I kicked him under the table.
Valerie smiled.
“Russell asked if I’d have breakfast with him.”
Owen leaned back.
“Russell.”
“Yes, Owen. Russell.”
Over the next few days, we barely saw her.
She and Russell walked on the beach every morning.
They had lunch together.
One evening, they drove twenty minutes away for seafood.
I tried not to giggle.
I was happy for her.
I hadn’t seen Valerie that cheerful since before her husband died.
Owen noticed too.
But happiness didn’t stop him from worrying.
On the fourth night, Valerie returned to the hotel after ten.
Owen was waiting in the lobby.
“Mom, you barely know this man.”
Valerie stopped.
“I’m sixty-three.”
“I know how old you are.”
“Then stop talking to me like I’m sixteen.”
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
That afternoon, Russell had invited Valerie to stay with him after our vacation ended.
He had rented a cottage farther down the coast for another month.
When she told us, I assumed she was joking.
She wasn’t.
The night before our flight home, we sat on the balcony while Valerie calmly announced she had changed her ticket.
Owen stared at her.
“You’ve known him for three days.”
“I know.”
“And you’re going to live with him?”
“I’m not moving in with him.”
“What would you call it?”
“A vacation.”
“At his house.”
“It’s a rental cottage.”
“With a stranger.”
Valerie’s smile disappeared.
“Do you hear yourself?”
Owen leaned forward.
“Mom, this isn’t like you.”
“Maybe you don’t know what I’m like anymore.”
That landed harder than she probably intended.
Valerie stood.
“I spent two years going from my house to the grocery store and back. I finally meet someone who makes me laugh, and everyone acts like I’ve lost my mind.”
“Nobody said that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She walked away crying.
Owen went quiet.
Later, he said, “This is a mistake.”
I looked toward Valerie’s room.
“Maybe.”
“You agree?”
“I think she’s lonely.”
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s helpless.”
He rubbed his face.
“You think we should leave her?”
“I think she’s allowed to make a decision we wouldn’t make.”
The next morning, we flew home without her.
At first, everything seemed fine.
Valerie called Owen every morning.
She sent photos of restaurants, sunsets, and ridiculous cocktails.
Russell appeared in several of them.
He looked normal.
More importantly, Valerie looked happy.
On the fourth day, however, the photos stopped.
Owen noticed before I did.
“Mom hasn’t sent anything today.”
“She called you this morning.”
“For six minutes.”
I stared at him.
“Do you time her calls?”
“No.”
His face told me he absolutely did.
I made him leave it alone.
Then, five nights after we left, my phone rang at 12:47 a.m.
Valerie.
Owen was asleep beside me.
I answered quietly.
“Valerie?”
Nothing.
Then I heard breathing.
“Natalie?”
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
I sat up.
“Are you alone?”
I looked at Owen.
“He’s asleep. What’s wrong?”
Another silence.
Then she said the sentence that made my stomach drop.
“Natalie, I need you to save me.”
I was out of bed immediately.
“Where’s Russell?”
“Sleeping.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“No.”
“Are you locked in somewhere?”
“No.”
I stopped.
“Then tell me what’s happening.”
Her breathing hitched.
“I can’t explain this properly over the phone.”
“Valerie—”
“I just know I don’t want to be here when he wakes up and starts trying to talk me out of leaving again.”
That was different.
“Has he stopped you from leaving?”
“No.”
“Taken your phone? Your money?”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
She was silent for several seconds.
“I think I made a mistake.”
“Okay.”
“I want to come home.”
Then she whispered:
“Please help me. Don’t tell my son.”
“What?”
“Please.”
“Valerie, if you’re in danger—”
“I’m not scared exactly.”
That answer made everything more complicated.
She sounded embarrassed.
More than that, she sounded unsure whether she was even entitled to leave.
“Where are you right now?”
“In the bathroom.”
“Can you get out safely?”
“Yes.”
