The Perfect Life Read online

  The Perfect Life

  Callie Anderson

  Copyright © 2018 Callie Anderson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  About the Author

  To my husband.

  Prologue

  “Mama.” AJ looked up at me and pointed.

  “Did he...?” I looked over at Bruce and then back at my one-year-old little boy. Tears welled in my eyes.

  “I think he did.” Bruce walked over to where AJ was playing with his blocks on the carpet. “Did you just say your first word?” he asked, using what he called his sweet baby voice.

  “He said Mama!” I repeated, elated with joy. I ran my fingertips through his barely visible blond hair and kissed the top of his head. “You said Mama, AJ.”

  “Mama,” he repeated, and Bruce and I laughed.

  “That’s right, buddy. That’s Mama.” Bruce looked away from AJ and up at me. His blue eyes were in a deep gaze, giving me a look I hadn’t seen in months. A look of love and adoration. One I’d missed so much. Craved from him.

  “Mama,” AJ said again and crawled up on my lap. He hadn’t mastered walking yet, though he was almost there. He would cruise around the furniture but had yet to let go.

  When I looked back at Bruce, the look was gone. The affection I’d spotted in his eyes was now aimed at AJ.

  “Can you say Dada?” Bruce asked.

  Tightness closed my throat. When did he stop loving me?

  I sighed, trying to push the thought out of my head. AJ had just said his first word. I needed to remind myself of the love I felt only moments prior from my son. I needed to remember that I had all I’d ever wanted.

  All but the love of my husband.

  1

  The air was as thick as I remembered it to be. It stuck to my skin as I moved around outside. The sweet fragrance of Georgia peaches in full bloom filled the air and my mouth watered for a bite. It was such a small detail, one I realized I missed since I hadn’t been home in four years.

  Home.

  I hadn’t had a home in four years. We hadn’t had a permanent residence since Bruce died.

  Since I killed him.

  For years, AJ and I moved from city to city, state to state, letting my heart lead us to our next destination.

  When I left that night, I figured a month, tops, was how long we needed to be away. It was what I needed to clear my head. And thankfully, money wouldn’t be an issue. Bruce had left more than enough for us. But I didn’t have a destination. I couldn’t go back to Arizona because there was too much that reminded me of Bruce. I couldn’t stay in the south because that’s where his family was. I needed to hide from everyone. So, I headed north.

  The first year we lived in Elkins, West Virginia, a small town surrounded by beautiful mountains. AJ loved running through Monongahela National Forrest. We went on hikes or fishing trips. I even learned to camp. When the year lease was up, we moved further north.

  We spent another year living in the heart of the Adirondacks, and then another year in the White Mountains of Vermont. Each city brought me back from the depression that followed me. I treated each day as a blessing and promised AJ it would be the best day yet.

  And it was.

  We were finishing up our last lease agreement in Portland, Maine, when I received a certified letter from Bruce’s estate lawyer. It stated that unless I came home, everything I owned, including Bruce’s life insurance policy, would be surrendered as abandoned property.

  This was all Sue’s doing, I was certain of that. She wasn’t thrilled that I picked up in the middle of the night and vanished, and she knew the only way I’d come back was at the fear of losing everything Bruce worked so hard to obtain for us. In her eyes, I was to blame for Bruce’s death and I’d taken away her only grandson. She reminded me at every opportunity what a horrible person I was, even though I made sure we called on special occasions and holidays. I was trying to be the bigger person.

  It wasn’t what I had planned, but it was finally time to come home.

  “Mom, this is our house?” AJ asked as he stepped out of the car. I’d been stuck in the same spot, unable to move an inch closer to the oversized black front door. My eyes were glued to the house I had fallen in love with and decorated with my own hands. I had picked out the black shutters, the hydrangeas that hugged the landscaping. This wasn’t a house, but my home.

  “Yeah, this is where we lived.” Tears pooled in my eyes as all the happy memories flooded my mind. “And right there is where you took your first steps.” I pointed to the garage door. Bruce had come home from work early, and an eager little AJ had decided he was going to walk to his daddy.

  “Are we staying here long?” He coiled his fingers through mine. Without realizing it, he was giving me all the strength I needed to face this next chapter in our lives.

  “I’m not sure, buddy.” I sighed, not knowing any of it. “You’ll be starting school soon, and I don’t want you to be the kid who moves every year.” I pulled him closer and wrapped my arm around his little shoulders.

  “But I like our trips.” He looked up at me.

  “Me too, and we’ll still take them, but school will have to come first.” I ran my hands through his shaggy hair. AJ would be starting kindergarten in September, which meant we had four months to acclimate to a routine. “Besides, once you make friends, I doubt you’ll want to move again.”

  “Can we go inside?”

  “Yeah.” I swallowed and tied my hair up in a knot. Taking in a few calming breaths, I stepped forward and pulled my keys out of my pocket.

  Walking inside the house was like entering a time capsule. A month after I left, when I decided I wasn’t coming back anytime soon, I hired a cleaning crew to do one final sweep of the house and cover all of our furniture until it was time for me to come back. Giant cloths covered the furniture to prevent it from getting damaged, but every picture frame was in the exact same location, even the TV remote.

  Stepping further inside the house, my emotions were trapped in my throat and it was impossible to stop the sadness that washed over me. In the foyer, I looked at the abandoned home; my abandoned life. For four years dust had collected on everything I once thought meant the world to me; yet without a family to make it a home, it was all worthless. Materialistic things are just that, things that accessorize your life.

  I strolled over to the window and slid it open to let in the fresh air. “Why does it smel
l like that, Mom?” AJ asked with his nose scrunched up.

  “The house hasn’t been open in a few years, honey. It’s stale air,” I said, opening as many windows as I could.

  “It’s gross.” He shook his head to rid his senses of the smell. “Can I see my room?”

  I walked over to him and ran my hand through his unruly hair. “Yes, of course.” I cocked my head toward the long hallway that led to the bedrooms. “It’s that way.”

  A wide, joyous smile grew on his face as he darted down the hall. I followed behind him, my heart a bit lighter. AJ stopped right at his bedroom and stared up at the white door. His name hung in blue wooden letters I had painted when I was pregnant with him.

  Fearfully, I turned the knob and pushed it open. I gasped in stale air and felt goose bumps rise all over my skin. Flicking on the light, I stepped inside and welcomed the heartache in my chest. His crib was still there, along with his extra blankets and stuffed animals that hung in a hammock in the corner. To the right, his glider was covered with a white cloth, but his books were still displayed in a pile next to it. Gently, I rubbed my finger along the layer of dust that covered its surface. On the opposite wall was his dresser that I knew still contained the majority of his clothes. His room was exactly as I left it.

  Exactly the way Bruce had built it for him.

  AJ slowly entered the room, his eyes taking in the small space. A part of me wished he remembered all the times he had here. All the moments we played on the floor as a family, or the nights Bruce and I took turns sleeping on the rug as we sleep-trained him.

  “What do you think?” I asked. My voice felt painful as I tried to speak through the knot in my throat.

  “I like it, Mom, but I don’t think I can fit in the crib anymore.”

  I bit back laughter, thanking God for giving me such a witty little boy who had such great charisma. “I know.” I walked over to him and squatted down until I was eye level. “It’s a good thing it actually turns into a full-size bed.” I tapped his little button nose.

  “Do you think we’ll stay here long?”

  “We can stay here as long as you want.”

  “Okay.” AJ looked around his room and nodded. “Because I think I’m going to like it here.”

  “You got it, kid.” I stood back up and pulled the cloth from his glider. “Let’s make this our home again.”

  * * *

  After hours of cleaning and tidying, I’d managed to clean out my bedroom and AJ’s. He was a trooper, helping me move furniture and vacuum up the four years of dust. By the end of the day, he was exhausted and fell asleep only a few minutes after his head hit his pillow. I, on the other hand, lay in my bed wide-awake and watching the clock tick each minute.

  The mattress that carried so many memories felt uncomfortable under my body. I tossed from one side to the other while my mind sprinted. I was back home, back in my bedroom, in my bed, under my sheets.

  This was the mattress where we made love, and out of that love God blessed us with AJ. Toward the end of my pregnancy, I literally rolled out of bed—off this exact mattress—each morning because my belly was so large. It was in this exact spot that my water broke. But though it had so many great memories, it also housed painful ones when I’d lain for months depressed and shedding tears.

  Needing a distraction, I kicked the comforter off and pulled out my laptop. A few clicks and a fresh white screen appeared.

  Hi Mom,

  We made it back to Savannah. Though the ride was long, we managed to get back here within the three days AJ and I mapped out. Speaking of AJ, he is super excited and extremely thrilled to explore the town. I think this will be good for us both. A fresh start back in our home. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

  Now I just need to tackle my never-ending list of things to do. Enroll him in school, find some activities to keep him active, clean an entire house. Ugh!

  I’ll make sure to give you a call this week, so you guys can catch up. And before you ask, I have not spoken to Sue and Alistair. I assume she knows I’m back, but she has yet to reach out.

  Will touch base soon!

  Love you,

  Steph

  The emails to my mother were always simple, generic even. My mother and I had a great relationship, and she had begged me to move back home after Bruce passed. But I was lost in the world and needed to find my own footing.

  Moving the cursor again, I clicked open a new email and another white canvas appeared before me.

  Hey Les,

  So…we made it. As I type out this email, I’m lying in my old bed. This all feels unreal. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact I’m back in this home, but I’m trying. Is it strange that it’s been four years and I can still smell Bruce? I keep waiting to wake up and realize this was all a dream. AJ, however, loves it. He keeps asking questions and looking at old photos of his dad. I guess that’s a good thing.

  Enough about my melodramatic behind. How are you, Ethan and the kids? I’ll keep you posted on this new journey back.

  Love you,

  Steph

  I sighed. Leslie would write back with a motivational quote to get my ass in gear. I scanned the email again and then hit send.

  * * *

  “Come on,” I said to AJ as I walked into the living room. We’d been home for three days and I had finally managed to get the house in a livable state. AJ was sitting in the living room playing with his toy trucks. His active imagination had converted my coffee table into a racetrack.

  “Where are we going?” He looked up at me through wide blue eyes.

  “We’re going to go explore.” I couldn’t hide the excitement in my voice. It was the line I used every time we went out in the world looking for our next adventure.

  It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was high in the crystal sky and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. It was mid-May, so the temperature was warm but not unbearable and the humidity was almost tolerable.

  “Mom?” AJ asked as we continued our stroll down Main Street. “Why does it feel like people are looking at us?”

  I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and brought him closer to me. Though technically our zip code was for Savannah, Georgia, we lived on Isle of Hope, a small town where everyone knew everyone.

  “It’s a small town, AJ. People tend to know everybody, and they’re probably curious as to who we are,” I lied. I knew those stares, and the people who were staring knew exactly who I was. Everyone knew my sad story. The widow who killed her husband. “Soon enough everyone will know your name and you’ll no longer be the new kid.”

  “I don’t mind being the new kid.” He looked up at me.

  “I know,” I cupped his cheek and smiled. “But since we’re going to settle down here, I don’t think you’ll be the new kid forever.”

  “That works for me, too.”

  AJ and I agreed to stop at Bistro for lunch. We were able to sit outside and watch the cars pass and the boats on Skidaway River.

  “Stephanie, sweetie, how nice it is to see you again,” Mrs. Mack, a friend of Bruce’s mom, said as she stopped by our table halfway through lunch. I stood to greet her with a hug. “How are you?” Her embrace was short as she turned to look at AJ. “Oh, my...” She placed her hand over her chest. “Look at you. You look so much like your father.”

  Forcing a smile, I bit my inner cheek. I knew he looked like him—they had the same eyes and boyish grin—but having other people say it reminded me that I had deprived AJ of a life with his father. The carousel of guilt never stopped turning in my head.

  “How’s Mr. Mack doing?” I quickly changed the subject. It was always easier to talk about other people than my own issues.

  “Oh, he has his days.” Her eyes saddened. “His Alzheimer’s is in full swing now, so it’s hard to communicate with him.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that.” I placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “Maybe we can stop by for a quick hello if you’d like.”

&
nbsp; “That would be wonderful.” She nodded. “I’ll let you two get back to your lunch. I’ll let Sue know I bumped into you.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a fake smile. I knew it was only a matter of time before our paths crossed, and my mother-in-law made my life a living hell.

  Once, we had a beautiful relationship. I was like a second daughter to her, and she welcomed me into her family with open arms. But after Bruce died and I vanished, it all took a turn. I couldn’t blame her. She didn’t understand why I left, nor could I explain to her my need to run. As the days turned to months, and the months turned to years, she grew to hate me.

  “You’re moving again?”

  “How can you keep him away from his family?”

  “Bruce wouldn’t want this for his child!”

  “You’re ruining his life!”

  “You wouldn’t be running if this wasn’t your fault.”

  As AJ grew older, I simply dialed her number for AJ and stopped talking to her altogether.

  “Are you almost done with your sandwich?” I asked AJ once Mrs. Mack was a few feet away.

  “Yep.”

  “Okay. I want to swing by school and make sure you’re enrolled for next year. And then I think we should probably sign you up for a few activities, so you can make some friends before school starts.”

  “Why can’t you still be my teacher?” AJ asked as he dipped another fry in ketchup.

  “Because you need to socialize with kids your own age, buddy. It’s just been me and you for the past four years, and you need to make friends.”