Two For the Show

by Rhonda Bowen

  I don’t bother to tell her the part where he repeated his offer to take me with him. But I wasn’t going anywhere. Not while Delia is here and needs me. And definitely not without my daughter.

  “Good riddance.”

  “He wasn’t so bad.”

  Delia turns her head to frown at me.

  I shrug. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

  So much worse. And standing here, looking at this house that used to be my home was bringing up all those bad memories.

  “Do you mind if we go? This place is starting to creep me out.”

  “Yeah. I just wanted to see it one more time.” Delia stares at it a moment longer before turning and opening her car door. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

  “So what are you going to do with the rest of the week?” Delia asks as she navigates the car into traffic.

  I stare out the passenger side window. “Keep looking for Nina. I am meeting with a private investigator Dutch recommended tomorrow. He might be able to help me find her. Those documents you found in the safe should get me further along than before.”

  I had felt pretty hopeless when I realized Cordelia would no longer be around to tell me where Nina is. Most of the items in her office including her computer were destroyed in the fire. Thankfully, she hadn’t been able to get into the safe and the contents were preserved. When Delia was finally allowed access, there were a number of documents, including Nina’s birth certificate and some medical records. But no information on where she is being kept.

  “We’ll find her, Carrie.”

  I nod. “I know.”

  I just don’t know when that will be.

  And that is the hardest part about looking for Nina. The waiting. Waiting for people to get back to me with information. Waiting to find out something. Waiting and more waiting. It is so stressful that I wish I could go back to work just to get my mind off things, but Dutch put me on paid leave and I am not allowed back for at least two more weeks.

  The rest is good. That and the therapist I have started seeing. But they both still leave me with lots of time to think about things. Things like, where is Nina right now? Who is she with? Is she safe? How does she feel not having heard from me for almost a month? Does she think I have abandoned her?

  Tears roll down my cheeks at the thought and I turn my head towards the window so Delia does not see them.

  God, please take care of my baby. You took care of me. You took care of Delia. You answered my prayer even when I didn’t believe you could. Thank you again for that. Please take care of my daughter now. I love her, but if what I have read and heard is true, you love her more. So protect her for me please, while I can’t. And please bring her back to me.

  I don’t know much Bible. But I remember the verses my mother used to teach me when I was little. I remember Psalm 23, the Shepherds’ psalm, and I remember how my mother would pray over me with it, her hands clasped over mine, putting my name in every line.

  ...the Lord is Nina’s Shepherd. She shall not want. He makes her to lie down in green pastures. He leads her beside still waters. He restores her soul…

  I continue the Psalm until I reach the end. And then I start over again. And I continue that pattern until the heaviness in my heart feels a little lighter. Until the tears stop coming. Until I believe my daughter will be okay.

  Chapter 25

  A loud crack makes me jump.

  I sit up suddenly, disoriented. Where am I? It takes a little while, but I figure out I am on the couch. I must have fallen asleep after Delia and I got back.

  The sound comes again. Only not as loud. I get up and move to the door, checking the peep hole before undoing all the locks.

  “Dutch.”

  He smiles at me. “Hey. Had a good nap?”

  I frown. “How did you know I was sleeping?”

  “You’ve got the couch imprinted on the side of your face.”

  I rub the skin on the side of my face, trying to get the indentations out. “What are you doing here?”

  “We’re going for a drive. Get your coat.”

  I open my mouth to argue, then close it. “Okay. Let me tell Delia I’m leaving.”

  Twenty minutes later, we are heading along the Northern State Parkway towards Long Island. I lean my head against the window and watch as my breath creates a light fog on the glass. Dutch whistles a tune from some song I have heard him singing at the church we now go to together most weekends. I glance over and notice his fingers tapping out the beat on the steering wheel.

  “You’re in a good mood. I guess your new assistant has figured out how to order your coffee right, finally.”

  He chuckles. “Yes, after you called my temporary assistant and gave her the specifics, things got better.”

  “What makes you think I called her?” I ask innocently.

  He throws me a knowing look before shaking his head. “It was a nice thing for you to do, Carrie. Even if you are supposed to be resting and not thinking about work.”

  I let out a long breath. “I need to think about something else, Dutch. Otherwise, all I will think about is where my daughter could be and about how many girls go missing in America every year. About how pedophiles are locking little girls in basements and using them to make internet porn. And how one of those little girls could be—”

  Dutch’s hand on my wrist stops me. “She’s not.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “But we have faith that God is taking care of her. I believe that. Do you?”

  I swallow and bite my lip. I want to say yes, but my fear is in a street fight with my faith and sometimes I feel like fear is winning.

  “I want to believe.”

  The words come out like a whisper. So low I am not even sure Dutch hears them.

  “It’s a good place to start.”

  I close my eyes. “There is this man in the Bible who goes to Jesus about his son who is possessed. He looked for help everywhere for his child, but no one could help him. He even brought his son to Jesus’ disciples, but they couldn’t help him. His son just kept suffering. He tried everything, but nothing worked. I feel like that man. I don’t know what else to do, how else to find Nina. And what if I find her and it’s too late? What if…”

  Dutch’s hand tightens around mine. “But that’s not the end of the story, Care. What happens next?”

  I sniffle and wipe my nose with my free hand. “Jesus healed the boy.”

  “Before that.”

  I look over at him.

  “If you can believe, all things are possible to him that believes. This is what Jesus says. And the father says ‘I believe. Help my unbelief’.” Dutch taps the steering wheel with his fingers. “The father’s faith was small, but it was enough. And it can be enough for you, Care. All you need is a little faith. Just a little.”

  I turn my gaze back to the window. We are on the I-495 now. Cars speed by on every side, but I don’t see them. All I see is Nina’s face. Her slightly rounded cheeks. Her dark curly hair with the slightest streaks of gold on the ends of some strands. The slight twist on the corner of her mouth whenever she smiles. Nina. My little Nina.

  “I believe. Help my unbelief.”

  Dutch’s voice breaks the silence several minutes later. “You haven’t asked me where we’re going.”

  I turn to look at him, waiting for him to tell me. I notice he keeps his eyes on the road.

  “We found something,” he continues. “We’re not sure what it is. It may be a long shot, but I thought we could check it out anyway.”

  I sit up. “What did you find?”

  “I didn’t want to get your hopes up just in case it isn’t anything,” Dutch cautions. We are driving through a residential area now and the roads are starting to look the same. But the GPS is giving turn by turn directions.

  My heart beats faster, and I can barely breathe. “What did you find, Dutch?”

  “My friend from the IRS was going through all of Cordelia’s financial records for
the past few years. They found—”

  The ringing of a phone cuts Dutch off, and it takes everything in me not to snatch it from its holder on the dashboard and toss it though the window. Instead, I clasp my fingers together in my lap tightly and watch as he taps his earpiece.

  I get nothing from his conversation of “yeses”, “nos”, and “okays,” But I do notice that we have slowed down and are pulling over to the side of the road. He parks and shuts off the car in front of a house marked thirty-three. Is this where Nina is? Is this where she lives? I roll down the window and crane my neck so I can see into the upper windows. I look for any sign of toys on the front porch. Anything that will tell me if a child lives in this house. If my child lives in this house.

  My door opens, and I am surprised to see Dutch standing there. When did he get out of the car? I take the hand he offers me and climb out, moving towards the walkway to the front door.

  His hand, still around mine, gently pulls me back. “This way.”

  We walk together down the sidewalk, away from the house.

  “Dutch?”

  “We found some payments Cordelia made to an agency out here in Long Island. And when we did a little check on that agency, we found it was a fake. But the money going into the agency was going to another place. A school.”

  “What school?”

  “This one.”

  We turn a corner and I am looking at the side of a brick school building. Slides, swings, play equipment sit unoccupied. It is quiet except for the sound of the wind rustling the leaves on the trees edging the property. My breath stops in my chest and I refuse to think, to process, to hope.

  “So I had the police investigator check it out and last night I got some news from them. They were the ones calling just now. They are already—”

  Another ringing interruption. This time it is the bell for the school. It pierces the morning quiet, followed moments later by the sounds of laughs and screams as the doors burst open and children spill onto the playground. Their colorful coats and hats, their sound and energy bring life to the previously dead space, like only children can.

  “We are not a hundred percent sure, but we think this may be Nina’s school.”

  The air rushes out of my lungs. “She’s here?”

  I search Dutch’s eyes and wait for the slightest bit of hope. He nods cautiously. “We think she might be here.”

  The shouts and screams of joy pull me to the school fence even as my eyes search the crowd. Nina could be here. My Nina. Here. Brown hair, pink cheeks, those big eyes. Will I know her if I see her? Will she know me?

  My eyes scan each one of them. It is hard to tell in all the coats and hats and scarves. What color is her coat? Her hat? I don’t know any of these things. I am a mother. Her mother. I should know, but I don’t. Tears fill my eyes and trickle down my cheek.

  Nina, are you here? Where are—

  “I see her!”

  My fingers grip the chain link fence so hard it hurts as I press in closer.

  “I see her! In the red coat and the red and white striped hat…Nina!”

  “Carrie, wait. Let’s go around to the front and find the detective.”

  Dutch’s hand is around my arm, but I hold tighter to the fence, keeping my eyes on my daughter. It’s her, I know it is. I can feel it, and I am not taking my eyes off her.

  “Nina!”

  She can’t hear me. Why can’t she hear me? I watch her squat down and ball the snow up in her hands before handing it to another little girl next to her.

  “Nina! Nina! Over here!”

  I see the moment she hears me. Her hands pause, and she looks up. Looks around. Maybe she doesn’t remember my voice. Can’t recognize me anymore. It’s been more than a month since I last spoke to her. What if she has forgotten me? I pull off my hat and scarf and press closer to the fence.

  “Nina!”

  She is standing. She is turning. And then she sees me.

  She sees me. I feel everything and nothing all at once. My chest feels empty as my heart stops beating and falls into my stomach. As I watch her walk away from her friend and head slowly towards the fence, my breathing stops.

  She steps closer and closer then stops.

  “Nina, it’s me…” I want to tell her I’m her mother, reach through the fence and pull her close. But my voice is stuck behind the huge lump in my throat.

  She walks closer, each step slower than the one before. I can see the little freckles across her nose now, a tiny golden tinted curl sticking out from under the front of her hat.

  “Mommy?”

  And at the sound of her voice my heart starts again. My muscles collapse, and I sink to my knees. Tears overwhelm me.

  “Yes, baby girl, yes.” I wipe away the blurriness from my eyes so I can see her beautiful face more clearly. “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Mommy!” She breaks into a sprint and in moments, she is face to face with me, pressing her little fingers through the fence to touch my face. I grab them and kiss each cold and sticky one. She smells like juice and playdough and I love it.

  “Nina, my baby, my sweetheart…”

  I am crying now, and I can see the worry in her big eyes, but I can’t stop.

  “Mommy, don’t cry.”

  “I can’t help it. I am just so happy to see you.” I press my forehead against the fence and she touches hers to mine and smiles.

  “Me too.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am! Ma’am! Please move away from the fence and away from the child!”

  “She is the child’s mother…”

  Voices argue over our heads, but I don’t hear them. I am too happy in this little world, just me and my sweet precious child. I never want to let her go. Never.

  But someone is tugging at me. And someone is tugging at Nina.

  “Nooooooo! Mommy!”

  Her screams cut into me, and I yank away from the person trying to hold me. “Let her go! NO! She’s my daughter! Don’t take her away again, please!”

  “Carrie! Hey, it’s okay. They are not taking her away! They are not taking her away.”

  It takes a little shaking for Dutch to get me to look at him.

  “Then where are they taking her?” I try to pull away from him, but he only turns me to look directly at him.

  “To you, Carrie. They are taking her to you. Don’t you want to hold her without a fence separating you?”

  It takes a moment for everything to process; for me to understand exactly what Dutch is saying.

  “They’re not taking her away?”

  Dutch shakes his head. “No one is going to take her away from you again, Carrie.”

  This time he lets me go. Within moments, I am running. Because however long it will take to walk will be too long. And then I see her. There is a group of people around her, a woman holding her hand. But when she sees me, she is running too. And when she hits me with the force of the seven years that have been lost to us, I take it all in and I fold her into my arms. And I swear, I will never let her go.

  Chapter 26

  “Mommy, your phone is ringing.”

  I smile at the sound of “Mommy” coming from my daughter’s mouth. It’s been two weeks and I still smile every time I hear it. Every day, on a million different occasions and even sometimes at night when a nightmare pulls Nina from sleep. I don’t think I will ever stop loving the sound of her calling me, not in a million years.

  “Can you get it for me please, honey?”

  She slides down off the kitchen counter and runs over to the living room, grabbing the cell phone off the sofa before running back and holding it up to me. I wipe my hands on my apron and take it, tapping the green phone icon as I do.

  “Hey, Dutch” I open the video call and prop the phone up in one corner so I can lift Nina back to her seat on the counter where she is stirring a bowl of cookie batter.

  “Hey, Care. Hey, Nina Beana.”

  “Uncle D! I told you I’m not a beana!” Nina slaps her forehead with
her palm dramatically. “I am a princess.”

  “Sorry, Princess Nina.” Dutch grins. “Are you making princess cookies?”

  “Yes,” Nina nods and a curl of hair falls into her face. She pushes it away and gets flour all over her cheek. “These are chocolate chip princess cookies. Do you want some?”

  “Are you sure?” Dutch asks in mock surprise. “I mean, I’m not even a princess or anything.”

  “It’s okay,” Nina stirs the batter seriously. “Mommy’s not a princess either, but we can share them with her too.”

  “You are too kind, Princess Nina Beana.”

  “Uncle D!”

  I laugh as I watch Nina giggle at the faces Dutch makes on the phone.

  “Princess Nina, I am getting ready for work, what color shirt should I wear?” Dutch holds up two shirts in front of the camera.

  “The black one,” Nina and I say at the same time.

  “I like the little stripy things on the black one,” Nina says. “And the white one makes you look like that man on the TV with the weird hair who’s always yelling. And he’s really old. But you’re not really old, just a little old like my mommy so you shouldn’t dress like him.”

  “Excuse me,” my mouth falls open. “You think I am old, missy?”

  “Just a little old,” Nina waves her open palm. “A little old is ok.”

  I glare at Dutch who is laughing behind the black pinstriped shirt that Nina and I both agreed on.

  “Black one it is,” he tosses the white shirt behind him. “What do you ladies have planned for today?”

  “Well, after we finish making cookies, Nina and I are going to go shopping,” I answer as I lay a sheet of wax paper on a baking tray.”

  “I’m going to get princess sheets for my bed!” Nina yells. I dodge a little piece of cookie dough which goes flying off the spoon she is waving around.

  “Sounds exciting. Do you want me to pick you guys up from the mall later or back at your apartment?”

  “We should be back at the apartment,” I say. “I want Nina to have a nap before we go house hunting later.”

  “No nap!”

  “Yes nap,” Dutch and I say at the same time.