He weighed his words carefully. “I think Shelley just knows how hard things have been for us since Mom’s been gone. She just wants to help. I think she’s . . . trying to make things easier for us. You know how close she and Mom were. Maybe spending time with us helps her not to miss Mom so much.”
“Whatever.” She shot him a look that made him squirm a little.
“What brought all this up?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
She cocked her head and eyed him. “Would you ever––get married again?” The words rushed out as if she was afraid she’d lose her courage if she didn’t say it now.
“Oh, honey . . . I don’t know. I haven’t really––” He’d started to say he hadn’t really thought about it. But that would have been a flat-out lie. He thought about it all right. Every single day.
He desperately missed the little things about marriage––well, and the big things, too. If he thought too long about the possibility that he might live alone the rest of his days––especially after Evan and Katie were truly on their own––it was easy to sink into a depression he wasn’t sure he could crawl out of.
What he couldn’t––wouldn’t––tell Katie was that not only did he think every day about remarrying, he thought about marrying Shelley Austin.
As if she’d read his mind, she made a funny face. “’Cause if this thing with Evan and Audrey goes anywhere, it would be really awkward if you and Shelley started, like, going out.” She grimaced and gave a little shudder as if the very thought grossed her out.
“I don’t think you have to worr–”
“Never mind, Dad.” She hitched her bag up again and headed for the door. “I really have to go. I’m late as it is.”
She was out the door before he could ask her again about supper with Shelley. Still, he breathed a sigh of relief that he’d gotten out of addressing her question.
But knowing his Katie, she’d find a way to ask it again.
He didn’t know the answer, but for his sake, as well as Katie’s, he’d better come up with something. And soon.
Shelley put another piece of chicken on Mitch’s paper plate and sat down across from him at the picnic table in a shady corner of her backyard. She rarely used the table in June, when the massive cottonwood tree that formed a canopy over them was shedding its “cotton.” But temps had hit almost ninety today and it was too warm to sit on the deck.
She swatted away another of the fluffy white tufts and filled her own plate. She would have preferred to eat in the air-conditioned kitchen, but Mitch seemed more comfortable staying outdoors when it was just the two of them.
“I’m sorry the girls couldn’t be here,” she said.
“I’m not,” Mitch said, taking another bite.
She shot him a questioning look, hoping for a split second that he wanted to talk to her about–– No . . . She didn’t dare to hope.
“There’s more for me this way,” he said, holding up a forkful of chicken like a trophy. “And rumor has it there’s homemade ice cream for dessert.”
“Audrey told you?”
He nodded.
“That little snitch. I told her it was a surprise.” But she laughed.
“You didn’t happen to make any of that amazing chocolate sauce you make, did you?”
“Okay, now you’re pushing it.”
He gave her a look that reminded her of TP when the Lab knew he was in trouble.
“Yes, I made chocolate sauce. Your wish is my command.”
“Oh, man. I must be doing something right.”
As much as she loved bantering with him like this, part of her wished he wouldn’t be so . . . flirtatious. And yet when she reciprocated in kind––which just seemed to come naturally with him––Mitch pulled away. And sometimes grew sullen.
She knew why. He still hadn’t felt God “release” him from his marriage to Jill. Then why did he torture her with these little tastes of what it would be like to share a life with him?
She went in the house and fixed bowls of ice cream, then carried them out to the picnic table. He took a bite and made soft, appreciative sounds that caused her thoughts go to places they had no business going.
“So where’s Audrey tonight?” He stretched his back and leaned forward to scoop another spoonful of ice cream.
“She and some friends went to the movie. That new Robert Downey Jr. film finally made it to Sylvia.”
“Oh, hey, I’ve heard that’s good. Evan saw it and really liked it.” He took another bite of ice cream and spoke over it. “You wouldn’t want to go, would you?”
She eyed him, not sure she’d heard him right. “To the movie?”
He nodded and shaded his eyes, looking up at the sun. “The night’s still young, right?”
“I’d love to, but––” She gave a little wince. “I’d rather not run into Audrey and her friends . . .”
“Good point. I think that show is still playing in Cape though . . .” He checked his watch. “We could still make it. I’m game if you are.”
His smile made her feel like she’d just won the lottery. “I’d love that, Mitch. Let me go check the newspaper and see what time it starts.”
“Um . . . maybe we should go to a late show. If you don’t mind,” he added quickly. “I just don’t feel like running into anyone we know.”
“Yes. Good idea. We both know what people could do with that.”
He cocked his head. “With us being . . . out together, you mean?”
She nodded.
“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, Shelley. If you’d rather not . . .” He looked like he was having second thoughts and she wanted to kick herself for being hesitant.
“I’m fine with it. Mitch . . . You’re the one who’s been so hesitant about our friendship being misunderstood. I just want you to know that this”––she motioned between them––“is just two friends going to a movie together. Nothing more. I know where you stand on this.”
“I know you do. And thank you for that. I’ve felt very . . . safe with you. And I appreciate that.”
“Well, can I just say that I’m really glad to see you finally be able to enjoy life a little bit again.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I shouldn’t be.” He dipped his head before meeting her eyes again.
But she threw him a stern look. “You just stop that. You’ll crash and burn if you don’t give yourself a break, Mitch. Nobody could have done more.”
“I would have crashed and burned a long time ago if it wasn’t for you.”
She waved him off, and wished again that he wouldn’t be so terribly sweet to her. It did not help her resolve one bit.
“No, I mean it, Shel.” Jill’s nickname for her rolled off Mitch’s tongue as if they’d always been so familiar. Shelley tried to pretend she didn’t notice, but she could tell he felt self-conscious about his slip.
“This whole . . . thing has been so insane,” he said. “I haven’t ever really stopped to tell you how much that’s meant to me. And the kids, too. You’ve gone way beyond what most friends would do.”
“I haven’t done anything Jill wouldn’t have done for me if the tables were turned.” Now that she’d put it out there, the comparison gave her pause. She knew it wasn’t an apt analogy––because she had no husband for Jill to fall in love with.
But Mitch didn’t call her on it. Instead, he reached across the table and touched her hand briefly. “Well, I appreciate it more than I’ll ever be able to express.” He untangled his legs from under the picnic table and rose, gathering their soiled paper plates and bowls as he did. “Now, if we’re going to make the movie, we’d better get moving.”
“Let me just go do something with my hair real quick.”
“Okay. I’ll go get my car and meet you in your driveway.”
Gathering up their drinks and watching him walk across the lawn to his backyard, she scolded herself for hoping. But she couldn’t help it. She pushed away the twinge of guilt that tried to rui
n her mood.
Another puff of cotton from the cottonwood tree sailed above her on the evening breeze, and feeling every bit as buoyant, she practically floated across the grass to the house.
Chapter 31
They’d made it to an eight thirty showing of the film, but just barely. Shelley stood at the sink in the women’s restroom, washing her hands, eager to get to the auditorium and locate Mitch before the lights were dimmed. Movie tunes played softly over the speakers, and each time the door opened, the excited murmur of moviegoers filtered into the large tiled restroom.
In the mirror’s reflection she saw two women enter, deep in conversation, not paying attention to her. She thought she recognized the older woman––an occasional customer at Serendipity.
Great. She lowered her head and reached for the paper towels, ready for a quick exit if they looked her way.
But the women went into side-by-side restroom stalls carrying on their conversation, loud enough for Shelley to hear. She only half listened, checking her hair in the mirror and quickly slicking on lip gloss.
Seconds later, something made her focus on the conversation between the two restroom stalls, and she stilled to listen.
“. . . I’m just sure that was them. She works at that gift shop in Sylvia––you know the one I told you about that has those candles I like? I forget the name of it.”
“How long ago was that? His wife was a teacher, right? I remember hearing about it on the news, but I never heard the end of the story.”
“That’s because there wasn’t an end to it. They never found her. I think it’s been almost a year since that happened.”
“Seriously? That’s just scary.”
“It seems a little convenient . . . them living next door to each other like that.”
Shelley’s breath caught.
“Do you think there’s really something going on between them? Where’d you hear that?”
“Oh, I’ve heard more than one person say that.”
“You don’t think they had something to do with his wife going miss––”
“Oh, surely not. The police would have figured that one out pretty quick. But it does look a little fishy, when you think about it.”
Shelley stood there, listening, knowing she needed to get out of there, but paralyzed by their gossip.
“Well, it’d make a great movie of the week.”
The younger woman giggled. “More like a reality show.”
“Yeah, Desperate Housewives meets The Biggest Loser. Get it?”
“Lucy, you’re terrible!” The two cackled at Lucy’s bad joke.
At the sound of a toilet flushing, Shelley tossed her lip gloss in her purse and dashed out into the lobby.
She hurried around the corner and made her way down the corridor to the theater where their movie was playing. Replaying the conversation in her mind, a wave of nausea washed over her. Was this what people were saying behind their backs?
Except for that Sunday she and Mitch went to church together, they hadn’t gone anywhere in public together. How could people make such harsh judgments about them? Turn the whole thing into a joke.
She took a deep breath and ducked into the theater, grateful for the relative darkness.
From his seat near the top of the stadium-style theater, Mitch watched for Shelley. He’d saved them seats, but she’d been gone so long he was starting to worry something was wrong.
He checked his watch, afraid the lights would dim and the previews would start rolling before she could find where he was sitting. Jill always knew where to look for him––three or four rows from the top, right smack in the middle of the theater. Best seat in the house. But Shelley didn’t know that, and he hadn’t thought to tell her.
Just when he was about to text her and ask if everything was okay, he saw her enter the theater. She stood at the bottom of the wide stairs searching the crowd for him, her expression serious. He rose halfway from his seat and waved, and the smile that bloomed on her face when she spotted him said everything was fine.
Following her graceful gait as she came up the stairs, he wondered if she was aware of the heads she turned as she passed by. If she was, she didn’t show it. It was one of the things he appreciated about her.
She settled into the seat beside him and slid her purse beside her in the seat––on his side—putting a bit of distance between them. Another thing he appreciated. She took a breath that came out in a sigh.
He leaned around and searched her face. “Is everything okay?”
She gave an odd half-smile and glanced surreptitiously around the area where they were sitting, before she leaned over and whispered, “We didn’t go quite far enough away from home.”
“What do you mean? Uh-oh . . . Did you see someone we know?”
The lights overhead dimmed and the music swelled. Slowly, the curtain parted.
“Yes, but nothing to worry about. Just gossip. It can wait.” The way she rolled her eyes, he could guess what had happened.
He glanced over at her several times while the previews were playing, and thought she seemed preoccupied, but once the movie started, she seemed to relax beside him and enjoy the film.
Things were just getting good with a chase scene through congested city streets when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Much as he wanted to, he hadn’t been able to ignore his phone since everything had happened with Jill. He slipped it out of his pocket and checked the screen. Evan.
He leaned to whisper to Shelley. “It’s Evan. I’d better take it.”
He slid down the row, apologizing as he went. When he was in the lobby just outside the theater, he answered. His phone had already gone to voice mail. He called Evan back without checking the message.
“Dad. Thank goodness I got you.” He couldn’t tell if it was excitement or concern in his son’s voice.
Turning away from the doors, he spoke softly into the phone. “What’s going on?”
“Did you rent out the cabin for this weekend?”
“Our cabin? No. Why?” They hadn’t rented out the lake cabin for at least five years. After a couple of bad experiences with renters who left the place a mess, they’d decided it wasn’t worth the extra money it brought in.
“Somebody is staying here.” Evan’s voice sounded strained.
“Here? What do you mean? You’re at the cabin? In Arkansas?”
“Um . . . yeah. And there’s already somebody staying here––”
“Wait a minute! What are you doing at the cabin?”
“Dad, I’ll explain later, but you’ve got to get down here. I’m telling you, the cabin is open. There’s somebody’s stuff in here. Woman’s stuff. It’s got to be Mom! Doesn’t it? It’s got to be her. You’ve got to get down here and––” Evan’s voice cut to static, then a garble of words Mitch couldn’t make out.
“Hang on, bud. Slow down. You’re cutting out.” He left the theater and walked ten feet down the plushly carpeted corridor, trying to get a better signal. “Can you hear me?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Why are you at the lake, Evan?”
“I brought some friends down for the weekend. But that’s not impor––”
“Are you kidding me? You didn’t have permission to do that, Evan.” He shook his head. That Evan would have taken the liberty of using the cabin without permission. . . Not to mention it was probably a six-hour drive from Lawrence. “What are you doing there?”
“Dad, cool it. We were just gonna hang out. Mess around at the lake. Just for the weekend. We’re all going stir-crazy with our jobs . . . We couldn’t afford to go anywhere. But Dad! Did you hear what I said? I think Mom’s here!”
Mitch walked quickly down the corridor that led to a side exit. He opened the door and felt the warm evening air rush over him. Holding the door open with his knee, he felt his chest pocket for his ticket stub so he could get back in if he got locked out of the theater. He stepped into the night air and paced the narrow sidewalk that
ran in the alley along the side of the building. The streetlights painted patches of light on the side of the building, but it was dark in the alley.
“Why do you think it’s Mom? Is there a vehicle there?” He was skeptical, but something must have made Evan think it could be Jill. “Have you seen anyone? Was the house broken into?”
“No. Nobody. No car. And the back door was unlocked. Nothing’s broken. But it’s obvious somebody is staying here. You’re sure you didn’t rent it out?”
“"I'm sure. I haven't rented it in years." The Missouri Highway Patrol had checked the cabin in the early hours after Jill first went missing, and as Mitch expected, found the cabin empty. But was it possible . . . had she hidden out somewhere else until they stopped looking, and then returned to the cabin?
“Well, somebody didn’t get the memo, Dad, because there’s shampoo and lotion and stuff open on the bathroom counters, and dirty dishes in the sink. And clothes––underwear and stuff––women’s stuff . . . And you guys’ bed has been slept in.”
Mitch tried to process it all, and failed.
“Dad . . . This might sound crazy, but . . . it smells like Mom in here.”
His gut clenched. “Where are you right now, Evan?”
“We’re in Jason’s car out in the driveway.”
“Okay. Listen . . . call 911 and tell them what you told–– No, wait . . . On second thought, let me make that call. I need to let Missing Persons know about this, and they may not want the local police to go in yet. You guys go over to the Marleys’ and see if they’re home. Stay there until you hear from me, do you understand? Don’t go back inside and don’t touch anything.”
“Okay. But . . . What if it’s Mom?”
“Evan, is there anything besides the women’s toiletries that makes you think it’s her?”
“I don’t know. It just seems . . . like it might be. What if it is, Dad?”
He closed his eyes, struggling to sort out his thoughts and emotions. “If it is . . . we’ll have our miracle, buddy.”
Chapter 32
The Face of the Earth Page 22