The driver is a man with more beard than face, and he seems pleased to get such a long distance fare when I give him the address of the B&B up north. He isn’t much for small talk and I’m eternally grateful for it.
My head is packed full of too many thoughts and worries to try to chat.
Caden is safe. That’s what’s most important, I remind myself when the lull of the tires against the highway don’t seem to quell my anxiety. It’s not like I’m suffering from some unfounded fear. A few days in and out of a jail cell was more than enough for me to know I could never spend any lengthy amount of time there, but if my lawyer can’t prove I had nothing to do with the abduction, I may be facing that.
I want to believe it can’t happen. I’m innocent, and innocent people don’t spend their lives in prison, but I’m not that naïve. It happens all the time.
The fear of imprisonment should be my biggest concern right now, but it isn’t. Caden. I’ll probably never see him again. Never kiss those chubby cheeks or hear his voice cry out for Nay-mi. There are no words to describe how devastating that feels.
I miss him. And Axton. God, what this must be doing to him. When I picture him, all I can see is the rage and disgust on his face when he grabbed me in the police station.
He hates me.
A choked sob escapes, and I try to make myself think of anything else because even one of these thoughts is too painful to deal with, but they keep attacking.
You’ll never see Caden again.
Axton hates you.
Dani probably does too.
Prison. A life in prison.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” The driver’s question pulls me out of my downward spiral, and I wipe my eyes. Keep it together, Naomi. You can melt down all you want at the B&B.
“I’m fine, thank you. If we pass a drug store or convenience store, I’d like to stop for a few things on the way.”
He types on his GPS then replies, “There’s a twenty-four hour Supercenter coming up. Would that work?”
“Perfect. Thanks.”
I’m grateful for the late hour when I walk into the store, blinking under the bright fluorescent lighting. It’s almost deserted. I must look like a homeless person sneaking in off the street with my oily hair pulled back in a bun, and clothes I’ve worn for almost three days. Nothing the late night employees of a Supercenter haven’t seen before, I’m sure, and I don’t get any weird stares or attitude as I shop.
I’m sure there are things I’ll forget, but I manage to grab some basic hygiene supplies, some cheap underwear and a bra, sweatpants, an oversized hoodie, two pairs of jeans, and a handful of tee shirts. It’ll get me by until I can get my stuff from Axton’s.
A sharp pain pierces my stomach and I realize I haven’t eaten for days. My middle feels like a vice and I can’t imagine swallowing even a bite, but I also don’t want to pass out and add more drama to this whole situation.
The last thing I want is more time as the center of attention in any scenario. Before I head to the checkout, I pick up a premade sandwich from the deli case, a bag of chips, and a soft drink. The sleepy cashier barely looks up as she rings up my purchases. I’ve never been so glad to not be recognized.
The small town streets are eerily empty. The taxi’s headlights push back the darkness of the winding road that leads to the B&B while illuminating the overhanging trees. It gives an unsettling illusion of moving through a tunnel with black walls. Maybe I’m just tired. In the daylight, I’m sure it’ll feel a lot less sinister.
The B&B looks much the way I remember, charming but a bit run down. When I made the reservation, I explained I’d be showing up very late, and the lady assured me it was no problem. Still, I’m surprised by how quickly she answers the door when I ring the bell.
I’m greeted with a kind smile as I stand there surrounded by a suitcase and Supercenter bags. “Ms. Wells, come in. I’m Dodie. Let me help you with some of that.” Before I can resist, she grabs a few of the plastic bags. “I have your room all ready for you.”
“Thank you so much. Please, call me Naomi. I’m sorry I had to arrive at such a late hour.”
“It’s no problem at all, dear,” she insists. “My insomnia keeps me up most nights. My husband likes to accuse me of being nocturnal.”
There’s not much to look at as I’m led up a set of stairs and down a hall. The house is dark, with just enough ambient lighting to make sure we can see our path. It’s enough to see the place needs a lot of work. I wonder if I’m the only guest.
“Here we are.” She swings open a door to a large room with a queen size bed in the center. A small sitting area is tucked into one corner and a table with two chairs sits by the window. She places my bags on the long dresser, then crosses the room and opens a door.
“You have a private bath, all stocked with towels and such, but please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.”
A peek inside shows me a dated, but clean bathroom with a deep, claw footed bathtub with a shower. I’m so exhausted that I’m barely listening as she talks, but I realize she’s stopped and force a smile to my face. “Everything is perfect. Thank you.”
A wide smile stretches across her cheeks. “We don’t get many guests anymore since the big hotels opened near the highway. My husband and I are glad to have you here.” Her kind eyes meet mine. “I just want to assure you of your privacy. I understand you’ve had a hard time and probably want to get as far away from the madness as possible. No one here will speak of your whereabouts.”
A lump forms in my throat. Of course, she knows who I am. My picture has been all over the news. I’m the infamous nanny. Depending on what station you watch, I’m the kidnapping nanny, or the nanny who let a rock star’s baby get abducted while she was trying to seduce him.
Either way, I’m a social pariah.
Her kindness is almost too much to handle on top of my roiling emotions. All I can manage to squeak out is a “thank you.”
“You look exhausted, dear. Have you eaten? I can make you a snack.”
“I ate on the way. I’m just going to go to sleep. Thank you so much.”
After she leaves, pulling the door closed behind her, I only want to fall into bed for about twelve hours, but I’m in desperate need of a shower. Maybe my brain has had all it can take because I feel strangely blank as I shower, then climb into bed.
Sleep. I just need to sleep. I need the strength to face what’s coming. Because there’s no doubt in my mind, it’s only going to get worse.
Despite the exhaustion, I still don’t manage to sleep late. Months of early mornings with Caden have my circadian rhythm firmly set. The moment before I’m fully conscious is a luxury I’m probably going to learn to appreciate more and more because it’s the best moment of my day. For those few seconds, I don’t remember.
For those few seconds, Caden is just a room away and my life hasn’t completely fallen into ruin. My eyes tear up at the sight of the blue flowered wallpaper that greets me when I open my eyes.
This isn’t where I’m supposed to be. This isn’t home. It seems like all I’ve done for days is cry and I know I have to get a grip on myself. I have to keep it together and figure out what to do, no matter how much I want to curl into a ball and block it all out.