Sophie Last Seen

by Marlene Adelstein

  “Hi,” she said, smiling.

  “Hi. Who’s this?” He bent down to pet Saint Anthony.

  Jesse undid the leash, and the dog wandered and sniffed. He eventually made his way over to a rug, where he circled then lay down, curled up all small.

  “I found him.”

  “Is he housebroken?”

  “Yes, Gary. Don’t worry—he won’t pee in your listing.”

  “Hey, poochie.” He rubbed Saint Anthony behind his ear. “Wish I could have a dog.”

  “What’s the matter? Mommy won’t let you?”

  “Never mind. Come on.” He took her hand and escorted her into the den toward the back of the house. There was a rustic stone fireplace and a couch, the lone piece of furniture in the room. As if on autopilot, they moved to the scratchy, corduroy sofa and proceeded to undress. Her mind pinged and bounced about like a pinball. Missing Persons. DNA. Scarlet tanager. Sophie. Mom, mom, mom. Star. More Sophie. More. All these thoughts were like blown-down tree limbs, remnants one might trip over after a terrible thunderstorm. Gary kissed her, and the feel of his warm body pulled her out of the darkness. But it was that unruffled detective who came into her head next. What was his first name? A southern state. Something long. Tennessee or Alabama?

  She pictured his flowered Zone necktie flapping with the breeze. His lean, muscular legs in those running shorts. The sad look he gave her before leaving the Book Barn.

  The dog barked once, breaking the spell of her escape. She felt oddly guilty, as if he disapproved of the affair.

  “Hey, where were you?” Gary said when they were finished.

  “I’m right here.” She suddenly felt chilled and pulled an afghan off the back of the couch to cover herself.

  “Jess, we have to talk.” He fumbled around with the pile of clothes, looking for something.

  That can’t be good. She lit a cigarette. He had tried to end the affair once last year. Jesse wasn’t sure why—an uncharacteristic pang of guilt, she’d assumed—but they had slipped back into it after taking two weeks off.

  “Carol and I are having, well, getting a baby. We’re adopting. From Vietnam. There’s a baby, and we’re going to go there to get it. As soon as we get the call. A girl.”

  “What?” She sat up straight. “I didn’t even know you wanted a baby.”

  “Well, yeah. Why would you? We don’t exactly talk much.”

  She suddenly felt like desperate Mrs. Robinson from The Graduate.

  “We’ve been trying for a while to have our own baby, and it seems we can’t.”

  She looked at him, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’ve been trying to get pregnant?”

  He nodded.

  “And you’ve been carrying on with me all this time? That’s sick, Gary. Even I’m not that sick.”

  He tilted his head questioningly. “That would really have changed things with us? C’mon, Jess. Be honest.”

  She glared at him. He was right, of course. She was no better than him. But hearing the truth, thrown in her face, made her feel nauseated. She shoved away the afghan, stubbed out her cigarette in a saucer, and began grabbing for her clothes.

  “Maybe it’s run its course. Maybe we’ve run our course...” He didn’t look at her. He was still messing with the clothes pile and finally extracted his underwear, white stretched-out Jockey briefs that looked like a little boy’s. She’d never noticed those before.

  “You wait until after we have sex to say this? Real classy, Gary.” To Jesse, the affair had become a habit, like her smoking. She knew it was bad, but she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to.

  “I’m sorry. It’s not like I want to stop. It’s that I think we have to. For real this time.” He put his arms around her awkwardly while she held her clothes to her chest. “I’ll miss you so much. It’s all I have to look forward to.”

  She pushed him away. “Jesus, Gary. Me, too, and there’s something really wrong with that. As screwed up as I am, at least I know that.”

  He stepped toward her, placed his hands gently on her shoulders, then slid her hair behind each ear the way Sophie used to when she sat on Jesse’s lap. The small gesture startled her. She blinked back a tear as he kissed her on the mouth, and she didn’t resist. The pile in her arms dropped to the floor. She let herself melt into him.

  “Will you be sad if we stop seeing each other?” he whispered.

  “Oh, Gary,” she said with a catch in her throat, “I’m always sad, and it has nothing to do with you. Haven’t you figured that out yet?” She sighed. “You said you’d be there for me.”

  “I am. I will be. As friends.”

  “Oh God. I don’t need a friend. That’s not what this was about.”

  “C’mon, Jess. Everyone needs a friend.” It sounded like he meant “Everyone needs a friend... especially you.”

  Jesse stared into his eyes, looking for what, she didn’t know. She shook her head. She felt so lonely. Her stomach growled. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me now. Of all times.”

  Who should I be, Soph? “Osprey” came to her. Yes, let me be an osprey. Strong and independent. Let me swoop on out of here.

  He took her in his arms and held her tightly. It felt safe there. She closed her eyes. She wanted to go to sleep and block out the world.

  “I can’t leave her. I thought I could, but I just can’t. We have a history. And now with the baby coming...”

  Jesse opened her eyes. She didn’t say, “I don’t want you to leave her.” She would never want that. Jesse only worried about what she would do with her time. Where she would go. What she would do to numb the pain. She knew she couldn’t keep drinking so much. She didn’t want to hurt someone else, and that was where she was headed. She couldn’t go to the Zone anymore. Thank God she’d found Saint Anthony. In a gesture of desperation, she grabbed Gary’s ass, pulled him closer, and kissed him hard and deep. That kind of breathless kiss always made him beg for more.

  “You make me feel so good,” Gary whispered. For a moment, she thought she’d brought him back, reeled him in like a fish on a line. “But that was the last time, Jess. I’ve got to try to salvage my marriage. You understand. It’s the right thing to do.”

  “The right thing? Since when have you—we—done the right thing?” She pushed him away and began to dress. “You’ll be sorry, Gary. Don’t come crawling back to me like last time,” she spat out, even though she prayed he would. She grabbed her bag and the dog then fled.

  THE NEXT DAY, JESSE skulked into Earl’s with Saint Anthony and tried to fade into the regular breakfast crowd, head tucked tightly to her chest, eyes facing the floor. She wore an oversized green army cap. Its long flaps covered her ears, and the whole thing practically obscured her face. She scanned the room quickly and saw familiar faces, locals she used to be friendly with. Mac Junior and Avery Fletcher, both men who’d been farming all their lives. Jesse used to buy organic eggs and honey from them. And Maggie Leonard, who owned the yarn shop where Jesse used to take knitting lessons. They all looked away from Jesse when their eyes connected with hers. And she was pretty sure she heard a woman say, “Bird Mom,” in a low voice.

  She turned and noticed a customer at the front table near the window reading the Canaan Gazette. When he set his paper down, Jesse was surprised to see it was Detective Barnes. For a second, she felt embarrassed, as if he knew her thoughts of him while she was with Gary. What’s he doing here? Following me? But other than the 7-Eleven on the outskirts of town, Earl’s was really the only place to get a decent cup of coffee.

  “Hey, boy. Good to see you,” Barnes said, and the dog went up to him, his tail aflutter. Barnes stroked the dog’s head then looked up and smiled at Jesse. “Ms. Albright. Nice to see you, too.” He was dressed in his running gear again.

  “Still here?”

  “Just got here. Finished my morning run. I was reading how ‘Yogurt Is Coming to Whatley Farms’ right here in Canaan. Exciting, huh?” he said with a smile.

  “
I’ll take the local news over the doom and gloom of The New York Times any day.”

  “I can understand why. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

  “Oh, I have to be going.” But she didn’t move.

  Barnes got up. “Let me get you a cup.”

  When she didn’t protest, he walked over to the self-service counter and picked up a ceramic mug with Earl’s printed on the side. She slid into the seat across from his and unbuttoned her jacket. She looked around and noticed the place had been decked out in an autumn motif, with colorful squashes, cornstalks, and a scarecrow displayed in the window next to their table. It had been years since she sat down for coffee and a long chat the way she used to with her friend Beth Silverman or with Gary’s wife, Carol, after book club.

  Barnes came back and placed her coffee in front of her. He pulled a dog biscuit from his pocket and set it on the table. He slid back into the booth. “Strong and black, right?”

  She looked at him questioningly, wondering if he was asking about her taste in men.

  He shrugged. “I noticed your coffee cup at the Book Barn.” He nodded toward the dog. “Hey, what’s his name anyway?”

  “Saint Anthony.”

  “Ahh. The patron saint of lost things.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “That’s right.” She pulled her cap off and shook her head, freeing her unruly hair.

  “Hi there, Saint Anthony. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” He rubbed the dog’s butt, which the dog loved, wriggling and pointing his snout skyward.

  Jesse tapped her thigh, had the dog lie down at her feet, then fed him his biscuit. He was turning out to be a good-natured, easy dog. If he’d been a child, he would have been perfect. She looked up and saw the detective watching her. She glanced down at her outfit and saw she was wearing one of her laundry mistakes—a long-sleeved red top with a generous sprinkling of white bleach dots on it. She used to sew a lot of her own clothes, using soft, colorful cotton fabrics with appliqués and cutouts with different fabrics underneath and interesting hand-sewn stitches. She’d had her own arty style. Before. The white spots on the red shirt had eaten through the fabric, leaving tiny round holes that made Jesse think of flesh-eating protozoa. She shook her head, thinking how far she’d sunk.

  She tried to make small talk. “You run a lot?”

  He nodded. “Rain or shine. You have any routines? Things you have to do?”

  Too many. She gave a little shrug, not about to reveal her demons, then fidgeted in her seat. “When I said ‘still here’ before, I meant you’re still here, in Canaan.”

  He laughed, setting his cup down. “You trying to get rid of me?”

  “No, I just...”

  “I’ve been looking for April Johnson for over three weeks now from New Jersey to upstate New York over to western Massachusetts and now to your hill town here. This girl’s been on the move, and I’m getting close. I can feel it.” He shook his head. “I know it sounds crazy, but I usually get an odd sensation when I’m near one of my missing people, a rumbly feeling here”—he tapped his chest—“and a dull headache.”

  “I get that feeling most days.” Hungover, she didn’t say. Depressed. “Haven’t found any missing people.” She turned away for a moment. Then she let out a deep breath and looked back at Barnes. She’d met and talked to lots of detectives over the years. From the local police department. From other towns and cities. Ones she’d hired on her own. Barnes seemed different, though. Sensitive. More thoughtful. Jesse wondered what his story was. She suspected he had his own secrets, but she wasn’t about to get sucked into anyone else’s heartache.

  “Anyway,” Barnes continued, “the proprietor of the Rolling Hills Motel where I’m staying told me, ‘If you want to know what’s going on, poke your head in Earl’s, and you’ll be caught up in no time.’ So here I am for my morning gossip.”

  “You’ll hardly hear anything very interesting at Earl’s. A newborn calf or the library getting the latest Barbara Kingsolver is enough to keep most folks going all winter. Canaan’s a quiet hill town except for the annual Harvest Fest. That’s when it gets transformed. The whole town goes cuckoo for pumpkins.” She tipped her head toward the window. Outside, men were standing on tall ladders, hanging a Harvest Festival banner. Others were pounding and lifting long pieces of wood, erecting a set of bleachers in the town square. A hay wagon was loaded with pumpkins—big, fat, perfectly round ones, small hand-sized ones, and all shapes and sizes in between.

  “People come from all over for it. It’s huge. You can’t swing a cat without hitting a damn pumpkin. Pumpkin carving, pumpkin pie, pumpkin soup, pumpkin ice cream. Then it ends with this big party. This year, it’s at Earl’s. It’s corny and stupid, but some people think it’s fun.”

  “Some people?”

  She shrugged and looked away. She realized how much she missed her friends and the feeling of community. The simple joys of small-town life. How strangers came together to help people in need. She reached into her purse and held out a cell phone to Barnes.

  He looked at it then at her. “Why are you giving me a cell phone, Ms. Albright?” He took the phone from her. “I’m good at finding people, figuring mysteries out, but I can’t read minds.”

  “The other day, I saw April, or whoever that girl with the high voice was, come out of the dressing room, like I told you.” She waited for him to nod her on before she continued. “I went in after her to try something on and found it. There’s a photo in here of some girl’s feet in purple flip-flops like the ones she wore.”

  He tilted his head questioningly. “You didn’t want to share it with me before?”

  She began to nervously shred a paper napkin, ripping it into little bits and dropping them into a pile in front of her. “No.”

  “And why was that?”

  “I distrust cops.”

  “I’m not a cop.”

  “Close enough.”

  “What made you change your mind?”

  There was a long silence while she thought how to answer. She didn’t mean to be secretive. On one hand, she honestly didn’t want any parent to go through what she had, but on the other, she couldn’t help herself. Since it might have been a clue from Sophie, that took precedence.

  Barnes scrolled through the cell phone, looking at the numbers logged in. “Mostly Florida and Chicago area codes. April is from New Jersey, but you never know. With the internet, Facebook, kids communicate with people from all over the world. Thank you. I’ll check this out. Could be a lead.”

  Maybe Barnes would be able to connect the phone and April to Sophie. She sipped her coffee. She opened her mouth to say something, but the door flew open, and Gary burst in, all jittery with nervous energy. She’d run into him in public before, and they’d had no problem acting appropriately friendly yet distant. But seeing him the day after he’d dumped her was unnerving. Her heart picked up speed. The affair had been a rudder, and without it, she felt adrift.

  He waved at Jill behind the counter, a petite woman in her thirties who always wore a smile, one of the owners of Earl’s.

  “Hey, Jilly, how you doing?” His head bobbed. “Any of those mixed-berry scones today?”

  “Hey, Gary. I saved you one,” Jill said. “Where you been?”

  Jesse sank down in her seat. She grabbed her purse and began to inch her body toward the edge of the bench. Time to make her exit.

  Barnes glanced at Gary then at the obviously uncomfortable Jesse. He leaned in closer to her and lowered his voice. “You all right?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” But she didn’t take her eyes off Gary, whose back was to her. She began shredding another napkin into even tinier bits. A good-sized white paper mound had formed in front of her.

  “I appreciate your bringing this to me,” Barnes said, nodding toward the cell phone.

  “I figured I’d run into you somewhere.” Her eyes stayed on Gary as she spoke. “Otherwise, I’d have called you. Your card... that you gave me.” She put her hat on, tugging
it so low, it almost covered her eyes.

  Just then, Gary turned around from the counter and saw Jesse. He opened his mouth to speak, stopped himself when he noticed Barnes, shot him a questioning look, then turned back around.

  “You know him?” Barnes said.

  “You live in this town, you know everyone.” Maybe she had been deceiving herself, just as Lila had said. She wasn’t invisible. It was the very opposite. If Star knew about her and Gary, then everybody probably did. What an idiot.

  After paying for his coffee and scone, Gary left, obviously avoiding her on his way out.

  Jesse continued shredding then blurted out, “You ever do stupid things, Detective?”

  “Me?” He pointed to himself with a grin. “Never.”

  “Yeah, well, you observe people. What has to happen for someone to learn a lesson?”

  “Just what kind of lesson do you mean, Ms. Albright? And what kind of someone?”

  “Someone like me, I guess.”

  “Someone like you seems to be”—he pushed her hat back on her head so he could see her eyes—“maybe someone who’s been hurt badly, maybe been through more than anyone should. Someone who’s carried around a lot of guilt and anger. Someone who maybe should let it go, be kind to herself.”

  Jesse blinked a few times, sitting up straight. “Maybe someone has picked up a thing or two in their college psychology classes, I’d say.”

  “Indeed, but mostly, the someone I just described could have been me a couple years ago. Was me.”

  I knew he had some story. Maybe he cheated on his wife or was an abusive husband. He was smooth. Too cool. Something smoldered behind that handsome face. The dog sat up and gave a small whine, stretching his head back, looking at Jesse longingly.

  Simultaneously, they both reached down to pet him, grazing each other’s hands instead of the dog.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said, pulling away.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  But with that little touch, she felt a spark so charged, she nearly gasped. She wondered if he could have felt it, too. He mumbled something about the dog and went back to sipping his coffee.