The evening news host fades out and Current Crimes fades in.
I hear ‘Breaking News Tonight’ and the voice of Liza Overton. Her makeup is immaculate, her hair stiff as always. I hear her high-pitched voice over my TV and simultaneously over the phone with Jack.
I wait.
‘Five years ago an infant disappeared from a brownstone in Brooklyn. The mother was the primary suspect in the case, and referred to as Amnesia Mom in the media. In a strange twist of events the child was believed to have been abducted and has never been located, exonerating the mother after many months of putting all the pieces together. Fast forward, five years later, the child is still missing. And here’s the kicker. A cold case at this point, there’s reason to believe that the mother has found her daughter but authorities are less than cooperative to solve the case. Yes, you heard correctly. The mother has found the child after five years. Don’t go anywhere, when we return after the break, we’ll get you caught up with the latest developments in the case of Amnesia Mom.’
Seconds later, I hear something over the phone that sounds like a wail and I assume Jack knows Mia is alive. I wish I could see his face when they say who found her. I hang up the phone and stare at the TV.
Current Crimes fades out, a commercial fades in. I switch to CNN and wait.
Jack’s flight from Boston to New York is delayed. He tells me not to wait for him and he’ll meet me at the New York State Office of Children and Family Services.
Between the media coverage and Wilczek putting pressure on the police, it took all of three days. A social services agent, a rather large man with a shabby briefcase, oversees our first meeting. There’s no park, no playground, and no ducks. He calls it ‘the exchange’ and after he has me sign some paperwork, he tries unsuccessfully to snap his briefcase shut.
‘You’ve been briefed?’ he asks and for the first time makes eye contact.
‘Yes,’ I say and think about that little something called ‘anticipated relationship quality,’ a term encasing everything that’s expected when children are reunited with parents after a long time.
‘We don’t know if she was abused or even adequately taken care of. She’s come to know someone else as her mother, other people as her family. She has no idea who you are.’
Makes two of us, I think, but don’t say it out loud. My biggest fears are that she won’t want to be with me. That she’ll hate me when she finds out the truth. And she will never love me.
After an evaluation, the judge will grant custody. The final transfer won’t occur until a judge agrees. The legal term is ‘safeguard for the child’s welfare.’
He turns and opens a heavy metal door. For a second the social worker looks like he wants to shake my hand.
I walk through the door and wait for Mia and it finally sinks in. No more tracking body parts and children in landfills. No checking online databases, no more jerking when the phone rings. I’ve read somewhere that the pain from the loss or death of a child never heals, not until you are reunited, whenever that may be. I’m one of the lucky ones and today is the day.
This moment is so otherworldly that my body remains completely still, as if its magic cannot be contained within my flesh and bones.
What will I say, I wonder, when I get to hold her? Will I speak at all? Will she pull away? The moment is here, finally, mere seconds away. Seconds. As long as it took to tie her shoe, unfold her diaper, brush her wispy hair when she was a baby.
I sit and fold my hands in my lap. Compared to all those years I spent without her I must make this moment count, I must make up for all that was lost.
When I hear the door open I look up.
I don’t think in minutes or seconds any longer. I will allow this moment to unfold as if I’m a photographer who wants to get it right, wants to capture a moment that will last forever. I look up and there she is.
And then my heart explodes.
My mother was a woman rarely seen without her camera. I remember her propped up in bed, among an array of pillows, her camera resting beside her. In her hand a book, a study in light, or angle, or perspective – one of those.
In that memory I climb into my mother’s bed and angrily shove a worn and yellowed copy of Alice In Wonderland at her.
Mom.
She smiles at my accusatory tone and, thinking I want her to read to me, she speaks without looking up. Not now, she says, and wraps one arm around me. How about you read to me?
I finished it. Did you remember to buy me the other book?
I forgot. I’m sorry.
Do you remember the title?
Through The Looking Glass, right? Same author?
I don’t answer, my punishment for her forgetfulness.
What’s a looking glass? I ask.
Kind of like a mirror, she says, it allows you to see yourself the way other people see you.
Isn’t that a mirror?
She doesn’t answer and continues flipping the pages of her book. How I hate her books, and her camera and her way of being preoccupied with everything but me. What good is a book without words anyway, I wonder, and what good is she anyway, she never talks to me.
She closes the book, puts her arm around me, and then strokes my hair with her hand. That’s how we sit, for a long time. Sometimes I fall asleep, but she’s always there when I wake up. Holding me still.
Acknowledgements
Publishing a book takes a village and here is mine. Eternal gratitude to my agent, Laura Longrigg; Helen Huthwaite and the entire AVON team, especially those who work behind the curtain – Oli Malcolm, Victoria Jackson, Sabah Khan, Jo Marino and Jade Craddock. You all rock.
Equal thanks go out to all my fellow writers and early readers who accompanied me on my journey: too many to name and the only appropriate words to express my appreciation: Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
At its core this book is about mothers and therefore it is only fair that I thank my mother who shared her beloved books and short life with me; and to my daughter, who is my biggest inspiration.
Last, but not least, thanks to my husband. You gave me the proverbial room of my own and the money so I could write this book. You are my rock.
About the Author
Alexandra was born in Germany. After her college graduation she moved to Texas and, while pursuing literary translations, she decided to tell her own stories. After three years of writing classes her short fiction appeared in Freedom Fiction Journal, All Things Girl, MUSED Literary Review, and Heater Crime Fiction Magazine.
She is a member of Sisters In Crime, an organization promoting the advancement, recognition and professional development of women crime writers.
She lives in Texas with her husband, her daughter, and two Labradors. Little Girl Gone is her first novel.
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
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Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
http://www.harpercollins.com
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Little Girl Gone Page 33