“No, yes, they tell me all of this. I am not worried for me here. There will be no problems.”
“Julien, we’re going to do everything we can to find her,” Ed assured him. “We have the descriptions and cars are out all over town looking for your little girl. All the tollbooths, Amber Alert, Jersey…they’re all aware and searching.”
Julien took a step back and patted the window frame before turning away.
Ed watched Julien take a few steps. He wasn’t going to ask, but now felt compelled, “Hey, Julien?” he called him back to the car.
Julien paused then returned to Bale. He bent down into the window again.
“I noticed, back at the stairs, you’re having some trouble walking. What’s that about?”
“A ladder…” He had never said the words before. It was the story Rachael told, over and over again, but not the usual excuse he gave to others. He felt as if some disconnected entity spoke for him, offering his secrets without his consent.
“You fell from a ladder? Geez, was it recent?” Ed pressed.
Julien scrambled for words, “It was…no…not very recent.” He didn’t know what to say.
Julien looked out at the street through Bale’s windshield and lied, “A few months ago. A while now.”
Ed shook his head, “Must have been a pretty nasty fall.”
Julien nodded then gave the passenger door another pat, “Find my little girl, Ed. Bring her home to me, please.”
Ed pulled away from the curb and Julien entered the building, as fragments of memories, bits and pieces of the nightmares which plagued him, began to flash through his mind…
The ladder…
Is any of this even real?
Did I fall from a ladder?
Jessica is missing…
“Must have been a pretty nasty fall.”
They are only dreams, Rachael…
A woman…
“Might have been a trench coat.”
Jessica...
“A silver Mercedes.”
A ladder…
“…a nasty fall.”
They’re only dreams…
Julien entered the elevator and anxiously pressed the buttons. The car moved slowly from floor to floor. His mind wandered through hazy imagery, as faces and places from his nightly dreams grew clearer. He could picture the barn now, the coop, the house, the property.
Older woman…
Redhead…
Mercedes…
His lips parted and he drew a long deep breath, “Arlette.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Melodic humming broke the silence. The bedroom, decorated in soft pink and crisp white, was toasty warm, all but a whistle of wind, which slipped through a thin crack in a window frame. Arlette caressed Jessica’s hair as she recalled the nursery rhyme tune and attempted to lull the child to sleep. The bedside lamp, its base made of tiny, hand painted, carousel horses, turned slow laps beneath a pretty, tasseled shade; which held Jessica’s attention. To the lamp’s side, sat a framed photo of Sarah.
Jessica poked a finger out from beneath the blankets then stretched her arm across Arlette’s lap. She reached for the rotating horses. Her tiny hand hovered momentarily then shifted an inch, to nudge at the glass protecting the photo.
Arlette’s eyes brightened and she grinned from ear to ear, “Do you remember her?”
She watched as Jessica studied Sarah’s likeness and encouraged the little girl’s interest with her zealous tone.
“Yes, of course you remember Sarah. Sisters are in each other’s hearts forever.”
Arlette tucked Jessica’s arm below the sheets and pulled the blankets up to her chin, “Now you get a good night’s rest, sweet girl, and tomorrow we’ll take you home.”
Jessica’s eyes lit up and she smiled, knowing she would be returning home after just one sleep.
Arlette continued caressing the little girl’s hair and humming softly.
Julien ransacked his dresser and closet then entered the bathroom where he tossed random necessities into the side pocket of a duffle bag. He moved to Jessica’s room, still ravaged by the police search, earlier that day, and packed some of her things in with his. It all made better sense now; faces clearer, names connected to faces and places, and events, now more vivid. The older woman he saw in his nightmares, was a woman named Arlette. If he could find her, he was sure he would also find his daughter. If he allowed himself to think about it for long, he would change his mind and easily return to his familiar state of denial. He moved fast and stayed focused, refusing to allow rationality to cause hesitation.
The blue jay squawked and Julien turned around to face it.
The bird...
I forgot about the damn bird.
Faced with another decision, he opened the cage and grabbed the jay with a fast swipe of one hand. It began to raise a racket as Julien carried him out to the balcony. He leaned against the chest-high wall, the bird clasped in his palms and hovering over the city. He refused to give in to contemplation. Noise below caught his attention and stopped him. Several news vans lined the front curb. Reporters and camera men cluttered the walkway, awaiting developments in the case of his missing daughter.
Merde!
He would have to get past them if he intended to follow through with his plan. That being the least of his worries, he would also have to find a way to explain to the police, especially Ed Bale, why he had to rush out of town when his child is missing.
He held the bird upward, still screeching in his grasp, and released it with a harsh shove into the night sky. Julien hurried inside, closing the sliding door without ever looking back. He grabbed the duffle bag and Jessica’s favorite bear then left the apartment. He had one stop to make before heading upstate.
In the parking garage, he loaded the car and left the building via a side exit and without confrontation. By the time he reached the expressway, the city traffic cleared and he made it to Long Island in record time.
He pulled into South Oak ready to argue with the night staff.
A guard, seated outside the automatic doors, watched him. Julien could sense the man’s reluctance. He walked purposefully, offering a brief nod in the guard’s direction as he passed. He hoped his show of confidence would convince the guard he had the right to be there after hours.
Inside, he passed through the abandoned waiting area and turned down a long corridor. He continued walking to the elevator. The echoing sound of his uneven steps made the silence around him all the more deafening. He waited for the elevator then rode the car as he mapped out his drive to Kings Hollow in his mind.
Will I be able to find this house?
Can I possibly know the way?
The elevator doors parted and, with arms folded, Debby Pence greeted him, creating a barrier between Julien and his destination.
“Julien,” she said, in a tone as dry as stale toast.
“’allo Debby. You are working the night shift tonight?”
“I always work the night shift on Monday.”
The doors began to close and Debby slapped her hand against its frame with a vehemence, which summed up her mood.
“I’m so glad to see you. You see, I ‘ave a problem...”
She did not want to hear it, “Julien, you know our visiting hours.”
“I know, I know it.” He searched for the right words. “I ‘ave an emergency. I must leave town…now…right away. This is very sudden, I know, but…but, I can’t go without…”
She sighed impatiently.
“Debby, please. I cannot leave without seeing her. Without saying goodbye.”
He thought he saw the fiery intensity of her glare dim, ever so slightly.
He continued, “I promise you… I will be away for perhaps several days… A week, maybe? It would not be right… I will not stay long… Please…?”
Debby, still blocking the door, held his gaze for a long moment then glanced down the empty hallway. She stepped back to let him pass, “Did you thi
nk I wouldn’t see you on the monitor?”
“No, no. I was coming to see you…to ask for permission.”
She let out a laugh that reverberated down the silent corridor, and then caught herself and brought her voice down, “Oh, you were coming to see me? Oh, okay, but you didn’t know I worked the night shift on Mondays…got it.” She grinned and led the way.
Inside the dark room, Julien approached the bed floodlit by a fluorescent wall fixture above the headboard.
Debby spoke softly, “She’s sedated. Might not even know you’re here, Julien.”
“Dreaming again?”
“No. A tough session today.” Debby stepped back pointing at him and narrowing her eyes, “One hour, Julien…that’s it. One hour,” she warned.
He nodded and watched the nurse leave the room.
Julien sat on the edge of the bed looking down upon Rachael as she slept. He ran the side of his hand gently down her cheek; she didn’t stir.
“Rachael?” he whispered.
Again, she did not react.
Julien sighed and turned away. He sat staring into the darkness outside the window, attempting to make out the figure of a large oak tree he knew stood just beyond the glass. His mind wandered and he remembered the sound of Rachael’s laughter. He could see her smile, and thought of all her little idiosyncrasies; most of which had, at times, driven him mad. He felt his somber expression morph into a smile, and he closed his eyes, wanting to remain in that blissful moment for as long as he possibly could. He began to drift off, exhausted by the day, and quickly woke himself. He turned back to face Rachael, knowing all too well, she would not wake before he had to leave. He reached into the top drawer of her nightstand and removed a pad of paper and a pen.
Rache,
I come to see you but you needed to rest. I have to leave for a little while. It came up very sudden, but I do not want to leave without seeing you first. I will be back very soon. I do not know the exact day, but it will not be for very long that I will be gone. I will try to phone you if you will take my calls.
Rachael, I want to say to you that I know you are trying. That you will always be my life and I will wait until you are wanting to come home. When you feel you are ready, I will be there waiting. You want to fight with me and to say it is not true that I want you to be at home. Rachael, I will never stop wanting for you to come home. I miss you every day and what is dreams or the memories, it is not a matter. What happened in that time, in the house upstate, it is not your fault. I did not remember this things, what you say you do to me, at the place in Kings Hollow. Let it go. We both have to let it go. There are times in the night, I miss you so much, it is as if I cannot bear to breathe without you. I am alone Rachael. In a crowd of people, I am still alone, if you are not there. You can be angry with me, but be angry at home, where you belong. I need you very much. I do not know how to do this, living without you for very much longer. It is too much for me to bear. Everything. Jessica. Work. Life. I miss you even in my sleep. I need you.
Now, I am going to go for a time. I love you very much, and for whatever it is you say you do, I forgive you. You do not have to feel bad. You do not have to punish yourself. And for whatever I have done, I am hoping you will one day forgive me too.
xo, Julien
Julien placed the pad on a rolling table, where they would serve her breakfast in the morning and she would find it. For a few moments, he sat watching her sleep. He longed to hold her; just once before he left. He hadn’t been allowed to touch her for so long; Rachael, hardly tolerating his visits. He carefully stretched out on the narrow bed beside her, holding her close. He tried to recall the last time they lay side by side. He took her hand and listened to her breathe, taking her into his senses as much as he possibly could. He knew, if she had not been sedated, she would have pushed him away. She would have spent the entire time telling him to leave, insisting she had done horrible things, demanding he move on without her, and warning him of the dangers brewing within Jessica, and then insisting it was all her own fault. He couldn’t be sure she would ever willingly come home again, but he meant what he wrote; he would wait for her forever.
CHAPTER SIX
Julien pulled over to the side of the road, leaving the engine to idle. Ahead, a thin sliver of morning sun peeked up from behind the mountains, casting a pale light and allowing him a dim view of his surroundings. Across the road, sat the real estate office of Arlette Vandermark. The converted home had seen better days, surrounded by a gravel parking lot, now hardly more than sparsely pebbled dirt, and littered with decaying debris. Its once white paint, now curling away from discolored shingles, collecting road dust and exposing dry rotted wood.
Julien left the Lexus running and crossed Route 23 looking for any sign that the agency was still in operation. He stepped up on the rickety porch and peered through a grimy front window. A floral patterned couch, a few leather chairs, a wooden coat rack with one beige cardigan dangling from a hook. He walked around to the side of the office and peeked through another window. An oak desk, three chairs, a basket filled with a teetering stack of paper. There was no way to tell for sure, but it appeared the office was still a functioning business, regardless of the neglect toward its outside maintenance. An equally weather-beaten sign still hung by the curb, branded with the Vandermark name.
Julien walked back to the car and, relying only on a combination of fleeting memories and gut instinct, he felt compelled to continue in the direction of the looming mountain ahead, in search of the old Victorian.
Carl Lind observed Arlette preparing breakfast for Jessica. It was the most enthusiasm he had seen from the woman in over five years. Even his own brother, the town’s mayor and Arlette’s husband, Bernie Lind, had turned his back on her when the well ran dry and she could no longer provide him with material pleasures. With Sarah gone, any redeeming qualities Arlette once possessed were now also gone. She could no longer prove useful to the town or its people, and even the sophisticated and youthful appearance she magically maintained for decades had vanished. The only trait Arlette had not lost since Sarah’s passing was her arrogance and that wasn’t helping her cause.
It was two years after they buried Sarah when his wife, Arlette’s sister, Estelle, had also passed away. She now lay in the ground beside Sarah in the family plot. Arlette had not attended her sister’s funeral. On that day, Lind waited for the small gathering to disperse from the graveside then went to look for her. He found Arlette in the barn on the property of the old Victorian, sitting on the dirt floor, with her back to the coop door, only inches from where Sarah had been found bludgeoned to death. Disheveled and catatonic, Lind knew it was not the loss of the child, but the loss of the power, which rendered Arlette’s depressive state. He brought her back to his home where she remained ever since. Though the circumstances were not what he would have hoped for, it was where she was meant to be and where, in his opinion, she should have been all along.
Some twenty-three years earlier, Arlette had been married to attorney and philanthropist, Bing Vandermark. Bing was a good man, known about town for his generosity and jovial way. Everybody loved Bing, but he was a busy man, an important man, who never seemed to be home for more than a day or two each month. A glimpse of him around Kings Hollow would draw crowds to the local tavern, all wanting to hear Bing’s animated and enthralling tales, each longing to share a drink with this small town celebrity of sorts. Bing’s visits home were all too brief, most notably for Arlette. It was during this time when she and Carl began sharing secret moments of passion in the Victorian’s barn. Her home, no matter how lonely, was sacred, and she would never allow their affair to desecrate the bed she shared with Bing.
After Bing’s death, Carl divorced his then wife of nineteen-years, to pursue Arlette Vandermark with the hope they would commence a more legitimate relationship; he was sure she would want the same. When Arlette ceased to return for their usual jaunts in the barn, he assumed she was putting up appearances. After al
l, she had just buried her husband. He would wait for her, patiently, returning time and time again, only to be disappointed.
Carl was devastated when rumors began to surface, hinting of Arlette taking up with his own brother, the town’s mayor, Bernard Lind. He confronted Arlette only to be mocked by the woman he loved so deeply.
He would forever remember her words—
Let me see, Carl…a small town doctor…the mayor? What did you think would happen?
When he threatened to go to his brother with the details of their long-term affair, Arlette turned their years of lovemaking against him and reduced their passion to a meaningless fling, nothing more than a fantasy in Carl’s own mind. Broken and still very much in love, it had been easy for Arlette to manipulate Carl into marrying and caring for her simpleton sister, Estelle, with the promise of a continued, discrete affair. It was the only way he could have her and, for Carl, far better than not having her at all.
Estelle came with a child, also a simpleton. There had been some talk that the girl had actually been Arlette’s child from yet another affair. Still others asserted the child was kin to neither woman. Complicating matters, there were further stories suggesting the little girl had been to blame for the death of Bing Vandermark. Carl did not know what to believe and really did not care. He held on to the hope that one day, destiny would prevail and he would share his life, respectably, with the woman he loved, whether she deserved his affections or not; he would never stop loving her. Now, Fate had finally found its way and he had her to himself; though, watching her cook their breakfast, he could never have imagined Arlette would be such a shell of the assertive woman he once revered.
Arlette placed a plate of eggs, toast and bacon before Jessica. The little girl picked up a crisp strip of bacon and nibbled it between sips of juice.
WISHBONE II: ...Some Wishes Should Never Be Made Page 5