She's Not There

by Joy Fielding

  He nodded. “I’ve always had exceptional taste in wives.”

  “Yes. You’re a very smart man.” She watched a self-satisfied smile settle on his lips. “So try not to be so stupid this time.”

  Hunter’s smile froze, then quickly thawed. “Guess I should be happy you didn’t call me an asshole.” He leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Call me when you hear from Michelle.”

  “Ditto,” Caroline said, grateful he’d used the word “when” and not “if.”

  She returned to the living room, where Samantha sat wedged between Steve and Mary on the sofa. “Am I the only one who’s hungry?” Mary asked.

  “Chinese?” Caroline suggested, realizing they hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. She was reaching for the portable phone on the coffee table when it rang. Caller ID identified the caller as the Marigold Hospice. “Hello?”

  “She’s here,” Peggy said.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner,” Peggy was saying as Caroline burst through the front doors of the hospice twenty minutes later. “I keep forgetting she switched shifts. Mondays and Thursdays from four to eight. Of course she wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Have you talked to her?”

  “No. It’s been a little frantic since I got here. One of the residents—Kathy—took a major turn for the worse. Apparently she’s been very agitated all day and only calmed down when she saw Michelle, who’s been with her ever since. I called you as soon as I found out.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Upstairs. Room 205.”

  “Can I go up there?”

  “Of course.”

  Caroline hugged her friend, then took the stairs two at a time. She slowed down when she reached the second floor, proceeding cautiously along the long corridor, the sound of piano music accompanying her. Room 205 was at the far end of the hall, past the open kitchen and dining area, and the so-called “great room” where the residents and their families could relax or watch TV. Right now, a middle-aged man and woman were sitting on the dark green leather sofa in front of the fireplace, engaged in quiet conversation, while a gray-haired woman played a selection of Christmas carols on the baby grand piano next to the window. In the corner, a beautifully decorated tree stretched toward the high wood-beamed ceiling.

  Caroline realized she hadn’t been here since Becky’s death.

  You want to know what I think? Caroline heard Becky say as she approached the closed door to room 205. I think Samantha’s alive. I think she’s alive and beautiful and happy…I think whoever took her was just desperate for a baby…that she’s being well cared for and loved.

  At least she had that to be grateful for, Caroline thought, regretting that Becky hadn’t lived to see Samantha’s safe return.

  “Are you here to see Kathy?” a young woman asked. She had dark skin and close-cropped curly orange hair. The name tag clipped to her white nurse’s uniform identified her as Aisha.

  Caroline kept her voice low. “I understand that Michelle is in with her.”

  “Yes. Kathy’s pretty low. It could be just a matter of minutes now.”

  “Excuse me, nurse,” the woman who’d been sitting on the sofa said, approaching. “My brother and I were wondering if we could talk to you for a minute about our father.”

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Aisha said to Caroline.

  “Of course.” Caroline stood for a moment in silence, then took a deep breath and quietly pushed open the door to room 205.

  Michelle was sitting to the right of the hospital bed, her back to the door, her hand clutching the skeletal fingers of the young woman lying in the middle of the bed. Classical music emanated from the radio on the nightstand. On the walls, at irregular intervals, were taped pieces of white paper bearing the words I AM BLESSED in large handwritten black letters.

  I am blessed, Caroline repeated silently, deciding she should leave before Michelle saw her. Her daughter was safe. That’s all she needed to know.

  “Michelle,” a soft voice cried out.

  “I’m right here,” Michelle answered. She reached over with her free hand to caress the young woman’s forehead.

  “You won’t leave me?”

  “I won’t leave you.”

  “I’m afraid.”

  “I know. I’m here.”

  The young woman sighed, her breath rattling in the still air.

  “Are you in pain?”

  “No.”

  “Is there anything I can get you?”

  “No. Just don’t leave me.”

  “I won’t. I’ll stay right here.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Tears filled Caroline’s eyes and blurred her vision. Again, she tried to back away. Again, Kathy’s voice stopped her.

  “Michelle…”

  “Yes?”

  “What do you think happens after you die?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you believe in Heaven?”

  Caroline held her breath, waiting for Michelle’s answer.

  “Yes,” Michelle said finally, “I do.”

  Caroline brought her hands to her lips to prevent the cry she felt building in her throat from escaping.

  “Do you think I’ll go there?”

  “There’s absolutely no question in my mind.”

  “I haven’t always been a good person. I’ve done things that God wouldn’t like.”

  “We’ve all done things,” Michelle said. “It’s what makes us human and God…God.”

  “What do you think it’s like? Heaven, I mean.”

  Michelle took a long, audible breath, her shoulders rising and falling with the effort. It was several seconds before she spoke. “I think Heaven is where the slate is wiped clean and all your past mistakes are forgiven,” she began, her voice gaining strength and purpose as she spoke. “I think Heaven is the place where you become your best self, where you’re everything you always wanted to be.” She took another breath. “I think Heaven is the place where dreams come true.”

  “I like your Heaven.”

  “I do, too.”

  “Michelle…”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  Michelle nodded.

  “I’m going to close my eyes now.”

  “Okay.”

  “You won’t leave me?”

  “I’m right here. I promise.”

  The room fell silent. After a few minutes, Caroline watched her daughter release Kathy’s hand and move to the red call button at the side of the bed. She pressed it, then resumed her seat, returning Kathy’s hand to hers.

  “What’s happening?” the nurse whispered, coming up behind Caroline and pushing the door fully open. Michelle rose to her feet, her eyes connecting with Caroline’s as Aisha walked briskly to Kathy’s bedside and confirmed she was gone. “Thank you,” she told Michelle as a second nurse entered the room. “You were wonderful. We’ll take care of things from here.”

  “You were wonderful,” Caroline echoed as her daughter stepped into the hall and closed the door behind her. She was still wearing her gym clothes.

  “You’ve been eavesdropping again.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. You’re getting pretty good at it.”

  “What you said to her was beautiful.”

  Michelle shrugged. “I don’t believe any of it, you know. That stuff I said about Heaven.”

  Caroline smiled. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I just told her what she wanted to hear.”

  “Whatever. I’m so proud of you.”

  Michelle shook her head. “Don’t be.” She turned and hurried down the corridor, through the great room, kitchen, and dining area to the stairs.

  “Michelle, wait,” Caroline called over the sound of piano music that trailed them down the stairs and into the main floor reception room. They stopped suddenly, both women temporarily startled by the sight of Caroline’s face on the television scr
een above the fireplace. Even though the sound was off, the message she was delivering to Aidan Wainwright came through loud and clear.

  “Guess that high road got a little lonely,” Michelle said with a grin.

  Caroline smiled. “I have to admit it felt great to get off it.”

  The volunteer receptionist, a tiny young woman whose pixie haircut took the edge off her very serious face, glanced from Caroline to the TV, then back to Caroline before blushing bright pink and burying her head in the book she’d been reading.

  “Why weren’t you there?”

  “I’m sorry,” Michelle said. “I was planning to come. Honestly.”

  “Where were you? We called and called.”

  “I went to the gym, worked out for a while. I had every intention of coming home and changing, going with you to the press conference. But, I don’t know, I started walking and just kept going. I ended up in Balboa Park. I remembered you told me that you used to go there all the time…Anyway, I was just sitting there on one of the benches, trying to clear my head. I figured I still had plenty of time. When I finally checked my watch, it was almost noon. I knew I’d never make it home to change and get over to the precinct for twelve o’clock, so I didn’t even try. Maybe that was my subconscious plan all along. I don’t know. Instead I went to a sports bar and watched it on TV.”

  Caroline couldn’t help being alarmed. “You went to a bar?”

  “Don’t worry. I just had a Coke.”

  “You had a Coke?” Caroline repeated, even more surprised. When was the last time Michelle had had a soft drink?

  “And a whole bowl of peanuts. God—I’m so awful.”

  “You aren’t awful because you ate a bowl of peanuts.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “You still aren’t awful.”

  “I didn’t go to the press conference…”

  “Which ultimately worked out pretty well…”

  “I didn’t answer my phone. I knew it was you calling, but I let it go to voice mail.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter. The least I could have done was call.”

  “Okay, you should have called. Which makes you a little inconsiderate, but hardly awful.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I understand that the girl I just watched comforting that poor woman upstairs may be many things—difficult included—but she is anything but awful.”

  “I’m so stupid…”

  “You aren’t awful and you aren’t stupid.” Caroline spun toward the receptionist. “Do you think you could give us a minute here, please?”

  The volunteer immediately jumped out of her seat, breathed a big sigh of relief, and left the area.

  “You’re not stupid,” Caroline said again.

  “This is all my fault.”

  “What is your fault?”

  “Everything.”

  “How can anything be your fault?”

  “I was jealous and spiteful…”

  “You were just being protective. Some girl calls out of the blue, says she’s Samantha. You were right to be suspicious.”

  “I wanted her gone.”

  “That’s only natural. It’s going to take time to adjust…”

  “I’m not talking about now,” Michelle said.

  Caroline felt her entire body go numb. She glanced from Michelle to the TV, saw herself standing ramrod straight in front of a microphone just prior to her outburst. MOTHER HURLS EXPLETIVES AT REPORTER scrolled across the bottom of the screen. “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

  Michelle fell back against the nearest of the four overstuffed chairs. “I’m not talking about wanting Samantha gone now,” she repeated. “I’m talking about wanting her gone fifteen years ago.”

  A buzzer sounded, signaling that someone was at the front door, wanting to come inside.

  Caroline felt seeds of panic sprouting in her chest. “What do you mean?”

  The buzzer sounded again.

  “Someone’s at the door,” Michelle said. “We have to let them in.” She crossed over to the big red button on the wall by the front desk and pressed it, holding it down until the lock on the outside door released and a man and a woman stepped inside the glass foyer. Michelle held open the inner door into the reception area. “If you wouldn’t mind signing in,” she told the couple, who obliged without comment before heading down the main floor corridor.

  “What are you talking about?” Caroline asked as soon as they were gone. “You couldn’t have had anything to do with Samantha’s disappearance.”

  “I resented her,” Michelle said, her eyes brimming with tears. “She was so pretty and perfect. She never cried. She never did anything wrong. You’d get this dreamy look on your face whenever you saw her. Like you couldn’t get enough of her. I remember wanting you to look at me like that, and thinking it would be so nice if she just went away…”

  “You were a child. Just because you wished she’d disappear didn’t give you the power to make it happen. You can’t blame yourself…”

  “You don’t understand.” Michelle shook her head in frustration.

  “Then tell me. What am I missing here?”

  “I was awake.”

  Caroline fell back against the desk as if she’d been struck. “What?”

  “The night they took Samantha. I was awake.”

  “You were awake?” Caroline repeated, her brain struggling to catch up to her voice. “You know what happened? You saw who took her?”

  Michelle’s voice got very small, as if she were five years old again. “I don’t remember what woke me up, whether I’d been dreaming, or whether I heard the door open and that’s what woke me. I just remember lying in bed, and hearing someone moving around in the next room, and I was scared because, somehow, I knew it wasn’t you. And they came into the room and I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. I felt someone brush past my bed and I opened my eyes just a tiny, tiny bit and I saw them take Samantha out of her crib and put her in some sort of carrying case. And then I closed my eyes again and kept them closed, even after I heard the door shut. I could hear the music coming from the restaurant outside, people laughing. I kept waiting for them to bring Samantha back. I didn’t understand what was happening. Eventually I fell asleep. And next thing I knew, you were screaming.”

  Caroline fought to make sense of what she was hearing. “You saw someone take Samantha? Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I did.”

  “What do you mean, you did?”

  “Not to you. You were beyond hysterical. So was Daddy. He was yelling. Everybody was running around, shouting that Samantha was missing, and then the police came and the room was full of people. Your friends were there, and Uncle Steve and Becky, and people from the hotel. Everybody was talking at once. I was scared. I was confused. And…and…”

  The volunteer receptionist suddenly reappeared, opening the glass door and poking her head slowly through the doorway, like a turtle cautiously emerging from its shell.

  “Go away,” Caroline said without so much as a glance in her direction.

  The woman promptly withdrew.

  “And then Grandma Mary came and took me home,” Michelle continued without prompting.

  “You told her,” Caroline said, her voice flat. “You told your grandmother what you’d seen.”

  “She insisted it was all a dream, that I’d been traumatized by what happened, that I was confusing fantasy and reality, and that I shouldn’t say anything because it would only upset everyone even more. And time passed, and what can I say? I was a kid. Part of me was actually glad Samantha was gone. No more sweet little baby for everyone to fuss over. Just me. Somewhere in my twisted little five-year-old brain, I actually thought that with Samantha gone, I’d have you all to myself. So I pushed her out of my mind, convinced myself that Grandma Mary was right, that what I thought I’d seen was just a dream, a story I created aft
er the fact, that what I saw happen hadn’t really happened at all. At some point, I guess I just repressed the whole thing altogether. Until yesterday.”

  “What happened yesterday?”

  “It all came rushing back. What I’d seen that night, what I heard. It wasn’t a dream.” Michelle stared at her mother. “I know what happened that night, Mommy,” she said, a name she hadn’t called her mother since she was a little girl. “I know who took Samantha.”

  It was after seven o’clock when they arrived home. They’d spent much of the last hour crying, their heads spinning from trying to make sense of the evening’s revelations, but now their heads were clear and their eyes were dry. It was important to stay calm, to keep fury at bay. “You ready?” Caroline asked, turning off the car’s engine and swiveling toward the girl in the seat beside her.

  Michelle nodded.

  Caroline gave her daughter’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Then mother and daughter pushed open their car doors and exited the garage, cutting across the manicured lawn to the front door. A police car was sitting at the foot of the driveway, keeping the few still lingering reporters a respectful distance away. Hunter’s BMW was parked a few houses down, just behind Steve’s older-model Buick.

  “Dad got here pretty fast.”

  Caroline nodded. She’d called from the car and told him to get his ass back to her house as quickly as possible.

  “Get my ass back…?” he was stammering as she disconnected the phone.

  “Caroline,” a reporter called out now, “do you have time for a few questions?”

  “Anything you’d like to add to what you said earlier?” another shouted as she opened her front door and stepped inside.

  She turned toward them. “Stick around.”

  “Stick around?” Hunter parroted from the foyer. “Did I just hear you tell a reporter to stick around?”

  “Trust me,” Caroline said. “This is worth sticking around for.”

  “You’re back,” Samantha said, joining them in the foyer, her relief at their safe return evident on her face.

  “Can’t get rid of me that easily,” Michelle said, sniffing at the air. “What smells so good?”

  “Grandma Mary ordered Chinese. There’s lots left, if you want any.”