by Jeff Shelby
I shrugged again. “Then they could've blown it off as just stopping by or some bullshit like that. Or it may have just been someone impersonating a cop. I don't know.”
He made a face like he was still skeptical. “I guess.” He paused. “Okay. So again, working under the assumption it was one of them...what now?”
“I need more,” I said. “It can't be an assumption if I'm going to act on it.”
“But assuming you get more. What then?”
I didn't have that answer yet.
TWELVE
“I just think we need to concentrate on Elizabeth,” Lauren said.
We were sitting in the bedroom. Lauren's bedroom. Chuck had left after we were done talking, as we hadn't really come to any conclusions. It was good, though, to sit and talk with him and air out what was in my head. Lauren and Elizabeth had returned home and we'd had an early dinner. Elizabeth wasn't terribly talkative and had disappeared into her room after we'd eaten. Lauren and I had loaded the dishwasher in silence and then gone into the bedroom. I'd finished telling her what I'd learned from Lasko and the things Chuck and I had discussed and she was telling me that she wasn't all that interested.
“I am concentrating on her,” I said, stretching out in the easy chair next to the bed. “But I'm concentrating on this, too.”
“Like always.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you won't let it go.”
“No. I won't.”
She shifted on the bed and frowned at me. “But why, Joe? She's home. She's here.”
“Because I want to know who took our daughter,” I said. “And why.”
“And then what?” she asked. “Bring them to justice? Seek vengeance? Maybe torture them in the garage?”
“Stop.”
“I'm serious,” she said, folding her arms across her chest and leaning back against the headboard. “Then what?”
I didn't say anything.
“I don't see how it helps Elizabeth,” she said. “I just don't. And let's say you do find out exactly what happened. Anything that would involve arresting them or prosecuting or whatever would mean Elizabeth would have to get involved in multiple ways. Do you really think that's the best thing for her right now?”
It wasn't. I knew that. But I also wasn't okay with the idea that the person who had wrecked our lives might get away with it.
“I'll keep her out of it,” I said.
Lauren snorted, not bother to hiding her derision. “Really? How exactly? You and I both know she'd have to relive the whole thing again, and probably pretty damn publicly.”
I knew that, too, and it wasn't something I had an answer for. Given how quickly the media outlets had picked up the story of her return, I had no doubt that they'd feast on a criminal trial.
But I'd spent a decade focused on finding her and finding whoever took her. Now that half of the equation was solved, I couldn't seem to just drop the other half.
“I don't have all of the answers, Lauren,” I said. “I'm just trying to feel my way through this.”
She sighed and shook her head. I remembered that exact sigh and that exact shake of her head from the days right before we'd finally decided to get divorced. We'd reached an impasse. Neither of us were happy and neither of us wanted to travel the same path as the other. I wondered if that's where we were headed again.
I shifted in the chair and lifted my feet on to the ottoman. “You think any more about Minnesota?”
“Yeah. I still think it's not happening.”
“You tell her that?”
She adjusted the pillow propped behind her back. “I told her I didn't think it was a great idea.”
“What'd she say?”
“Nothing,” Lauren said. “She pretty much stopped talking to me after that.”
I wasn't surprised by that. Lauren and Elizabeth hadn't found the middle ground I'd cultivated with our daughter. Things were still tense, their words often sounding and feeling forced when they spoke to one another. I didn't think it was anyone's fault, but I also didn't see it going away anytime soon if Lauren refused to budge on letting her visit the Corzines.
“What about going with her?” I asked.
Lauren raised an eyebrow at me. “What are you talking about?”
“What if you went with her?” I said. “To Minnesota.”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
I tapped my fingers on the arm of the chair. “Most of your concerns about her going were because she'd be by herself. And I agree with that. I don't think she should go alone.” I paused. “But it would be different if you went with her.”
Her eyebrow dropped, but she didn't seem thrilled by the idea. “I'm not in favor of her going to Minnesota. At all.”
“But she's not gonna let it go, Lauren,” I said. “Think about it. Everything she's known for the last I don't know how long is there. It's natural for her to want some closure.”
“What if she wants more than closure?” she asked.
I thought for a moment. “We'll have to deal with that if the time comes. We aren't giving her up. We know that. But I do think she's entitled to some closure. And if you went with her, she can get that and we aren't sending her alone.”
Lauren looked away from me. I wasn't sure she was buying my argument. I did, though, think it was a good compromise because I didn't think Elizabeth was going to drop it. And that might lead to things that could get ugly. And I also thought that it would be a good way to remove them from the picture for awhile while I did more investigating. The stupid email that I'd gotten was also in the back of my mind. I was really starting to think they needed to go.
“Why me?” Lauren said, turning back to me. “Why don't you go?”
“Because I think it'll give you some points with her,” I said. “If you're the one taking her, you're the one saying okay to her. And I think, right now, you both need that.”
If she disagreed with me, she didn't say so. She stared at her hands in her lap.
“I'll think about it,” she finally said.
I nodded and stood. “Okay.”
I was at the door when she said, “You still haven't given me an answer.”
I turned around and leaned against the frame. “About?”
“The baby?”
“What answer?”
“What you want?”
“I thought we went through this yesterday,” I said, frowning. “I told you how I felt.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said. “But I want you to tell me what you want.”
“I honestly don't know,” I said. Her eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to speak but I held up my hand to stop her. “And before you accuse me of indifference again, that's the truth. This week has been...overwhelming.” I pointed upstairs. “And she's been my first concern each day.”
Lauren nodded. “Mine, too.”
“So I haven't sat down and considered all of our options and how I feel about everything,” I said. “Hell, I don't even know what you and I are doing. I kind of think we need to figure that out before we can make any kind of joint decision. Because if we aren't together? Then, I'm sorry, but it really is your decision. I can give you my opinion and tell you what I want, but it would absolutely be your decision. And I'd support whatever you decided. Unconditionally.”
She thought for a moment. “What was your first reaction? When I told you?”
I stared at her. “You want the truth?”
“Always.”
“My first reaction was I couldn't believe we'd been so careless,” I said. “Not that I felt bad about it or anything like that. But that it never occurred to either one of us to use or even mention any kind of protection. We were like two high school kids who hadn't had the sex talk.”
“I never got the sex talk,” she said, a small smile flitting across her face. “My parents were too embarrassed to bring it up.”
“Mine, too,” I said. “So maybe that explains it.”
S
he laughed. I wasn't trying to be funny, though. I didn't want her to think I didn't care or wasn't taking it seriously. But that had honestly been my first reaction.
“My next reaction was wow,” I said. “We're pregnant.”
She nodded slowly. “We.”
I took a step so I was out of the doorway and back in the bedroom. “Yeah. I thought of it as we. I was stunned. I mean, it was one time. I couldn't believe we'd...done it perfectly for the first time in sixteen years.”
She laughed and shook her head.
“I'm really not trying to be funny,” I said. “But you told me and it hit me like a bag of cement. It was the last thing I was expecting you to say. And then you told me I didn't have to worry about it, that you weren't telling me so I'd be involved or whatever the hell you said. So I assumed you didn't give a shit about my opinion.”
The smile faded and she nodded again. “I was caught off guard, too. But I knew. I'd felt like crap and I knew what the test was going to tell me before I even took it. So I was angry at...I don't know. Everything. And I didn't want you to think that it was your responsibility or whatever. But I obviously had to tell you.”
“Which brings us back to where we started,” I said. “So you want my opinion?”
She hesitated, ran a hand through her hair again. “Yes.”
“I think having a baby right now would be about the worst thing anyone could think of doing, given all the circumstances,” I said. “Our unsettled relationship, Elizabeth's coming home, all the shit we're still going to have to deal with. Having a baby seems like dropping a match in a house filled with kerosene. For us, anyway.”
Her mouth tightened into a firm line, but she didn't say anything.
“But I also know that we'd talked about having a second child for years. And that our marriage blew up because some motherfucker took our daughter from us,” I said. “And we thought we lost her. We got her back, but we thought we lost her. Every single child is a gift. Every single one. And the fact that we conceived one in the middle of all of this...” My voice trailed off for a moment, but I cleared my throat and continued. “Maybe that was a message that we were getting a second chance at a bunch of things. You know I don't believe in all that religious rhetoric or think anyone should tell a woman whether or not she can have an abortion. Fuck all of those people and their soapboxes. But do I think we should have this baby?” I nodded my head. “Yeah. Strike the fucking match. Bring it on.”
Lauren watched me for a moment, then laid her hands flat on her thighs, her legs stretched out in front of her. “Wow. Okay.”
“You said you wanted to know where I stood,” I said, leaning up against the wall. “And I swear, Lauren. If you disagree and don't want to, I won't fight you for a single second. I'll do anything you need me to do.”
She chewed on her upper lip for a second. “I didn't know you'd feel so strongly.”
“I'm just being honest.”
She nodded, a small smile creeping onto her face. “Thank you. For being honest. For being you and cutting to the chase.” She paused and I watched her as she fingered the comforter beneath her. “And I guess we'll be having a baby.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
She smoothed the fabric beneath her fingers. “Not for a second have I not wanted to have it,” she said. “For exactly the reasons you said. Second chances. Gifts. All of that. I've thought about those things all week, staying awake at night, working them all through my head. And I agree with you. On all of it. I want to have the baby.”
I smiled. “Okay.”
“Okay.” She shook her head like she couldn't believe it. “I guess we're going to have a baby.”
THIRTEEN
I slept in Lauren's room.
Not in a sexual or romantic way, but after we'd both admitted that we wanted to have the baby, I'd gone to the bed and hugged her. I'd wrapped my arms around her and she'd snuggled in to me and we'd both fallen asleep. I woke in the middle of the night, the seeds of panic blossoming as I wondered if Elizabeth was still in her bed. In her room. In our house. I'd slid out from Lauren and padded soundlessly up the stairs. She was in bed, curled up on her side, the covers pulled to her chin. I could have gone to the guest room then. But I didn't. I made my way back down the stairs and crawled into bed and pulled Lauren toward my chest. She sighed and scooted against me and I drifted back to sleep.
It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable, being in bed with her. The way I saw it, we were continuing our roller coaster ride of a relationship. We may have come to an agreement about the baby, but that didn't mean we'd figured out anything about ourselves.
Elizabeth was up early, already in her running clothes, when I came out of Lauren's bedroom. If she wondered why I'd slept there instead of upstairs, she didn't ask, just mumbled a good morning and sipped her orange juice. I grabbed the keys and we were out the door after I downed my own small glass of juice.
The morning fog was still clinging to the cool air, the sidewalks and street damp from the moisture. It was thick enough that it felt like dry ice was swirling around us as we stretched for a few minutes on the beach. I could hear the waves lapping against the shore, but we were far enough up the sand that I couldn't see it.
“You sleep okay?” I asked, twisting to loosen up my back.
She leaned down and reached for her calf. “Yeah.”
“Getting used to the bed?”
She stood and adjusted the band around her ponytail. “It's fine.”
“I talked to your mom about Minnesota,” I said.
Her eyes narrowed and she continued fiddling with the band. “She told me.”
“I may have changed her mind,” I said. “Sort of.”
She toed the sand. “Sort of?”
“She's willing to consider letting you go to Minnesota,” I said. “Provided she goes with you.”
She rolled her eyes, shook her head and took the first few tentative steps into our run. “Great.”
I didn't say anything and we took off. We ran easily at first, mainly because it was hard to see through the fog. But as it burned off, we picked up the pace, our feet pounding the sand. The sun eventually poked through the fog, sending beams of light across the sand and forty five minutes later, when we came to a halt back where we started, we were both sweating pretty good.
We walked slowly, letting our breath come back and our legs recover.
“I take it you aren't interested in a joint trip back to Minnesota then,” I said.
“I didn't say that.”
“Hey, Elizabeth?”
“What?”
“I get this is all tough for you. I really do and I'm trying to navigate all of this and help with what you're asking for. But I'm really done with the indifferent teenager act, so you might want to consider dropping that crap right about now.”
The color in her cheeks deepened. “Sorry.”
It was the first time I'd spoken to her like a real parent since she'd been home. It came out naturally, because I really was irritated with her demeanor. But I also had an immediate pang of guilt, as if my scolding her was going to make her hate me or run away.
“I understand why you'd want to go back to Minnesota,” I said. “But you also need to understand that your mom and I aren't comfortable sending you back alone. We spent a long time without you, we don't know the Corzines and we just don't want to be away from you. There's a lot of moving parts here. But I do get why you want to go back. And I think having her go with you might be a pretty good compromise. I think it's the best we can offer you right now.”
She wiped at her forehead with the sleeve of her T-shirt. “Okay.”
“Okay you want to go or okay you don't want to go?”
She took a deep breath and put her hands on her hips. “I'd like to go.”
I nodded and we started walking up the beach, back toward the house. “I'll talk with your mom some more today about it then.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
We sc
rambled through the rocks to get to the sidewalk. The fog was completely gone now, having given way to a light blue sky and the sun over the distant mountains.
“Do you remember me?” I asked before I could swallow the words.
She looked surprised. “What?”
“Do you remember me? From before you were taken?”
She was quiet for a minute.
“Yeah, I remember some things,” she said. “Like I told you. Sort of like shadows. But, yeah. I can remember some things.”
“Like?”
She stared straight ahead. “I remember walking to school with you. I remember the white cat you bought me when I was...I don't know how old. I remember some things, yeah.”
“With your mom, too?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
We walked for another minute and turned the corner onto our street.
“I have a tough question for you,” I said. “You ready for it?”
She glanced at me. “I guess.”
I cleared my throat. “Would you rather be here or in Minnesota?”
The corners of her mouth twitched and she reached back to fiddle with her hair as we kept walking.
“And I should preface that, I guess,” I said. “I want to know because I want to know where you're at. Your mom and I aren't considering letting you move back to Minnesota or anything. It's not your fault that people lied to you and that you had to block things out and accept where you were out. I understand why you did that and I'm glad you did. But the fact is, you weren't supposed to be with those people. We don't want to treat you like a possession, but the bottom line is you're our daughter. I just want to know because I want to know what you're feeling.”
Her pace slowed until we came to a stop on the sidewalk. She dropped her hands from her hair, but they fidgeted at her sides, like she didn't know what to do with them. It took a moment before her eyes found mine.
“I don't know,” she said. “I mean, I don't know how to answer, okay? I don't feel like I belong here, but I know I don't really belong there either. I know all that. It's just...it's just weird. So I'm not trying to be all 'I don't care.' I just don't feel like I belong anywhere right now.”