"Yes, ma'am." Anna grabbed four menus and headed for the table full of shoppers.
Anxious to get home and tell Brian, her ardent restaurant connoisseur, about her new job, Anna left at three. He’d probably be slightly disappointed because he loved Betty’s BLTs. But perhaps she could persuade him to try a relative of the BLT they possibly did serve—a club sandwich with turkey and ham, Swiss cheese and tomato and lettuce. What’ll that be in his lingo? A THSCTL?
Brian usually arrived after she did, so she changed into jeans and a top and picked up the new Good Housekeeping magazine she'd found in the mailbox. Then she settled into an armchair to read as she waited for his bus. There was a good article about buying a house, with information on things like interest rates and taxes. She soon got involved in reading it. Before long she'd be in the market for another house, so the article was made to order for her to study. Mike had handled most of the financial details buying this place. She knew there was a lot to learn before she felt confident about starting to look.
For one thing, she'd have to find a cheap house, since she needed a really low mortgage payment and the only money she possessed to buy with was the equity on this house. It would be enough for something decent, but not big or fancy. No doubt she’d end up with something smaller, older, needing fixing up. Most likely an inner-city house.
Anna glanced up and realized quite some time had passed. It was four-fifteen by the clock on the end table, and Brian should have long since been home by now. She stood and peered out the window. He was not with the group of boys she saw outside, riding their bikes.
She opened the front door and called to one of them.
"Billy? Could you come here for a minute, please?"
The preteen rode his bike up the driveway. "Yes, Mrs. Lamoreaux?"
"Billy, do you have any idea where Brian is?"
He shook his head. "Nope."
"You haven't seen him at all? Wasn't he on the bus?"
"No, he never got on it after school. I figured you came and picked him up."
Anna's heart started to pound. "No, I didn't pick him up. And he didn't get on the bus at all?"
"Uh-uh."
Billy began to look frightened and Anna quickly tried to allay his fears. "We probably got our wires crossed. I'll try calling the school. He's there, I'll bet, wondering where I am." Billy didn't look convinced, but nodded and ran back to his bike, and rode it down the driveway to the group of boys clustered there waiting for him.
There wasn’t much hope Brian was at the elementary school this late, but she pulled out her cell phone and called. A custodian answered the phone and said everyone was gone and no small boy was left over after the school emptied. In a panic, she slammed it shut, disconnecting and glanced at the clock. Four forty-five.
Suddenly, staring at the clock, a terrible, horrible feeling of deja vu swept over her and she was afraid she'd faint as black spots swept across her vision. Anna sat abruptly and put her head on her knees, trying to breathe.
It couldn't happen again. It couldn't. Fate would never be this cruel. If she lost little Brian, too . . . God, she wouldn't be able to bear it.
Chapter 11
Where was Mallory? Anna ran up the stairs and flung open her daughter’s door. Mallory was lying on her bed, ear buds to her iPod plugged into her brain.
She glanced up, surprised, and pulled her ear buds off. "What's up?"
"Uh. Nothing, looking for your brother. Have you seen him?"
Mallory rolled her eyes. "Have you tried the rec room? He's always glued there this time of day."
Anna knew he wasn't there, but she didn't want to worry Mallory after what happened with her father. She nodded. "I'll try there."
She headed downstairs. Where was he? Anna paced the living room floor and checked out the window again. This was all too painfully familiar. On impulse, she phoned the diner on the chance he'd taken undue advantage of the nice day, walked to the diner, and somehow missed her. But Betty answered and said she hadn't seen him.
Hanging up, Anna walked back to the living room and stood, her fingers raking worriedly through her hair. Dear God in heaven, where could he be? He was only a small boy, eight years old. How could he be out there, all alone, after all this time? Why hadn't he gotten on the bus? That was two and a half hours ago. Where had he gone?
She paced around the perimeter of the living room, much as she did ten months ago, panic filling her with liquid fire. "No, no," she whispered. "Not again. Please, not again."
Something had to be done. She couldn't simply pace and let Fate take her down without a fight. Paralyzed by her fear, she pressed her fingers over her eyes and tried to think. What could she do? Go out in her car and patrol the streets, hoping not to find a small body beside the road or a cluster of lights at some intersection?
Stopping in the middle of the floor, she had her first sane thought. Jeff was a policeman, a detective, but he must cover accidents sometimes. He and his partner had been there at the scene of Mike's death. Jeff would at least know if there'd been an accident. And would know what to do.
Anna quickly dialed the number of the police station, and in a quaking voice, asked the dispatch operator for Detective Thomas.
"I'm sorry," the operator said, "he went off duty at three."
"Do you know where I can find him?"
"No. Oh, wait just a minute. I see here he hasn't logged off for the day yet. Probably catching up on paperwork. I'll buzz you through to his office."
Jeff answered on the first ring. "Thomas here."
"Jeff? This is Anna. I'm glad I found you there."
"I was working on an accident report. What's wrong? You sound upset."
"Accident? What kind of accident?”
"A tractor-trailer went over the guardrail onto Court Street. A real mess. Why? What's the matter?"
Anna breathed a small sigh of relief. "There haven't been any accidents this afternoon involving children, have there?"
"No. What is it, Anna? Tell me."
"Brian never came home from school. He never got on the bus. It's way after five, Jeff. Where could he be at this hour?" She started to sob.
"I'll be right over. Don't panic. I'm sure he's fine. We'll find him. If he hasn't turned up by the time I get there, I'll have some of my men take a look around. Stay put and stay off the phone in case he's trying to call. I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Thank you, Jeff." She put the phone down and sank onto a kitchen chair, dropping her forehead in her hands. She told herself not to panic. It didn't work.
She was already panicked.
Sixteen excruciatingly long minutes later Anna, glued to the front window, saw Jeff’s car turn the corner. Brian still hadn't returned, and hadn't called, and now she was frantic with fear. She ran to the front door and flung it open to meet him at the top of the driveway.
Jeff was grinning. She couldn't believe her eyes. She ran forward and saw the reason for his happiness. Brian was propped against his side, half asleep.
"Brian!" she cried, pulling open the passenger door as Jeff handed him to her. He wrapped his legs around her waist, put his arms around her neck and started to cry.
"Oh honey, you're okay now. Mommy's here." She held him too tight, and he started to squeal. Opening her tear-filled eyes, Anna looked up at Jeff as he came around the car to join them. "Jeff, how can I thank you? Where did you find him?"
"Way down Vestal Avenue near the hospital. He was walking home. He'd have arrived in another half an hour by himself."
"Why were you walking, honey? Did you miss the bus? Why didn't you call me? I'd have come for you."
Brian's eyes squeezed shut and more tears seeped through. "I got my report card today and it was awful. I didn't get on the bus 'cause I didn't want to come home and have t
o show it to you. You've been sad. I didn't want to make you sadder 'cause it was my fault you were that sad in the first place."
"Your fault?"
“‘Cause Daddy died."
She eased him back so she could see into his eyes. In horror, she read the guilt there. How could she have been this blind? "Do you mean to tell me all this time you've been thinking it was your fault your father died in the accident?"
He nodded, his face solemn. "It must have been. I was really bad and broke one of Dad's woodworking tools on Sunday, and Monday he died. He yelled and yelled and made me sit on the stairs for the longest time. It musta been my fault he crashed his car. God was punishing me."
She squeezed him again. "Honey, it was an accident. It wasn't anything you did. The accident didn't have anything to do with you. God doesn't work that way."
"Then why did God take Daddy away from us?"
"I don't know, honey. But it wasn't to punish you for anything you did."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure. The bad man who hit Daddy was the one who caused the accident. It wasn't connected to you in any way. Or to me, or Mallory. Do you understand now?"
"I think so. God took Daddy to heaven because a man hit his car."
"And someday when we get to heaven, we'll get to see him again."
"He's probably happy there. Heaven is a nice place."
"I'm sure he's happy. Sweetheart, I know you've had trouble in school because you've been sad Daddy left us. You shouldn't be ashamed of your report card. You tried your hardest, didn't you?"
Brian nodded.
"It's all I will ever ask of you or your sister, to try your hardest. If you do that, I'll always be proud of you, because you did all you could. Plus I know it'll be better next time."
"I'll try."
"Where were you all this time?"
"After I thought about it, I figured I had to come home sometime. I went to the diner and you'd already left and a strange lady I didn't know was the waitress."
"Didn't you ask for Betty? She would've called me for you."
"I was afraid. I didn't see Betty and the other lady was real busy. I started walking home." He looked at her, teary-eyed and serious. "It's a long way. It doesn't seem near as long in the car. Jeff found me part of the way back. I'd have made it. I would have."
"I'm sure you would have. I was worried about you, though. I wish you'd called from somewhere so I could come pick you up."
"I didn't have a quarter."
It struck her then, how utterly insane it was to send a small child out into the world with no money, no wallet, no identification. Nothing but a backpack containing a math book and a lunch bag, confident the school system would keep him safe and return him home. "From now on, you'll keep a couple of quarters taped to the bottom of your backpack for emergencies. And an emergency is not a candy bar. You're only to use the money if you need to call home. If you weren't this young, I'd get a cell phone for you. Maybe next year."
"A good idea," Jeff interjected. He turned to Anna. "What about you? On the phone you sounded about ready to go over the edge. Are you okay?"
"Now Brian is home safe, I'm fine. But yeah, I’ll admit there were some pretty bad moments."
"I imagine you're not in much of a mood to fix supper. How about if I go pick Cam up from home and stop on the way back for a big sheet pizza to go? I'll bring it here and we can all unwind and relax eating pizza."
"Pizza I don't have to cook sounds nice. I feel like I've been pulled through a wringer backward. Why is stress this tiring?"
"It's the drop in adrenaline that does you in. You'll feel better after we get some protein in you. What do you like on your pizza?"
"Anything you guys like, except anchovies.” A memory came to her. “Once, when Mike and I were first married, we adopted this cat. Mike came home from work with an antipasto he'd picked up for our supper. There were all these anchovies on top and Mike put them in the cat's dish, figuring she'd love them. We glanced over a few minutes later and she'd taken all the anchovies out of her dish and lined them up like dominoes beside her bowl. I guess she told us." Anna chuckled in remembrance.
Jeff laughed harder than she did. "No problem. I don't like anchovies either, and I can sympathize with your cat."
"I'd like to meet your son. Do you think he'll mind being dragged out to eat pizza with strangers?"
"Mind? Never. He takes advantage of every opportunity to eat pizza. He'd live on it if I let him. And he won't be a stranger for more than five minutes. He's one of those kids who can talk to anybody at any time."
"Maybe he can draw Mallory out. Okay, you go fetch him and our supper and I'll get out sodas and napkins and stuff while you're gone. And I'll tell Mallory he's coming, give her a few minutes to get used to the idea. She might be interested. They're only a few years apart and they could bond."
"She might. You'd better warn her, though. He has a girlfriend."
She shrugged with a grin. "She can look."
He laughed and swung the car keys around his finger. "Want to come with me, Brian?"
"You bet." Brian leapt out of Anna's arms and landed on the driveway.
"He recovered fast," Anna said to Jeff.
"Kids are amazing. Resiliency-plus."
Mallory nearly hit the ceiling when Anna told her Jeff and his son was coming over for pizza. Then, hearing that Cam was sixteen years old, she pursed her lips in thought. "I suppose I could live through it." She flounced off to ‘run a comb through her hair.’ As if she needed it. Her long blond hair hung straight and silken, as always.
"He has a girlfriend," Anna called after her.
"I didn't say I was interested in looking for a boyfriend," Mallory retorted over her shoulder, before she disappeared into her room to primp.
"You didn't have to,” Anna muttered under her breath.
Cam seemed like a nice boy and thanked her for allowing him to join her family for dinner. He was shy as the group gathered around the kitchen table. Mallory didn't say much either, seeming to take her cue from him. However, Brian made up for it by talking incessantly to Jeff. He was thrilled when he found out Jeff made wooden toys.
"My dad had a wood shop. I mean, it's still there in the basement, but . . ." His lip quivered for a second. "I made a car once. Dad made the wheels for it but I got to put them on. It didn't look much like a car because I was real little then. The wheels were the best part 'cause my dad was real good at making wheels. They were perfectly round because he made them on his lathe. Do you have a lathe, too?"
"Yes, I do."
"Do you use it to make table legs and things like my dad did?"
"Sometimes. Most of the time I use it for the toys. I make a lot of wheels, too. Do you know how many wheels there are on a train? A lot."
Brian turned to Anna. "May I show him Dad's woodshop after we eat, Mom?"
"Sure, I guess so."
"Maybe when you're down there you can fix Mommy's dryer. It's broken and she's getting real tired of hanging the wash all over to dry."
"Brian, Jeff is a guest. You don't ask guests to fix things when they visit."
"Don't worry." Jeff grinned. "No harm done. And I'd be happy to look at it for you."
"I couldn't ask you to do that," Anna said, dismayed.
"Oh, come on," Mallory said. "Maybe he can fix it. I do laundry around here too, and I'm tired of draping it over everything in the cellar because Mom thinks the neighbors will get upset if my underwear is hanging in the back yard."
Anna glared at her, started to open her mouth to object again, but Jeff interrupted her. "I really don't mind. We wouldn't want to see your neighbors storming the place or Mallory revolting. It'll only take a few minutes to look at it. I might not be able to figure out
what's wrong with it, but I can try."
He stood and motioned to Brian. "Come on. Show me the woodshop, and then we'll look at the dryer together." They went down the cellar stairs, hand in hand.
Anna also stood to clear the debris from the pizza, and Mallory looked uncertainly at Cam. "I have some really hot CDs in my room. Want to listen to some?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "Sure."
They ran up the stairs and she heard Mallory's door close. Mallory must have made up her bed and picked her dirty clothes off the floor or she wouldn't have invited a boy in there. Anna poked her head in a short time later and found them sitting cross-legged on the carpet with her CD player blaring. They seemed to be engaged in an earnest discussion of something he was pointing to on the back of a CD case.
Pleased that Mallory seemed to be getting along with Cam, she tiptoed away without disturbing them. Her daughter needed someone to talk to and, if Cam was anything like his father, he'd be good for her. They’d probably experienced similar feelings, so maybe Cam would be able to offer Mallory some support she herself didn't seem to be able to get through to her daughter to give.
It was too soon to tell, but for the first time since Mike died, Anna felt hopeful that Mallory would work through her grief. She might be putting too much stock in a brand-new relationship, but for as long as she’d been worried, she figured she had the right to latch onto anything positive.
Jeff emerged from the cellar with a long, black, ugly scorched rubber thing in his hands. "This belt broke and got tangled in with the motor. That’s why it came to a complete halt. It's easy to fix. I jotted down the model number of the dryer, and I'll pick up a new one for you."
"I hate for you to bother with my dryer."
"It's no bother."
She picked up her purse. "How much will it be?"
"Never mind giving me money. I'll get it for you."
"No. You won't. It's my dryer, Jeff. I'll pay for it." She was as bad as Mark Spencer, the young man who had soup now and then at Betty's. "Will ten dollars cover it?"
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