantic get-away. When their dinners arrived, she stared at the food the waiter placed before her. The aroma accosted her senses, and she willed herself not to get sick. She tried to breathe as little as possible and then only through her mouth. As their waiter passed by the table, she flagged him down. “Could I get boxes for these—and the check?”

  “The gentleman already took care of the bill. I’ll be right back with those boxes.”

  She packed up the food and left.

  The apartment was dark and quiet. Wasn’t this the perfect anniversary, with Roger abandoning her for work and her feeling like throwing up? But there was nothing in her stomach.

  She replaced the napkin holder on the table with a pair of candles and arranged the restaurant food carefully on two plates. A quick zap in the microwave to warm the food, a little candlelight, and their anniversary wouldn’t be a complete loss. She lay down on the couch to wait for Roger and pulled the afghan over her.

  The next morning, she rolled off the couch and went to the bathroom, relieving her stomach of what little wasn’t there. She peeked into their bedroom. The bed was still neatly made. Hadn’t Roger come home at all last night? On their small dinette table sat their dinner, still waiting. Repulsed by the thought of food, she scraped it into the trash, grabbed a package of soda crackers and the phone, and curled up on the couch. Punching in the number for Roger’s cell phone, she waited for him to pick up. She got the voice mail recording and left a message. That was odd. He always picked up, even if only to say he couldn’t talk and would call back. Always. Lord, please have Roger call back or, better yet, walk through the door.
/>
  She would wait right here on the couch for Roger to return her call. She wrestled a soda cracker out of the package and nibbled a crumb off the corner.

  When the phone rang later, Jackie jumped and snatched it up. “Hello!”

  “Hi, it’s Mom. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Why?”

  “Well, you said you were coming over this morning.”

  That’s right. She was going to tell her parents they were going to be grandparents after she told Roger last night. But she hadn’t told Roger, and he should be told first.

  “It’s already eleven o’clock.”

  Was it really that late? And still no Roger. “I overslept.”

  “You’re not sick, are you?”

  Sick? Hardly. At least not in the way her mom thought. She wished she could be happy about this, but without Roger—“I’m fine, Mom, really. I’ll come over another time.”

  After hanging up, she tried Roger’s cell phone again but didn’t leave a message this time. She paced from the living room to the dining area and back. Roger had never been gone this long before, and he would have called. What if he hadn’t been gone long at all? What if he came in last night and saw her sleeping and didn’t want to disturb her, then left again this morning before she woke? That must be it. But why wasn’t he answering his cell phone? She had to believe he was safe and in God’s hands. Lord, please be with Roger right now and let him be all right.

  When it came time for her to go to work, she called the hospital to let them know she wouldn’t make it in that night. Her nausea was better, but only if she lay motionless. Her morning sickness had hit hard and fast. She drifted in and out of sleep, dreaming of Roger sneaking up to her and kissing her on the cheek, but she was never able to wake herself to see him. She tried to talk or scream or move, to do something, but she was paralyzed. She finally woke dazed in the early evening. Brewing herself a cup of tea, she dialed Roger’s cell phone again.

  Instead of being greeted by Roger’s full, deep voice, a thin, hollow one came over the line. “Hello.”

  She froze, her breath trapped in her lungs.

  “Hello? Is anybody there?”

  Could this be the elusive Mr. Moore, who had taken Roger away from her last night? “Who is this?” she demanded.

  The man hesitated. “Detective Ford of the Seattle Police Department. Who is this?”

  Seattle? But she lived miles away in Issaquah. “I must have dialed wrong.”

  “Ma’am, wait! I’d like to talk to you.”

  “I didn’t mean to call the police department.”

  “You didn’t. This cell phone was found and turned in to us. We’ve been trying to find out who it belongs to.”

  Found? “It’s my husband’s phone. He’ll be glad to get it back. It’s practically a growth on the side of his head. Where was it found?”

  “Down on the waterfront. Could you come down to the station?”

  Jackie jumped into her car and drove straight to the station, praying for Roger the whole way. She stepped into Detective Ford’s office and took the offered seat. He was on the phone, a man in his fifties with salt and pepper hair, heavy on the salt. He wore a green golf shirt with SPD monogrammed on it. His voice wasn’t nearly as thin as it had sounded on the phone, but it still had the same resonant drone to it.

  She crossed one knee over the other and wiggled her foot. She had expected to pick up Roger’s phone at the front desk and be on her way. Her morning sickness wouldn’t permit her to be up and around for long. She twisted her wedding ring round and round on her finger.

  The detective smiled at her and raised his index finger, indicating he’d be with her in a moment. He put on his glasses and read something on his calendar, then told the person Friday was good and hung up. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Mrs. Villeroy.” He removed his glasses. “Thank you for coming down.” He stood and reached across his desk.

  She shook his outstretched hand. “They didn’t have my husband’s phone at the front desk and told me to come up here.”

  “I asked them to have you sent up to my office. We had a call into the manufacturer to trace the phone, but their computer system was down. Said they’d give us a call back as soon as it was up, but then you called. Could you wait just one more minute?” He walked around his desk to the door. “Sorenson, do you have that report?”

  “Right here.”

  “Thanks.” Detective Ford walked back around his desk with the file open, then sat down and closed the file. “Do you know where your husband is?”

  “I’m not sure. He could be at home.”

  “Would you mind calling and seeing?” He pointed to the phone.

  Jackie picked it up and dialed. The answering machine picked up at the apartment. Roger’s vibrant, happy voice boomed through the line with her giggle in the background. She listened to the whole message before hanging up. “He’s not there yet.” She pulled her wedding ring off and on over her knuckle.

  “When was the last time you saw your husband?”

  That was a strange question. Her ring got caught on her knuckle. “Last night. But I’m sure he came home and just didn’t wake me.”

  He gave her a conciliatory nod. “Do you know your husband’s blood type?”

  “Blood type? Why?”

  Detective Ford didn’t answer right away. He pulled a plastic bag from his desk drawer with a cell phone in it much like Roger’s. He placed the bag on the side of his desk closest to her. “Does this look like your husband’s phone?”

  She swallowed hard. Why was Roger’s phone in a plastic bag like. . .like evidence? “Yes.” The single word caught in her throat.

  “That’s blood on your husband’s phone.”

  Blood? Her hands began to shake, and her ring tumbled to the floor. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach had nothing to do with morning sickness.

  ❧

  Jackie hadn’t gone into work all week, the phone her constant companion. It had been the most miserable week of her life waiting for any news about Roger. Then this morning, to have her waiting end in the morgue. Lord, I can’t take this. This is all too much. She took a slow breath to calm her nerves and stomach before passing through the double doors of death. Her doctor had said her morning sickness would pass soon, and she would be able to eat normally again. Morning sickness? For her it was morning all day long. The smell of ammonia, formaldehyde, and other chemicals burned her nose and set her stomach boiling. She stopped and held her breath, willing her stomach to hold what little it had in it.

  The police officer who was escorting her stopped as well. “Are you all right, Ma’am?”

  Jackie nodded, trying to breathe only through her mouth, but she could still smell the nauseous odors. She placed her hand on her belly. Oh, why hadn’t she told Roger about the baby?

  “We can wait a minute if you like.”

  “It’s just a little morning sickness.” Being a nurse, she had seen dead bodies before. She had even been down in this morgue before. It wasn’t the morgue or dead bodies. It was the combination of smells mixing with morning sickness and the strong potential that this dead body could be R—could be her— The blood type and basic description matched.

  She had wanted her father to come with her but was unable to reach him at work. She could have called her mother, but her mother couldn’t even handle the thought of the morgue. So Jackie was on her own.

  She took a deep breath through her mouth. “I’m ready.” The sooner she knew, the better. She stepped through the doorway and up to the steel gurney with someone draped in a sheet. Oh, Roger!

  The morgue technician took hold of the edge of the sheet. “He’s been in the water for a week, so his coloring is off, and he’s bloated.”

  Jackie held up her hand to stop him. She needed one more moment before she officially became a widow. Once that sheet was pulled back, there was no more hope, and there would be one less John Doe in the world. Lord, give me the strength to make it thro
ugh this.

  She nodded. The technician pulled the sheet back slowly. She gasped at the swollen, waterlogged face and clasped her hand over her mouth. Staggering back, she bumped into the officer and turned toward him. She had been warned the body was ravaged.

  He led her over to a chair, helping her into it. “I’m sorry, Ma’am. They just need your signature; then you can go.”

  Jackie shook her head and took a deep breath through her mouth. “It’s not him.”

  “Ma’am? Am I to understand this is not your husband, Roger Villeroy?”

  “Roger doesn’t have a mole on his cheek.” It really wasn’t him. Hope soared, lifting her out of the morgue and into Roger’s arms. But there was still this John Doe, and Roger was still missing. Roger, where are you? She wanted to feel his arms around her, not just the memory of them.

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “May I go now?” She had a date with the commode.

  Two

  Jackie pushed her son higher in the park swing. The higher RJ went, the more he giggled. A familiar creepy chill inched its way up her back. She had the strange feeling once again of someone watching her, observing her every move. She had felt that way two and a half years ago when Roger disappeared and so many times in between. Sometimes it was a comfort, as though someone were watching out for her like a guardian angel. Other times it terrified her. Today it wasn’t the fearful feeling, but in either case she always wanted to be home away from prying eyes. Maybe if she had closure on Roger’s disappearance, she wouldn’t wonder if someone was there. . .if Roger was there.

  She had prayed many times for Roger to come back to her. She’d reached the point where she thought the Lord might be telling her no to Roger’s returning. Once she realized the Lord may not bring him back to her, it took three months before she could ask the Lord to reveal to her if he was indeed dead. She still felt she had no response and decided that meant she was to wait. So she waited, looking for his return. Then she would realize she couldn’t continue to live in the past or spend so much time waiting on the future. She had RJ in the present she needed to focus on. So she vacillated between the past she had with Roger, the present with RJ, and the future dream of Roger’s coming back. Would she ever come to terms with his mysterious absence? Why had she been selfish in keeping the knowledge of their child from him? Every time she thought of Roger, she regretted that single act.