by Joy Fielding
“Holy crap,” said Michelle, the words disappearing into tufts of steam upon contact with the frigid air. “How does anyone live here? It must be forty below.”
Caroline shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her legs growing numb inside her thin wool pants, as they waited in a small line of travelers for a cab. “The Fairfax Hotel on Stephen Avenue Walk,” Caroline directed the driver as they climbed into the backseat.
“Is it always so cold here?” Michelle asked. “My ears are frozen.”
“It takes some getting used to,” the cabbie said pleasantly, his Pakistani accent melodic and thick. “Summer is very nice.”
“Too bad Lili didn’t call in July,” Michelle said to her mother.
They didn’t speak again until they reached the hotel half an hour later. The drive into the city had been as uneventful as it was uninteresting. A flat landscape covered in snow. Michelle was right, Caroline thought. It did feel as if they’d landed on the moon.
The hotel was an old gray stone building, maybe ten stories high. Caroline paid the cabdriver in American dollars and they hurried into the lobby to escape the bitter wind. The lobby was surprisingly warm, the walls painted eggshell beige, the carpet a rich weave of brown and gold. Brown leather sofas and chairs were strategically placed throughout the large room, and a round oak table stood in the middle of the rug, a huge arrangement of colorful silk flowers at its center. But Caroline noticed only the empty sofas and chairs.
“She’s not here,” Michelle said, giving voice to Caroline’s thoughts.
They approached the reception desk. “I’m Caroline Shipley. I have a reservation,” she told the young man behind the counter. He had curly blond hair and a gap between his front teeth that seemed to widen when he smiled.
He typed something into the computer in front of him. “Yes, here you are. You’re booked for one night, possibly two. Is that correct?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Wait a minute,” Michelle said. “We’re not actually going to check in, are we? I mean, what’s the point? She’s not here.”
“What else would you have me do? There isn’t another plane till tomorrow.”
“Is there a problem?” the clerk asked.
“No,” Caroline told him. “We’re good.”
“We’re good and crazy,” Michelle said, not quite under her breath.
“Could you see if there are any messages for me?” Caroline asked.
The young man glanced back at his computer. “No. Nothing.”
“You’re sure? Could you look again?”
Michelle groaned audibly. “There are no messages, Mother.”
“No messages,” the clerk repeated. “Do you prefer smoking or nonsmoking?”
“Smoking,” Michelle said.
“Nonsmoking,” Caroline said, their voices overlapping.
“Come on, Mom. Give me a break.”
“If you have to smoke, you’ll do it outside.”
“I’ll freeze to death.”
“Better than dying of cancer.”
“Nice one, Mother.”
“Nonsmoking,” Caroline said to the waiting clerk.
“King-size bed or two doubles?”
“Two doubles,” Caroline and Michelle said in unison.
The clerk pushed a piece of paper across the counter. “If you’ll just fill this out and sign here. And I’ll need an imprint of your credit card.”
Where are you, Lili? Caroline was thinking as she handed over her Visa card. She glanced around the lobby, her eyes seeking out every nook and cranny in case the girl was hiding, waiting for the right moment to announce her presence. Or maybe she knew the young man behind the desk. Calgary wasn’t that big a city. It was entirely possible Lili had come to the hotel, recognized the clerk, and made herself scarce before he spotted her. But she saw no one. “Have you noticed anyone hanging around the lobby? A young girl, about seventeen…?”
“Sorry. I just started my shift.”
“She isn’t here,” Michelle said. “She’s not coming.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You said she’d be here waiting.”
“Maybe something came up. Maybe she got delayed.”
“Or maybe she’s not coming.”
Caroline pushed the completed form back to the clerk, noting the unobtrusive security camera mounted on the wall behind his head. Maybe if they’d had security cameras at the Grand Laguna…But that was fifteen years ago, she reminded herself, before such precautions became the norm. And it was Mexico, where even today such measures were haphazardly taken. “I’m expecting either a visit or a phone call from a girl named Lili,” she told the clerk, pushing such thoughts from her mind. There was no point in speculating about what might have been, and even less in torturing herself about what never was.
“Is there a last name?” the clerk asked.
“Just call us if anyone shows up,” Michelle said.
“Certainly. Can you describe her?”
Caroline pictured the sketches in yesterday’s paper. “She’s a pretty girl, brown hair, blue eyes, a strong jaw…” Hunter’s jaw, she thought.
“We don’t know what she looks like,” Michelle interrupted. “Just call us if you see some strange girl hanging around.”
“And if anyone phones,” Caroline added, bristling at Michelle’s dismissive tone, “please connect them to our room immediately.”
“Of course. Would you like one keycard or two?”
Caroline hated keycards, had hated them for fifteen years. Maybe if she hadn’t lost her keycard that awful day, she wouldn’t be here now.
“Make it two,” Michelle said.
The young man placed the keycards in a small white envelope and handed them to Caroline. “You’re in room 812. Enjoy your stay.”
“You didn’t have to be so rude,” Caroline told her daughter as they waited for the elevator. “He probably thinks we’re nuts.”
“We are nuts.”
The elevator doors opened and the two women stepped inside and turned to face forward. Michelle leaned over to press the button for the eighth floor. “Wait,” Caroline cried, her hand reaching out to prevent the door from closing.
“What is it?”
“Someone just came into the lobby.”
Michelle stepped in front of Caroline. “For God’s sake. That woman is a hundred and ten years old.” She stepped back as Caroline let her hand fall to her side again. “Get a grip, Mother,” Michelle said as she pressed the button and the elevator doors closed.
—
The room was large and traditionally furnished, with two double beds occupying most of the center space. The carpet was soft and brown, the bedspreads a silvery beige, the papered walls a subtle flowery print. A large-screen TV sat on the bureau across from the beds. A desk stood on the opposite wall, close to the window overlooking the pedestrian walkway that was Calgary’s main street. Caroline stared down at the parade of people braving the elements. The cold weather didn’t seem to bother them, she thought, shedding her heavy coat, and trying to make out the faces beneath the ubiquitous winter hats and scarves. Was one of those people her daughter?
“She’s not there,” Michelle said, as if reading her thoughts.
Caroline sighed. “Which bed do you want?”
In reply, Michelle threw her bag onto the bed closer to the bathroom. “So, what now?”
“I think I’ll go back to the lobby, wait there.”
“Is that really necessary? We already told the guy at the desk to call us if she…”
“You can stay here.”
“As if,” Michelle said, following her mother to the door. “You do realize that somebody somewhere is having a good laugh at your expense.”
It won’t be the first time, Caroline thought, heading for the door. She’d been betrayed before.
—
They returned to their room at four o’clock, having seen no one who even remotely resembled Sa
mantha. By four-thirty, it was already growing dark. By five, the only light came from the streetlamps along Stephen Avenue Walk and the television across from the beds on which they were sitting. The TV was on CNN: a disgruntled man in North Dakota had gunned down his boss and six coworkers after being fired from his job earlier that afternoon. “Maybe we should order room service,” Caroline said, turning on the lamp and reaching for the menu, almost knocking the phone off its hook. She stared at it, as if willing it to ring. But it remained stubbornly silent.
“I’m not really hungry,” Michelle said.
“We haven’t eaten all day. You have to have something.”
“I said I’m not…Fine. I’ll eat. What are my choices?”
Caroline scanned the menu. “They have steak, hamburgers, prime rib…”
“Really, Mother? Prime rib?”
“You used to love prime rib.”
“I haven’t eaten red meat since I was twelve years old.”
“You need protein…”
“I don’t eat meat.”
“How about fish? They have a tuna melt.”
“Tuna smothered in cheese. No, thank you.”
“What about a BLT?”
“I don’t eat bread.”
“For God’s sake, Michelle…”
“Look. Just order me a bowl of fruit.”
“They have milk shakes.”
“Are you kidding me? Am I a child?”
“I don’t know. You’re certainly acting like one.”
“Why? Because I like what I like?”
“You don’t like anything.”
“I like sushi. Do they have sushi?”
“No. And maybe you’re eating too much raw fish. You’ll get mercury poisoning.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, would you just stop?”
A phone rang.
“My God,” Caroline said.
“Relax,” Michelle told her. “It’s my cell.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “It’s Dad,” she said, glancing at the caller ID.
“Don’t answer it,” Caroline urged.
“Yeah, right. Hi, Dad.”
“Don’t tell him where we are.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry I haven’t called. I’m in Calgary with Mom.”
“Shit,” Caroline said, listening as her daughter explained to Hunter where exactly they were and what they were doing there.
“No, I’m not kidding.” Michelle held the phone toward her mother. “He wants to talk to you.”
Caroline shook her head, refused to take it.
“He’s pretty upset,” Michelle said, returning the phone to her purse minutes later. “He wants you to call him.”
“He’s not my husband anymore. I don’t have to talk to him if I don’t want to.”
“Now who’s acting like a child?”
“Are we ordering dinner or not?”
Michelle snatched the menu from her mother’s hands. “Fine. I’ll have the house salad, no dressing, just a wedge of lemon, and a spinach and parsley smoothie, no yogurt.”
“Sounds yummy,” Caroline said, rolling her eyes and relaying Michelle’s order to room service, along with her own order of a steak with fries, a side salad, a slice of cheesecake, and a large Coke. Not that she wanted any of it. She just wanted to make a point. Although she was no longer sure what that point was.
“Just so you know, I’m sorry about the way things turned out,” Michelle said at the end of the mostly silent meal. “I was hoping she’d at least have the decency to call.”
“Me, too. Thanks for coming with me, for being here.”
“Well, I couldn’t very well let you come alone.”
Caroline reached across the portable table the waiter had set up to pat her daughter’s hand, but Michelle’s hands were already moving toward her lap. She wanted to ask what was going on in Michelle’s life, how she really felt about Hunter’s new baby, if she was dating anyone special, if she’d decided whether or not to return to school, if she had any idea what she wanted to do with her life, but she was afraid to disturb this moment of guarded peace. “Peggy tells me you’re doing a great job at the hospice,” she said, choosing the safest option.
Michelle shrugged. “I don’t do all that much.”
“She said you have a real way with the patients.”
“We don’t call them patients. We call them residents.”
“Oh.”
“Patients are waiting for a cure,” Michelle explained. “Residents are waiting to die.”
Caroline took a moment to absorb the casual distinction. “That can’t be easy for you.”
“The court didn’t give me a whole lot of choice, did it? Do you believe in God?” Michelle asked in the same breath.
“What makes you ask that?”
“I was just thinking of this woman at the hospice,” Michelle said. “She isn’t that old. Fifty-ish. A former drug addict, but then she got religion and turned her life around. Everything was starting to look up. She got a job, met this guy, then boom, she got cancer. I was sitting with her the other day and she asked me to read the Bible to her. So I opened it, just randomly. And it’s this passage from Luke about the Prodigal Son. Do you know it?”
“It’s been a long time since I read the Bible.”
“Well, Jesus is telling a group of people this story about a wealthy landowner who has two sons. And one day he decides to give them each a lot of money. One son takes the money, then immediately takes off. ‘See you around, Dad. Nice knowing you.’ And off he goes. But the other son, he stays put, saves his money, works hard. Years go by. The father doesn’t hear boo from the one who left. And then one day, he’s back. And guess what? He’s dead broke. Spent every last dime. Pissed it all away on cheap wine and loose women. ‘Dad,’ he says. ‘I’ve sinned, but I’ve come back home.’ And what does his father do? Does he cast him aside? Does he lecture him, tell him he’s no longer welcome?” Michelle paused dramatically. “No. He welcomes the ingrate back with open arms. He even throws a huge feast to celebrate his return. And the other son says, ‘Hey, wait a minute, that’s not fair. I’m the one who stuck by you all these years. Don’t I deserve a little party?’ But the father says no. He doesn’t see it that way at all. And according to Jesus, the father is right. According to Jesus, it’s better to welcome one sinner back into the fold than to honor the ones who never strayed in the first place.” She shook her head. “I don’t get it. Do you?”
Caroline felt the full weight of the parable fall across her shoulders, like a heavy woolen blanket. “I know you feel I haven’t always been there for you,” she began. “And I’m sorry if I’ve let you down…”
“Wait a minute. You think I was talking about me and Samantha? About you?”
“Weren’t you?”
“I was talking about Jesus.”
“I’m sorry. I just thought…”
“Well, you thought wrong.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not everything is about you.”
Caroline bit her tongue to keep from apologizing again.
“What difference does it make anyway? It’s all so lame,” Michelle pronounced. “God, religion, heaven, hell. It’s just a load of crap.”
“Michelle…”
“Don’t worry. I don’t tell that to the residents.” She pushed herself away from the table and stood up. “I’m going outside for a smoke.”
“Do you have to?”
“I won’t be long.” She fished inside her purse for her cigarettes, held up the package triumphantly.
“It’s dark…it’s cold.”
Michelle retrieved her jacket from the closet, throwing it over her shoulders as she opened the door. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll be back.”
The hours immediately after Caroline discovered that Samantha was missing were a blur of tears, screams, and veiled accusations. “Samantha!” she screamed repeatedly over Michelle’s terrified cries. “Samantha, where are you?” She rac
ed through the suite, Michelle nipping at her heels like a frightened puppy. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”
“What the hell is going on?” Hunter demanded, coming out of the bathroom, his shirt off, toothbrush in hand.
“She’s gone. Samantha’s gone.”
“What are you talking about? How can she be gone?” He ran into the children’s bedroom, emerging wide-eyed and ashen-faced. “Where the hell is she?”
“Oh, God. Oh, God.” Caroline was on her hands and knees, searching the closet, under the coffee table, behind the drapes. “She’s not here. She’s not here.”
“That’s impossible. She has to be here.”
They searched the master bedroom, then searched the entire suite again.
“Mommy,” Michelle kept crying. “Mommy, what’s wrong?”
A terrifying thought crept into Caroline’s brain. Michelle had always been jealous of her baby sister. Was it possible she’d done something to harm her? Caroline had heard stories of resentful siblings dangling babies out of second-story windows. Was it possible that Michelle…? The thought was too horrifying to finish. She rushed to the window between Michelle’s bed and the crib. But the window was too high for Michelle to reach on her own and besides, it was securely locked and impossible for a child to open, let alone close and re-lock. Even so, Caroline threw it open and leaned well over its side, her eyes desperately searching the ground below. The restaurant was right there. Surely someone would have seen or heard a child fall.
Maybe Samantha had woken up and somehow managed to climb out of her crib, then when she couldn’t find her mother, opened the door and wandered down the hall.
Caroline ran out of the bedroom and flung open the door to their suite. She raced down the long corridor, screaming: “Samantha! Samantha, baby, where are you?”
Doors along the corridor opened, people warily poking their heads out, asking what was wrong.
“Have you seen my baby?” Caroline demanded of each curious face. Was it possible Samantha had made her way to the elevators and managed to press the call button? Could she have stepped inside and somehow reached one of the lower buttons? Had she proceeded unnoticed across the lobby and out into the night? Could she, right now, at this very second, be out there in the dark, stumbling blindly on her chubby little legs, toward the ocean? “Where are you, baby?” Caroline cried. “Where are you?”