That’s why, when she got pregnant a year later, it caught her off guard.
It was a happy surprise, but a surprise all the same.
Her pregnancy was easy, the stuff that all mothers dream about. She glowed, never had a day of morning sickness and only gained twenty pounds.
Joe put together the crib and hauled in his grandmother’s rocking chair, the one that had rocked him to sleep on so many nights when he was small. Meg sat in it, her elbows resting on the worn wooden armrests.
“We’re really doing this,” she observed, her hand on her swollen belly, her skinny legs extended like sticks.
Joe laughed. “It’s too late to turn back now.”
Meg stared at her hand, which was ever so swollen, and the way her wedding ring cut into her finger. She should have taken it off, but that had felt wrong. She’d be naked without it. It wasn’t ostentatious, but it was hers. It was a symbol.
Joe loved her.
She loved him.
And soon, they’d experience a whole new level of love together.
* * *
In the hospital, the entire family sat anxiously in the waiting room. From down the hall, Gen could hear Meg screaming, and pushing, and shrieking. The labor was long and intense, and seven hours into it, Joe came to get her.
“She’s asking for you, Gen,” he told her, his face exhausted.
Gen immediately went to her sister’s bedside and pushed her sweaty hair out of her face.
“Now, listen,” she said. “This baby is like, what? Six pounds? Show it who is boss right now.”
Meg snarled as another contraction hit her, but she did have some renewed vigor.
She pushed, and Gen held her leg up as the doctor instructed. Meg’s strength, in her overwhelming pain, was astounding, and it took all of Gen’s strength to keep Meg’s leg in place.
“Push,” she told her sister. “You can do this.”
Meg pushed, and thirty minutes later, Joseph Matthew McCready-Harris was born.
“Joey,” Meg said, already drunk on love as she stared into her son’s wrinkled face, his little finger wrapped around her own.
Gen couldn’t have been happier for her sister, and even as she held her nephew and inhaled his newborn scent, she wasn’t tempted to have one of her own.
“I’m going to be your favorite aunt,” she told the baby.
No one pointed out that she was his only aunt.
It was a beautiful day as they all huddled around the bed, in awe over the tiny bundle. In a lifetime where good days and bad days were scattered, this one was one for the books.
17
Meg, Now
“Mama!” Joey’s face was smudged with syrup, and his hair stood up in spikes. Meg smiled.
“Hey, baby,” she said into her screen. “Daddy made you pancakes?”
Joey nodded happily. “Yup. With strawberries.”
“Nice,” she said. “Do you know that you’ve got one slipper on and one slipper off?”
Joey nodded again. “Yup. I lost my Elmo one. And my dinosaur.”
“Oh, no,” she sympathized. “Did you look under the couch?”
Joe’s head popped into the screen behind their son, and he had the missing slipper in his hand. “Just did. Mystery solved.”
He slid the slipper onto Joey’s wiggling foot. “They never tell you that hog-tying should be a prerequisite for parenthood.” He chuckled, holding his hand up in victory when he was done.
Joey wriggled out of his grasp and crawled out of the screen, growling like a triceratops.
Meg’s husband sighed and looked at his wife. Even through the screen, he could see she was tired.
“Babe, you’re not sleeping,” he told her.
“I know. I try. But...”
“I know. Is there any news?”
Meg shook her head. “The waiting is the worst. I feel like I should be doing something, yet there’s nothing for me to actually do. I pace around here and the walls close in, so I go out and walk around on the sidewalks, but nothing helps.”
Joe didn’t know what to say, because who would?
There wasn’t a handbook for when a loved one went missing.
There were no rules to follow, no protocol to observe.
“Have we grown apart?” she asked suddenly, her eyes boring a hole through the screen.
Joe’s head snapped up.
“What? Why would you ask that?”
Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. It’s just... Thad isn’t here. They were married for so long. You’d think he’d care enough to be here. No matter what their issues are now. And their divorce was so sudden it scares me. If it can happen to them, it could happen to us, Joe.”
He was already shaking his head. “Sweetheart. Are we newlyweds? No. Have we matured? Yes. But we love each other. We’ve got a son, a family. We’ve got a bond.”
She nodded but was clearly still bothered.
“Have you been able to sleep without me?” she asked.
Joe paused.
“I’ve gotten used to it,” he finally answered.
“Me, too,” she replied simply. “See? Once upon a time, we couldn’t sleep apart.”
Joe smiled gently. “Meg. You are not your sister. I’m not Thad. We’re fine.”
“We’ve had our issues, too, Joe,” she pointed out.
He froze, as a painful memory flitted across his face, and then he shook it away.
“Everyone does,” he answered. “People make mistakes. People grow from them. We certainly have. We’re good people, Meg. We have to let past issues go and stop borrowing trouble. We’re solid. That’s all that matters.”
“We’re not Gen and Thad,” Meg stated, as if to clarify.
“We’re not Gen and Thad,” Joe agreed.
Meg exhaled and seemed to let it go. “Okay.”
Her husband grinned. “Now, I have to go wrangle our son into clothes. And you have to take a shower. Unless you’re fully embracing the street urchin look.”
She laughed. They hung up, and Meg did take a shower.
She hadn’t packed many clothes, since she thought she’d only be here for a few days, so she also made her way out to buy a few things and grab lunch.
The sushi reminded her of Gen, and her eyes teared up as she chewed.
No one else in the family liked it aside from the two of them.
She pushed her plate away.
What if they couldn’t find her sister? How often did that happen? That someone just disappeared forever?
“Ma’am, are you all right?” the server asked, and Meg nodded, tossing down a handful of bills and fleeing the restaurant before she broke down.
Outside, she leaned against the building and sucked in air, her hands pressed to her eyes, willing them to stop leaking.
This wasn’t helping anything, and she knew it.
She gathered herself, placing both hands on the cold bricks, allowing the cold to ground her. She felt it in her fingertips and let it radiate through her palms and to her wrists.
She was here. In this spot. She was safe.
But Genevieve was not.
She swallowed, hard, and put that aside.
As a surgeon, she had learned long ago to compartmentalize.
She literally became quite good at purposely not feeling something. After losing a patient that she’d given her all to, she’d learned to seal those emotions away, not letting them escape.
She had to. Because when she went out to talk to the families, to tell them that she’d done everything she could, but it wasn’t enough, she couldn’t allow herself to feel that. If she did, she’d fall apart. If she did, it would chip away at her until she wasn’t able to cope.
And she’d never let that happen.
So she drew
on that strength now, that ability to conceal her feelings, to push down her emotions until she couldn’t even see them anymore.
Some people believed that surgeons were unfeeling.
It was a misconception.
Surgeons were just incredibly gifted at putting things away, out of sight. It was something that came in handy so many times in life.
Like right now.
Meg straightened, and smoothed her coat.
She would handle this like the superwoman she was. She had no other choice.
Her phone rang, her assistant calling to nail down some questions for Dr. Callahan to present that evening at a conference. He’d been covering for her like a champ, and she’d remember that. It was always good to remember those who were in your corner no matter what.
She answered the questions, made a few comments and hung up.
It was odd how life went on, even when hers was stopped.
She longed to be back at a convention, back in normalcy, back where she belonged.
She didn’t belong in limbo, not knowing what was happening.
You have such a God complex, her sister had told her once. You can’t control every situation, Meggie.
That was true, but she didn’t have to like it.
18
Gen, Then
Gen didn’t know when they’d started drifting apart.
Had it taken two years? Three?
She really hadn’t even noticed until she watched Joe and Meg teasing each other tonight in front of the Christmas tree. They still liked each other. They still craved each other. She could sense it.
She herself had gotten so immersed in her fictional worlds that she had let the real one slip away.
She glanced at Thad sitting on the sofa, talking with her father over a glass of scotch.
Thad wasn’t innocent, either. He had gotten complacent and absorbed in his work, as well. Becoming a partner had been huge for him, and then after that, he had become consumed with ambition, wanting more, more, more.
Greed was something that crept up on a person. It overtook people who would never have suspected they’d succumb. People like Thad.
He’d never much worried about having things, until they started having them. Then after that, he worried about buying more, and then more, until their lives were completely different than what they’d started out with.
She caught his eye now, and he nodded, acknowledging her, but went immediately back to talking politics with her father. She felt annoyed, but oddly not concerned.
Shouldn’t someone feel concerned when they realized their marriage was so radically different than what they had imagined it would be?
Thad excused himself, tall and slender in his black slacks, and made his way over to her.
“Your dad is a staunch and hopeless democrat,” he told her.
“So am I,” she reminded her husband.
“I’ll forgive that,” he announced, refilling his glass. The cubes of ice clinked together as he poured the scotch. She used to love the smell of it on his breath, especially combined with his masculine cologne. It felt so classy, so familiar. So Thad.
But now, she was ambivalent.
Unmoved.
What had happened to them?
Their life was picture-perfect. Last year, they’d taken a second honeymoon to Greece, sailing through the Mediterranean on a luxurious yacht. He’d given her a new wedding ring, a huge symbol of his love, but it hadn’t really felt that way, she realized now.
It had felt like a symbol of his own prestige. It was a symbol of how far he had come. It didn’t really have anything to do with her.
They hadn’t really had sex in forever, something that they were equally responsible for.
She wasn’t interested—she was too immersed in spinning tales of perfect love on her laptop, and he never took the time. How long had it been?
Six months?
A year?
Her head spun when she realized it had actually been a year. That couldn’t be healthy, yet she didn’t really care.
They’d changed. Grown apart.
And she didn’t know when it had started.
“Aunt Nini,” Joey squealed, opening a big box. “I wanted this! Thank youuuuu!” He launched himself at her like a cannon, and they almost tumbled backward onto the floor.
Joe helped her up, apologizing, but she laughed.
“It’s fine,” she insisted. “Wanna play the game, Joey?”
He beamed, and they set up the game console and immediately launched into a video game.
They kept at it for hours, consumed with the fun, and it was evening before Gen realized that Thad wasn’t there.
“He had to go to the office,” Meg told her. “He said to tell you he’d be back in time for dinner.”
“It’s dinner now,” Gen answered, gesturing at the fully set Christmas table, complete with flickering red candles.
Meg was silent, because what could she say?
Gen tried to call, but Thad didn’t pick up.
So she ate a full plate of turkey, cranberries and mashed potatoes.
She had been in bed for a couple of hours when Thad came in. He tried to be quiet, but she was lying in wait, without any intention of falling asleep before she’d spoken with him.
“Where have you been?” she asked, annoyed. “Everyone kept asking.”
He examined her. “Are you upset because they asked, or because I had to work on Christmas?”
She turned her head. “That’s a stupid question.”
“Is it?”
She didn’t answer.
“Your silence speaks volumes, Gen.”
“Is there someone else?”
He was silent, completely still.
“Would you even care if there were?”
She sucked in a breath.
“That’s an outrageous thing to say. I’ve never shared my things well.”
“I’m not a thing,” he answered calmly. “Never have been.”
“Do you even still love me?” she asked, and he pulled at her resistant arm, trying to get her to lie against his chest. She resisted.
“I will always love you,” he said firmly. “We’re not newlyweds anymore, Gen. But I love you. Always have.”
“I love you, too,” she answered, and finally melted in next to him.
She laid her head on his shoulder, and really thought about it. She did love him. It was different, but it was still there. This was surely normal for couples after years of marriage.
He fell asleep a few minutes later, in a way that she always marveled about.
“How do you sleep so fast?” she whispered, watching his face. “Don’t you have thoughts?”
Her own sleep was always late in coming, since her mind spun constantly. She was considering a plotline when Thad’s phone vibrated on the nightstand, ringing relentlessly.
She glanced at the clock. It was 11:56 p.m. Who would be calling him so late?
She was just reaching for it to check the number when it rang again.
It was a Chicago number.
“Hello?” she answered it quietly.
There was silence.
“Hello?” she said again.
She could hear breathing and some muffled background noise.
But that was it.
“Why are you calling my husband?” she asked.
The line went dead.
There was no way that had been a work call.
She replaced the phone on the nightstand and rolled away from Thad, facing the opposite wall. She always said that she’d never tolerate cheating. That it was a deal breaker. That she couldn’t live with it.
Now, though, it looked like it was upon her.
And things are always different when
they are in front of you.
19
Meg, Now
Meg pulled up Gen’s website and scanned through the contents. A blog where she mused about various things, a collection of her books, pictures.
She skimmed the pics. Gen at various book signings, Gen with other authors, one of Gen and Thad, although she tended to keep her private life off her social media. And finally, one of Gen and Meg from two Christmases ago.
Meg stared at the photo, at the empty smile in Gen’s eyes, and wondered how she hadn’t realized back then that Gen was so unhappy at home.
It was the usual story, she supposed. She was just ensconced in her own life, and hadn’t seen outside of her own bubble. It was normal, but that didn’t make it any better.
She clicked on the Contact Me page. It was an email form, but it did list the name of her agent, Karen Markus, for book inquiries.
She looked up Karen’s contact details and called the agency.
At first, the receptionist wasn’t willing to transfer her call to the agent, but once Meg explained, she was put right through.
“Dr. McCready?” Karen came onto the line. “What is my assistant talking about?”
Meg drew in a breath and explained how Gen was missing. Karen listened intently.
“When was the last time you spoke with her?” she asked the agent.
“Last week. She seemed fine,” Karen answered. “She was annoyed because she had writer’s block, but that’s par for the course. Every writer gets it sometimes. I told her to just plow through, to keep writing, and one day soon, she’d feel it again.”
“Fake it till you make it?” Meg asked.
“Pretty much. I’m so sorry to hear all of this. Gen is a treasure. I adore her.”
“I was wondering if I should post on her social media channels and just... I don’t know. Raise the flag for people to watch for her. Or to watch for anything unusual from her accounts.”
“You would probably need to see what the police think about that first,” Karen said wisely. “Just to be sure.”
“Good idea. Listen, if you hear from her...”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
“Thank you, Karen.”
The Last to See Her Page 9