The next morning, I combed the phone book and selected several attorneys' names who specialized in child social services cases. I was able to get an appointment with one the next day and when we met her, we laid out the main points of our sad tale. She seemed very sympathetic and assured us that with my stable home life and job and my ability to help care for Lisa, there should be no issues getting Amy back. She told us her office would file the paperwork that very day.

Back in our hotel room, I called my boss to extend my vacation for another week and called my banker to release some funds from my trust. I knew countless expenses lay ahead, and I wanted to be prepared. For the next few days, Lisa and I just rode around looking at the scenery. There wasn’t much to see, but just being together was enough.

The lawyer did her thing and Lisa had to be examined by a doctor as part of the process. Background and financial checks were run on me and, of course, both came back clean. I also had to take a paternity test; no DNA in those days. Things moved very smoothly and, looking back from my twenty-first-century hi-tech vantage point, the simplicity of the seventies was better in some ways. People talked to each other and sympathy for our cause spread far and wide, helping expedite the process. No cold-hearted computers getting in the way of simple kindness.

By the following Tuesday, Lisa had Amy back in her arms. The court ruling was that I was given full custody and Lisa would have visitation rights. Once Lisa passed a year of sobriety, another court could cancel the order, and she would be free. A year of waiting, such a simple thing. And without knowing the future which lay ahead, we joyously walked out of the hotel and caught a flight back to my home in Palo Alto.

Lisa took to the glorious sunshine and the ocean like a duck to water. My apartment was within walking distance of the beach and Lisa took Amy there almost every day. I returned to my job and thought about our future. I knew I wanted to ask her to marry me, but was unsure if she was ready or even willing. Regardless, I shopped for a ring during my lunch breaks and found one that seemed perfect for her. I explained my situation to the jeweler, and he agreed to give me fifteen days when I could return the ring if things fell apart. Minus a small fee, of course.

That very night, right after we put Amy to bed, I got down on one knee and proposed

“Lisa, my sweet, darling Lisa,” I began, “I know the past year has been mostly terrible, but I truly feel things have turned around. And from the moment I met you, a part of me knew I wanted you in my life forever. Will you marry me?”

Lisa looked stunned, immediately covering her mouth with her hand. But the crinkle around her eyes told me it was a happy surprise.

“Oh, Bill!” she cried. “This is such a surprise. I’d hoped you wanted to marry me someday, but also worried that all my baggage might get in the way. Of course, I’ll marry you!”

A few weeks later we were married on the beach, by a free-spirited man of the cloth. We had a small gathering since we had made only a few friends and I had only a few coworkers I wanted to invite. It didn’t matter, the ceremony was for us and not anyone else. For our honeymoon, we traveled south and spent a week in San Diego, with little Amy, of course. At that moment, three happier people did not exist on Earth.

Our first six months as a family passed in the blink of an eye. Lisa learned to cook, and I learned how to change a diaper and bathe a squirming baby. We were so unschooled at so many things, but managed to keep from doing any serious harm. Sure, there were occasional squabbles and disagreements, but the makeup sex was always fantastic and allowed us to reprove our devotion.

Through the months, Lisa had been receiving random drug testing ordered by the court. A call would come in at different times and Lisa would have twelve hours to get to the lab. Then the results would be delivered to us via the mail. Every test came back clean, until it didn’t. That was when our world began to unravel. It started with a call to me at work from a court clerk back east. Lisa had failed her most recent testing. She was to be retested in forty-eight hours to confirm.

I tried to explain that now that we were married, the whole concept of custody seemed moot. But the hard truth was that courts have wide-ranging powers when it comes to minors. The clerk patiently, but firmly explained that married or not, if Lisa failed another test then her visitation would be revoked, and she couldn’t live in the same house as Amy. The court would fax the files to the social services in Palo Alto, and they would surely make a surprise home inspection. They would then enforce the ruling up to and including evicting Lisa from the home. I sat back in my chair and stared out the window at the rolling ocean waves and wondered what the fuck had happened.

That night, at home, I decided to break the news gently. At that point, we didn’t know for sure that the test was right, so we just needed to prepare for the next one. After her initial shock wore off, we got down to planning.

“Lisa, I know this is upsetting but we both know it can’t be true, right? I know you aren’t back on drugs, so the test must be wrong. But the court doesn’t know you as well as I do, so we need to make the next test successful.”

“Of course, it can’t be true, but how do you fight a bad test?”

“I spoke to a few guys at work who dabble in drugs recreationally, and they gave me several things to try. We can go over the list, but the main thing I need you to do is flood your system with water, at least a gallon a day. Can you do that?”

“It’ll be hard, but I promise I’ll do it. Anything to hold on to you and Amy!”

I’m not sure which of the magic bullets my office mates gave me worked, but Lisa’s second test was clean. Life went back to a somewhat predictable schedule, though Lisa seemed to be on edge all the time. Some days she would be sullen and not want to leave the apartment. On other days she would snap at me for the littlest thing or berate Amy for spilling her juice. Attempts to ask her what was wrong just led to assurances that everything was fine.

About two months later, she failed another test. We tried all the magic bullets, but this time she failed her second test too. Things then happened rapidly. Within days, we had child services at our door on a Saturday demanding to inspect our apartment. They spent an hour poking around, but there wasn’t much to see in such a small space. Then they turned their attention to Lisa.

They had her whole file, including information we had never divulged. Over and over they asked the same questions and though I tried to sit with her, Amy’s needs were never-ending. I walked back into the room and saw the one officer shining a flashlight into Lisa’s eyes and for a brief moment, I thought maybe he was enamored like me with her shade of blue. But no, he was confirming his suspicion that Lisa was partially impaired but skilled enough to hide it well. The next thing I knew, they called for a mobile unit to take a blood sample.

Once the blood was drawn and the officials had left, I didn’t know what to think. I still believed Lisa was clean, but the walls seemed to be cracking.

“These people are no joke,” I began, “if they do this much for a false alarm, imagine what they do when the parent really is on drugs?”

Lisa didn’t look at me, she had her hands clamped tight and stared at the floor. The weight of the world seemed to be upon her. Finally, she spoke, in a voice almost too soft to hear.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t even describe how sorry I am. I’m fucking things up, and now they’re going to make me leave. It was just a few pills. Nothing serious. Just a little pick me up during the day when things got a little crazy. No big deal.”

I felt like a dump truck had just run over me. The admission was so unexpected that I could barely process her words. After a minute, I was able to clamp down my anger and ask questions. I learned that she met the guy during one of her daily beach trips. Some guy, just wandering from person to person, striking up a conversation and then mentioning that he had supplies if they were interested.

“I thought my addiction was under control,” she pleaded. “I said no every time he asked until that one day when we’d had that bad night with Amy and my nerves were frazzled.  I just needed a little something to boost my energy. But as time passed, I needed more and more pills, always trying to guess when a damn test would occur. But with today’s blood test, it’s all going to come out.”

“Lisa, I love you, and I always will. But you can’t be taking care of Amy if you’re high. We need a permanent solution!”

“Are you kicking me out too? Am I going back to the life you rescued me from?”

Her voice was trembling, and she looked like a scared little girl. I quickly went to her and hugged her as tightly as I could. I buried my face in her neck and breathed in her scent.

“No, no, I would never kick you out. Never think that. But the officials can and will once that blood test comes back. I’m proposing that I search tonight for the best addiction recovery center in the area, and we enroll you first thing tomorrow. That will give them what they want and after thirty days when you complete the program, they won’t be able to stop you from returning home.”

As she processed my words, I could see a mixture of hope and utter fear on her face. The thought of being forced out scared her to death, but the reality of being hospitalized was even more daunting. Eventually, she agreed to my plan and I got to work looking for a facility.

After making some calls, I quickly learned that ‘the best’ is a hard thing to judge. Some rehab centers were dedicated to celebrities, with price tags to match. Others were more reasonable, but with no way to verify their success other than the marketing pitch each gave me over the phone. I finally ended up calling my boss and asking for advice. He expressed his sympathies and said that many in senior management had family members with similar issues, and one facility consistently was utilized. He gave me the name and I called them to make an appointment for the next day.

It was a beautiful campus, and they admitted Lisa that very day. The first two weeks were intense and no visitors were permitted. I did get to visit her in the third and fourth weeks, and while she seemed happy on the surface, I felt that her soul ached for something she couldn’t describe. But she did complete the program on schedule and was then allowed back into our home with Amy. The only warning was that the random drug testing would continue for another year.

Her first months back home were nice, and we were able to act like a normal family. Amy had entered the toddler stage, which added a whole new layer of stress for Lisa to handle while I was at work. Our sex life was quite satisfying, though over time Lisa became quite aggressive in the techniques she preferred. Lots of biting and slapping and even the occasional leather belt entered our sex play, which was not always comfortable or even enjoyable for me. But I loved her dearly and just accommodated her wishes the best I could.

We made it almost to the six-month point following her stint in rehab before Lisa failed another drug test. She then failed the follow-up test, and we had our biggest argument to date. I wanted her to reenter rehab, but she wanted to handle things on her own.

“I don’t need some goddamned spiritual guru telling me to calm my inner spirit and drive the drug demons from my body. It’s all psychobabble bullshit!” she yelled at me.

“Lisa, baby, I know some therapy is goofy, but all the medical support and other benefits of the program far outweigh the silly parts. You have to go back in!”

Like ping-pong, our argument went back and forth, but never really resolved anything. Ultimately, it was the court’s threat of evicting Lisa from the house that forced her back into rehab. This time her treatment did not go as smoothly as she had a few relapses and had to restart several parts of the program. Eventually, seven weeks after she entered, she completed the program and was allowed back home.

Unfortunately, what came back to us was an altered version of the Lisa I knew. She was sullen and depressed, and she decided to meet a psychiatrist to see if he could help. But all he did was start her on psych meds, which just made her numb. Lisa was still able to take care of the apartment and tend to Amy’s needs, but much of the joy in her life seemed to have been bleached away. I was completely lost as to how I could help her.

One move we did try was to put Amy into preschool a few days per week to give Lisa a break. It also benefitted Amy, who now had a larger number of kids her age to interact with. But ultimately, having too much spare time was not good for Lisa’s mental state. With nothing to do, she stayed in bed for much of the day or would walk the beach for hours and then forget to pick Amy up at school. I complained to her doctor, and he decided to change her meds, which had an immediate positive effect on Lisa.  Again I had a glimmer of hope.

About three months after her second rehab stint, I came home from work to find that Lisa had cooked my favorite meal and had arranged for Amy to stay with the sitter overnight. The table was set with candles and our best dishes, and Lisa seemed happier than she’d been in months.

When asked, she simply said, “The doctor told me that each day I had a choice as to how I allow myself to feel. And that deciding to feel happy was just as much within my control as deciding to feel sad. So today I decided I wanted to feel like I did during that magical summer we first met!”

“Such a simple concept,” I replied. “Please let me know how I can help you every day to feel the way you want to feel.”

“Well,” she growled, “Dinner will be ready in about an hour, so how about we have some fun?”

I was sitting on the sofa, and she walked over and sat on my lap. We embraced and kissed, and I realized how much I’d missed just plain romance. I slid my hands under her shirt, surprised to find she wore no bra. Her nipples were hard little points, and she moaned softly into my mouth as my fingers massaged her breasts. Her ass began grinding on my lap and as my erection grew she slid back and forth along my shaft.

While I was ready for extended foreplay, Lisa was more frantic and forceful. She pulled my shirt off and then pulled her shirt over her head. This gave me a wonderful opportunity to suck her nipples but she wasn’t interested in that. She stood quickly and helped me yank my trousers and boxers off, allowing my stiff cock to stand tall, oozing drips of pre-cum. Just as quickly, she yanked down her shorts and panties and kicked them aside. I was horny but it was nothing like the fire burning within Lisa.

She straddled my lap and lowered herself onto my cock. I helped line things up and then gasped as my glans slipped inside her warm, wet vagina. She paused for only a moment before lowering herself to my lap. I slid completely inside her silken vault and immediately felt her vaginal walls gripping me. With no effort on my part, Lisa raised and lowered herself on my steel spike and started humping me with enthusiasm.

I held her hips as her ass slapped rhythmically against my thighs. Her beautiful breasts bounced and jiggled in my face, and I used one hand to fondle them. She leaned in and kissed me hard, and I felt her tongue slide through my lips. This new position allowed her clit to rub against my pubic bone and stimulated her to hump me even faster. I was enjoying it all, but it seemed a little too frantic, and I would have liked to slow things down.

Five minutes of manic thrusting and Lisa came like a stick of dynamite. She screamed out as her orgasm hit, and her vagina almost crushed my cock with a violent clench. I began spurting hot ropes of semen against her cervix as my orgasm peaked and the tip of my penis burned from the force of ejaculation. A minute later she stopped thrusting and relaxed on my lap with my cock still buried. We kissed and hugged and fought to catch our breath. It was mind-blowing sex, but I couldn’t help feeling that it wasn’t real.

After we had cooled down and cleaned up a bit, dinner was ready, and it was one of the best she’d ever made. We both were ravenous; afterward, as we did the dishes together, it almost felt like old times. We found an old movie to watch on TV and by the end of the evening, I began to believe that perhaps we had turned the corner. Lisa was upbeat and engaged, and we snuggled for hours watching the old black and white romantic film.

That night in bed, our lovemaking was slower and more sensuous and when she took my cock in her mouth I almost cried with relief at the memories it triggered. Our sex was relaxed and with me on top, I was able to attend to her every desire. Because I had climaxed so forcefully only a few hours before, I was able to delay myself and help Lisa to multiple orgasms before I finally flooded her pussy with another load of my seed. I fell asleep thinking that this is what it’s like to be happy.

Saturday morning dawned and I awoke slowly to the sounds of the surf and gulls through the open bedroom sliding doors. The drapes were billowing from the salty sea breeze and my entire body felt relaxed. I rolled over and saw that Lisa was already awake and hopefully getting started on a big pot of coffee. It had been a late and physically strenuous evening, and I was looking forward to coffee with Lisa on the balcony.

I went to pee and ran a quick toothbrush through the fur in my mouth, and then padded into the living room. What struck me first was the silence. No radio or TV playing softly in the background. No gurgle of the coffeepot. Just an eerie quiet. Looking around, Lisa was nowhere to be seen. I checked Amy’s room and our other bathroom, but both were empty. Then I realized, she must have decided to take an early walk on the beach. I knew it was one of her favorite activities, and I was a little miffed that she didn’t ask me to join her.

I decided to make a pot of coffee for when she got back and grabbed the water pitcher, so I could fill the brewer chamber. That’s when I saw the envelope. Funny how something so ordinary and simple and unadorned can cause your gut to clench and your bowels to turn to water. It was plain white with my name written on it in that beautiful script of Lisa’s that I knew so well. For a brief moment, I considered burning it, believing if I never read it, then the terrible news it was certain to contain would never become reality. But of course, that was nonsense, and with trembling fingers, I unsealed the flap.

Inside was a single sheet of thick, ivory paper, written in Lisa’s lovely hand, evidence of all the penmanship training she received in her private schooling. My eyes were already wet, which made it tough to read through the blur. But I blinked rapidly and her words came into focus.

My Darling Bill,

From the moment I met you, I knew you were the one. The person who could fill my life with joy. The person who would grow old with me. The person who could rescue me from my parents. And for a brief, glorious time, you did just that. But then it all fell apart, and my life was never the same. During those horrible months, I did things and saw things that I can never tell anyone, not even you. But it all still lives inside my head, never letting me forget.

I know my drug use disappoints you, but it’s the only way I have to deaden the horrors playing in my brain. I can’t trust myself to act rationally, and I can’t trust myself around Amy as she grows and becomes more strong-willed. And while I know you’d do anything to help me, I fear I am beyond salvation. Therefore, for Amy’s protection and yours, I need to go far away.

Please know that I love you both desperately and that wherever I go you both will always be in my heart. Perhaps, someday, I will be well enough to see you both again, but until then, goodbye my sweet husband. Please give Amy the biggest kiss from me when you see her today.

I love you both,

Lisa

I read and reread the letter, hoping that the words would somehow change. Then I checked the closet and saw that some clothes and her suitcase were gone, further proof that it was real. I called the police, and they sent someone around, but there wasn’t much they could do. Lisa was an adult and even with her drug history, the note she left gave no indication of duress or that she intended to harm herself.

On Monday, I learned from my bank that Lisa had withdrawn some money, but not enough to raise any alarms. I didn’t care about the money, I just wanted her back. Over the following months, I hired multiple private detectives, but none ever found much in the way of leads. She just seemed to vanish. Back then, without online searches and social media, it was very difficult to find someone who didn’t want to be found. And clearly, Lisa did not want to be found.

Amy missed her mom, but was still young enough to adapt to the change. She did well in school and as the years passed, she followed in my footsteps and developed an interest in computers. By the time she received her master’s degree in artificial intelligence, she was engaged to another computer nerd, and they were married that same year.

I retired along the way, and Amy and her husband gave me three wonderful grandkids to dote on. They’re all teenagers now, and the cycle of life continues. Now I use much of my leisure time leveraging the web and old news articles and such to try and find my darling, Lisa. I still believe she’s out there somewhere, healthy and waiting, and hoping I’ll rescue her one last time. It’s a nice fantasy, and one I dearly pray is true. Because frankly, the alternative is far too horrible to even consider.

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Dear Reader, thank you for reading the conclusion of this story based on real events. Even now, some portions of the tale are too sad to tell. But most of the salient points have been described in this story.