Seeking Sarah

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  She hung up the phone and smiled. “My cousin said he’s on it. I’ll give you his number and you can call and give him any details you have. And if he’s on it, it’s just a matter of time before he locates her.”

  She said it with such confidence that for the first time since I’d discovered this tragic news, I had hope. Now I just had to figure out how in the world I was going to get the money to pay for a private investigator.

  CHAPTER 11

  * * *

  Three grand. That’s how much it would cost me to search for my mother. Symone’s cousin had texted me this morning, saying he needed half to get started.

  Since I only had about four hundred dollars in my personal savings, I had to take my case to Trent. And our wedding/honeymoon/house fund.

  Trent had asked me to meet him for dinner. We’d had a rough and rocky week and I could tell he was hoping we could get back on track. And I was hoping to convince him how important this was to me. I also figured this would be the best time to tell him I needed to pull out some of our money.

  But as we sat there at the Olive Garden, I had yet to find the strength to bring it up. The perfect opportunity arose when, after a bunch of small talk, Trent said, “So, any more news on your mom?”

  This was the first time he’d asked about it in a week. And that actually stung a little bit. He truly didn’t get how important this was to me. Yet he had asked me about moving to Norfolk three times.

  “Nothing yet.”

  Just tell him.

  He sighed in frustration, I know from the lack of conversation. Luckily, his cell phone rang. He glanced down at the screen.

  “This is my commander. I’ve been waiting on this call. Excuse me a minute.”

  He exited the table and I welcomed the reprieve. It gave me time to think. And remember.

  ······

  “Mom, I mean, Sarah, are you okay?”

  My mother turned away from the window. Her eyes were puffy, like she’d been crying, but she forced a smile. “Hi, Brookie. Yes, I’m fine.”

  I didn’t understand how parents got away with lying. I always got in trouble when I lied.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She walked over and began fluffing my long black ponytails. “How was school today?”

  I stood, studying her. Had she really forgotten? “School was fine. But I thought you were coming to my play today.”

  Her hands went to her mouth in shock. “Oh, no. Sweetie. I forgot. I’m so sorry.” She pulled me into a bear hug, as if that would make me forget that she missed me performing as Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. I was the first second-grader to land a starring role in the annual school play and my own mother had missed it.

  Before she could say anything else, my father walked in. He’d been happy during my whole performance, but he must have been faking it because on the way home, he was super mad.

  “What happened to you? Let me guess,” my father said, not giving her time to answer. “Something came up.”

  “I forgot, but I promise to make it up to you,” my mother said. “Matter of fact, go change and I’ll take you for ice cream to make up for missing your play.”

  “It’s the middle of the week. You know I don’t like her to have sweets during the week. Besides, it’s almost seven.”

  I stuck out my bottom lip. Daddy was always ruining the fun stuff Mommy wanted to do.

  Mommy knelt in front of me and took both of my hands. “We’ll do something special this weekend,” she said. She didn’t sound convincing. Still, I nodded and kissed her on the cheek.

  I knew that I could get in trouble, but for some reason, I didn’t go up to my room. I stood against the wall so I could hear what they were talking about.

  “Why must you do this, Sarah?”

  “Do what, Jacob?”

  “Don’t I give you the best of everything?”

  “Here we go,” she huffed. Mommy was always huffing, like Daddy was getting on her nerves.

  “You don’t have to work.”

  “But I want to work.”

  “You have everything you want.”

  “What about what I need?” Her voice sounded like it was cracking. “Does that matter at all?”

  “Well, Brooke needs you here.”

  “What about what I need?” she repeated.

  I don’t know what they said after that because I’d gone up to my room. I just couldn’t take the fighting anymore.

  ······

  I’d forgotten how unhappy my mother was. I guess that was one of those things I had blocked out over the years. That had to be why my mother left. But why would she never try to get in touch with me?

  “Hello?”

  Trent snapped his fingers in front of me. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you come back,” I said.

  His frustration was evident. “I feel like you don’t see me at all anymore.”

  “I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind,” I said.

  Trent hesitated, like he was weighing his words. “Brooke, don’t take this the wrong way, but do you think you should get some help, maybe go back to the therapist so she can help you through all of this?”

  I folded my arms in defiance. “I don’t need therapy. I need . . . answers.”

  He bit into a breadstick, shaking his head as he chewed. “I don’t understand. You thought your mom was dead all this time, just keep pretending that she is.”

  I had to take a moment, because the words that wanted to come out of my mouth were not pretty. I was seeing a side of Trent I did not like.

  “I don’t expect you to understand,” I said. “Your mother didn’t walk away from you. You can’t even begin to imagine the pain.”

  “You’ve been doing just fine all these years.” He shrugged.

  The callousness of his words pissed me off. “Actually, I haven’t been doing fine.”

  When Trent invited me to dinner, had I known it was going to go down this path, I definitely would have declined. Then I reminded myself of why I did come.

  “Look, you know my issues with losing people close to me. But I lost my father, and finding out my mother has been alive all this time makes me feel like I’m losing her all over again. If you can’t get that, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

  Trent hated arguing, so I could tell this was draining on him. We sat in silence for a few minutes, both of us toying with our food. Finally, Trent looked at me.

  “So where does this leave us?” he asked. “You haven’t mentioned the wedding since your father died.”

  “Good grief, my dad has only been dead three weeks!”

  “I know that, but now you’ve moved on to this quest to find your mother and I’m wondering where that leaves us. Are we still getting married? When? You’ve shut me out so I’m just in limbo here.”

  “And we know you can’t stand to be in limbo,” I mumbled.

  “What?” he said.

  “Nothing, Trent.” I let out a deep sigh. This was all draining on me as well. The day after our engagement, Trent had told me he was moving his savings to a joint account to use for the wedding and our honeymoon and to get our first house. I’d moved half my savings, which wasn’t much, but I wanted to contribute since Trent was adamant about beginning our life on solid financial footing. That’s why I dreaded what I was about to say.

  “Look,” I said, deciding to just get it out. “What I do know is I can’t give you what you need until I deal with this thing with my mother. Until I find her. I talked to a private investigator. I want to hire him. But it will cost me a three-thousand-dollar retainer, which is really a good deal because normally, it’s at least five grand.”

  Trent looked at me like I had lost my mind. “We don’t have three thousand extra dollars. And a retainer means that’s just a starting rate.”

  I hesitated before saying, “We have the money in our joint savings account.” I wasn’t even going to address the fact that the fee might go up.

  If
looks could kill, my fiancé would be Jeffrey Dahmer. “Are you seriously talking about using the money we’re supposed to start our life with to track down your mother?” he asked me, his voice a little louder than it should have been.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  Trent noticed a few people glancing our way, so he leaned forward and lowered his voice. “And do exactly what when you find her?” He didn’t give me time to answer as he sat back. “No. You’re talking crazy. You don’t want me to reenlist, my consulting contract is ending with the agency, and I don’t know what our financial situation will be like in a year and you want to blow three grand?”

  “It’s not blowing,” I protested. “Don’t you understand I can’t get on with my life until I close out this chapter?”

  He shook his head, like nothing I said was registering. “So what does that mean?”

  “It means, I need that money . . . even if we have to postpone getting married.”

  The waiter walked over, saw the intensity in our conversation, and slowly eased away.

  Trent gritted his teeth. “Are you freaking serious? We have a plan and you want to disrupt it for some wild goose chase?”

  “You have a plan,” I retorted.

  He sat back, stunned. “So, now you don’t want to get married? This is all me?”

  My shoulders sank in frustration. “I didn’t say that. I’m just saying that sometimes the best-laid plans need to be flexible. Is that so difficult for you to do?”

  He shot daggers in my direction. “Do you know how many women would love to trade places with you?”

  It was my turn to return the daggers. “Maybe you need to go find one of them then.”

  He matched my glare, before saying, “If you postpone the wedding, you might as well call it off.”

  My frustration turned to shock. This dinner was taking a direction I never would have imagined. “Are you giving me an ultimatum?”

  “No, I’m just telling you to think long and hard about what you’re doing because I’m not going to have my woman put me on hold while she goes traipsing all over the country, trying to deal with mommy issues.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. Who was this man? “Are you going to grab my hair and drag me back to the cave if I don’t obey?” I asked.

  My sarcasm was lost on him, because he just threw his fork down and mumbled, “I can’t believe this.”

  I had never seen Trent look at me with such disgust. But right about now, the feeling was mutual. He took out some cash, tossed it on the table, then pushed his chair back from the table as he stood. “I really hope you know what you’re doing. And I hope it’s worth all you stand to lose.”

  He didn’t say anything else as he headed toward the door.

  CHAPTER 12

  * * *

  The light tapping on my office door caused me to look up from my work, which I’d been engrossed in all morning. My assistant, Anita, stuck her head in.

  I motioned for her to come in as I nestled the phone between my neck and shoulder. “Again, my sincerest apologies. I’ll personally bring the media plan by for you to see this evening,” I told my client before hanging up the phone.

  I had been screwing up. My boss, Charlene, had given me three weeks off for my father, but while I’d physically returned, mentally I was on my fourth week of leave and my work was suffering because of it.

  My job as publicist for one of the largest public-relations agencies on the East Coast was one of the most rewarding things I did. But ever since I’d found out about my mom, it had been nearly impossible to do my job.

  “Good morning. You have a package.” Anita handed a small brown box to me.

  “What is it?” I asked as I took the package from her.

  “I have no idea,” she replied. “The UPS man just dropped it off.”

  I slowly opened the small box, wondering if Trent had sent me a gift to make up for our fight. It had been a week, and while we had spoken, it was almost formulaic and tinged with tension.

  As soon as I saw the golden locket, I froze. I had forgotten that I had this piece made. It was from an old jewelry set my mother had owned. I had had it melted down and made into a locket.

  I pulled the gold chain from the box, not sure whether I should cry or toss it in the trash. When I’d come up with the decision to have this made, I thought I would put my mother’s wedding ring on it and put up Jared’s ring before saying “I do” to Trent.

  “What is it?” Anita asked, peering over my shoulder. “Oh, my God, that’s beautiful.” She took the locket from me and at that moment, I hated that I treated Anita more like my friend than my assistant.

  “Excuse you,” I snapped, snatching the necklace away from her.

  She stood back, no doubt shocked. “Sorry. I was—”

  I took a deep breath. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just have a lot going on.”

  She nodded, but I could tell I had hurt her feelings. I made a mental note to really apologize to her later on.

  “I’m heading out if there’s nothing else.” Anita’s tone had turned ultraprofessional, which she only did when she was upset with me.

  “No, we’re good. And Anita, I really am sorry. I’m on edge because, well, it’s just been rough with my father’s death.” Although I considered her a friend, I wouldn’t dare tell her about my mom.

  The expression on her face softened. “I understand. See you tomorrow.”

  As I fingered the necklace, my mind raced back to the original piece of jewelry that had been the origin of this locket.

  ······

  “You think you cute.”

  I shifted my backpack from one shoulder to the next. I swear, I couldn’t wait until I graduated. Granted, I was just a junior, but the minute I stepped foot off the grounds of Millbrook High School, I would never return.

  I had done nothing to Stacy Sellers, yet here she was, in the middle of the hallway, in my face, going off over some stupid BS.

  “Pardon me,” I said, stepping around her and trying to get to my third period.

  “Pardon me,” she said, mocking me. “Look at her, trying to talk white.”

  I stopped and stared at her. I might have been quiet, but I refused to be intimidated by the resident “mean girl.”

  “If by white, you mean, proper, then so be it. But I’m not about to do this with you.”

  “Why not? You too good?” Stacy snapped.

  “Because I don’t have time for this.” I pushed past Stacy and her minions, which I knew she was showing out for.

  I had just stepped around her when she reached out and grabbed the necklace off my neck. I stopped, stunned as the chain broke, and the locket my mother had given me for my seventh birthday broke and the heart-shaped pendant bounced on the floor, then rolled into the floor vent.

  “Oops.” Stacy laughed. “Guess I gotta go to the Dollar Store to replace your necklace.”

  She turned to her friends and laughed. Before I knew it, I charged her, tackling her like we were in the middle of the Super Bowl.

  It had taken three teachers to get me off Stacy. When I was done, she had a black eye, a bruised and busted lip, and a bloody nose. And my pendant—the thing I cherished most from my mother—was gone.

  ······

  No one in high school messed with me after that. In fact, people gossiped that I was crazy. That had been just fine with me.

  My ringing cell phone pushed away thoughts of those brutal high school years.

  I picked the phone up off my desk, and despite the unknown number, I answered.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, is this Brooke?”

  “May I ask who’s calling?”

  “It’s Clint.”

  My heart skipped a beat at the sound of the private investigator’s voice. After I sent his deposit via the Cash App, he’d told me he’d only call if he had something. And since it had been less than two weeks since I gave him the deposit,
I wasn’t expecting him to have found out anything yet.

  “Hi, Clint,” I said.

  “I got something. Can you meet?”

  “Yes.” My voice was barely above a whisper and the phone trembled in my hand.

  “Cool. Can you meet me at that Starbucks on the corner by your job?”

  I immediately stood and started gathering my things. “Wait, how do you know where I work?”

  He laughed. “I’m a private investigator, remember?”

  “Okay.” Any other time, I might have laughed with him, but my nerves were on edge. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  I hung up and pressed the speaker on my desk phone. “Hey, Anita, I have to step out for a minute. If Charlene comes can you let her know that I’ll be back?”

  “I got you covered,” Anita replied. Charlene was the vice president of First Impressions Public Relations, and my boss. She was great at what she did but she was also a micromanager who was apt to dip into my office at any time of the day.

  I grabbed my purse and made a beeline for the door. Fifteen minutes later I was sitting at a table in front of Starbucks, drilling my fingers on the hardwood table and wondering how this information I was about to receive would alter the course of my future.

  Clint rolled in like he’d just stepped off the set of a Hollywood movie. He wore dark sunglasses and a long, leather coat, looking like a combination of Shaft and Barack Obama. The coffee shop was packed, yet he headed straight over to me.

  “Brooke?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dang, anybody ever told you that you look like that actress Sanaa Lathan?”

  I nodded. “All the time.”

  “Well, you two could be sisters.” He didn’t remove his shades as he slid into the seat across from me and passed an envelope across the table. “Anyway, here you go.”

  “Is this what I think it is?” I asked.

  “It’s what you hoped it would be,” he replied, his face stoic.