Can't Stop Loving You

by Janelle Taylor

  “There it is,” he said, breaking into her thoughts.

  Through the windshield, she saw the red-brick, two-story Valley Falls High School building just ahead, on the right. She slowed the car and pulled up at the curb in front of it.

  “Summer school is definitely in session,” she said, observing a cluster of students and a teacher on the broad front lawn, sitting in a circle with textbooks in their laps.

  “And there has to be somebody here who can tell us something about Amber,” Noah said, his hand on the door handle as she shifted into park. “Let’s go.”

  “But we can’t just interrupt classes,” Mariel pointed out, adjusting the nearest air-conditioning vent so that it blasted cool air directly into her face. Hopefully her hair would dry a little. “And I doubt that we can just stroll into the school building unannounced, either.”

  “Okay, so what do we do?”

  “We need to wait until they’re done, and then try to intercept one of the teachers or some of the students who look like they’re around Amber’s age.”

  “How long do you think we have to wait?” Noah asked, leaning back against the seat.

  “Probably not long. Summer sessions are usually half day, and it’s already past noon.”

  “I keep forgetting you’re a teacher,” Noah said, smiling. “But the more time I spend with you, the easier it’s getting to picture you standing in front of a classroom holding a piece of chalk.”

  “I’m trying to figure out whether that’s a compliment,” she said.

  “It is.”

  Their eyes met, and she quickly looked away. She turned on the radio, suddenly needing to banish the silence. She fiddled with the dial, switching from a romantic Mariah Carey ballad to an old rock classic. Steely Dan. Then she remembered that Noah loved Steely Dan, and that they had once made out in his dorm room with Steely Dan playing in the background.

  Did he remember, too? Was he thinking of that now?

  “Maybe we should wait outside,” she suggested, tapping the steering wheel nervously.

  “Are you kidding? We’ll melt. It’s horrible out there.”

  “Those kids don’t seem to mind.”

  “It’s probably hotter in the classroom,” Noah said. “The windows are open, so the school isn’t air-conditioned.”

  She nodded.

  More silence.

  “Is your school air-conditioned?” he asked.

  She realized he was grasping at straws, trying to make conversation. The Steely Dan song had probably triggered the same memory in him that it had in her.

  Or was she assuming too much?

  It was impossible to know how he felt, or whether last night had been purely physical for him, rather than emotional, too, as it had been for her. They hadn’t talked about what had happened while it was happening, and they certainly hadn’t talked about it this morning during the awkward five-minute walk from the inn to the diner.

  Nor did they discuss it now, even though there was little else to say.

  She told him that her school wasn’t air-conditioned, and they talked about the weather. Mariel caught herself on the verge of wistfully saying that it would feel good to dive into a swimming pool. That was what had gotten her into trouble last night.

  It seemed no matter what she did, no matter how she tried to condition herself, she couldn’t seem to avoid lustful thoughts of Noah. Making love to him last night hadn’t sated the urge that had lain dormant for more than a decade; rather, it had awakened a voracious appetite that was impossible to ignore.

  Finally, the students gathered on the lawn disappeared back into the school. Moments later, the front doors opened again, and teenagers began trickling out.

  “They’re done,” Noah said, opening his door. “Come on.”

  Mariel stepped out of the car and was immediately struck by the oppressive heat and humidity. She glanced up at the gray sky. “It looks like it’s going to rain,” she commented.

  “Not until tonight,” Noah said.

  “How do you know?”

  “I was talking to Susan in the lobby of the inn this morning while I was waiting for you to come down.”

  Mariel was momentarily amused, remembering that the older woman had correctly forecast the heat wave the first night she had arrived. She must spend a lot of time sitting around watching the Weather Channel, she thought, before she forced her thoughts back to the matter at hand.

  She was expecting some difficulty locating a teacher who would be willing to speak to them about Amber, but to her shock, they hit paydirt on the first try when they waylaid a middle-aged woman on her way down the front steps, clutching a familiar black teacher’s planning binder. She had short, curly black hair and wore dangling earrings and a tank top over a long sarong-style skirt with sandals. Obviously, she wasn’t one of the more conservative teachers in the place, which Mariel took as a good sign.

  When they struck up a conversation, she told them that her name was Patricia Gray, that she did teach at the school, and that yes, she did know Amber Steadman.

  Then her friendly expression turned wary. “Are you reporters?”

  “No, actually, we’re—”

  “Family friends,” Mariel interrupted Noah. She had no idea whether it was public knowledge that the Steadmans had adopted their daughter. In fact, she wondered belatedly whether Amber had been aware of it all her life, or if it had been something she recently discovered. If she had accidentally stumbled across adoption papers, she would undoubtedly have felt betrayed by her parents. Betrayed enough to run away?

  “We’re close friends of the Steadmans,” Noah picked up where she had left off, “and we’re concerned that the police might not be exploring every possible avenue in their investigation. We thought if we contacted people who knew Amber—and you said you did know her?”

  “I do,” the woman said, and her use of present tense jarred Mariel. She hadn’t realized Noah had been using past tense, almost as if…

  No. She didn’t want to think about that.

  “Have you taught her?” Mariel asked.

  “Yes, she was in my English class this past year, and I directed her in the school musical last fall. She played Dolly Levi.”

  “In Hello, Dolly,?” Mariel asked, smiling. That was one of her favorite musicals. She had played Irene Malloy, not the title character, in her own high school production of the same show. She was struck by the realization that Amber might have inherited her musical talent from Mariel. Then she remembered the piano in the Steadmans’ living room and wondered reluctantly if they had nurtured it.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to think that they had encouraged Amber…

  No, she should be glad that they had been able to provide her with piano lessons and sheet music.

  But she couldn’t help wanting to take credit for something—wanting to believe that Amber carried a piece of Mariel, that it was genetic, a gift passed from mother to daughter.

  The teacher said, “She’s very talented. Funny, too. She had everyone laughing.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Mariel said.

  “So she was—she is—a happy kid, then?” Noah asked.

  Mrs. Gray paused, seeming to think that over. “She was happy as far as I could tell,” she said. “But toward the end of the school year, she became subdued. I heard through the grapevine about her parents’ separation, and I figured that Amber’s behavior change went with the territory.”

  Mariel nodded. She had been thinking the same thing, ever since Henry Brando had told them about the Steadmans’ split. The breakdown of her family might have been enough to cause Amber to run away. It might have also been the reason she had gone looking for her birth mother.

  “Is there anything you can think of that might indicate that Amber was in some kind of trouble?” Noah asked. “Drugs, or running with a bad crowd…?”

  “No.” The teacher shook her head. “The only vice she seemed to have was surfing the Internet. She spent a lot of
time on-line, in chat rooms, and e-mailing her friends. I was aware of it because she spoke about it often. She was always mentioning something she’d seen or read on-line. She even wrote an essay for me about the therapeutic benefits of on-line shopping,” she added with a smile.

  Mariel smiled faintly, because she knew it was expected, but her mind was racing. The Internet was rampant with sexual predators who preyed on young teenaged girls. Could Amber have fallen victim to one of them?

  “So she was just a normal kid, then?” Noah asked.

  “Absolutely. I told the police the same thing. There was nothing I could see, aside from the fact that she had recently become more quiet and withdrawn in class. But with her parents’ marriage breaking up, I don’t think that was unusual. Then again, I’m just a teacher. Teachers only see what students allow them to see. I’m sure Amber’s friends can provide more insight into what was happening in her life before her disappearance.”

  “That was going to be my next question.” Noah said. “Who are her closest friends? We’d like to talk to them, too.”

  “Sherry Leaman is her closest friend. Sherry and Nicole Wise. The three of them ate lunch together every day this past year.”

  “How can we find them?” Mariel asked, remembering that both names had popped up in the research she and Noah had done at the library last night.

  “Nicole works over at the ice cream parlor at the mall out on Route 182.”

  “What about Sherry?” Mariel asked.

  “I’m not sure. One day when I was monitoring the lunchroom, I overheard her saying she’d be away this summer at camp in the Catskills, so I’m not sure if you’ll even be able to find her. She wasn’t one of my students, and I don’t know much about her.”

  “Is there any way you could check the school records and give us her home address, Mrs. Gray? Hers and Nicole’s?” Noah asked.

  Mariel knew what the answer would be before the teacher responded.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, a little less friendly than before. “School records are confidential.”

  “We understand,” Mariel assured her. “You’ve been really helpful.”

  “I just hope Amber turns up soon,” the teacher said worriedly. “I don’t have a good feeling about this. I’ve been troubled ever since I heard she was missing.”

  “So you don’t think she ran away?” Mariel asked.

  “I don’t know what to believe,” Mrs. Gray said. “Even if she did run away, there’s no way of knowing that she’s safe. My brother is a cop in Vegas. All sorts of terrible things happen to teenagers on the streets.”

  Mariel felt sick inside. “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Gray,” she said, shaking the teacher’s hand before she and Noah headed back to the rental car.

  “Nicole doesn’t come on until six o’clock—she’s closing tonight,” the uniformed, college-aged girl behind the counter told Noah and Mariel, pausing in her rigorous scooping from a tub of fudge ice cream.

  Noah turned to Mariel. “That’s more than two hours away,” he said, checking his watch. “What do you want to do?”

  “Have some ice cream, before anything else,” she replied, watching the girl ladle hot fudge onto the ice cream she had just piled in a paper bowl. “Then I have to find a phone and reschedule my flight.”

  “Ice cream sounds good to me,” Noah said, realizing he hadn’t eaten anything yet today. He hadn’t had an appetite until now. First the discussion with the private investigator, then with Mrs. Gray—and through it all, his growing worry about Amber laced with uneasiness about being with Mariel.

  It was almost enough to make him wish he had never come here, that he had never heard from Mariel again or known that their daughter had disappeared. There was something appealing, in retrospect, about the limbo he had endured for all these years. Then he had been insulated from the emotions that battered him now, growing more intense with every moment that ticked by.

  “How long are you going to stay?” he asked Mariel, as they studied the flavor board above the counter.

  “Maybe through the weekend,” she said. “Or maybe, since I wasn’t planning to be here longer than a few days, I should fly home on Wednesday and make sure everything is okay at home. Then I can fly back here again for a longer stay.”

  “Why wouldn’t everything be okay at home?”

  She rolled her eyes. “My sister is in a tizzy because she’s getting married, and I’m more or less playing the mother-of-the-bride role. And my dad—well, I just worry about him. Leslie’s got her hands full with her wedding, and somebody needs to make sure he’s doing all right.”

  “Doesn’t he live on his own in Florida?”

  “He lives in a retirement community. It’s assisted living, more or less. And he has a bunch of cronies. They all look out for each other. When he’s up north, it’s up to Leslie and me.”

  “Does he spend his summers back in Missouri, then?”

  “This year he’s been there from the middle of May, and he’s not going back until after Leslie’s wedding in July.”

  “Excuse me, can I help you?” a voice cut in.

  “I’ll have a triple scoop—rum raisin, butter pecan and toffee crunch in a waffle cone,” Mariel told the girl behind the counter. “With sprinkles.”

  “And what about you, sir?” the girl asked Noah.

  “Triple scoop of vanilla,” he said. “No sprinkles.”

  “Vanilla?” Mariel echoed as the girl stooped toward the glass-fronted freezer bin again, silver scoop in hand. “And no sprinkles? That’s no fun.”

  “What can I say? I’m just not a fun guy,” Noah said, throwing up his hands as if to say, What are you gonna do?

  “Come on, Noah.” She poked him playfully in the arm. “Live a little. At least get chocolate or rainbow sherbet or something.”

  He pretended to be hurt. “Are you saying I’m bland?”

  “Absolutely.” As the girl handed her the tripledecker, three-flavored cone she had ordered, she waved it under his nose. “Doesn’t this look tempting?”

  He made a face. “It looks about as tempting as pizza with pickles and clams.”

  They both laughed at that, and he realized that the teasing tone between them had broken the ice. All day, things had been tense. The ride over here from the school had been almost silent, aside from the few times he had given her directions on where to turn. He remembered this mall from his college days. He and his fraternity brothers used to come to the Multiplex to see movies once in a while. Back then, there had been only three screens. Now there were twelve.

  “Hey, you want to kill some time in a movie?” he asked spontaneously.

  She looked surprised, then nodded. “We might as well. I mean, we have to hang around here for a few hours anyway. And it’s air-conditioned.”

  “Great.” He took his vanilla cone and reached into his pocket for some money to pay for the ice cream.

  Mariel was already standing by the register with a ten in her hand.

  “I’ll get the ice cream,” he said, putting his own ten in front of hers.

  She pushed it away. “That’s okay, I’ve got it.”

  “Then, I’ll get the movie,” he said firmly.

  She shrugged.

  He hated this.

  He hated the awkwardness of it, the fact that they weren’t in a relationship, weren’t even dating. There were no rules for whatever it was that they were doing—and there should be no expectations, either.

  When they returned to the inn later, they would go to bed in separate rooms, and that would be that. Right?

  Of course.

  Except, he couldn’t seem to drill that into his mind.

  And even now, he found himself envisioning the few movie dates they had had back in college, when they had gone to see films that were shown at the campus center. He remembered sitting arm in arm in the dark, with Mariel snuggling against him, and he reminded himself that it would be nothing like that now. They were going to go see a movie b
ecause there was nothing else to do from now until six-thirty. Then they were going to talk to Nicole. And after that…

  Well, who knew?

  “I should find a pay phone, too,” he said as they walked side by side through the mall, licking their cones.

  “Who do you have to call?”

  “My roommate. I should let him know where I disappeared to,” Noah said, stopping to consult a mall directory.

  “You have a roommate? What’s he like?”

  “I don’t know, actually,” Noah said. “He hasn’t lived with me for very long, and I found him through a classified ad.”

  “It must be odd, living with a stranger,” Mariel said.

  He shrugged. “You do it when you go away to college.”

  “True. But that’s when you’re young, and you’re so happy to be away from home that you don’t care who you live with, as long as it’s not your family. This is different. You’re a grown man. It must be hard.”

  “It is,” he found himself admitting. “I wouldn’t do it unless I had to.”

  “You can’t afford your apartment on your own?” she asked.

  “Nope.” Why didn’t he feel uncomfortable telling her that? How had they once again established this easy intimacy, this pseudofriendship, when a short time ago they were struggling to find anything to talk about?

  “So what’s he like?”

  “My roommate? His name is Alan, and he’s a musician and a bartender, and he’s incredibly lazy as far as I can tell. And he’s possibly a freeloader and maybe a snoop, too,” he added, remembering the missing beer and his rifled drawers.

  That seemed a lifetime ago. He pointed down the corridor. “There’s a public phone down there, by the restrooms.”

  “Okay, let’s go,” she said, popping the last of her ice cream cone into her mouth and crunching it.

  “How was your ice cream?” he asked, amused, watching her lick her fingers.

  “It was delicious. How’s yours?”

  “Bland,” he admitted with a laugh. “Maybe I’ll get sprinkles next time after all.”

  She used the phone next to his, standing poised with a pen and paper to write down her flight information.