Slipped Read online

  This book is dedicated to my ever patient and supportive wife, Jolene.

  Without you, nothing I do is worthwhile.

  Copyright © 2019 by Ira Robinson

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

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  Liz looked through the front glass window, searching the street for anyone coming.

  Yellows and oranges spread across the pavement of the road and sidewalk running beside, while soft shadows edged along, cast by the setting sun. Though the weather outside was cool and stray leaves drifted around on the smooth breeze, small beads of sweat oozed down her forehead from beneath the band around her hair.

  It had been a long day, and there was still much for her to do before she could close her shop for the night and go home.

  It was a familiar routine and one she did not begrudge. Running a business could be hard work, and doing it in a small town made it that much harder.

  She did not shutter the windows, giving leave for the light from the setting sun to come into the shop still. Liz would let the light do the work instead of turning on the electrical fixtures. The sunlight was pretty and good enough for her to work by, and if she could save a couple of dollars avoiding the use of the lights above, so much the better.

  It took time to put the leftovers from the day in boxes. She would deliver them to the church in the morning on her way to work, as she always did. The stuff might be day-old but people would still eat it and she knew they appreciated her gifting it. Although she did well enough to pay the bills, there were an unfortunate number of people in Tanglewood who could not afford to eat every day, and she was happy to help in any way she could.

  There seemed to be less than usual, though; quite a few people came through the shop today. All she had left were some donuts from the morning and a few loaves of bread.

  Still, it was something, and she sold enough so she could restock next week. With the cold months coming, she was glad she could have a little more security this year instead of the hard times she had before.

  A soft clatter came from the direction of her small office and she rolled her eyes a little.

  What did she get into now?

  She put the boxes on the counter and wiped the bits of flour dust from her hands on her apron, sighing a little as she walked to the doorway leading into the office.

  The small light from the lamp on her desk barely competed against the flare of color from the light outside, but as she rounded the corner to step inside, she heard a small gasp.

  Her daughter turned to face her as Liz stepped fully inside, her hands resting on her hips.

  "What are you doing, silly?" Liz asked, watching her daughter try to hide a pen behind her back.

  "Nothing, mommy." The little girl tried to smile, but a guilty glint in her eyes belied her innocence.

  Liz looked around, trying to discern what the four-year-old had done, but all she could glean was the desk and small lamp, which shone down upon some paper atop the old wood.

  Her brows furrowed as she stared at the soft blue of her daughter's eyes. She took a step forward, closer to the girl, bringing the papers into better focus.

  "Wait, did you -"

  She took another step and reached over the girl's head to grasp what her daughter had been drawing on. Her stomach dropped when she realized it was an inventory sheet.

  The one she spent all day yesterday completing.

  "Oh, Cassie, why did you use this?" She felt anger flare within, as she grasped the paper tighter. "Of all the things!"

  She heard the pen drop to the floor as Cassie let go of it in her fear, the plastic clattering against the linoleum, bouncing further away beneath the desk.

  "I'm sorry, mommy." A sniffle escaped her nose as tiny tears began to come. Her voice quavered and her hands came to her lap, fingers twisting absently as she stared at her mother's chest.

  Liz did not budge at her daughter's apology, tossing the papers onto the desk, instead. "Cassie Barlowe, I have told you so many times, if you want to draw, you ask me for paper. You don't just grab whatever is there and use it. Why did you do this?"

  "You were busy," the little girl said, shaking her head. Her soft brown hair, long and curled, drifted as she did. "You get mad if you're busy."

  "That doesn't mean you just do what you want, Cassie. The rules are there for a reason." She edged away from the child and stepped backward toward the doorway. "Come on. I can't trust you in here now."

  Cassie stood, her head down as she walked past her mother into the shop front.

  "Go stand in the corner. You can be there until I am done and we go home."

  Liz watched as Cassie trudged to the corner, deeper cries escaping from her lips. She turned away, still angry with what her daughter had done, and wishing she could afford a sitter more often.

  Since her divorce, that had been tougher than she wanted. Her ex paid little in child support, certainly not enough to pay for a full-time person to watch their daughter, and with the rest of his own income gone from the household, anything beyond the basics was difficult.

  She could afford a few days a week, but she tried to use it as little as possible. Any more than that, they would have to keep the leftover food for themselves instead of giving it to the church to distribute to the poor.

  One more year, she thought, as she picked up the broom and started to sweep the flour dust and other debris into small piles. She can go to school then, and I won't have to worry about this.

  She loved her daughter, but since Cassie’s father left, she had become more hardheaded than she ever had been before, and Liz did not know what she could do to make things better.

  Time. Liz always needed more time. If only she could get the bastard to let go of a few more dollars, she would not have so much to worry over.

  Cassie's crying settled down eventually, as Liz finished cleaning up from the day. After another fifteen minutes of prepping the dough for the next day and leaving it in the walk-in refrigerator, she finally said, "Okay, Cassie. All done. Let's get home."

  The sky was considerably darkened by the time she got the bakery locked up, and she did a double check of things to make sure all was in place.

  The soft neon glow of the small "Tangled Treats" sign in the front window was still on. In her haste, she had forgotten to switch it off.

  No matter. It could wait until the morning.

  She led Cassie to their car and slipped behind the driver's wheel, making the short journey home.

  There were only a few other cars on the streets, people like her, probably, heading home from work, though there was likely to be more as dinners got done and the lights of the bar created temptation.

  In their small town, there was not a whole lot more to do on a Tuesday night. The drive in was closed until the weekend and would shutter for the winter soon enough, and most other places would be turning customers away for the night, themselves.

  People in Tanglewood stayed home much of the time. There was something about the place that made it easy to slip into a comfortable routine. Go to work, head home, and keep your nose out of the business of others.

  Despite that, Liz was well enough aware there were secrets beneath the surface of their otherwise sleepy little town. She had no time or interest in them, and it was the same way for everyone else she knew, as well.

  The car pulled int
o her short driveway and turned off. Glancing into the backseat, she saw Cassie was already asleep in her booster chair, worn out from her bout of crying.

  Liz sighed, wishing she could just let her sleep, but the air in the car would cool off soon and she did not feel like just sitting in her driveway until the sun came up the next morning.

  Still, the hours Cassie slept were the only time Liz really felt any peace.

  She closed her eyes and rested her head against the backrest on the seat. A few minutes would not hurt.

  She let her mind drift a little as she breathed deeply.

  Was Jack home? Was he talking to his new girlfriend even as she sat in this car, with the smell of old donuts and hardened juice Cassie spilled in the backseat stuck in her nose?

  Was he kissing her, even now? Or was he sitting somewhere in his car, his own thoughts drifting fruitlessly around Liz, missing her just as much?

  She doubted it. The last she saw of Jack, he was smiling and acting like a stupid schoolboy with a crush, beaming about his new girl and all the plans he had for getting out of this damnable town.

  Liz had not even argued with him, then. She knew they were well past any thoughts of getting back together again. He made that clear enough. He was done with her, done with Cassie, too, barely even acknowledging the presence of his daughter, even as she begged him for attention.

  She was angry, and it was a bitter pill to swallow after their marriage came to a self-destructive and inglorious end, shattering at the seams when she came home to find him in bed with his latest conquest. It was not the first time.

  He did not even have the guts to apologize. Instead, he smiled at her and shrugged his shoulders, wordlessly announcing they were finally, truly, done.

  She cried as she sat at the table, staring into the glass of wine before her, as the sounds of him packing bags in the bedroom spread through the house. The tears were not for the end of their relationship, though. They flowed for the small girl in her bedroom, with tears of her own in her eyes, not understanding why her daddy decided he needed to go away for a while.

  Liz did not tell her, though. She told Jack he had to do it. He had to go in and face the eyes of that tiny child they created together at a time when they loved one another. He was the one who had to do it; she did not have the heart to break Cassie's.

  Liz knew she would have to spend a lot of time cleaning up the tears of that little girl for a long time, but she would not be the one to make them flow. Not that night. It was all on him.

  Still, despite the way he left, in spite of the things he had done to break them apart - willfully - Liz could not help but miss him. They knew each other too long to do otherwise. He had been a part of her own life since she was a bright-eyed teenager with dreams of her own and, though she was now twice that age and with many bitter years between, he had been the biggest part of her life.

  Even with him gone for a year, and months since the letter with the divorce decree came to her mailbox, she missed his presence in the house. In her life.

  Though she had Cassie, and would never give her up, she was not a replacement for that missing part of Liz's life. Her bed was cold and her arms were empty, and in those moments, she would have given anything to have Jack back.

  A soft snort from the back seat broke Liz out of her reverie and she realized she had fallen asleep, herself, even as her daughter snored.

  She shook her head, casting away some of the haze and pulled the keys from the ignition, slipping them into her small purse at her side. She yawned a little as she opened the door and stepped out. The cool air broke the yawn mid-way.

  She pulled open the back door and unbuckled the strapped-in little girl, who stirred but remained sleeping.

  Liz pulled her out of the seat, huffing at her weight, but did it carefully so Cassie did not fully wake. She trundled the few steps to the front door and realize the keys were in her purse.

  She shifted Cassie around so she could reach into her bag for the keys. She was able to open the front door successfully without making the girl stir too much and slipped inside the house.

  She thought for a moment that she should wake her, after all, since Cassie had eaten very little while at the bakery, and should have some dinner before going to bed for the night, but figured sleep would do better for now.

  She carried Cassie to the bedroom and carefully laid her on the bed. She was able to slip the small jacket off her before moving on to Cassie's shoes. Those, too, came away easily.

  She pulled the blanket around her daughter and picked up the small doll Cassie always liked to sleep with from the floor. Liz tucked it beneath the girl's arm and stepped backward to check she missed nothing before she walked out of the room.

  She tipped the door mostly closed and made her way to the small kitchen.

  The house was not large but served them well. It was one of the older houses in town and was in one of the cheaper areas Tanglewood afforded. Cheap enough she could still live there with Cassie, despite the income Jack made at the mill not coming in anymore. The rental company was good enough to leave them alone, for the most part, and that suited Liz fine.

  If only she could get the bill collectors to do the same, life might be a lot simpler.

  She sat on the couch with a huff, the chilled glass of wine from the refrigerator already halfway down. There was a time she hated the stuff, but over time it had become easier to handle, especially when the troubles with Jack started.

  She turned the television on and flipped through the four channels they were able to get. Tanglewood did not have a broadcast channel of its own and, with as remote as it was, no cable company wanted to bother running the lines out from one of the bigger towns, so they had to rely on whatever they could get.

  She turned the set down and grabbed a magazine from the end table beside her. Taking another gulp of wine, she flipped through the magazine slowly, reading through the thing, though she had done so many times before.

  Finally, bored, she tossed it aside and finished the glass, breathing deep as the alcohol helped relax her muscles and mind.

  She tapped the button on the remote to turn the television off and flipped the power on the radio she kept beside her chair. Soft music, a classic song, rumbled through the speaker. It was the local station, the same one to which she usually stayed tuned.

  She got up and went to the kitchen again. After refilling her glass, she returned to her seat and took another deep drink.

  She tried to let her mind stay on the radio, to let herself consume the familiarity of the music, but within minutes she closed her eyes, letting scenes from days past play out.

  It was all so familiar; so many nights since Jack left spent in just this way.

  Liz wondered, not for the first time, why she did not just pack everything up and leave this town. There was nothing left to hold her here anymore. Her parents were gone, both passing away not long after she graduated high school and, though she liked running her own business, she knew she could start that again wherever she ended up going.

  Jack was not there to hold her in place and she would not feel bad about taking Cassie with her since he made it apparent he was moving on without either of them in his life.

  Only memories kept her in stasis, kept her from throwing everything they owned in the car and just driving down the road until they ran out of gas. Wherever they ended up had to be better than being trapped here, with every day being the same and no hope in sight.

  Fear kept her hesitant, though. What would she do for money? What would she do with Cassia, moving away from the doctor she knew, the same one who helped the little girl come into the world?

  Liz, herself, had a few friends, but no one she really felt close enough to that would keep her from going anywhere. Jack had consumed most of her attention and life, leaving her little space for anyone outside of her little family unit.

  She could do it.

  If they left, packed up and got out in the middle of the night,
they could set off for parts unknown. They could make a change Liz instinctively felt so desperately needed to happen.

  Maybe it was the wine thinking for her. Maybe the decision would be better made during the day when her thoughts were clearer and she did not have so much time to let it all eat at her.

  But, if she waited until then, the decision would never be made. Some logical part of her mind would turn her away from it all.

  Liz finished the rest of her wine in a gulp and closed her eyes again.

  In that moment, she decided. It would happen. Tomorrow she would start making plans for a new way of life.

  She could go to the bank and pull out what little she had in her savings, then pack up whatever she felt she and Cassie would need to get them through for a while. She could find a job somewhere, perhaps at a bakery. She would not mind letting someone else make the decisions about business for a bit.