Untethered

by Julie Lawson Timmer

  “What’s that?” Colleen asked.

  “I haven’t told her I love her in . . . I don’t even know how long,” Char said. “At some point, during the whole you-hate-my-new-friends thing, she stopped saying it to me. So I stopped saying it to her. Not as a punishment or anything, but just . . . you know me . . .”

  Colleen nodded. “The whole I-don’t-want-to-push-her thing.”

  “Right. But I need to say it. And not as the precursor to a lecture, but on its own. And I’m going to. Today, when I get home, I’m going to tell her how much I love her.”

  She ripped off a hunk of bread and ate it, followed by a slice of Brie. “I mean, what if something had happened to her? What if she hadn’t come home? What if I never saw her again?” She put a hand on her chest.

  “When Bradley died, the one thing I didn’t have to deal with was regret. You hear about these people whose spouses die, or their sisters, or their mothers, and they say the worst part of it was that they hadn’t told that person how much they loved them. Maybe they were in the middle of an argument, in the weeks before. Maybe they’d been giving each other the silent treatment.

  “And then, bam, the other person’s gone, and they’ve missed their chance. And the grieving takes them so much longer. Because they don’t only have the sadness and loss to face. They have all this terrible regret, too. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to have to live with that regret about Bradley.

  “But I don’t have to. He knew how much I loved him, because I told him all the time. We weren’t in the middle of some big argument that day. There weren’t all these unspoken things between us that I’ll never get to say to him, or hear him say to me.” She popped a bite of cookie into her mouth, chewed, swallowed.

  “I mean, it’s not like we had some great romantic night, the night before. It wasn’t some Hollywood ending. We’d had a typical weekend. We did all our usual—slept in, went for a lame hike, ate too many chips, watched too much TV. And then on Monday morning, before he left for Lansing, we kissed good-bye, told each other ‘I love you.’

  “It wasn’t some big passionate thing but it was us, you know? It was real. We meant it, and we each knew it. So, of all the things I’ve cried about and wished were different since the night we got that horrible call, the idea that he died without knowing how I felt about him isn’t one of them. I can’t tell you what a comfort that’s been for me.

  “I thought about that while I was driving to work today. About how I’d feel if Allie hadn’t come home at all the other night, and never came home again. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to her. If she was hurt or . . . something, and I thought she might have spent her last moments not knowing for certain how I felt about her.

  “Or even if she took off on purpose with those kids. Chose not to come back. Didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. Even then, I’d still want her to know how much I loved her. And I’d feel sick forever if the reason she didn’t know was because I hadn’t bothered to tell her.”

  Char set aside the rest of her cookie and looked at her friend. Seconds later, she turned back to the cookie, retrieved it, and took another bite.

  Colleen smiled and shook her head.

  “What?” Char asked. “Oh”—she gestured to the cookie—“I know. My willpower’s impressive.”

  “It’s not that.”

  Char lifted her shoulders and raised her hands, palms up.

  Colleen smiled again. “It’s just that for all your talk all these years about how you’re ‘only’ a stepmom, and now you’re not even technically that, you sure do sound like a mother.”

  • • •

  After work, Char sped home. She couldn’t wait to see Allie and tell her the three words she’d kept from the girl for too long. She had been thinking about it all afternoon. She would start with that, and give the message room to breathe. Only later would she launch into her disappointment about Allie’s lying, her sneakiness. But first things first: I love you.

  And maybe Allie would say Uh, okay, and retreat into her room for the rest of the evening. Or maybe she would say I love you too, CC. But either way, she would know how Char felt about her.

  As Char turned onto their street, she had to will herself not to press the accelerator too hard. As she got closer to the house, she had to force herself to take deep, slow breaths, to bring her racing heart back to normal. As she pulled into the drive, she had to resist the urge to lean on the horn. Honk! Honk! Honk! It’s a new day for you and me, Allie!

  As she pressed the button on her sun visor to raise the garage door, she had to fight herself to wait for the door to lift all the way before she gunned the engine to park faster.

  And as she surveyed the three empty bays in the garage, she had to do a double take, and then another, before it finally sank in.

  The convertible was missing.

  Twenty-eight

  Allie!” Char called, throwing open the door to the house. She hurtled up the stairs to the main floor, calling again. “Allie! Are you here?”

  She knew it was pointless, that she was being naive to hang on to the small shred of hope that someone had somehow snuck into the house, found the convertible keys, opened the garage door, backed the car out, and closed the door again all while Allie, hard at work on her studies in her room, hadn’t noticed a thing.

  “Allie!” She could hear her voice get more shrill the more times she called, and the more times the silent house refused to answer.

  She checked the kitchen counter, the place where they always left notes for each other. Nothing.

  She ran upstairs and burst into the girl’s bedroom.

  “Oh, no.”

  Allie’s bed was made and her dirty clothes, normally strewn over the floor, were neatly bundled in her hamper. These were things Allie did only on three occasions: penalty of death as threatened by her father; a visit from Lindy; and as self-imposed penance for some teenage sin.

  Char raced back to the kitchen and dialed Allie’s cell.

  No answer.

  She texted, in case Justin was driving. Or in case Allie checked her texts while she drove. She wasn’t supposed to—it was against Bradley’s rules, and the law. Not, apparently, that those things mattered to Allie—she had taken the car, after all.

  Char felt the heat rising in her chest and neck as she considered the number of household rules, let alone state laws, the kid had broken. Not to mention making Char frantic with worry for the second time in a single week. She considered what she had told Colleen only a few hours earlier, that having the girl home safe was all that mattered, that she could leave the lectures and rules and confrontation for another day. Maybe this was her thanks for being such a doormat.

  She tried Kate next. The girl sounded caught off guard by the call, as though she had forgotten not to answer and found herself stuck talking to someone she had been trying to avoid. She claimed to have no idea where Allie was, and to be offended by Char’s questions.

  “You need to be straight with me, Kate,” Char said, not buying any of it.

  “I am,” Kate said.

  Char heard the teen push out a blast of breath and she could picture blond bangs fluttering with the upward puff. Kate was doing her best to sound annoyed, falsely accused. But Char had heard this noise before, had seen the way Kate jutted out her lower lip and slid her eyes to one side as she sent her hair scattering with her faux exasperation.

  “Nice try, Kate. You’re lying, and I know it. Try again.”

  Kate said nothing.

  “So help me God, Kate,” Char said. “If I find out later that you had any idea where she was and let me pace, out of my mind with worry . . .” She tried to come up with an effective threat, but what could she lord over Kate?

  “Look,” Char said, her voice as patient, as understanding of teenage stupidity, as she could make it.
“Whatever promise you may have made to her to keep her plans a secret, you need to break it. Now. Whatever she’s up to, whatever she was thinking when she decided to take off, it’s not as important as us finding her, talking to her, making sure she’s safe.”

  Kate remained mute and Char could picture the girl shrugging. Whatever.

  “Is she with Justin?” Char asked.

  “How would I know?” Kate said. “I said I haven’t heard from her.”

  “Kathleen,” Char said, and waited, letting the name and the stern tone impart their own meaning: I know you. I know this isn’t how you normally talk to adults. I know you’re hiding something. “I’m going to ask you again: Is she with Justin?”

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “Kate—”

  But the girl had hung up.

  Char put a hand on her forehead. Suddenly, her skull was on fire, and throbbing. In the kitchen, she swallowed two acetaminophen tablets and made herself finish an entire glass of water before lifting her phone again. She tried Allie another time. Still no answer.

  Colleen’s cell went straight to voice mail, and so did Sydney’s. Char left messages for both of them, trying to sound calm. But it was tough to say “Call me as soon as you can” without seeming panicked.

  She hovered an index finger over the nine on her dial pad. Involving the police would bring this to an end faster. But what would the consequences be? Even if Justin was driving, Allie had taken a car without permission, and Char would have to admit this in explaining the situation.

  Was it a crime, if it was her own family’s car? Would they have to charge her with it, even if Char asked them not to? If Allie was the one driving, surely they would charge her for that. Would it affect her ability to get her license? Char had no idea what the law would do to a fifteen-year-old in a case like this.

  The only thing she knew for certain was that the police wouldn’t contact Char in connection with whatever it is they planned to charge Allie with—they would call Lindy. And it would be difficult to blame Lindy for using a call from the police as a reason for putting an immediate end to Allie’s time in Michigan.

  Char moved her finger away from the nine.

  She wasn’t being selfish, she told herself. This was about Allie’s record, her future, not Char’s desire to keep the girl around. And she wasn’t making a final decision about involving the authorities. She could reconsider at any time.

  She pressed Kate’s number again, this time prepared to threaten to speak to the girl’s parents if she didn’t offer up some information. Kate’s line rang once before Char’s phone screen lit up with an incoming call: Allie.

  “Allie! Where are you? And what the hell were you thinking? Wait—forget I asked that. I don’t care. I honestly don’t. Just come home. Come home right away. Is Justin driving? Make sure he drives, in case you get pulled over—”

  “I’m not with Justin,” Allie said.

  Char felt relief flood over her.

  Until Allie spoke again.

  “I’m with Morgan. And I’m sorry I didn’t answer before. I was driving. But we stopped for a minute so she could use the bathroom. And I wanted to call anyway, to let you know I’m okay. We’re okay. I felt bad that I left without—”

  “Morgan?” Char asked. “What do you mean, you’re with Morgan? I thought she was out of town with her mother. Did she come back? Why did you—?”

  “She was out of town. But not with Mrs. Crew. She was alone. In Toledo. I picked her up there.”

  “You what? You’re in Ohio? You drove all the way to Ohio after school? You must’ve driven way too fast—”

  “I left in the morning. Wes drove me home as soon as you dropped me off at school.”

  Char’s head pounded harder and she pressed a palm against her temple. Allie had planned this? “You mean—?”

  She stopped herself from launching into a lecture about honesty and responsibility and obeying the law. She could address it when Allie was home. For now, she needed to get the girls back to Mount Pleasant before the police did it for her.

  “Tell me you’re on your way back to Mount Pleasant, Allie. Tell me you are minutes away from pulling into our driveway. Tell me I can call the Crews right now and have them meet you here, so they can get their child back.”

  Allie didn’t respond.

  “Allie.” Char considered the girl’s unnaturally tidy room and knew what was coming next.

  “I’m sorry,” Allie said.

  “My God, Allie. What do you think you’re doing? Do Morgan’s parents even know she’s with you? Because they’re aware you don’t have your license yet—”

  “No, they don’t know,” Allie said.

  “So, her aunt and uncle let her go with you? Do they know you don’t have a license? Allie, you really need to get that girl home, or back to her relatives. What if the Crews call the police when they find out? I don’t even want to think about what happens to a fifteen-year-old who’s caught with someone else’s kid. It’s kidnapping! Isn’t that a felony?”

  “The Crews aren’t going to call the police,” Allie said, and the smirk in her tone made Char want to reach through the phone and slap her.

  How could she be so flippant about this? What if they tried her as an adult? Didn’t they do that with kids who were old enough to know better?

  “Of course they are!” Char said. “They must be beside themselves. I’m guessing they have every highway patrol between here and Toledo looking for you. Think about your future, Allie. Think about Morgan, and the Crews. Think of the position you’re putting Sarah’s aunt and uncle in—”

  “She wasn’t with Mrs. Crew’s aunt and uncle, Char. She was with complete strangers. People she had never met before in her entire life—”

  “What? What are you talking about? Why was she with strangers?”

  “Because,” Allie said, “the Crews gave her away. To strangers. Because they didn’t want her anymore.”

  Char pressed her palm harder against her throbbing temple. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that the Crews aren’t about to call the police, because if they do, they’re going to end up getting Morgan back and that’s the last thing they want.”

  Char squeezed her eyes shut and replayed Allie’s words to make sure she had heard correctly. She couldn’t have.

  She asked Allie to repeat it all. Allie did, but the message didn’t come out differently, the way Char had hoped it would. Her heart began to race and she clutched her head in one hand, her phone in the other, as she tried to make sense of it.

  The Crews gave Morgan away to strangers.

  Because they didn’t want her anymore.

  It was impossible.

  It sounded like something from a TV movie.

  It sounded like something Morgan would make up.

  Char felt her heart slow. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s slow down for a minute here, and think this through logically. I mean, let’s really think about this. They gave her away? To strangers? Because they didn’t want her anymore? Come on.

  “Does that sound right to you, on any level? I assume Morgan told you this. Let’s consider the source here. It sounds an awful lot like one of her tall tales, don’t you think? Like the time she told you—”

  “Ask them,” Allie said. “Ask the Crews. Call them up right now and ask them. Mr. Crew told Morgan they were going for a drive. It was a Saturday morning, right before that first Monday when she didn’t show up at tutoring. That’s why she wasn’t there.

  “He told her to say good-bye to Stevie and Mrs. Crew, and to give them each a big hug, in case it was a while before they got back. And then he and Morgan got in the car, and he drove all the way to Ohio. The whole time, Morgan was asking, ‘Where are we going?’ and he kept saying, ‘Someplace special, you’re really going to like it.’


  “And then three hours later, they pulled up to this house she had never seen before, and Mr. Crew opened the trunk and there was Morgan’s suitcase, and a box with some of her books and toys. And he told her, ‘You have a new family now, and this is where you live.’ Just like that—a new family. La di da. As though this kind of thing happens all the time. As though Morgan should have seen it coming.

  “He walked her up to the door. And get this, Char. When they answered, he introduced himself. Because he had never been there before, either. He had never even met them before.”

  Twenty-nine

  Char couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What?” she asked, but she wasn’t sure what she was asking.

  Allie wasn’t sure, either. “What do you mean, ‘what’? You mean you didn’t hear what I said?”

  “No, I . . .” But Char still had no idea what she meant.

  “Okay, well, I need to tell you all of this fast, before Morgan gets back,” Allie said. “So the two of them walked into the house, and there’s this whole family sitting there in the living room, ready to greet Morgan. Meet your new mom, your new dad, your two new sisters. One from Russia, Morgan thinks, and one from some place in Africa.

  “They had both been given away to these people, too. One of them was adopted by a family in Colorado first, and the other from . . . I forget. But it was the same deal as Morgan—their parents, the ones who adopted them and promised to be their forever family, changed their minds, too, just like the Crews. And took them to this couple in Ohio, dropped them off, left them with a suitcase, told them good luck, and disappeared.

  “The girls sat with Morgan on the couch and the parents gave Mr. Crew a quick tour of the place. And then they asked if he wanted to stay for a while, help Morgan unpack, have a bite to eat with them. And he said no! He said he had a long drive ahead, and he had to get back home. He gave her a hug and he told her this was better for her, that she’d be happier there. And then he left. He left her there, Char, with people she had known for all of six minutes!