Which was why he didn’t hobble right back into his wife’s clutches. Especially after she’d humiliated him in front of the detective. Now that Shana had returned to him, safe and sound, disconcerting thoughts flooded his brain: Stay married to the woman he’d loved for a lifetime or cut painful ties instead. Become a hermit far away from her and their daughters or be present for the birth of his first grandchild. Could he really sever ties with his family at such a life-changing moment as this?
Perhaps these crazy thoughts sprang from enduring the shock of his wife’s disappearance, coupled with the ongoing health of his daughter and grandbaby. Then there was the rape, itself. The rape Shana had unilaterally chosen to keep hidden from him for forty-two years! He’d discovered his treasure chest filled with worms rather than gold coins. Good enough reason to call it quits.
“Sir, your wife is asking for you,” said a bookmobile volunteer.
“Thank you.” First the detective, now the volunteer. With a deep sigh, David slowly came to his feet, grabbed his cane, and headed down the long hall toward his wife’s room.
As soon as David entered her room, Shana began to apologize. “Honey, I’m sorry about overreacting. I know you were trying to protect me, but I’m capable of handling things myself.”
“Fine.”
“What’s wrong?”
David abhorred conflict. He changed the subject. “How did the Detective’s interrogation go after I left?”
“Detective Hernandez wasn’t interrogating me; she needs to get all the facts so she can find my kidnapper. It’s funny. You think a bad guy’s going to be dressed like criminals on T.V., but Rod was dressed in a lovely summer suit. That’s why I felt confident enough to share his umbrella.”
“Did the detective mention a police artist coming to take your description of this guy?”
“Maybe I could give you the description instead,” she said, pursing her lips.
David was not in the mood. “I’m a photographer, not an artist.”
“But you minored in art when you were in school.”
“Have you ever seen me pick up a sketching pad or easel?”
Shana placed her palms over her eyes. “I can’t think straight anymore.”
“It’s going to take a minute for you to recuperate from this trauma.”
She peeked at him through her fingers. “’Take a minute!’ You sound like a homegrown North Carolinian!”
David rolled his eyes.
Shana turned serious. “It’s strange. Detective Hernandez doesn’t believe what I tell her.”
“Like what?”
She dropped her hands back in her lap. “Like when I mentioned chatting with a homeless frog woman about her polliwogs.”
Chapter 55
Deborah
March 1994
“You certainly weren’t perfect when you were Daniel’s age!”
Deborah wiped her hands on a kitchen towel. “Sometimes I wish we didn’t make up.”
Libby huffed. “Well, that’s a nice way to talk to your mother!”
Deborah immediately went into guilt mode. But this was one time she wasn’t caving. “Daniel is 14 years old. He’s not a little kid anymore! He knows right from wrong. But you continue to explain away his mistakes.”
Pound. Pound, Pulsating.
“Turn that X-Box down, Daniel!”
The pulsating ceased.
“How many times did God excuse our mistakes?” her mother persisted.
“For sure, but we’re talking Daniel, here, not Moses!”
“You’re forgetting Daniel and the Lion’s Den.”
“Very funny.”
“I thought so!”
“Every time I confide in you about Daniel’s destructive behavior, you blame it on his foster care experience. Especially the skin graft after being burned.”
“Unbelievable an adult would do that to a child.”
“Of course it is, but we can’t attribute everything to his past. We’ve raised him since he was five years old. We’ve given him play therapy, set up behavior mod charts to reward positive behavior, placed him in support groups for abused children. He sees a language arts tutor, plays sports, and goes to Hebrew school.”
“Darling, you and Alan have done a beautiful job raising your young man.”
“We’ve done such a beautiful job that our son set fire to another kid’s gym shoes because the kid was bullying him.”
“What goes around comes around.”
“He’s been suspended from school three times since fourth grade!”
“I certainly don’t have all the answers, sweetheart. Otherwise, I’d have figured out how to hold on to your father.”
Deborah grunted her assent.
“What I do know is that making Daniel think he’s broken, frantically trying to cure him, hasn’t worked.”
“How arrogant I was to believe that just because I’m a preschool teacher, I’d know how to raise a troubled little boy.”
“He needs unconditional love. Hold him. Praise him for deeds well done, no matter how minute.”
Deborah began to weep. “We’ve done that since the day we brought him home from DCFS. You know we did!”
Her mother held her close. “God only gives us what we can handle.”
She broke from her mother’s arms. “We paid off any debts we owed God when He took our three babies. He’s not getting our fourth one, too!”
“You’re feeling overwhelmed. Let me make you a nice hot cup of herbal tea.”
Deborah hugged her chest. “This summer, we’re sending Daniel to Camp Ramah in the Rockies. They have an outward-bound wilderness camp where they do rafting, backpacking, and camping. Daniel will learn to be independent, to work as a team player, and to actualize his Jewish identity.”
The annoying pounding and pulsating resumed. “Turn it down!”
Daniel swung open his bedroom door and ran toward her. He thrust his headset in her hands. “Put this on. You won’t hear a thing.”
Deborah thrust the headset back at him. “You’re the one who should be wearing this.”
He threw the headset to the floor. “Leave me alone!” Then he raced back to his room.
“I made some homemade cookies for you, darling,” Libby called after him.
S-L-A-M!
Deborah stalked down the hall and pounded on her son’s door. “Bubbe doesn’t deserve that rude behavior. No dessert tonight.”
“I don’t care!” he yelled through the door.
Castigating herself for getting into a shouting match, she headed back to the kitchen.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself and Daniel,” said her mother. “He’s almost a pre-teen. That’s how they act. This overnight camp sounds interesting, but he’s had problems adjusting to day camp. Won’t he feel that you’re abandoning him?”
“That’s what Alan says,” Deborah admitted.
Libby raised her eyebrows.
“He wants to take Daniel on a fishing trip this summer, instead.”
Her mother looked at her quizzically. “I didn’t know Alan was into that sort of thing.”
“He’s not. His father never did any cool things with him when he was growing up. Just work, work, work all the time. His mother took him to boy scouts, but that only lasted one year. Alan’s just not an outdoorsy kind of guy.”
Libby set the herbal tea bags on the kitchen table. “Sounds like Alan’s bonding plan is a fantasy.”
She gave her mother a sharp look. “He and Daniel are closer than Daniel and me.”
“Leah was always daddy’s little girl and you were always mine.”
Deborah dangled a bag of raspberry tea in her cup of boiling water. “Maybe if we’d adopted a brother or sister for Daniel, things would have worked out better.”
&nbs
p; Libby poured herself a cup of tea. “That’s unlikely,” she said gently.
Deborah put her cup down a bit too harshly. Red stains covered her place mat. “What are you saying?”
“I’d tell you, but I’m afraid you’ll banish me from your life again.”
“Wait a minute! Who banished whom? And at a time when I desperately needed you?”
“Daniel’s violent tendencies might have had serious consequences.”
“I can’t believe you’re talking this way about your own grandson!”
“That’s the reason Leah doesn’t allow Amy and Jacob to come over.”
Deborah frowned. “Leah never mentioned a problem.”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t know.”
She shrugged. “What Leah decides to do or not do with her children is not my business!”
Daniel sheepishly took a seat at the kitchen table. “Sorry I acted like a jerk.”
“Language!” said Deborah.
“Okay, okay. Sorry. Can I have some cookies now?”
“Say ‘please,’” said Deborah.
Daniel grinned at his mother and grandmother. “Please!”
“Anything for you, dear,” said his grandmother.
Kids these days! Deborah rolled her eyes, but her lips were smiling.
Chapter 56
Becca
Becca was in bed watching T.V. when she heard her dad swipe the hotel room card and walk into her room. His face looked morose. She’d need to remember to incorporate that word into a drama class lesson when school resumed in the fall.
“Sorry to leave you alone in the room all this time.”
“No problem. I’ve been watching a show about NYC. Not that we’ll be doing the tourist thing anytime soon.”
Her dad took a diet pop from the minifridge. “Want anything to drink?” he asked.
Becca pointed to her bottled water. “How did it go with Detective Hernandez and Mom?”
Her dad took a seat on the double bed across from hers. “It was rough going. Mom got emotional. The nurse gave her something to calm her down. Medication made her sleepy, so the Detective had to hang out in the waiting room while Mom napped.”
“So what did Mom tell the detective?”
“She talked about what happened just prior to the kidnapping and after she was released. Detective Hernandez will question her again tomorrow.”
“Was Mom able to give the detective any personal information on her captor?”
Dad massaged the bald spot on his head. “His name is Rod Stewart.”
“OMG. Like the classic rock star?”
He gave a small smile. “It turns out the guy is a medic who lives within jogging distance of the woods where he dumped Mom. He moved here a couple of weeks ago from Chicago.”
“Whoa! Did Mom know him?”
“Not sure.”
“What’s the next step?”
“A police artist will sketch mom’s description of this Rod fellow. They’ll put that sketch on TV and Facebook. See if they get a hit.”
Becca let out a relieved sigh. “At least they’ve got a plan.”
Her dad still seemed unsettled. “Is there something else?” she asked.
“I’m not sure we can trust mom’s account of what happened to her.”
Becca raised her eyebrows. “Why?”
“She mentioned talking to a frog woman about her polliwogs,” he blurted.
She giggled. “You know mom’s a jokester.”
“She was dead serious.”
“She’s got a dry sense of humor, Daddy. Remember the time she tried to convince me and Rachel you were the Wizard of Oz?”
He grinned. “Go to sleep, I’ll read in the other room.”
“Night! Love you!” They’d used that same bedtime phrase since she could remember.
“Love you, too,” he said. Then he shut the door between them.
As soon as her dad left the room, Becca texted her sister. What’s going on?
Zan just went back to Oma’s apartment. How’s Mom?
First, how are you feeling?
Better. Guess I really did need to slow down.
Becca recounted the conversation she’d had with Dad.
Mom might have PTSD.
That’s for soldiers and abused kids.
Maybe she was tortured after she was kidnapped. She could be blocking horrific memories. A trigger could set her off.
Rach!!
“You okay, Bec?” Dad called from the living room.
Shit. Gotta go.
Becca clicked off the phone.
Chapter 57
Daniel
April 1997
Who could have guessed it? His face on the cover of the Lerner News. Being recognized as a hero couldn’t have come too soon, considering the trouble Daniel had been having since starting high school last fall.
For the last three summers, his parents had sent him off to wilderness camp in the Rockies. At first, he thought they were just trying to get rid of him. Daniel had acted out that first summer of overnight camp, hoping to get himself sent home, but the counselors had been cool about it. They told him all the conflicting emotions he was feeling were normal, which came as a big surprise. He thought he was the only person in the world to feel sad, angry, or lonely.
At camp, Daniel learned how to be friends with other kids his age instead of bullying or being bullied by them. From mountain climbing and zip lining, he learned to trust his fellow campers and camp counselors. Most of all, he learned there were good people whom he could depend on, who had his back.
Daniel felt better about himself; he even began to clean up his act at home, doing the chores his parents requested of him. Being polite at the dinner table. Teaching his dad how to shoot baskets with him on the weekends.
Even his teachers had shown Daniel a new respect. When he made insightful comments on The Chronicles of Narnia or wrote a persuasive essay on why the New York Yankees finally won the World Series after an eighteen-year dry spell, his teachers’ eyes would shine with pride. In eighth grade, Daniel had hit it out of the park on the University of Chicago School Mathematics Project, with high schools vying for his registration two years in advance.
Just as Daniel was beginning to accept happiness and calm as his due, his camp counselor phoned to let him know that Lucia, the girlfriend he’d hung around with freshman year that summer, had fallen off a mountain. She’d survived, but her body was in full cast and she was in a coma.
Although his mom and dad offered to cover his flight, Daniel refused to travel to Montana to see her. Once again, his thoughts grew dark and cold. He stayed holed up in his bedroom, the shades drawn. Sophmore year had been a bust; he missed 54 days in a row. Thanks to home tutoring provided by the school district, plus the fact that he was a good test taker, Daniel had passed. Last fall, thinking their son could use a change of scene, his parents enrolled him in the Chicago Math & Science Academy, a high ranked charter school and one of the schools vying for him.
But CMSA turned out to have a lot more Brainiac students in its junior class than Daniel had anticipated. Once again, negative thoughts burrowed in his brain; he was worthless, stupid, friendless. Concerned about his downward spiral, his parents picked open his bedroom door lock and read his most recent poems which talked about suicide. They dragged him to a private shrink, the one he’d seen years ago to get him on medication. But this time, nothing worked. He was sinking into the pit of hell, and his parents were on the same elevator.
Daniel asked Rabbi Shapiro to convince his parents not to admit him to Rush Behavioral for a six-week in-patient program, but the Rabbi agreed with his parents that hospitalization would be beneficial.
The day before he was scheduled to be admitted, Daniel prayed to God nonstop. “Help me find a
nother way,” he begged, “and I’ll devote my life to you.”
Later that afternoon, he’d been hiking through the frozen ice framed by Lake Shore Drive when he heard a scream. “Help!”
He looked in the direction the sound came from. A wide black hole sat amidst the frozen lake. Someone was bopping up and down through the hole. “Can’t swim!”
Daniel didn’t think twice. He shrugged off his coat and boots on the icy sand and swam into the frigid Lake.
“My body’s getting numb! Help!”
Using the competitive breast stroke he’d learned at camp, Daniel drew nearer to the person who so desperately required his help. He grabbed a wool hat with a white pom-pom floating on the lake’s surface and held it up for the girl to see—no doubt it was hers. Then he placed one arm around the teen’s waist and paddled them back to shore using the side stroke.
Although Daniel tried his hardest to keep the girl’s head above water, she slipped a few times. Her face had a blue tinge as he laid her body on the frozen ice. Pinching her nostrils, he attempted CPR. Two breaths, compress, two breaths, compress. Finally, her eyes flew open. Her arms had wrapped around him. “My hero.” Then she’d drifted back into unconsciousness.
Thank God cell phones had come on the market earlier this year. Daniel retrieved his phone from his coat and punched in 911.
After the newspaper article came out with his picture and the girl’s story on the front page, there was no more talk of hospitals and rehab centers. God had granted him his wish. Now it was Daniel’s turn to uphold his part of the bargain and rescue those who needed rescuing.
DAY 4
Chapter 58
Detective Hernandez
“You were a bit hazy last night. I need you to give me more specific details about your time in the woods.”
Up Close And Gone Page 16
