by Josi Kilpack
Brad shook his head, wondering why Kate wouldn’t have mentioned it. Then he turned down the TV and gave Jess his full attention. “Why don’t you tell me about it.”
First, she told him all about the dance, but he sensed that though the dance was definitely an issue, there was more to it than that. He asked questions about other aspects of her life, and for the next ten minutes listened as Jess opened up like none of the kids ever had to him before. She told him about Britney making the track team and finding a whole bunch of new friends and of how badly she hated gymnastics. “I’m such a loser, Dad,” she said as she started winding down. “And now I have this chance to be with new kids, and spend time with Britney, and Mom said she didn’t care about any of that stuff.”
“She told you she didn’t care?” Brad asked, wanting to make sure before he gave his blood permission to boil. Was he so distracted by other things that Kate would talk to their kids that way and he’d have no idea?
Jess nodded. “And I explained the whole thing, how it wasn’t a date and I turn sixteen two weeks after the dance anyway—she said no to everything.”
Brad nodded and Jess stared at her hands in her lap.
“Let me talk to your mom about the dance,” Brad said. He hated the way Jess looked unsure whether or not she should have said so much. He’d do anything at that moment to make her feel better. “I can’t promise you anything, but I can try—okay?”
Jess nodded, but her shoulders slumped. Brad took it as a sign that she thought he was powerless against Kate. On impulse he added, “And if you want to, you can quit gymnastics.” He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. That was a pretty big promise to make, and yet maybe this was the right tack to take. Maybe he needed to take back some of the power, since Kate seemed to have no problem making the dance decision without him.
Jess looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Really? Right now?”
Brad nodded. “You need to understand that your mom kept you in there because she wanted you to have the opportunity—she never had the chance to do that kind of thing and she wants to give it to you guys. She doesn’t want it to hurt you.”
Jess nodded, but Brad wasn’t sure she believed him. As it was, he couldn’t quite understand how Kate could not know how miserable Jess was in gymnastics. He knew she’d wanted to quit last summer and Kate had helped her change her mind, but Kate hadn’t said anything about Jess not liking it. Or maybe, like Jess said, Kate just didn’t care. It was hard to think of Kate that way, but over the last few days he’d seen a side of Kate he hadn’t noticed before. Was it an agenda? Or just determination to have her way? He wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, this seemed to give further evidence of it. “I’ll call the gymnastics studio Monday, okay? You don’t have to do that final performance,” he continued.
Jess smiled. “Thanks Daddy,” she whispered.
Brad pulled her into a hug and held on tight. “I love you, Jessie,” he whispered into her hair. “Being a teenager is a hard thing, but please don’t forget how truly wonderful you are and how much we love you. It’s going to work out, okay?”
Jess pulled away, her face—and he hoped her heart—lighter. “Okay.”
Brad waited until he heard her bedroom door shut before turning off the TV—the game now in the fourth quarter—and heading upstairs. Kate was at the kitchen table working on some stupid handout that the kids in Primary would destroy tomorrow. She had time to do that, but not talk to him about their daughter?
“Why didn’t you talk to me about the dance?”
Kate looked up at him with a confused expression. “What?”
“Jess just told me about your argument yesterday. Why didn’t you talk to me?”
“Well, we already made the rule together years ago,” Kate said, seemingly innocent about any offense she may have caused. “She’s not sixteen.”
“Kate,” he broke in. “We’re supposed to talk about this kind of thing. We’re supposed to be a team.”
Kate let out an exasperated sigh as if to say she did not have time for this. “Jess is a fifteen-year-old girl who—”
He cut her off. “Who is feeling overall lousy about herself, feels like her best friend has left her behind, and gets a stomachache every time she thinks about her gymnastics performance. Did you know she spent last week’s gymnastics class hiding in the bathroom? That’s how embarrassed she is. She told me she thinks of herself as a loser. What’s more, you don’t care, and you told her so.”
“I do care,” Kate replied, her eyes wide with surprise. She finally put down the marker in her hand, her eyes narrowed. “And I apologized for the comment I made about not caring. I haven’t been feeling well and—”
“That’s no excuse,” Brad cut in again. “You don’t say things like that to our kids, Kate; it’s mean. You’ve said yourself that you feel like Jess has pulled away from you, and then you say something like that?”
“It was a mistake, Brad, I’m sorry.” But there was an edge of pride in her voice.
Brad shook his head. “Jess and I had a good talk, Kate, about a lot of things, and I told her she didn’t have to take gymnastics anymore—she’s really miserable in that class.”
Kate’s eyebrows went up. “Without even discussing it with me?”
“Did you talk to me about the dance?” Brad asked, waiting for an answer.
Kate ignored his rebuttal. “They are counting on her, Brad. She’s part of a routine that involves a lot of people. We can’t just pull her out, not to mention the fact that letting her quit tells her it’s okay to just give up. When I was a kid, I never—”
“You never had a lot of things when you were a kid, Kate. But you can’t try to live vicariously through our kids. They have their own talents, their own interests, and it’s our job to support them in their own directions, not force them to do it our way. The studio has a month to make adjustments to the performance thing, and it’s not worth hurting her, Kate. We should have just let her quit last summer when she wanted to. If I’d known she was this unhappy, I’d have pulled her out a long time ago.”
Kate pinched her lips together. Brad couldn’t remember a time he’d ever confronted his wife this way, so it didn’t surprise him that she was at a loss about what to say. The discussion with Jess had brought everything to the forefront. “I’ve also made an appointment with Dr. Lyon. I’ll meet with him next Thursday—before I go out of town. But in light of all this, I’m feeling more than ever that we can both use the energy that would go into another child to work harder on the kids we have. I obviously haven’t been involved enough, and the last thing this family needs is another child.”
“You can’t mean that,” Kate said slowly, and he looked away from the profound disappointment in her eyes. Why was it so hard for her to understand this? He understood she felt differently, but surely it wasn’t that big of a deal. Seven kids was the dream of newlyweds, but life proved that it wasn’t realistic.
“We seem to have more than we can handle well right now.”
“That is so offensive,” she said quietly, her eyes filling with tears. “I work hard to take care of this family, Brad. I do more than a lot of wives and mothers do, and I get very little gratitude for that. And now you’re going to swoop in and start making decisions like this without any regard to my feelings?”
“No,” Brad said. “I regard your feelings, Kate, but that doesn’t mean you always win.”
“Is it a contest?” she said, wiping at her eyes.
“Of course not,” he said, exasperated by her obstinacy. “But I’m concerned. Jess has been miserable, and I didn’t know. She asked you about the dance, and you didn’t even tell me. That’s not right, Kate, and no, it’s not all your fault. We both have some changes to make. But I worry that if we don’t get our priorities back on track, we’re going to miss the opportunity to be there when our kids need us. We can do better than this.”
18
——Original Message——
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Saturday, April 22, 11:08 PM
Subject: Hi
Jess,
It’s me, Colt. Thanks for the get-to-know-you questions—we DO have a lot in common, even down to Red Cream Soda as our favorite drink. I really don’t get why that’s not the most popular soda in the world. Did my answers come through? It’s almost scary how many answers were the same for you and me. Wow. Sorry it took me so long, it’s been rough getting the house all set up.
I don’t really like it here in Florida very much. All the girls look like Barbie dolls and all they care about is hair and makeup. I hate girls like that so school is pretty much lame but at least I only have a month or so to go. The guys are okay, except that all they care about are the stupid girls without a thought in their head. I just don’t get how people can be so shallow. How about you? How is your school? What kind of guys do you like? Emily showed me your bored and between that and the answers, you seem like just the kind of girl I’d like to get to know—I’m taking Calculus this year, it’s awesome! I’m so glad she hooked us up. She says you’re an honor student—so am I. Anyway, write back.
Colt
Sunday was long and miserable. Kate woke up feeling sick again and desperately hoped she wasn’t coming down with something. Even though it had been over a month, she still felt like she’d just gotten over the flu. In addition to that, she and Brad were still circling each other, the tension building up with every passing minute. After church Brad offered to make a pancake lunch once the kids were changed out of their Sunday clothes. Kate felt like her role had been suddenly extinguished—at least until it was time to do dishes. Then it was conveniently left up to her. She was up to her elbows in sticky plates when Brad asked if everyone wanted to go for a drive up Millcreek Canyon and then go over to Grandma’s for a visit. The kids were beside themselves with excitement. Not only for the trip, but Kate suspected they were enthralled with their dad suddenly being so involved. Kate asked to stay home, and Brad just shrugged his shoulders and told her to do whatever she wanted. It made her feel horrible, but she waved to them as they drove away and hoped that in their absence she could get her head on straight and take a nap.
Brad’s accusations from the night before cut to the quick. She didn’t understand how he could see her that way—too busy to know her own kids. Like he should talk! But she knew she wasn’t being fair. She did have room for improvement, especially with Jess, but he made her out to be a lot worse than she really was, and he completely discounted all the good things she did.
After trying several different positions in hopes of falling asleep, she gave up. Her stomach was rolling. What had she eaten? Was there something going around? April wasn’t really flu season. She went to the pantry and pulled out a sleeve of crackers, that always helped calm her stomach when she was . . .
She froze and the crackers fell from her hands. The package was already open, and the individual crackers broke free and slid all over the floor.
“I can’t be,” she whispered, but ran into the bathroom anyway. She popped open her package of birth control pills. She was four days into the placebos, meaning her period was late. And she’d been feeling sick since—she calculated the days in her head—Thursday. How had she not noticed this? But she was on the pill—she couldn’t be pregnant!
She sat down on the edge of the tub and put her head in her hands. This isn’t happening; this isn’t happening; this isn’t happening. But she reflected on how tired she was and how the syrup on the pancakes had increased her queasiness—sweets always made her sick when she was pregnant.
With each piece of evidence her heart sunk deeper into her chest. She didn’t know how much time passed before someone knocked on the front door. She lifted her head and blinked. She hadn’t cried—it was still too new—but her reflection looked pale when she passed the mirror of the bathroom. This isn’t happening, she told herself again, willing herself to believe it. It can’t happen. Not like this.
“Hey,” Julie said, smiling brightly when Kate pulled open the door. “I brought back your cheesecake pan; I appreciate the . . . are you okay?”
Kate nodded but felt her chin quiver. Julie stepped inside and took Kate by the shoulders. “What’s going on?” she asked, her face showing her concern.
Kate remembered Brad being upset that she’d talked to Julie about the appointment with Dr. Lyon before she’d talked to him, but she couldn’t help herself. Maybe saying it out loud would prove it to be ridiculous. “I think I’m pregnant.”
Julie blinked. “No way!” she said in a breathy voice that well communicated that she knew what this meant.
Kate nodded. Seeing the shock on Julie’s face was like confirmation. Rather than prove the idea impossible, Julie’s reaction seemed to make it more real. Kate took a breath and burst into tears.
19
——Original Message——
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Monday, April 24, 5:29 AM
Subject: Re: Hi
Colt,
Emily sent me an IM program and said you use the same one. I’m hoping to try it out tonight—right now I’m about to start my piano practice but had just enough time to squeeze in one last e-mail.
My school is having their last formal dance of the year, I so wish I was going. My best friend, Britney, gets to go, but not me. Have you gone to school dances? Were they fun? Did you have a girlfriend back in Pennsylvania? Where are you going to go for college in the fall?
Gotta go. Jess
Monique held Harrison’s hand tight, and he rubbed his rough thumb over the back of her hand. They still didn’t talk much, but they were at least together on this, even if the words still wouldn’t come. They’d been waiting in the police station for over half an hour, and Monique felt sure she was going to completely lose her mind any minute now.
“Mr. and Mrs. Weatherford?”
Monique and Harrison looked up to see the owner of the voice—a stout white man in his fifties with a salt-and-pepper mustache and a bald head that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. They both stood. He introduced himself as Sergeant Morris and indicated for them to follow him into his office.
Once they were seated, he closed the door, moved around to the business side of the desk, and sat down. He may have smiled slightly, but it was hard to tell behind the mustache, and it certainly wasn’t the kind of smile that reached his eyes.
“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Weatherford, in November when you reported your daughter missing, we did an initial check of your computer. But with her history, we didn’t do much more than talk to some friends and put her into the national database.” He opened a manila folder on his desk and moved a few papers around. “We have thousands of runaways reported every year in this county, and she seemed to be a typical case.”
Monique nodded. She knew they had felt that way, even though she’d explained that Terrezza had changed, that she was no longer having the problems that had created so much turmoil the previous summer. To dwell on the police and their lack of interest only made her angry, however. She was anxious for him to get to the point.
“You already know that the file you found was instructions for installing an instant message program—but it’s not the kind a kid downloads and gets access to millions of people through. This one was a type of homemade instant message that allows communication through only two people. It’s hidden on a hard drive, but we haven’t found the program. Your daughter may have deleted it.”
“What does that mean?” Harrison asked. Monique squeezed his hand. Harrison had owned his own mechanic shop for over twenty years. He was as smart and handy as a man could be, but she doubted he’d ever even used the Internet. Like her, he was a hesitant immigrant to the technology that was so simple for the younger generations.
The sergeant didn’t answer directly. “Your daughter also saved conversations,
e-mails, her own thoughts that spanned a five-week period of time.”
“Five weeks?” Monique repeated. How could Terrezza have been talking to some stranger for that long and Monique not notice?
“He told her not to say anything. He became her best friend.”
“He?” Harrison said. “A boy?”
Sergeant Morris took a breath. “A man.”
Monique and Harrison were completely still. A man? But Terrezza was only sixteen. “What kind of man?” Monique asked, but she answered the question in her mind. What kind of man communicates online with a teenage girl and tells her to keep it a secret? She felt the blood draining from her face and her grip on Harrison’s hand tightened as if that would stave off the fear that was rising.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Sergeant Morris continued. “The information she kept is invaluable to this investigation, and it takes us down a very different road. There was an e-mail that talked about the two of them meeting the night your daughter went missing. He said he loved her, that they would be together forever, and she should leave a note saying she was going to stay with Danyelle.”
