She was back to herself in just a few days. I am sure she called her boss and told him she wouldn’t go to Atlanta anymore. She was a good worker for them, so I knew that they would do ok by her. I started getting back to myself.
Abby was the love of my life. She was eight now and there was one thing that was evident. She wasn’t mine.
She was beautiful, but she had brown eyes. mine are blue and Abigail’s are hazel, almost green. Also, her hair is chestnut brown almost black, whereas mine is reddish-blond and Abigail’s is light brown.
She was just the opposite of our son, Samuel. He was twelve by then. He had the same reddish blond hair as me and the same face. We compared photos of me when I was young, and they were identical. He had the same birthmarks I had too. If you showed me a D. N. A. result of him not being mine, I would have laughed at it and challenged the test. No way Samuel wasn’t mine.
However, my daughter was not the same. Who fathered her was completely unknown to me. If Abigail knew, she never said anything to me. As far as I knew, she had never said anything to Abby either. I felt it was best to stay in the dark on that. My daughter was a great kid. She was a straight A student, smart as her mother. Though I was hoping she wouldn’t be as wild when she grew up!
Abigail was still Abigail. She would come home sometimes with love marks on her. Sometimes, I would call her cell phone and men would answer the phone. However, she would always take care of me; I could count on one hand how many times Abigail refused to have sex with me and have most of my fingers left. She was the perfect wife for me.
Ignorance is bliss. I kept myself that way for one reason: it hurt. Of course, what I didn’t know didn’t hurt me. My daughter was fifteen when she had a heart to heart with me. “Dad, I think mom is cheating on you.”
I looked at her stunned. “Why would you say that, Abby?”
“I called her, and a man answered the phone. She was in her hotel room.”
I nodded. “Ok, maybe she needed some help and-.”
“Get real, dad!! It wasn’t the first time, and she keeps using the same excuses… I know she is lying,” Abby interrupted.
“Sweetheart,” I started, “I know. But, please don’t tell me. Because this has been going on ever since your mother and I started dating. As long as I don’t know, I am ok.” I looked straight at my daughter. “I love your mother. This is a part of her, and she can’t help it. I would be miserable without her, Abby. I know that. What she does when she is out of town is of no consequence to me or us as long as I am ignorant of it… I know this is a lot to take in at your age, baby. I love your mom and I can’t live without her. But I can’t change her.” I smiled at my daughter, but I saw tears running down her cheeks.
“Honey? Your mom is ok! I am not going to leave her, and she isn’t going to leave me either.”
Abby looked up at me. “I am not crying because of that daddy; I am crying because you are so perfect. I have the best daddy in the world. Mom is the luckiest woman on the planet. ”
I smiled, bent down and kissed her forehead, and then I kissed her tears away. She was something special, and I was the luckiest man alive because she was my daughter.
Just over three years later, disaster struck. Abigail didn’t call me when she got to Albuquerque NM. That had never happened in our life. Three days passed and every time I called Abigail, her phone would go straight to voicemail. My kids and I started to become very concerned. I called her boss’ secretary and asked which hotel Abigail was staying in. There was a long silence on the phone.
“Mr. Brown, I take it you haven’t talked to Mr. Peterson yet?”
“No, I just need the contact info for the motel my wife is staying at. I haven’t heard from her since she left, and this is very unusual for us. I need to contact her. If you don’t want to give me this, please call her and tell her to call us. It’s becoming an emergency.”
“Mr. Brown, I will have Mr. Peterson call you right away,” she finished.
I hung up on her damn this conspiracy shit that goes around. I just need to contact my wife…
I paced the house until almost four-thirty that evening. Both the kids were there with me. Samuel came home straight home from college. Abby left college and came straight home as well even though she was just a freshman.
It was just after five when the doorbell rang. Sam answered it and led six people into the house. They all had told him they worked with his mother and needed to talk to his father.
I was in the living room holding my phone wondering what I had done so wrong that Abigail would treat us so horribly. I stood as the crowd came into the living room.
I recognized Mr. Peterson right off. He held his hand to me and shook it. Then he tried to speak but I could see all the emotions starting to come up in his face, then his eyes started to turn red and well up.
Mrs. Peterson stepped forward. “Mr. Brown.” Her voice was flat and empty of emotions. “We are all here to tell you how sorry we are about Abigail.”
I looked at her with concern and confusion on my face. “What is going on. Where is my wife!!” I demanded.
Mr. Peterson finally spoke. “I am so sorry, Roy; your wife Abigail was in a bad car crash with a truck driver. She didn’t make it, Roy. I am sorry. She didn’t make it.” Tears started running down Mr. Peterson’s cheeks. I started to take a step back but fell on the floor.
I don’t remember the next several months. I know there was a funeral. It was a closed casket. I know that the kids held me up as we took Abigail to the cemetery to lay her to rest. And I know I didn’t want to leave just in case she woke up.
The trucking company settled out of court for a great deal of money. I thought it was ridiculous, but they paid without flinching.
The first thing I can remember was waking up in our bed holding on tightly to Abigail. My heart jumped as I thought the nightmare was about to end and I kissed her. Only, it wasn’t Abigail. It was Abby that I was holding so tightly!