"Well... will you come with me at least?"
"Sure. I'll come with ya."
Ethan picked him up an hour later and they reached the Plaza a little after four o'clock. In the first store, Ethan glanced cursorily at the rings Katie Anne had chosen and listened impatiently to the salesman's pitch as he carefully withdrew each ring and replaced it, habituated after long years of selling a product that was generally not purchased in a hurry. On the way to the second store, Ethan proposed they stop somewhere for a beer.
"After you buy the ring," Jer said firmly. He looked down at the square of paper in his hand. "Take a left here. Should be right down this street.... Yeah. There it is. Tiffany's."
While the jeweler brought out the rings Katie Anne had selected, Jer's attention was caught by a display of gold necklaces.
"Pardon me, ma'am, but do you have any Saint Christopher medals?" asked Jer.
"Yes, we do," said the jeweler as she set out the three rings for Ethan to examine and turned to help Jer.
"What do you want with a Saint Christopher medal?" asked Ethan.
Jer ignored him and watched as the mild-mannered woman gently removed a display of medals and crosses.
"It's for a lady," he said very quietly. "Needs to be small. Something feminine."
She selected a finely crafted solid-gold medal and arranged it on the black velvet cloth before him.
"Who are you buying this for?" demanded Ethan as he stepped up behind him.
Jer turned and whispered in his ear, "Just go buy your ring and leave me to my business. Okay?"
Ethan only pretended to admire the rings; he was listening to Jer. The transaction was done quickly. The medal and chain were priced at over $900, but Jer forked it out in cash and quietly slipped the box in his pocket.
"No, thanks, ma'am. Don't need a bag."
The jeweler turned back to Ethan and held up the first ring for him, describing the cut and quality of the stone, but Ethan cut her short, pointed to the largest of the three, a carat-and-a-half perfect marquise solitaire, and said, "I'll take this one."
Without missing a beat the jeweler quickly returned the other two rings to the cabinet. "Would you like to put this on a credit card, sir?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," Ethan answered.
As Ethan signed the receipt, he noticed the price and his expression froze. With tax, the ring was $23,700.
"You have impeccable taste, sir," said the lady. "That's a very fine piece of jewelry."
Her commendation might as well have been a condolence, because Ethan was having a serious panic attack as they walked back to the truck in silence.
"What the hell have I just done?" Ethan groaned as he stabbed the key into the ignition.
"I'll tell you what you've done. You've made Katie Anne one very happy lady," Jer answered. "She deserves it after puttin' up with your shit for three years."
Ethan felt like his best friend had abandoned him.
Neither he nor Jer mentioned stopping for a beer, and they drove directly back to Cottonwood Falls. They talked about cattle and ranching, and no more was said about engagement rings. Ethan didn't have the courage to ask about the Saint Christopher medal.
Chapter 14
Christmas at the Mackey ranch was a tradition that Ethan thoroughly enjoyed. Family and friends converged from all over the state, always to be received with gracious hospitality. Betty Sue Mackey greeted uninvited guests with the same warmth she lavished on her next of kin; she gladly squeezed in an extra plate and rounded up another chair. Tom Mackey, dressed in his hallmark Santa suspenders, a crisply starched white shirt and brand-new jeans, moved around the house filling champagne glasses and telling jokes, and by the time they sat down to eat, everyone was infected with his exuberance.
This year the big news was Katie Anne's engagement, and her marquise diamond was the star of the show. She flashed it at everyone, throwing glances at Ethan that were so full of tenderness and pride that he found himself quietly commending himself for the purchase, a feeling due in part to the effects of the champagne. His greatest disappointment was that Jer was not here. Jer had been invited to Annette's for Christmas dinner but said he'd stop by later in the day for a piece of Betty Sue's pecan pie. Early in the evening Ethan found him in the kitchen, sitting by himself at the table piled with empty serving dishes, eating the double slice of pie that Betty Sue had put aside for him.
Ethan laughed at him. "Didn't you get enough to eat over there?"
Jer swallowed his bite of pie and jabbed his fork in the air. "I tell you, that lady's one helluva cook." The fork dived into the pie and he snapped the next bite into his mouth. Jer waggled his head in lieu of words until he could speak intelligibly. "Except for this weird stuff she put in the turkey. Chestnuts, I think she said."
Ethan noticed the glow on Jer's face.
"Looks like you've had a fair share to drink, haven't you, buddy?"
Jer nodded. "Wine," he mumbled. "Had French wine with the dinner."
"Must have been good, judging from the way you're lit up."
Jer stabbed his fork at Ethan and gave him a loose smile. "You've never tasted anything like it, I swear. Annette drove all the way to Kansas City to get it." He paused, stared at the pie, momentarily reflecting. "Hell, I don't even like wine. And before I know it, here I've gone and had three glasses." He suddenly burst out in a bellow of laughter. "Shit, that was good stuff," he commented, as though still in a state of disbelief.
Jer scraped up the last crumbs, then rose and poured himself a cup of coffee.
"Well, we sure missed you over here, pal," said Ethan, and he sincerely meant it. Jer sat back down next to him and took a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He showed the pack to Ethan. It was squat and blue with the outline of a winged helmet printed on the front.
"Look what she gave me." He drew out one of the cigarettes. They were short, fat and unfiltered. Jer grinned. "That's what I like about that lady. Hell, she's the first woman I've met in years who hasn't started lecturin' me on quittin' smoking."
"Well, maybe she just doesn't love you like we do." Ethan shook his head sadly. "They'll kill you, Jer."
"Maybe," Jer said, holding it under his nose, sniffing the tobacco. "Maybe not. Maybe I'll get kicked in the head by a horse."
He lit one up, took a gulp of coffee, leaned back in his chair. "I thought I'd ride out tomorrow and help you with the fencing on your new place."
Jer had never been one to fret much about life, but neither had he ever shown much enthusiasm about anything. The contentment that shone on his face that evening, smoking his Gauloises and drinking his coffee, was as close to beatific as he had ever come.
* * *
The Sunday after Christmas Annette and Eliana were late to mass and Ethan didn't see them until the service was over. Annette was buttoning her coat when he caught up with them outside but he got a glimpse of the tiny gold medal against her black sweater.
The comment that escaped Ethan's mouth was so unexpected that it seemed spirited out of him.
"Morning, ma'am. And a belated merry Christmas. Nice necklace." A startled look appeared in Annette's eyes for only a second, then it passed, but Ethan blushed solidly all the same.
"Merry Christmas to you too, Mr. Brown."
"Ethan, look!" Eliana waved a child's white cowboy hat and fixed it proudly on her head. "See what Jer gave me for Christmas?"
"Well, don't you look pretty!" He got down on one knee and said, "How about a ride?"
"Really?"
"Hop on," he said, and he turned around so she could climb onto his shoulders.
Ethan jogged off over the grass with Eliana squealing and giggling. After a few turns around the lawn he circled back to meet Annette as she waited at her car.
"I hear you had one darn good Christmas dinner."
Through Annette's mind flashed the uneasiness, the tension that had sat upon them all that afternoon like an ugly, squat devil. Her father had disapproved of her pu
rchases, the wine, the endives, the imported Roquefort, even though she had paid for everything herself. He scowled at her throughout the entire meal, but mostly it was the child that annoyed him. Eliana giggled and draped her napkin over her face; Eliana interrupted him when he was speaking; Eliana took a large second helping of potatoes and left them uneaten on her plate. While he was saying grace Annette had stolen a glance at his face and wondered how such a soul, so intolerant of human frailty, so scornful of childlike behavior, could possibly have any communion with God. Then they had sat down, and even the pretense of good cheer as they passed their plates and praised the meal could not lift the pall that hung over the table. She ate only a few bites of turkey and drank some wine, and she tried very hard to protect Eliana from her father's wrath and to keep Jer and Nell engaged in easy and pleasant conversation, and to defuse her father's anger whenever she heard it rumble in the distance. Sometimes she would look up and see her mother sitting in the rocking chair in the living room, and when she did, the ugly devil squatting in the middle of the table would disappear.
"Yes," she said to Ethan as she unlocked the car door. "It was a nice Christmas."
"Hey, hold on to that hat," he said to Eliana. "We're dismounting." As he lowered her to the ground and waited while Annette settled her in the booster seat, he watched Annette's expression; she seemed sad, and he couldn't figure it out. But there was a lot about her he couldn't figure out.
"Will you be in your office Friday?" she asked as she started up the engine.
"You bet."
"Good. I'm glad. I'm looking forward to it." Through the open window, she added in a low voice, "I could use a friend."
"You got one, pal."
Ethan turned toward his truck and as they drove away he heard Eliana call out, "'Bye, Ethan!"
* * *
On Tuesday Annette took her mother's old Buick into Strong City to have some work done on it, and she was late picking up Eliana from school. When she arrived the children had already been dismissed and the grounds were empty.
The school was quiet; not a single child trailing in the halls, classrooms locked and dark. Where are you, precious? Where have you gone? Panic seized her and her heart began to pound as she hurried toward the principal's office.
"I'm looking for my daughter, Eliana Zeldin," she said abruptly as she entered the office. "Do you know where she is?"
The startled secretary looked up. "I think everyone's gone. Did you try the classroom?"
"It's locked."
"Let me ask Mrs. Walters." She rose and tapped on a closed door, then opened it and spoke softly.
A moment later the principal emerged from her office. "I remember seeing Eliana leave the building, Mrs. Zeldin. But we had a little problem, a couple of the boys got in a scuffle on the bus and we had to bring them back inside and call their parents, so I'm afraid the teachers who supervise dismissal were a little distracted. Nevertheless, if someone had seen her waiting, they would have brought her inside and called you."
Annette used the secretary's phone to call home; she let it ring and ring but no one answered. Then she called Nell. Nell had been home all afternoon but hadn't seen Eliana.
Annette hurried out of the office and raced down the hall. She slipped on the waxed linoleum floor and nearly fell, and she was angry with herself because she knew she was on the verge of breaking down. How can you help if you break down? In the car, her hands were shaking so badly that she had difficulty fitting the key into the ignition.
And then it began again. The cries. She knew it would. She could tell it was coming on. She mashed the accelerator to the floor and the car skidded away from the curb, kicking up sand and dirt behind her. It was very important that she stay calm and alert, that she slow down and look around for clues, anything that might help the police.
A light rain had begun, and she turned on the windshield wipers and slowed to a crawl, looking down every side street as she drove through the neighborhood. When she reached the end of her block she could see her backyard. Was that Eliana there? In the rain. Why would she be outdoors in the rain? No, it was just the hedge, a dark shadow in the gray drizzled light.
She parked in the driveway and raced to the front door, calling her daughter's name as she threw it open. Her father had gone to Emporia for the day to a trustees meeting, and the house was dreary and silent. She went through every room but Eliana wasn't home.
Annette was cursing herself for not buying a cell phone while she was here. Why would she need a cell phone in a place like this? For a few months? Stubbornness, that's what it was. Just like your father. She found some paper and scribbled a note: Looking all over for you. So sorry I was late. Where are you??? If you come home, don't go out. Wait for me. She tried to tape the note to the front door but the tape stuck to the roll inside the dispenser. She fumbled with it, picked at it and held it up to the light trying to find the end. It was cheap tape. Her father always bought the cheap, generic brands.
Angrily she hurled the dispenser across the room, then she laid the note on the carpet in the middle of the floor. Annette didn't have a clue where she'd left her umbrella, so she turned up the collar of her coat and headed down the street in the cold rain looking for her daughter. She'd walk every inch of this damn town to find her. She'd walk into the dark hours, through the night and all across the county if that's what it took.
By now the cries had returned, incessant, startlingly clear, not at all like something imagined. It was frightening how clear they were. It was raining heavily now.
* * *
Ethan looked up at the sound of footsteps running up the stairs. Bonnie knocked loudly, then threw open the door.
"Ethan! Come quickly!"
Ethan shot up and followed her but she was ahead of him by a flight of stairs, and when he got to the second landing he saw her at the foot of the stairs with Mrs. Zeldin.
Annette's hair was dripping wet; her coat was drenched and the sable collar matted with rain. She turned haunted brown eyes up to him, and the sight of her coming to him in need and despair wrenched his heart.
"Bonnie, do we have any blankets?" he said as he rushed down to Annette.
"I think I have one in the trunk of my car."
"Go get it."
He put an arm around Annette and helped her up the stairs. Her skin was like ice and she was shivering violently.
"What happened?"
"She's gone," gasped Annette.
"Who?"
"My daughter. She's gone."
His warm touch, his protective arm around her seemed to release the tension in her, and she stumbled up the last few steps into his office.
When he helped her out of her coat he saw that the rain had soaked through her black silk blouse to her skin. He grabbed his sheepskin-lined jacket from the coat rack, slipped it over her shoulders and guided her to a chair. Bonnie appeared with a blanket, making profuse apologies about the straw stuck to it, and Ethan wrapped it around Annette's legs. He pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket, thrust it into Bonnie's hand and told her to go across the street to Carl's Liquor and get a pint of whisky.
After she left Ethan pulled his chair to Annette's and sat down, taking her hands in his. They were icy and he gently pressed them between his own.
Her body was shaking convulsively and her teeth were chattering.
"Take a deep breath, then tell me what happened."
She nodded, inhaled deeply and looked up at him. "I was late picking her up. She wasn't there. Nobody saw where she went. She's not at home. She's not at Nell's. I've looked all over."
"Annette, this is Cottonwood Falls. Kids don't just disappear..."
"It can't happen again, can it?"
"What do you mean?"
She looked away.
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, God..."
"Could she have gone over to play with a friend?"
"Nobody's ever invited her to play. I wouldn't know who to call."
&nb
sp; "Doesn't she have riding lessons after school with Jer?"
"Thursday. Jer picks her up on Thursday. This is Tuesday."
Ethan thought for a moment, then rose and found his cell phone on his desk. He called a number and while it was ringing looked over at Annette. Her eyes were hanging on him.
"Jer, buddy. Hey, you haven't seen Eliana this afternoon, have you?"
He listened, a smile of relief washing over his face. He nodded reassuringly to Annette.
"Yeah, well, I guess she didn't get the message. We've got one worried mom over here."
Bonnie showed up with the whisky just then and Ethan motioned for her to set it down. She threw him an inquisitive look and quietly left.
"Yeah, sure. I'll tell her. Thanks, Jer." He hung up and turned to Annette.
"He said he called yesterday and left a message with your dad. Jer won't be home Thursday. Said he'd pick her up today instead. I guess your dad forgot to tell you. Jer has her working in the indoor arena. He'll bring her home in about an hour."
Annette stared at him blankly.
"She's okay. Nothing to worry about."
Ethan poured some whisky into a coffee mug and when he turned around to her she had her hands over her ears.
"The music," she said. "I can't stop the music."
Ethan set down the mug and gently peeled her hands away from her face.
"There isn't any music."
He held her hands tightly in his for a long moment. Then he picked up the mug again.
"Go on, drink."
This time she took it and drank a little.
"What were you doing out in the rain like that? Why didn't you just drive over here?"
There was terror in her eyes.
"This is about something else, isn't it?"
She nodded faintly.
"What happened, Annette?"
Ethan waited patiently. She took another long drink of the whisky and waited while its warmth began to swim through her veins. It calmed her and she reached for his hand and squeezed it.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Her touch electrified him. He closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them again her hands were back in her lap, clasping the mug.
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