Comeback
Page 6
I can’t take Elliot. The rain will just make him worse.
I can’t leave him here either. He’d be terrified.
And anyway, how much do puffers cost?
What if I need a prescription?
I’ll have to find a doctor. I’ll have to make up a fake name.
I turn and look back into the cabin. It’s too dark to see Elliot, but I can hear him breathe. He sounds like a rocking chair with a squeaky joint.
I don’t have a choice. I’ve got to call somebody for help.
Sophie.
Could I trust her?
I don’t know. It’s too dangerous.
That thing—the Kid’s Helpline. It just pops into my head. I remember the commercial. They don’t make you give your name. They’ll know what to do.
I fumble back across the room. I stub my toe hard against the bed, but don’t swear. I deserve the pain. I crawl onto the mattress and rub my hands over the blanket. I find my phone hidden under my purse and turn it on.
The screen lights up: 5:40 am. Well, there’s one question answered. It won’t be long before daybreak.
I’ve got ten more messages. Six are from Mom. Three are from “Private Caller.”
One is from Dad.
Chapter Twenty
“Honey,” he says, “I’m so worried about you. Call me.”
I can’t believe my ears. I jump up, screaming, shaking.
Is this for real? Am I hallucinating?
I need proof. I replay the message. “Elliot,” I say. “Who’s that on the phone? Who is it?”
“Daddy! It’s Daddy!” Even his asthma can’t stop him from bouncing.
I check the date of the message. Last night. Just before midnight.
Is this a trick? Did some technical genius at the police department rig this up to fool us into calling?
I don’t care. I dial the number.
Dad picks up on the first ring. “Ria?”
My hand slaps over my mouth. I can’t answer for the longest time. “Is that you, Dad?”
Dad laughs. “Yes, it’s me, honey.”
“But…but…” I’m suddenly overcome by sobbing. “I thought you were dead. They said you were dead.”
“Calm down, sweetie. It’s a long story. I’ll explain it all later. It’s you we’re worried about now. You and Elliot. Your mother says he needs his medicine.”
I try to pull myself together. “He does. Please help me.”
“Don’t worry. We will. Tell me where you are. Someone will come and get you, right away.”
“I want you to come, Dad,” I say. “I want you to do it, Daddy.”
I sound like a baby, but I don’t care. I have to see him. I won’t believe this isn’t a trick or a hoax or just my wild imagination until I actually see him again.
He’s talking to someone. I can’t hear what he’s saying. Is my mother there? Maybe they’re back together. Maybe she was so happy to find out he’s alive that they’re back together again.
My old life. My family. My house. Maybe this was all just some big misunderstanding, and everything will be okay again. Mom and Dad and Elliot and me.
And Colin.
“I’m coming for you, Ria,” Dad says. “Just tell me where you are.” It’s only about an hour before we hear the first thwack-thwack-thwack overhead. Elliot and I run to the cabin door. The rain has stopped. The first glint of sun hits the blue and white police helicopter like a spotlight. Only Dad could have arranged that. It makes me think of an angel coming down from the clouds.
Elliot looks at me, confused. “Why are you crying, Ria? It’s Daddy!” He says something else, but I can’t make it out. The sound of the helicopter landing in the playground is deafening.
A policeman jumps out and races over to get us. We crouch down and run under the blades with him. I can see Dad sitting in the helicopter with that big beautiful smile of his. I’m so happy to see him.
I jump on board and throw my arms out to hug him. Last time I saw him, he hugged me so hard he made my bones squeak. This time, he doesn’t even hug me back.
I’m surprised and hurt—until I pull back and see the handcuffs.
Chapter Twenty-One
I’m not very good at this. I got more strawberry jam on my uniform than in the donuts. I’m going to be sticky for the whole rest of my shift.
I’m standing by the sink, scrubbing at the bright red stain with a wet paper napkin when someone says, “Excuse me?”
I turn around and see Colin for the first time since I came back five months ago.
We’re both embarrassed. He clearly wasn’t expecting to see me here any more than I was expecting to see him.
I push my hairnet up off my forehead. He takes a step back from the counter and says, “Sorry. I just wanted a blueberry muffin.”
I nod about seven times. “We have blueberry muffins,” I say. I grab a napkin and turn my back to him. I have to lean against the donut trays to keep my balance.
I realize he’s wearing a uniform too. He must be working as a courier. I guess he has to. I heard his parents lost their house and their business and everything.
He must hate me.
I reach for the biggest muffin there is. As if that’s going to make it up to him. He used to be so excited about going away to university this year, and now he’s stuck here, having to work.
My hand is shaking so much I drop the muffin on the floor.
He says, “That’s okay.”
I shake my head. I put the muffin in the garbage and get another one.
Does he realize I didn’t know anything about it? That my mother didn’t know anything about it either until it was too late?
None of us had any idea Dad was capable of doing things like that. Stealing money. Scamming friends and relatives and helpless old ladies. Faking his own death. Taking off.
“Do you want it heated up?” I say. I’m so ashamed. I can’t even look at Colin.
“No, it’s good like that. Thanks.”
“Butter?” I suddenly want him to stay. His voice doesn’t sound angry at all. Maybe we could talk. I could explain everything to him.
What am I thinking? I couldn’t explain anything to him. I don’t understand anything. Part of me knows my father is a bad man. But another part of me still loves him, still even believes him, despite all the evidence against him.
And what difference does the evidence make any way? Dad may have done all those terrible things, but he turned himself in when he heard Elliot and I were missing, when he thought he could help get us back.
That must be worth something.
I just don’t know how much.
Colin says, “No. No butter, thanks. I’m not playing hockey anymore, so I got to watch the calories.”
He pats his perfectly flat stomach. I hand him the muffin in a little paper bag.
We’re careful not to touch each other.
He puts five dollars on the counter.
“That’s too much,” I say. “It’s only a dollar fifteen.”
Colin shrugs. There’s still a bit of sparkle in his eyes, even for me. “That’s okay. Buy Elliot a treat.”
He almost smiles. Then he walks out the door. I watch him disappear around the corner.
“Come back,” I say—but I know by now he’s too far gone.
Vicki Grant left her career in advertising and television to write her first novel in 2004. Vicki’s books have gone on to win many awards, including the prestigious Arthur Ellis Award in 2006. Vicki lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia, with her husband and three children.
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