The Way Back

Aftershocks

The sun wasn't up yet, but she was wide awake, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. She hadn't slept. Her worrying over Lindsey had kept her awake and restless. Stevie sighed and pulled herself out of bed. She needed to get out of the house. Most importantly, the woman wanted to get out of her head. An early morning walk would help – hearing the birds chirp and watching the sun rise. Stevie frowned at the chaos and disorder of her sanctuary. She silently thanked the heavens that it was Thursday, and the cleaning lady would show up in the early afternoon. Stevie walked into the bathroom, flicking on the light and setting about doing half of her usual routine. She tied her hair into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck, pulled on a pair of leggings, and surveyed her side of the closet that hadn't been completely trashed. Stevie pulled a wine-red floral patterned long-sleeved shift dress from the rack and changed into it. She fiddled with the high neckline as she looked for a pair of sneakers. "There they are," Stevie mumbled to herself and grabbed her comfy white Reeboks, laughing softly. Elisabeth absolutely hated the shoes.

Within minutes, she was downstairs and searching for her camel faux shearling lined coat. "I know it's in here," Stevie spoke to the Yorkshire terrier, Sulamith. Stevie huffed and shook her head. "Why is this in here?" she questioned aloud, running her fingers over the plush velvet lapels of the fitted Victorian styled cutaway jacket that Elisabeth had worn as part of a Halloween costume a few years ago. Stevie stole a glance at the tag and scowled at the size, XS. She rolled her eyes and placed it back into the closet. Finally, she found her desired coat and slipped into it. A black look crept over her face as she tugged futilely at the front of the coat. "Jesus Christ!" she puffed and panted, feeling like she'd participated in a triathlon. Her trusty winter coat that was always supposed to fit refused to cover her middle. Stevie cursed under her breath and walked out the door.

The brisk, frigid air hit her cheeks, and the sensation felt wonderful. She felt lighter the more distance she put between her and the house. At the early hour, the rock star could walk the neighborhood street without the worry of photographs being snapped. Stevie looked up at the sky, bathed in civil twilight. She smiled and stuffed her hands into the pockets of the buttery soft coat, strolling down the driveway. She heard the rustling of leaves and the fluttering of wings as she gazed at the tree line. Her concern for Lindsey was pushed out of her mind until she approached the gate.

Stevie stopped suddenly, blinking rapidly. She pinched the inside of her wrist and felt the sting of the squeeze. She wasn't in a dream. Her eyes became fixed on the black Mercedes and the silver emblems on the rear, 560SEL. Lindsey's prized possession. Stevie quickened her pace, renewed worry and fear setting into her the closer she got to the sedan. The driver's side door was wide open. She peeked inside. No Lindsey. She sighed heavily. Why was his car still here? She thought he'd left after the fight. Stevie straightened and smoothed a hand over the front of her dress, feeling twists and wiggles from the babies. "Settle down," she requested and looked around, wondering where Lindsey could be. She hoped he wasn't in a ditch somewhere. Stevie chewed her lip and turned her head, eyes falling onto the black fence outlining the estate. "Goddammit, Lindsey," she hissed and took steps further to the front of the Mercedes-Benz. The metal of the fence was bent from the impact of the vehicle. She groaned, kneeling down to check the damage to the car. "You can't be," she murmured, barely seeing any damage to the tank of the German vehicle. She shook her head and pushed herself to a standing position. Stevie realized she would have to do something that she hadn't done in years.

The car had to be moved. Half of it was blocking the entrance. Moving a car was a simple task. She could do it. Stevie settled into the leather seat and cleared her throat as she took in her surroundings. She sat in the driver's seat, bewildered and befuddled by the instrument panel and the buttons of the console. "Stephanie Lynn, you can do this. It's like riding a bike," she told herself and leaned to the side, stretching and pulling the door closed. Stevie jumped at the vault-like slam of solidity from the door. "Like riding a bike," she repeated and pursed her lips in concentration, turning the keys left in the ignition. The engine purred, and her lips curled into a self-satisfied grin. "Now, I press the brake and shift into reverse," the wannabe driver mumbled and tilted her head down, rolling her eyes. She couldn't reach the pedals.