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Pulling into the driveway, I could have kicked myself for still hoping that nothing had changed. That we were returning home, and that our little family was complete. I hit the button for the second garage door, murmuring a litany of promises. If only Nick was here, somehow we could have worked everything out. But I could see at a glance that Nick’s car, an enormous Land Cruiser, was not there.

I parked the car and activated the garage door, not daring to leave the car until it was shut. It had nearly scared me witless when Jodi Simmons had appeared at the car window the last time we’d come home. She had been insistent about speaking to Nick, and had only left when I threatened to call the police. Mia had started to cry, but through her shaking sobs I could hear Jodi’s promise to return for answers.

I got Mia inside and settled, and put the shopping away on autopilot. The light on the answering machine was flashing, and the counter read 14 messages, but I knew none of them were from Nick. I checked my phone, scrolling past text messages from clients. I knew the content without looking. Increasingly terse requests to get Nick to call them. I’d felt anxious when they started to come through, and had replied to a few of them. But when Nick stopped taking my calls, or responding to my messages, there didn’t seem any point in promising something that couldn’t be delivered.

With a sigh, I called Nick again. I knew what I was going to say, the words that I’d leave. But instead of a ringtone, or going straight to voicemail, a recorded voice advised me that the number was no longer connected. I dropped the phone and doubled over, bile rising in my throat.

A cheery ‘ding-dong’ filled the air, and Mia started to clap her hands together. Someone was at the door. I slowly straightened up, one hand covering my mouth. I raced over to pick Mia up.

‘Shush, honey, quiet now.’

Mia burbled, and I held her small hands together with one of mine. We walked to the kitchen at the rear of the house, and I looked at the monitor in the corner above the oven to see who was at the front door. It was Jodi Simmons. And she wasn’t alone.

This was written to a prompt at my local writing group.

Photo: three green owls