“She’s such a good friend to Jill. Always has been.”
“Awww,” Shelley mouthed, placing a hand over her heart. “Tell her and Bert hello from Audrey and me.”
Mitch relayed the greeting.
“You and the kids are coming for Thanksgiving, of course,” Miriam said. It was not a question.
“Oh––” Mitch was caught off guard. He and Jill and the kids had spent every Thanksgiving since their marriage in Colorado with Jill’s parents. Last year they’d picked up Evan at college on their drive through. But on the way home, after dropping Evan off, and with Katie asleep in the backseat, Jill had wept over the decline they’d seen in her father. “I have a feeling this may have been our last Thanksgiving together.”
The memory jolted Mitch. Had her words been prophetic?
“Why would God take Dad away when we’re losing Katie next year, too,” Jill had asked him.
And instead of comforting her, he’d reprimanded her for being such a pessimist. “You don’t know that you won’t have your dad next year, Jill.” That only made her cry harder. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for a do-over on that conversation.
Now, under the circumstances, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Miriam they wouldn’t be there for Thanksgiving. He’d been needing to go see Jill’s parents anyway. The holidays made a good excuse. “We’ll be there, don’t you worry. I’ll give you a call sometime next week and let you know when to expect us.”
“Well, I want you to know I am setting six places at the table. I fully expect Jill to be with you by then.”
“I’m praying the same thing, Mom.” He rarely called Miriam “Mom,” but it seemed right just now, though the curious look Shelley gave him made him feel awkward. He turned away and spoke into the phone. “Give Bert our love. We’ll see you in a few weeks.”
He hung up and turned back to Shelley, surprised to see her eyes brimming with tears. “What’s wrong?”
She handed the phone back to him, dabbing at the corner of her eye with her pinkie finger.
“Did you find something?”
She shook her head, swallowing hard. “Just a lot of messages back and forth between us. Jill and me. You and Jill. It’s . . . sweet. She was––is always so sweet.” Her voice broke. “I miss her.”
“Yeah, me too.”
He took a step toward her and reached to give her a hug. She reciprocated, putting her arms around him. He almost flinched. It had been so long––so very long––since he’d had the arms of someone made of warm flesh and blood around him. Oh, God, I miss her so much.
“Let me know if I can do anything, Mitch,” she said, pulling away, patting his back like she might’ve with one of the kids.
He looked at the floor, feeling a little uncomfortable.
But Shelley seemed not to notice. “Let me know if I can do anything. You know where I live.”
He smiled at her little joke. “I will. Thanks, Shelley.”
She hooked a thumb behind her. “I’ll let myself out the back if that’s okay.”
“Sure.” He waved, then turned back to pick up Jill’s phone. It took him a few seconds to figure the thing out, but when he found her voice mail function, he scrolled through the names, willing there to be a clue they’d somehow missed.
The majority of the calls and messages were between Jill and him, Shelley, the kids, and a couple of teachers in her school. He listened to a few of the voice mails, choking up to hear Evan and Katie’s playful messages to their mom. This little device held a microcosm of their lives––the life of the family he’d too often taken for granted. He played half a dozen more messages. When he came to the last voice mail from Katie, he couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.
He closed his eyes and pressed the phone against his cheek. Katie’s sweet, little-girl voice floated up to him.
Hey, Mommy! I miss you. Thanks for the M&Ms you hid in my luggage. That was a nice surprise. Well . . . just wanted to say thanks. Tell Daddy hi.
None of them could have known then that they were talking to Jill for the last time.
The thought hung in the air like an omen, and his breath caught. He snapped the phone shut. And for the first time since this all started, he could not muster an atom of hope that he would ever see Jill again.
Chapter 14
Thursday, November 25
“Evan, please pass the mashed potatoes around again.” Miriam lifted a bowl of her famous creamed corn and started it around the festively decorated dining room table. The traditional honeycomb paper turkey sat on the buffet, and the Christmas tree was already up in the living room of the town house Jill’s parents had retired to three years ago.
“And for heaven’s sake,” Miriam said, “put some of those spuds on your plate. Look at all this food. You’re all eating like a bunch of birds.”
“No, thanks, Grandma. I’m stuffed.” Evan puffed out his belly and patted it. “But everything tastes great. Maybe leftovers later, okay?”
Miriam made a tsk tsk sound with her tongue and put another spoonful of cranberry salad on Bert’s plate.
Mitch took the bowl of corn from her and put a small scoop on his own plate. He nudged Katie under the table, encouraging her to do the same. Either he didn’t communicate very well or Katie purposely ignored him.
Miriam’s idle chatter was getting on his nerves, and yet he understood why she felt compelled to hover over them all, talking nonstop in a falsely cheery falsetto. Her prayers to have Jill home by Thanksgiving had not been answered. Jill’s absence was palpable, and even Bert––who hadn’t said a dozen words since they’d arrived in Colorado Springs last night––seemed to be aware that this was not the typical happy family Thanksgiving they were accustomed to.
Mitch thought Bert had declined further, and wondered if Jill’s father was even aware of what had happened with his daughter. Like always, Bert was affectionate with Evan and Katie and seemed to know they were family, but Mitch noticed he hadn’t addressed either of his grandchildren by name, and he didn’t ply them with questions about college or tease them about the latest boyfriend or girlfriend as he’d always done.
Miriam seemed to be trying to make up for Bert’s lethargy and prattled on about this and that. When dinner was over Mitch helped Miriam and Katie carry dirty dishes into the kitchen.
As he scraped plates into the garbage disposal and rinsed silverware for the dishwasher, he felt Katie’s attention on him. He turned to see her watching him with eyes wide and jaw dramatically agape.
“What?”
Katie gave an exaggerated blink. “I think I’m in shock.”
Miriam snickered, obviously in cahoots with her granddaughter.
“What?” he said again. “You’ve never seen a man do dishes?”
“Not on Thanksgiving Day, we haven’t,” said Miriam. “At least not in this house. Or yours either.” She poked a finger at his chest.
Katie shook her head. “Wow, Dad, if Mom could see you now . . .”
“Listen, baby girl, I’ll have you know I’ve reformed since you left for college. I not only do dishes, I’ve even been known to run the vacuum a time or two.”
Miriam and Katie gasped in unison, then dissolved into giggles.
It felt good to laugh––and to talk about Jill in a conversation that didn’t revolve around her disappearance.
Miriam playfully swatted at him with a dish towel. “Get out of here! This kitchen isn’t big enough for a man. Go watch your football game.”
“Okay, okay . . . Just let me rinse these dishes first.”
Miriam gave him a pointed look. “Now, how are Katie and I supposed to talk girl talk with you hanging around? I need to hear the scoop on this new boyfriend.”
“Is there a new boyfriend?” Mitch looked from Katie to Miriam and back again. “I didn’t even know there was an old one.”
Katie’s cheeks flushed a becoming shade of pink. “I was going to tell you, but I didn’t want stupid Evan to give me a hard time.”
�
��So there is a boyfriend. Wow. How have you managed to keep this a secret from your brother, living on the same campus and all?”
She gave an enigmatic smile. “We have our methods.”
Miriam giggled like a teenager. “Well, do tell. Come on! Out with it!”
Katie glanced past Mitch toward the living room. The TV droned football. Seeming satisfied that her brother was otherwise occupied, she spoke in a hushed tone. “Well, his name is Brandon. He’s from Lawrence––so he lives at home––and he’s a biology major. He’s super sweet and his family is awesome. He has two little sisters. They’re only in middle school, but they’re, like, the sisters I never had.”
This sounded serious. Why hadn’t Katie mentioned this boy before? He tried to keep his voice casual. “So, how did you meet him?”
“He’s in my psychology class. He’s a sophomore, but––”
“Oooh, an older man?” Miriam wiggled penciled eyebrows.
Katie giggled. “Yes, but since I took Psych 1 through the community college, we’re in the same class.”
“What does he look like? A hunk, I’m sure. Or a fox? Or . . . what is it you kids say now . . . ?” Miriam’s eyebrows went up. “Is he hot?”
Katie cracked up at that, but she huddled in close to her grandmother. “He is smokin’ hot. You should see him, Grandma. He’s got these baby blue eyes that just––” She looked up and cut her eyes at Mitch.
“Hey, don’t mind me,” he teased. “You two talk all you want. I’m just the kitchen help.” He grabbed the dishrag and started swabbing an already spotless section of the countertop.
Katie groaned and turned back to her grandmother, describing this KU boy in glowing––and too graphic for his taste––terms. Did he really need to know that his daughter was taken with a guy who was “ripped”? It bothered him that in all the phone conversations they’d had in the last three months, Katie had never mentioned she was dating someone. Still, it warmed his heart to see Miriam playing Jill’s role––and Katie eating it up.
“Oh, and look, Grandma––you, too, Dad . . .”––she pulled a necklace from beneath her collar––“he gave me this. Said it was a Thanksgiving present. Isn’t that soooo sweet?”
Miriam admired the necklace and patted Katie’s cheek, but Mitch sensed a sudden dip in Miriam’s enthusiasm. Maybe she was just remembering similar conversations with Jill. Physically, Katie looked more like the Brannon side of the family, but she had Jill’s mannerisms, and Miriam couldn’t help but notice. And remember.
“It’s real pretty, honey,” he offered.
Miriam gave a little frown. “I hope it wasn’t too expensive.”
Mitch had thought the same thing.
“Your mother had a boyfriend who used to give her little trinkets like that––before she met your sweet dad, of course.” Miriam gave Mitch’s cheek a patronizing pat before turning back to Katie. “Jill––your mom––thought it was nice, too, until the guy started using those gifts to manipulate her.”
It had to be Greg Hamaker Miriam was referring to. He was pretty much the only guy Jill had dated in high school.
“Oh, Brandon isn’t like that.” Katie shook her head and turned to Mitch. “Hey, Dad, you know what we thought of the other night, me and Brandon? If men took their wives’ names when they got married, Brandon would be Brandon Brannon. Isn’t that a hoot?”
He stared at her. “You’re not getting married, are you?”
“No! Give me a break, Dad. I’m only a freshman.” She rolled her eyes. “We were just talking. Don’t freak out.”
He shrugged. Still, how could that Brandon Brannon tidbit have even come up if she hadn’t been discussing the subject of marriage with this guy? Suddenly Mitch was not a fan of Brandon whatever-his-real-last-name-was.
A faraway look came to Miriam’s eyes. “I’ll never forget when your mom told me Mitchell Brannon had asked her to marry him.”
Mitch’s heart lurched at the memories that washed over him. He struggled not to let his emotions show.
It helped when Katie gave him a playful look and hopped up on the kitchen counter, settling in for Miriam’s story.
Mitch took his time finishing the dishes, enjoying seeing this side of his daughter. And basking in the memories of his and Jill’s courtship.
Later, when Katie had fallen asleep on the sofa, Mitch sought out Miriam at the dining room table, where she was putting away the good silver.
“You mentioned the boyfriend who manipulated Jill with gifts . . .”
She looked up, curiosity in her gaze. “Greg Hamaker. You knew him, didn’t you?”
He shook his head. “I knew about him.” There was no reason for Miriam to know about his confrontation with Hamaker. Or his suspicions. “You said he gave Jill trinkets. Like what?”
“Oh, goodness, I don’t remember. Jewelry mostly. A necklace or bracelet . . . any little gift he could give to bribe her into getting back together after one of their breakups. They had a pretty rocky time of it.”
“Yeah, Jill talked about that.”
Miriam shook her head. “It didn’t take much to make him mad, and every time he’d have one of his blowups, I’d be sure that would be the last straw and she would finally break up with him for good. But then he’d come crawling back with some trinket.” She shook her head. “Peace offerings, Jill called them. But they were bribes, pure and simple. I don’t think he ever gave her anything of value––it was just costume jewelry and baubles. And flowers. Lots of flowers. Bert and I tried to get her to give it all back to him when they finally did break up, just so he couldn’t hold anything over her head. But I don’t know if she ever did. I guess there are a lot of things we may never know now.” That faraway look came back to her eyes. “If we . . . don’t find Jill, please promise me you and the kids will stay in touch.”
“Oh, Miriam. Of course we would.”
“Colorado’s a long way away. And the kids will both have their own lives, their own families. I know that, but––”
“Hey . . .” He put an arm around her shoulders, surprised at how thin she’d gotten. “Let’s don’t give up hope, okay?”
“Oh, I haven’t given up hope, Mitchell. But when you’re eighty, the hope you’re banking on isn’t necessarily for this side of Heaven.”
She looked up at him, and the sadness in her eyes tore him apart. Because he knew it wasn’t as much for herself as it was for him.
Sunday, November 28
“Mom! Why didn’t you call me?” Audrey’s words came out on a sob, and Shelley tried not to let her own alarm color her tone.
“Audrey . . . Honey, I’m sorry.” There was something going on that her daughter wasn’t saying. Shelley had just gotten back to Sylvia after driving down to see Audrey over Thanksgiving. “Remember, I stopped in Poplar Bluff to have lunch with Aunt Mona, and well . . . then I discovered this little antique shop downtown. I guess I stayed longer than I thought. But I should have called you anyway. I’m sorry.”
“I thought something happened to you. Why didn’t you answer my texts?”
“Honey, I told you . . . You know how phone service is between there and Cape. Past Cape Girardeau, I didn’t have more than two bars until I was almost back to Sylvia, and by then I figured you’d already be in bed. I knew you had early classes tomorrow and I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Okay,” Audrey sniffed. “I’m sorry I got so upset.”
“Is everything okay? Is there something you’re not telling me?” They’d had such a good time together in Springfield, and Shelley hadn’t sensed anything amiss.
“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just . . . after what happened to Evan’s mom . . . I worry about you.” Her voice rose on another sob.
“Oh, Audrey, I’m sorry. But think about it, honey. The chances of that happening to two best friends is practically nil.” She didn’t tell Audrey that on more than a few nights, she, too, had awakened in a cold sweat from a terrifying dream. Rarely could she remember wh
at the dream was about, but she always woke with Jill on her mind and couldn’t deny the source of those dreams. It still didn’t seem real that her friend was gone. And that they had no idea what had happened to her.
“I know that’s probably true, Mom, but . . . I’ve always thought our little town and our house was safe, and look what happened. It just scared me. That’s all.”
“But honey, it didn’t happen in Sylvia. Whatever happened . . . to Jill . . . most likely happened before she ever left Kansas City.” She tried not to think how similar Springfield was to Kansas City when it came to crime rates and danger. “I do understand why you were worried though. It’s been unsettling for all of us. I can’t even imagine what Evan and Katie must be going through.”
“Well, actually, Mom, I can. That’s why I was so upset when you didn’t call.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I promise it won’t happen––”
“Mom, if I ever lost you”––Audrey’s voice cracked––“,I’d be completely alone. At least Evan and Katie still have their dad.”
Shelley had thought it was a good sign that she and Audrey hadn’t talked much at all about Jill while she’d been in Springfield. Now she realized they’d both probably held back from mentioning Jill Brannon for fear of upsetting the other.
She talked to Audrey for another twenty minutes, carrying her phone through the house while she unpacked her suitcase and got ready for bed.
“Honey, I could talk all night,” she said when she could tell Audrey had calmed down. “But you have class and I have to work tomorrow so I’m going to say good night.”
“Okay. I love you, Mom.”
“Love you, too, honey. Sweet dreams.”
“I’d settle for no dreams.”
“Yeah, me too. I’ll pray for that.” She hung up, overwhelmed with love for her daughter, and missing her as if she hadn’t seen her for months.
It was times like this that she missed Jill the most. When she longed desperately for the friend she’d always run to for assurance. Her eyes fell on a ceramic shaving mug that sat on her dresser. The mug was filled with a “bouquet” of antique magnifying glasses––one of those accidental collections she’d accumulated after Jill saw her admire a jade-handled magnifier in a shop once.
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