Nobody's There

CHAPTER ONE Trembling, her legs so wobbly it was hard to stand, Abbie Thompson clung to the rough trunk of an oak tree and waited for her father to appear. As a garish yellow porch light over the nearest apartment suddenly gleamed, Abbie sucked in her breath and slid farther back into the darkness behind the wide tree trunk. Abbie knew she shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be spying. She'd die if her father saw her. Fearing to be seen, she had pulled a scarf over her strawberry-blond hair, which was light enough to stand out in the darkness. She must not be caught lurking, but she had to know. She had to! The door of the apartment opened, and Davis Thompson stepped out, hand in hand with a young, very pretty, dark-haired woman. Both of them tall, trim, and attractive, they moved as though they knew they were an exceptionally good-looking pair. Laughing, they drew close to each other, and he bent to kiss her. It was a light, quick kiss, but Abbie doubled over in pain. It felt as if someone had socked her hard in the stomach. She watched her father and the woman run to his low-slung red sports car. Before she could react, before she could think, the car had driven away. Abbie let herself slide to the ground, sitting cross-legged in the dark. She stared at the stillbright front window of the apartment, hating the woman who lived there and hating her father. All through the seventeen years of her life, Davis Thompson had called Abbie "Daddy's girl," and she had loved this special nickname. He had been a real daddy then. He'd played ball with her and gone to her Fathers' Night dinners at school and applauded her piano playing at recitals. Lately, though, he had become so different that Abbie wondered if he could possibly be the same person. Davis Thompson known to nearly everyone in the south Gulf Coast town of Buckler, Texas, as Dr. Davis Thompson, professor of English at Buckler College suddenly dyed his hair to cover the gray at his temples, wore expensive sports coats over cashmere turtleneck sweaters, bought a car that would fit a movie star's lifestyle, and walked out on his family. "You must understand, Sandra, I'm not being fulfilled any longer," her father had told Abbie's mother just before he left. "Life should be rich and complete.'' "Davis, are you serious?" Mrs. Thompson's voice had wavered with shock. He raised his voice as if he were arguing not only with her, but with himself. "I've given this sincere and weighty consideration," he said. "For a long time I've felt that my life here is nothing." Frozen in the hallway, Abbie couldn't help overhearing the conversation. She had gasped and leaned against the wall for support. Mom and Davy and she were nothing? "Is there someone else?" Abbie's mother had asked. Her voice came out raspy and choked, and she had to ask the question again. "Be reasonable," Dr. Thompson had said. "It wasn't working with us. You know that." "No, I didn't know. I thought . . . well . your moodiness . . . I mean, when you didn't get the promotion to department head, I assumed . "Perhaps I would have got it, if I'd had more support from you," Dr. Thompson had snapped. "More support?" Mrs. Thompson's voice had risen. "After all I've done But the back door had slammed shut. Realizing that her father had left, Abbie had run to cling to her mom. Now Abbie dug her fingers into the circle of freshly turned earth that surrounded the tree. As her hands slid over the ring of small, smooth stones that bordered the circle, she whispered to her absent father over and over, "How could you not want us? How could you?'' She tried to look away from the lighted apartment window. Behind the goNixon, Joan Lowery is the author of 'Nobody's There' with ISBN 9780440419877 and ISBN 0440419875.