Missing on Main Street

by Sarah Hualde

  Emily sat up straight and stared into the Christmas tree lights. “You will be mad.”

  “It’s possible. I will promise to listen with an open mind. Go ahead, when you’re ready.”

  “I lied to you. But I had to. I promised. You don’t understand. You’ve got this nice house and a nice family. We have none of that. We only have our friends. But, even they move and change.”

  “Who is ‘we’?” Emily’s eyes shot from the ornaments to Lydia and then back.

  “Ivy and me.” Lydia struggled to keep her expression steady and not attack the child with questions. “I’ve been talking to her. After you asked me about her, the first time.”

  “Then she’s safe?” Though her face hid her frustration and fear, her voice echoed in excitability.

  Emily crumbled back onto the couch cushions. Lydia sank to her knees. She was positive horrible news was coming. She comforted the misguided girl. Emily took her nearness as an invitation of solace and flung herself on Lydia’s neck, soaking her shoulder in tears. Finally, she said, “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from her in nine days.”

  “Nine days!” Lydia added up all the damage that could happen to a teenage girl in nine days. She also remembered that Martin Levere wasn’t in the hospital for seven of those nine days.

  Emily took Lydia’s expostulation as pointed wrath and separated from the embrace. She propped herself against the couch and dried her eyes. “We had a system. She was afraid of being caught and being sent back to Don. I can’t imagine what he’d do to her if that happened!”

  “Would Don hurt her?”

  “Would he? He has! More than once. Ms. Annie kept her safe, but once Ms. Annie died, it all changed. He’d show up in her room, late at night, drunk and stupid and angry. He’d try to... well, do worse than hit her. She always got out, somehow. She said it was God’s hands helping her. But why would God put her in that situation, in the first place? Why would God do that to anyone?”

  A conversation for another time, Lydia thought as she said, “That’s a tough question.”

  “Rumor has it, Don murdered Ivy’s mother. Long before Ms. Annie was living with them. Ivy remembers Don beating her mom. Ivy’s mother taught her to sneak next door and wait it out. She doesn’t remember how her mom died. She was too little at the time, and Don would never tell her.”

  “What about Ms. Annie? She must’ve known what happened.”

  “Nope. She moved in afterward,” Emily said.

  “Why did she let Don stay?”

  “Don threatened to take Ivy away. Ms. Annie thought he’d just leave one day and never come back. He did leave a lot. But he always came back.”

  “Do you think Don has Ivy now?”

  Emily blubbered. “I don’t know. I’m scared. Really, scared. I’m the only one who knew where Ivy was.

  We met up every other day at the library. She’d hide in the bathroom, and I’d bring her snacks. But I’ve gone every day, and she hasn’t shown up. That’s not like her.”

  “Have you tried calling her, again?” Lydia re-situated on the cushion next to Emily. She took down her favorite movie quilt and wrapped it around her young friend. Emily wept.

  “She doesn’t have it. She told me Martin took it from her.”

  “Martin Levere?” Lydia’s skin bristled at the creep’s name.

  “She went to him for help, I guess.” Bile rose in Lydia’s throat. How bad was Don that Martin was the safer option? “He only made things worse. And then took her phone. She worried he’d follow her to Honey Pot. I guess he tried but didn’t make it. I heard about the wreck.”

  “News makes the rounds quickly here. If you’re not afraid of Martin or Don, who are you afraid of?”

  “Martin has friends. Some show up at the Mission. Mr. Mike sees through them and kicks them out, but they come from time to time. One of Martin’s friends knows I’m there. He also knows I’m a friend of Ivy’s. I’m terrified.”

  Martin might not have completed his last trip, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t get to Ivy before. Then there was his friend. He must’ve known Martin’s hunting grounds. Perhaps he had Ivy.

  Heavy with heartache, Emily laid her head on Lydia’s knee and bawled until she fell asleep. Lydia sat there, stroking Emily’s hair for a good while, gathering her thoughts and planning her next action. She rose and delicately placed Emily’s pile of blonde hair on a throw pillow. She called Mr. Mike, informing him of Emily’s location and essential tidbits of their talk. Mr. Mike would be extra cautious with guests to the Mission.

  ✽✽✽

  Though Gus didn’t succumb to the snickerdoodle bait, nothing was wrong with trying again. This time Lydia made a pan of monkey bread, from a batch of cinnamon rolls. Emily helped

  . “Don’t worry.” She comforted the teenager for the tenth time in the last five minutes. “I’m not turning you in. I’m not even going to spill your secret, but I’ll tell him you spoke with Ivy nine days ago and that you’re anxious. He may ask you some questions, but you don’t have to worry. Mr. Mike will meet us there. He’ll take you back to the Mission. He’s also on the lookout for Martin and his friends.”

  Emily rolled a buttery dough ball in sugar. She absorbed Lydia’s reassurance as she switched from paranoid to trusting.

  Gus plowed his way through two plates of the warm, Christmastime treat, while Emily spilled her story. To Lydia and Mr. Mike’s delighted surprise, Emily poured out detail after detail. Gus took notes between bites. Mr. Mike gave names to the monsters he knew of and the nicknames of their friends.

  “That explains the cell we found in Martin’s car. It was no longer connected but had your number in its contacts. I was trying to figure out what Lydia Everett was doing on a sleazebag’s call list. Now, it makes sense. It was Ivy’s phone.”

  “Has Martin come around?” Lydia inquired, running her finger through the leftover cinnamon glaze and licking it off. Emily mimicked her. The glaze was delicious.

  “He woke up this morning. But he doesn’t feel like talking. Thankfully, he’s too dumb to ask for a lawyer, yet. We’ve got the finest looking nurse on duty, asking him questions. She’s married to a Lewiston deputy.” Gus winked. Emily stiffened at the news of Martin’s wakeful state. Lydia noticed her distress. She took Emily’s small hand in hers.

  “He’s not getting close to Honey Pot. Not for a while.” Gus assured Emily. “And his friend, he was on parole. Emphasis on was. He’s being held for multiple issues and is telling tales that should get Martin put away.”

  “Did you contact Tammy’s mother?” Gus nodded.

  “She was accommodating. So was the manager. He gave us security tapes without us having to ask. Lewiston is on it. That means I’m off of it. I won’t be getting new info. Only requests for more information.”

  “What about Ivy? Did Martin say anything? Does he know where she is?” Lydia added.

  Gus frowned. “He swears he hasn’t heard from Ivy in weeks.”

  “Can we officially file a missing person report for her, now?”

  “Mr. Mike and Emily will have to help me with the paperwork. I’ll send it out and see if someone from Lewiston or Ashton knows anything we don’t.”

  Emily sighed, still worried about whether she’d made the right choice to confide in Lydia and come down to the police station. Concern for her friend over-powered her dedication to secrecy. A friend who hated your guts was much better than a friend in danger.

  ✽✽✽

  Kat’s head thrummed. It thrummed louder than her scratchy throat. It thrummed at the damage she’d caused her family. Pastor Dean was correct. The pageant had grown too heavy for her. The shepherds were all healed, but now Mary and her three angel siblings had the dreaded stomach flu. Kat feared her children would catch it soon. Just in time for the play.

  Thaddeus treated Sam and Jess to a movie night and sleepover with their grandparents. He sent Kat off to rehearsals without her children and with no explanation.

  She ret
urned angrier than ever and took her frustration out on an unsuspecting pile of dirty dishes. She ranted as she scraped dried cereal crust from bowls. She fumed when she caught her thumbnail on a fork prong. When Thad arrived home, he found her asleep on the kitchen floor. Her blue boot was propped up on the kitchen stool and Lulu was snoring on her lap.

  He poured himself and his dozing wife a cup of coffee and joined her on the floor. “Kat,” She woke, with a defensive swing of her arm, and eased when he placed a mug in her mitts. “Honey?”

  “I know what you’re going to say, so don’t bother. You’re going to tell me how horrid I’ve been. How the kids hate me and how you’re not too fond of me either? Like that’s what I need, right now.”

  “Whoa, now, your fight is not with me. We both know that. I’ve given you room to figure it out on your own. You’re just too stubborn to see at the moment.” He offered her a shoulder to lean upon, which she reluctantly accepted. How long had it been since she’d let him hold her? Not since Black Friday that was certain. “The kids do not hate you.”

  She sniffled, despising her tears as weakness and then hating that she judged herself. Why was she always doing that? “No, but they’re scared of me. That’s worse.”

  “Perhaps, but they’re also scared for you. You’re worrying them. Look around. What do you see?”

  Kat didn’t need to move to know what he was saying. He continued, “A Christmas tree, with ornaments other people have put on it. Where’s the mouse advent calendar, the motion-activated snowman, the scented candles? What about the Christmas movies at night? That book about the Christmas log and the crepes? Where’s all the stuff you put into Christmas?”

  “I know. I know. But the pageant...”

  He kissed her head and shushed her. “The pageant is historical. It’s a two-thousand-year-old event. None of the details ever change. Why so much stress? What do you have to prove?”

  Kat stammered and shifted. “I don’t know, Thad. I don’t know. I want to do it right. I want it to be the best.”

  “You can’t top the original, sorry. No matter how well you sew a sheep, you can’t beat it. That’s it. Stop trying. Just do your best and let everything else go.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” Kat pouted.

  “You’ve participated in these pageants for years. Every other one was great. Why is your own not good enough for you?”

  “It’s mine! That’s why. It’s me and everyone’s watching,” Kat said.

  “Who’s watching, and why are they watching you?”

  “Everyone! And you. You are why!” She play-punched at her husband’s chest. He watched her astonished. She crumbled, spouting sentences without meaning, and mumbling into his collar. “You’re the elder’s kid, and I’m the painted woman from the city. I always have been. I was good enough for the church when I was a repentant single, twenty-something getting her life straight. But then, I had to go above my station and seduce the congregation’s sweetheart.”

  Thad chuckled. “I didn’t know I was seduced. Whoa, you’re good.”

  “I’m serious. They don’t look at me like they look at everyone else. Flora is the eccentric earth mama with a heart of gold. Lydia is the solid, sheriff’s wife with the missionary kid. And I’m the haphazard housekeeper, failing home educator, and horrible wife with the deplorable past.”

  “Why does it matter what anyone thinks?”

  “I don’t know why it does, but it does. I’m trying the best I can to keep my past from sullying the kids’ reputations. But I can’t do enough to please them.”

  “Who are these thems?” Thad pulled his wife closer. She sunk into his embrace, all her usual feist fiercely fading.

  “You know who they are. It doesn’t help for me to list them. Quilts aren’t safe around me. Fruit platters beware. I bet they even think I snatched Lydia’s purse.”

  Thad laughed. “Oh, Kat, what have you done to yourself?” He kissed her temples and her cheeks as he chuckled over her paranoia. He wasn’t poking fun at her but couldn’t contain his delight at the secret softness of her feelings.

  They sat until their legs cramped on the frigid floor. Thad crawled to the refrigerator and pulled out day-old bagel pizzas. Kat yanked a cookie sheet out of the cabinet, and they ate a cold dinner together, on the floor, drinking tea straight from the jug and using a dishcloth as a napkin.

  “Okay, Thad,” Kat dusted her hands off on her pants and wobbled to her feet. “I will make this right. I’ve have to finish some things at the building.”

  “You have to?”

  “I left some stuff out, and I need to straighten it up. I won’t be more than a couple of hours. But if I do it, now, I can finish and spend the whole day with the kids tomorrow.” He smiled at her, with the same smile that had won her hard heart over.

  “I’ll clean this up. Just don’t take too long. Some other city lady may swoop in and seduce me.” Kat tossed a sponge at Thad’s wavy black hair and staggered toward the garage. Her blue boot smacked a baseboard, and she stumbled to the floor. “Nope, no one could top that sexy walk.” He called after her, smiling at her awkward blush.

  ✽✽✽

  Alone, in the silent building, Kat went to work piling up costumes and organizing the sets. She decided to cancel Wednesday night’s rehearsal and shorten the rest of the week’s schedule. She took time and care to accomplish much, cutting out unnecessary lines to the play, adding in easier hymns, and simplifying the stage directions.

  It took three days to write her fabulous Christmas play, and in two hours she picked it apart and made her 45-minute masterpiece into a ten-minute synopsis and sing along. It wasn’t perfect, but it was manageable, and it should be fun. She silenced the nagging in her mind, but one small voice still called for attention. With no one around, Kat reverently if not a tad dramatically, laid on the center aisle, face to the carpet, and prayed.

  “Dear Lord, I keep on messing everything up. I always do. I’ve taken on too much for me. I knew better. I felt you urging me to let it go, but I didn’t listen. Now, my family is hurting. I’m angry and frustrated, and I’m destroying the spirit of the entire celebration.

  Please heal the families that are sick. Please heal my heart and help me lean into your love. Please help this play reflect you and not me. Use it to touch the hearts of many and not build up my ego. Help me be okay with humility. In Jesus name.” With an amen still on her lips, Kat jumped to her knees, as a loud scuffling resounded from above. A melancholy moaning marked the stillness, followed by more skittering.

  Surely, God would not take down the entire building to save her from facing public disaster. She listened, still, and focused. There was no wind howling outside. No rain pelted the stained glass. The sounds weren’t weather-related. Her knees trembled.

  Kevin and Thad had debated the presence of a thief in the church building. Kat and her girlfriends refused to believe anyone, in their midst, would take off with the water well donations. But the money was gone. Perhaps it was time to consider there might be a wolf among the fold.

  Warily, Kat stalked to the back stairway. The sounds stopped. Standing as still as possible, she slowed her breath and continued to listen. Three minutes. Six minutes. No more noises. Just as she exhaled normally, three sharp solid raps shook the locked front doors.

  Kat peeked outside, red with embarrassment. Her startled squawks still echoed in her ears. “Yes?” She answered the visitor through the delivery intercom. Her cell phone clutched in her hand, ready to dial Thaddeus for back up.

  “Yeah, I’ve been waiting outside for ten minutes. I tried texting. You still need a ride or what?”

  Kat peered out the peephole into the face of a male with disheveled hair. She wasn’t sure if it was the style or if someone roused the young man from an adventurous dream. She guessed the latter; it was 2 am, after all.

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Kat said.

  “I got a call about an hour ago.” He nodded toward hi
s Kia, the car service sticker on its rear window. “I’m here to drive a lady to Ashton. That’s all I know. If that’s not you, could you please let whoever else, is in there, know I’m waiting?”

  “You must have the wrong church building. I didn’t call for a ride.”

  “This isn’t you?” He pulled out his phone and read the number that had called for service. It was Kat’s.

  “Let me check.” She scanned her call log. Yes, her phone had made an outgoing call an hour ago. Between the time she was in the kitchen, rewriting the script and the time she was praying on the carpet. Shivers racked her shoulders, and she shuttered. “Please wait here, a second. I’ll be right out.”

  Quick as she could, Kat snagged her coat and texted Thad. “I’m coming home. Please be up when I get there. Something is going on.”

  She opened the door and locked it behind her. Then she explained the mistake to the irritated chauffeur and soothed him with a cash tip.

  She started her van, looking in the backseat before entering, and watched the man race away before heading home. The lights of the sanctuary glittered behind her, but an uneasy fear followed her home.

  Thad was standing in the opened garage with an aluminum bat in his hands when Kat pulled in. He met her at the driver’s side door. “You okay?”

  She nodded and exited the car to enter Thad’s arms. She explained the noises, the driver, and the phone call. Kat’s news made him want to investigate for himself. Thad drove back to the building, with his wife in the passenger seat. She came with him, never more than an arm’s length away as they surveyed the building. They entered every office, went into the storage basement, and examined closets, together. On the attic landing, a rustling resounded, low and soft.

  “Stay here, babe,” Thad whispered.

  “Yeah, right.” She pecked his stubble studded cheek. He unlocked the door and flipped on the switch, rapid-fire. Nothing. No animals, no movement, just boxes. Boxes, everywhere. Kat sneezed, her dust allergy ignited. She tried to smother her sneezing fit, but it made her eyeball feel like rockets about to launch. Thad eyed the room, from the doorway, and switched off the light.