Vanished

“I know,” she nodded, “that was why I thought you should know. I thought you should hear it before you decided to marry me, but you wouldn't listen.” He nodded his agreement, and she went on. “I never saw Charles again when I came back to the States. I never saw him again until last Friday. I met him at Saint Patrick's Cathedral, by chance. I went to light a candle for the children and my parents. It was the anniversary of our children's death,” she forced herself to say the words she hated, “and he was there. He said he was in New York to see his father.”

“And what did he say?” Malcolm was interested in this part.

“He wanted to see me again, and I said I couldn't.”

“Why not?” He was probing with his words, and she was hurt that he would ask her.

“Because I love you, because we're married. Because of Teddy.”

“And he was angry?” Malcolm almost looked hopeful.

“No, not then … we were both so upset. It's a terrible day every year.”

“And did he call you?”

“No, I ran into him in the park the next day with Teddy, at the boat pond. I think he'd been drinking, or was still drunk from the night before. He was wild-eyed, and he was shocked to realize we had a child … a little boy …and he was very angry,” she admitted. This was the point of the whole story.

“What did he say? Did he hurt the child?” Malcolm looked terrified by what she was saying.

“Of course not. I don't think he's capable of it, and I'd never let him.” She took a quick breath. “But he was very angry. He threatened me, I suppose. He said I didn't deserve to have another chance. And,” she took a deep breath before she told him, “he talked some nonsense about taking Teddy in order to make me come back to him. But Malcolm, I'm sure he didn't mean it. But nevertheless, I felt you had to know. The police asked if anyone had threatened me, or had reason to be angry with me, and for Teddy's sake, I told them.” It surprised Malcolm that she hadn't been more anxious to protect Charles Delauney, and he could see from the look in her eyes when she talked about him that she still cared deeply about him.

“You told this to the police? All of it?”

“Yes.” She nodded slowly. She wasn't ashamed anymore. It was painful, but it was not her fault. She had finally come to accept that.

“That's a lovely tale to tell. I imagine that will make interesting reading in the papers.”

“Mr. Taylor promised me he would do everything he could to keep it confidential. But he's already been to see Charles.”

“You seem to know a great deal about the investigation.”

She didn't answer him at first. “I wanted to tell you this myself. I felt you had a right to know.” He nodded and stood up, still looking deeply troubled, and then he looked at her, and for a moment she wondered if he was angry.

“It would seem that your contact with Delauney may well have endangered our child, Marielle. Have you thought of that?” Guilt again …and responsibility …why was it always her fault? Why did her life, or her failings, or her stupidity, always cause pain to others?

“I have. But I didn't plan to meet him. It just happened.”

“Are you so sure of that? Are you sure Delauney hasn't been following you and wasn't waiting for you at the church?”

“He was as surprised as I was. And the boat pond is just into the park from his father's house.”

“Then you shouldn't have gone there.” Malcolm's voice was stern, he was accusing her. And it was clear now that he did reproach her. “You shouldn't have done anything to risk my son,” not their child, but his son, “and given your history, I'm surprised that you would take him to the boat pond at all, particularly in this weather.” It was the cruelest thing he could have said. It had taken her years to be able to do something like that, and she hadn't let him near the water.

“How can you say that?” She was shocked. His words hit her like a blow, but he didn't care now. He was too worried.

He began to pace the room as he spoke to her. “How can you tell me this story and expect me to forgive you? You were involved with this terrible man, who you admit yourself tried to kill you, and may well have killed your unborn child, and you expose my son to him, you admit to me that he threatened you, that he threatened to take him, for whatever reason …and what do you expect from me, Marielle? Sympathy for your children who died? Or for my child who's been kidnapped? You brought this man into my life, you brought him right to my doors, you took my son to the park where they could meet, you exposed Teddy to him, and provoked this lunatic until he took our child, and what do you expect from me now with all this …forgiveness?” There were tears in his eyes and rage in his voice as Marielle stood in front of him, helplessly weeping.

“We don't know that he took him,” she said in an agonized voice, she had told him everything and now she knew he would never forgive her. “We don't know anything.”