“Yeah, the cramping is getting better.” She hated what that meant.
He sat down and looked at the wall, and she knew that he felt the loss as keenly as she. “We are going to be parents, sweetheart,” he said. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but we are.”
She nodded. They had been trying for over a year. In the scheme of things, she supposed it wasn’t as bad as other couples who’d tried for seven, nine, twelve years. She thought of Ben Jackson—Jonathan’s opponent in the mayoral race—and his wife, Lisa. They’d been trying for thirteen.
“Do you want to call Blair?” Jonathan’s words cut into her thoughts.
Morgan thought of waking her sister up to tell her this news. It hardly seemed fair. Ever since Blair had bought the newspaper, she hadn’t been getting adequate rest. “I’ll tell her later.”
She got into the bed, and Jonathan pulled the covers up over her and tucked her in. He bent over and kissed her cheek.
When he’d left her alone, she let her control slip away, and wept into her pillow.
Later that morning, the cramping stopped, and Morgan forced herself to get out of bed. She went downstairs, and saw that the kitchen was spotless. Gus and Felicia had gone to work, and Sadie was at school. She saw Karen on the back porch feeding her own baby. There was no sign of Jonathan or Caleb. Maybe Jonathan had taken him with him to do some campaigning today.
His big debate with his two opponents in the mayoral race—Sam Sullivan and Ben Jackson—was tomorrow. Jonathan—who worked as a fishing tour guide, pastor of their small church, and director of Hanover House—had only come into the race a month ago, so he was way behind. The special election was scheduled for three weeks away, and he didn’t have a moment to waste. If he won, he’d take office almost immediately, since the town had been without a mayor since the last one had been dethroned by scandal.
She went through the kitchen into the small office where she and Jonathan took care of the business of Hanover House. She sat down at the desk and moved a stack of donations out of her way. The home, a halfway house for people trying to change their lives, was supported by monthly contributions. She had yet to log them all this month, so much had been going on.
She picked up the telephone and dialed her sister’s number. When there was no answer, she checked the clock. Ten o’clock. Of course Blair wasn’t home. She dialed the newspaper office and got her voicemail. She was probably out tracking down a story, trying to find an interesting angle to the mundane events of the island.
Discouraged, she hung up. She would try Blair again later. But would her sister understand her grief over a baby that she had only known for one day? How could she? No one could understand unless they had been there.
Then she remembered. Someone had.
She thought of the wife of Jonathan’s fiercest opponent in the race. Lisa Jackson had been in Morgan’s shoes four different times.
One would never have known of her struggle with infertility. It was a secret, closely held. Morgan wouldn’t have known it herself, except that she had seen it on Lisa’s face when they’d both wound up in the bathroom at a mutual friend’s baby shower.
She had recognized those tears, and Lisa had recognized hers. Without saying a word, the two women, whose husbands were political archenemies, had embraced. They’d sneaked out for coffee to comfort each other, and had poured out their hearts about their infertility and their desperate desire for children.
Maybe it would help to talk to her now.
You call me if you need to talk, honey. Day or night, I don’t care. And if you don’t mind, I’ll do the same. These husbands of ours will just have to get used to it.
Morgan knew she’d meant it.
She knew Lisa probably wasn’t home, since her real estate business kept her hopping. But she called and left a message on Lisa’s voicemail, then tried her at her office. When her taped recording kicked in, Morgan decided to leave a message there too.
“Hey, Lisa,” she said in a soft voice, “this is Morgan. Could you give me a call when you have a chance to talk? I really need to share something with you.” She paused and tried to control the emotion wavering in her voice. “Something happened this morning. You’re the only one I know who’ll understand.” She hung up and stared down at the phone. She hoped Lisa would return the call soon.
But hours later, Lisa had not called back, and neither had Blair. Jonathan came home with Caleb—he had only taken him for a walk on the beach—and she busied herself with his care and the affairs of the house.
She longed for night and the sleep that would numb her pain, but when it finally came, she lay awake, thinking about the dream she’d had last night about the little girl on the swing.
She prayed that God would let her dream it again.
CHAPTER 3
Police Chief Matthew Cade—simply Cade to everyone who knew him—came to Hanover House early the next morning. From the look on his face, Morgan knew he hadn’t dropped in for breakfast. As Jonathan’s closest friend and the love of her sister’s life, he dropped in often—but not in full uniform.
He had bad news. She knew that look. It was the same tight expression he’d worn when he interrupted that City Council meeting last summer to tell her that her parents had been murdered.
“I hate to bother you this morning,” he said. “I know you’re all getting ready for the debate.”
She felt like sinking against the wall, raising her arms to deflect the blow. “Something’s wrong, Cade. What is it?”
“I’m here on police business. I need to ask you a few questions.”
She shivered, and her mind raced with possibilities. She still hadn’t been able to get in touch with her sister. Had something happened to her? “Is it about Blair?”
He looked startled at the question. “No, why? What’s wrong with Blair?”
“Nothing. I just haven’t heard from her. I tried to call her yesterday but never got her.”
His face relaxed. “I talked to her last night. She was working late, trying to cover a baseball game and an awards ceremony. She’s fine. No, it’s about Lisa Jackson.”
“Lisa? What about her?”
“Morgan, Ben reported her missing last night.”
“Missing? What do you mean, missing?”
“She didn’t come home last night, and she missed several appointments yesterday. Important ones, apparently. She seems to have vanished sometime yesterday morning. We’re talking to everyone who might have seen her yesterday. She had messages from you on her home and business voicemail. I wondered if you’d heard from her.”
Morgan just gaped at him for a moment. “No. She never called me back.”
“When’s the last time you spoke to her?”
She shoved her long curls back from her face. “Uh…a few days ago.”
“Did she give you any indication that she was upset about anything? Angry at Ben?”
“No, not at all. Cade, do you think something’s happened to her?”
He seemed to consider whether or not to answer that. “Maybe not. I’m hoping she’ll turn up today. Maybe she just left town for the night or something.”
“But what does Ben think?”
“He seems to think that she’s in trouble. He’s pretty upset. He claims they hadn’t had a fight, but with the stress of the mayoral race and the debate coming up, maybe she’d had enough and he didn’t know it.”
Morgan knew that was true. But it was more than that. The stress the Jacksons had been under with their fertility treatments was even more significant than the pressure of the race. But she didn’t want to bring that up. “I’m sorry I can’t help, Cade. All I know is that Lisa isn’t the type to take off.”
“I didn’t think so either.”
She walked him back to the door and looked into his eyes. He looked tired, as if he’d been up all night. His black hair looked a little disheveled, and his limp reminded her how recently his own life had been in jeopardy. “Are you okay, Cade? Ta
king care of yourself?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Cane helps.”
Morgan knew his transition from a crutch to a cane spoke well of his progress. He’d had surgery a month ago for multiple fractures in that leg. It had been set internally with steel rods, but his recovery was not yet behind him. She reached up to hug him. “If you see my sister, tell her to call me.”
He smiled down at her. “Will do.”
She watched him limp out to his squad car and get in, and she knew Blair would call her soon.
But what would she say when she called? Hey, Blair. Whatcha been doing? Me? Oh, I found out I was pregnant, then miscarried the next day. Most people get nine months, then a bundle of joy. Not me. Nosirree, not me. My womb is like a tomb, rejecting life and creating death. My womb is a tomb…my womb is a tomb. I’m a poet and don’t know it.
Tears pushed to her throat again, and she told herself she would have to stop this. She wasn’t this way. She didn’t think bitter, cynical thoughts. But then, she obviously had a skewed picture of herself. She had pictured herself as a mother, raising a house-ful of children—a big family, full of laughter and love…
But her body had kept secrets about its malfunctions, as if it had other intentions entirely.
Was this anger normal? Had Lisa had these same thoughts of self-hatred, these raging thoughts that she had failed her child?
Morgan hoped Lisa was okay. Maybe she’d been plagued by the same kinds of self-recriminations, the need to escape herself and go somewhere alone to scream out and rail against the world and her body and all those busy, stressed-out moms who could never understand the broken and empty longing…
Maybe Lisa needed her, wherever she was.
Morgan blew her nose and dried her tears, then went to the phone. She dialed the Jackson’s house. Ben answered on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Ben, this is Morgan Cleary. I just heard about Lisa.”
“Who told you?”
“Cade came by to see if I’d seen or heard from her, since I’d left her some messages yesterday.”
“And have you?”
“No. She never called back.”
His voice cracked. “I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning. She’s just vanished. She’s not answering her cell phone, but that’s nothing new since you can’t get a signal on this godforsaken island. She missed several appointments yesterday. She even missed an important ultrasound she had scheduled. She would never do that. Never.”
Morgan knew he was right. Lisa would never have missed an ultrasound, now that they’d decided to go through with another attempt at in vitro fertilization. Knowing when to harvest her egg was critical. “Ben, are you okay?”
“No, of course I’m not.”
“Look, if you want to call off the debate this morning, I’m sure—”
“I don’t care about the blasted debate! Let them declare Jonathan the winner, for all I care. My wife is missing!”
He slammed down the phone, and she felt shallow and silly for suggesting such a thing, as if he might have even considered showing up.
“Did I hear Cade?” Jonathan stood in the doorway, holding Caleb on his hip.
“Yes.” She hung up the phone. “He said Lisa Jackson is missing. I just talked to Ben, and he’s a basket case.”
“Missing?”
“The police have been looking for her all night.”
Jonathan stared at her for a moment, as if he didn’t believe it. “You don’t think this is a publicity stunt, do you? To get a few sympathy votes?”
She grunted. “Jonathan, I heard his voice. He’s frantic. He doesn’t even care about the debate right now. I think we should go over there.”
He set Caleb down, and the child toddled over to his toy basket and took out a plastic train. “Morgan, of all people, he doesn’t want me over there.”
“Then I’ll go by myself. He’s there all alone, Jonathan. Someone needs to wait with him. And I’m worried about Lisa. She’s my friend.”
He sighed, as if he couldn’t believe she was asking him to do this now. “All right, I guess we can go over for a little while.”
She knew he was worried about the debate, which was scheduled for eleven. They still had three hours.
He got that sober, concerned look on his face and touched her chin. “Are you okay? Sure you’re up to this?”
“I’m fine,” she lied. “Really, I am.”
He clearly had no choice but to take her word for it.
CHAPTER 4
Ben Jackson’s house was one of the more elegant ones on the island, situated near the northeastern point with a backyard view of the Atlantic. Beach property came at a premium on Cape Refuge, but it was well known that the Jacksons had money. That was why he was pulling ahead in the mayoral race.
He’d invested more money than either of the other two candidates. He’d had television commercials running on Savannah stations for the last month, as well as a billboard just off the bridge onto Tybee Island, and another one on the island expressway into Savannah. He had also taken out full-page ads in the Savannah Morning News and the Cape Refuge Journal. Even Blair had been forced to sell him the ad space that helped create his image as “The Man for the People.”
The porch light was on, though the sun shone hot and bright. Ben had probably had it on all night.
She knocked. Jonathan stood behind her, his hands in his pockets. “I can’t believe I’m here.”
“Jonathan, take off your candidate’s hat and put on your pastor’s hat. We’re here as Christians who care, not competitors.”
Jonathan swallowed. “You’re right.”
Ben opened the door. His face was pale and his eyes were red, with dark circles shadowing them. He hadn’t shaved, and his hair was tousled and dirty. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to come and sit with you,” Morgan said. “You don’t need to go through this alone.”
He abandoned the door and headed back inside, and Morgan wondered if that was his invitation for them to come on in. She nudged Jonathan and they stepped inside, closing the door behind them.
They followed him into a great room decorated with rich silk draperies and faux-finished walls, with an adjoining kitchen that had a tin ceiling and shiny stainless steel appliances. Ben slumped over the amber granite counter. “What do you want?” He looked up at Jonathan. “Did you want to come over here and gloat that I’m finally getting mine?”
Morgan shot Jonathan a look that pleaded for him to answer gently.
“I would never do that. I came because Morgan said you were upset and you were alone. I thought maybe there was something we could do.”
“You could go out and find her!” He ran a shaking hand through his hair. “You could tell me where she is. That’s what you could do.”
“Ben, are you sure she didn’t just leave town for the night?” Morgan asked. “Maybe all the stress—”
“Absolutely no way. We were in the process of doing in vitro. It’s a huge daily commitment. I have to give her shots the same time every day, pumping her body full of drugs and hormones. She would never go through all that for nothing. Never.”
Jonathan sat down and rubbed his hands on his knees. “Those hormones, don’t they cause mood swings, maybe even some irrational behavior? Maybe the pressure got to her—”
“She can take the stress,” Ben cut in. “She always has. We’ve tried this three other times, and she was fine. This is a way of life for us. Has been for thirteen years. Yeah, the hormones make her moody. She cries more often than she should. She’s irritable and cranky, and sometimes she’s angry. Anyone would be when they’ve had four miscarriages and nothing seems to work. But she’s not angry at me, and she wouldn’t have just taken off when we still had some hope.”
He went to the huge window with an ocean view and peered out as if expecting her to swim up with the waves and come dripping across the beach.
“She was in a good mood yesterday morning.” His vo
ice lowered. “She made me breakfast, and I took the day off to go fishing. I thought a day of relaxation would help me to get my mind straight before the debate. I got back midafternoon and showered and went to the doctor’s office to meet her there for the ultrasound we had scheduled. She was supposed to ovulate yesterday or today. It was critical that we knew when she did. But she didn’t show up. And it wasn’t until then I started to realize something must have happened to her.”
“Doesn’t she have a business partner?” Jonathan asked.
“Yeah, Rani Nixon.”
Morgan thought of the beautiful African-American woman who had once been a successful New York model. When she’d gotten out of the business, she had moved here to open a real estate office with Lisa, her college roommate.
“I talked to her,” he said. “At first she wasn’t too concerned. Said that Lisa was probably out showing property, that she’d had several appointments and a couple of closings. But a little while later she called back and said that Lisa hadn’t shown up for any of them. She’d heard from several clients who were upset.”
“Is that when you called the police?”
“That’s right. Chief Cade was here with some of the uniformed cops. Technically, he couldn’t file a missing person’s report for twenty-four hours, but I filled one out anyway. He probably took it back to the station and sat on it all night.”
“No, that’s not true,” Jonathan said. “He told Morgan he’d been working on it.”
Ben rubbed his neck. “He ought to be on leave. He practically just got out of the hospital. He can hardly walk, for Pete’s sake, and he’s trying to run a police force?”
Morgan saw Jonathan bristle. Revamping the police force had become one of the mayoral race’s biggest issues. She hoped they wouldn’t start debating now.
“He’s as capable of running it now as he ever was,” Jonathan said.
Ben went to the window and looked out again. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. He never was capable. Our illustrious former mayor was his uncle. Nepotism, pure and simple. The whole family is corrupt. He’s not qualified to do that job, and it’s time somebody else was appointed.”
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