And so… Last night I hadn’t slept. This was not unusual for me because I had a tendency to stress out about things I’d said or didn’t say. It always hit me hardest during the night. I would replay conversations over and over in my mind, analyze them to death, and wish I’d handled them differently.
My anxiety medications were helpful, but still, in extreme circumstances like these, I tortured myself by worrying about the future and the past. I had to physically restrain myself from calling my mother or therapist at 3:00 a.m. to ask for advice. What would they think? Would they advise me to call Jake immediately and break the news to him myself? Maybe Jenn needed my help to do that.
Or maybe that would be meddling. Would I be butting my nose in where it didn’t belong?
Anyway, that’s why I’d slept in—because I’d tossed and turned from midnight until dawn. It’s also why I was so distracted during my exam and for the rest of the day when I couldn’t stop debating with myself about what to do.
In the end, I called my mother after the exam and discussed it with her. She told me to butt out.
Then I called my therapist and she was able to squeeze me in for a quick fifteen-minute phone call. She also told me it wasn’t my responsibility. It was Jenn’s marriage. It was between the two of them. She coached me into trusting Jenn—despite her brain tumor—to know what was best and to let the cards fall where they may.
I’m still not sure it was the right decision, but I decided not to interfere. At least not while Jake was still in the sky.
Chapter Thirty-five
I immediately knew that something was wrong when I pulled into the driveway. There were no lights on inside the house.
This came as a surprise to me because I’d texted Jenn more than a few times throughout the day to check on her, and each time she replied that she was fine. The last message said she was lying down to take a nap, so maybe she was still sleeping.
It was not until I turned on the lights in the kitchen and listened to the message on the answering machine that I allowed myself to take a flying leap right into the deep end of the anxiety pool. I finished listening to the message, searched the house, and immediately dialed 9-1-1.
*
“It took you long enough to get here,” I said to the uniformed police officer when he finally arrived and rang the doorbell. “Come in, come in.”
He entered the house and I nearly stumbled backwards because he was a large, strapping man.
“I’m Officer Jenkins,” he said. “Somebody called about a missing person?”
“Yes, it’s my sister. The dispatcher said you don’t normally consider a person missing until twenty-four hours, but this is a special case. My sister has a brain tumor and sometimes she gets confused or can’t remember things.”
He pulled out his notepad. “What’s her name?”
“Jennifer Nichols, but she goes by Jenn. She’s having an operation in a few days to remove the tumor, and she had an appointment at the hospital for blood work and a checkup today. She showed up for the blood work at 7:00 a.m., but she didn’t show up for her appointment with the doctor at noon. She was supposed to stay in the hospital and just read a book or something.”
“When was the last time you spoke with her?” he asked.
This was the part I knew would get dicey. “Umm…we’ve been texting each other throughout the day. She was replying to everything until about three hours ago. She said she was lying down to take a nap. I haven’t heard from her since.”
With his pen poised over the notepad, he paused. It took a few seconds for his eyes to lift and meet mine. “So it’s only been three hours? And you just got home? Maybe she woke up, went out shopping and her phone died.”
I let out a frustrated breath. “My sister’s not a shopper. But that’s not the point. The point is that she missed her appointment at the hospital and she’s not here. She’s not allowed to drive because she might have a seizure. Oh, God, what if she did go the mall and had a seizure?”
“I thought you said she wasn’t a shopper.”
“She isn’t,” I corrected. “Just…hypothetically.”
He regarded me with skepticism. “I’m sure you would have heard something if she had a seizure in a public place. Someone would have called an ambulance and if she was taken to a hospital, they would have contacted a family member.”
I waved my hands in front of my face and paced around the kitchen. “No, no, that’s not what happened.”
“What did happen, exactly?” he asked with a note of impatience, as if I were some sort of anxiety-ridden, PMS female on medication—which I totally was, except for the PMS—but I knew I wasn’t wrong about this.
“I came home to a phone message from the hospital,” I tried to explain in a calm voice. “It said that she missed her appointment at noon, and that if she wanted to reschedule, she had to call back. But there’s no good reason why she would miss that appointment. And if she didn’t go to it, why didn’t she at least tell me that and come home?”
He checked his watch. “Maybe she did but went out again for a bite to eat?”
I felt my heart begin to race. “Pardon me, Officer Jenkins. You’re not listening to me. My sister has a brain tumor and she can get confused sometimes or become forgetful. She might have wandered off somewhere. She might be having a seizure at this very moment.”
Was I overreacting? Maybe I was. I needed to lower my voice and talk slower. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t taking me seriously.
Officer Jenkins closed his notepad. “Do you have a picture of her?”
“Yes.” I moved quickly into the living room to the photo albums on the bookshelf, pulled out the most recent one, flipped through it and slid out a 4x5. “Here she is. Jenn Nichols. Last seen at the hospital for blood work at 7:00 a.m. This was taken last summer. Her hair’s the same now.”
“What would she be wearing?”
“A red winter coat with a hood. Probably jeans. I didn’t see her leave this morning, but she usually wears jeans.”
He took a good look at the picture and slipped it into his pocket. “Would you mind if I had a look at your cell phone texts?”
“Of course.” Pleased that he was at least taking an interest, I rifled through my purse for my phone, found her messages and handed it to him.
He wrote down the times of her replies and the exact wording, but there wasn’t much to go on. The texts were all brief and to the point: I’m fine…I’m doing great…Everything’s good…I’m tired. I need to take a nap.
“Did you have a good look around the house when you got home?” he asked. “Was anything out of order?”
“What do you mean?”
His eyes scanned the living room. “Is anything missing? A suitcase, maybe? Is she married? Is there a boyfriend? Was there any sign of a struggle?”
“No, nothing like that,” I replied. “She’s happily married and her husband Jake is in Afghanistan…or he was. He’s on his way home today. He should arrive any time.”
“Have you contacted him yet?”
“I tried calling him but his cell phone is turned off. He’s probably still in the air.”
Officer Jenkins returned to the kitchen. “Mind if I take a look around?”
“Be my guest.” I followed him down the hall to Jenn’s room. He wandered in, scanned the room with his eyes, then moved out into the hall.
“This your room?” he asked, opening the door to enter.
“Yes. I um…didn’t have time to make my bed this morning.” I quickly picked my pajamas up off the floor and threw them into the hamper.
Next, he peered into the bathroom, then walked to the spare room. “What’s in here?”
“Jenn uses it for storage—mostly Jake’s stuff since I moved in here. He was supposed to be gone for nine months.”
Jenkins opened the door and walked in. I followed, turned on the light, and lost my breath.
Chapter Thirty-six
“Is there a child living here?�
�� Jenkins asked.
I gazed around with wide eyes. All my stuff and Jake’s was piled high in boxes against the far wall to clear space for a crib and change table under the window. The curtains had been changed. They were now pink. “This is weird.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because my sister had a miscarriage recently. Before that, this was earmarked to be the baby’s room, but she hadn’t gotten around to fixing it up. She wanted to wait until after she knew if it was going to be a boy or a girl. Then she lost the baby.”
“Looks like she’s expecting a girl,” he said, opening the closet to find pink and white baby clothes hung up or folded on the shelves.
I moved deeper into the room to look at everything. “I’m not sure when she did this, but it must have been this week.”
“How do you know?”
“Because there was nothing done in here when she had her seizure and found out about the tumor. I know because I came in to get some stuff that morning, just before it happened. She certainly didn’t have a crib set up.”
“When did she lose the baby?” he asked.
“We’re not positive, exactly. She can’t remember. Memory loss is a symptom of the tumor,” I tried to explain.
He nodded. “Anything else out of order?”
“I don’t know. Let’s take a look in the basement.”
We checked that out but nothing struck me as unusual.
“What about the husband?” Officer Jenkins asked as we climbed back up the stairs. “When did you say he’d be back?”
“Any time now. He said he’d call her when his flight landed, but I’ve been texting her and she won’t answer.” I followed the detective back to the kitchen.
“Listen, you seem like a nice lady,” Jenkins said, handing me a card, “so I’m going to file a report, but call this number right away if your sister comes home or if the husband shows up.”
“What do you think’s going on?” I asked as I read the information on the card.
He shrugged casually. “You said the husband’s coming home from Afghanistan today. They might just be in a hotel somewhere. Who could blame them?”
I stared at him in disbelief. “No, she would have called me, or at least she would have answered my texts. She would have shown up for her appointment. Can’t you put a trace on her phone or something?”
He nodded at me condescendingly. “You said the husband’s not answering his cell either. Maybe they’re both just a little preoccupied.” With that he walked out.
I watched Jenkins saunter down the driveway to his squad car, then I kicked the door shut behind him.
Five minutes later—after deciding to take matters into my own hands—I got into my car, backed out of the driveway and drove to the hospital to search for her. With any luck, she’d be sitting in a waiting room somewhere, reading her book or taking a nap.
Riley
Chapter Thirty-seven
November 14
When my mother, my sister Holly and her husband Josh found me at the baggage carousel at the airport, I nearly fell to my knees in gratitude at the sight of them.
“Thanks for coming,” I said to my mom as I wrapped my arms around her and held her as tightly as I could without crushing her. Holly joined us as well.
Moments later, after I pulled myself together, I shook hands with Josh, the childhood friend I’d known since I was three years old. “I hope it wasn’t a problem getting some time off work.”
“Not a problem at all,” he replied. “I guess my lieutenant still feels like he owes me something. Works out well for me sometimes.”
It always surprised me that my brother-in-law could speak so lightly about the fact that he’d been shot twice in the line of duty two years ago while pursuing an armed suspect through the streets of Boston. He’d nearly died on the operating table and had been in a coma for five days.
Damn right the police department owed him.
In that moment, I spotted a young woman on the opposite side of the carousel with a baby in a chest carrier and a diaper bag slung over her shoulder. She was greeting an older couple, most likely her parents or in-laws. I wondered if she knew how lucky she was to have her child so close and safe in her arms.
Clearing my throat, I turned my eyes away from them and helped my mother with her bag. Josh took Holly’s hand and they followed me outside to where my car was parked and waiting.
*
“I’m sure they did a thorough search of your house,” Josh said as we pulled into my driveway, “but I can take a look around if you want me to. You never know. Maybe they missed something.”
“That would be great.” I shut off the engine, got out and fetched Mom’s bag out of the trunk.
Holly and Josh wheeled their own suitcases inside where we met Carol at the door. “Flight was on time?” she asked, inviting everyone in.
I stepped aside to allow my family to enter first, then proceeded with the introductions. “Everyone, this is Carol, Lois’s mother. Carol, this is my mother Margie, my sister Holly and her husband Josh.”
“You’re the police officer,” Carol said as she shook his hand. “You’ll be handy to have around, that’s for sure.”
“I hope I can help,” he replied.
Trudy—wearing her red and white polka-dot pajamas and dragging her doll Polly along the floor—appeared in the doorway from the living room. I heard the sound of a cartoon on television.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Carol whispered to me. “I told them they could stay up until you got home.”
“That’s fine,” I replied, bending to scoop Trudy up into my arms. “Look who’s here.” I turned to face my family.
She held out her arms. “Grammy…”
“Hi, sweetheart.” My mother hugged Trudy and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m so happy to see you. I brought you a present. It’s in my suitcase.”
Danny came out to greet them as well and there were hugs and kisses all around.
Carol took everyone’s coats and hung them in the closet. “I’m staying in the spare bedroom,” she said, “but I set up an inflatable mattress in Danny’s room for Trudy, so you can have her room, Margie. Holly and Josh, I made up some beds for you in the rec room downstairs. If you’d like to go settle in, I can heat up some soup for you on the stove. Are you hungry?”
“Soup would be lovely, thank you,” Holly replied.
Everyone went their separate ways to unpack, which left me standing in the doorway to the living room, watching my two children lounge about on the sofa, immersed in one of the Toy Story DVDs.
Everything seemed so normal within these four walls. The comforting sound of the cartoon, my children safe and cozy in their pajamas. But nothing was normal. Not here in this house, or outside in the world.
Naturally, I was grateful for the presence of my family, but I was still nauseous over the fact that my newborn child had been stolen from me.
Where are you, baby girl? Can you hear me? Do you know how much we love you?
Chapter Thirty-eight
After serving bowls of hot chicken soup for all of us at the table, Carol returned to the hospital to be with Lois.
Deciding I was in no hurry to put Danny and Trudy to bed, I turned a blind eye when the credits rolled on their movie and Danny discreetly got up and slid the sequel into the DVD player.
“Was she able to give you a detailed description of the woman?” Josh asked, leaning back in his chair to glance over his shoulder at Trudy who was lying sleepily on her side on the sofa, sucking her thumb and hugging her doll. “Did they attempt to use a sketch artist?”
“No,” I replied. “She was too vague about the woman’s facial features. She said they were foggy, or hazy.”
Holly’s head drew back in confusion. “She doesn’t wear glasses, does she?”
“No, I’m not sure what she meant by that. I guess it was dark in the room. One thing she was certain about, though, was the long, wavy, brown hair pulled back in a pon
ytail and the tattoo on the woman’s forearm. Right here.” I rolled up my sleeve and rubbed a finger over the inside of my wrist. “That’s all we have to go on, really.”
Knowing what Lois would think of me allowing the children to stay up this late on a school night, I called out to Danny. “Hey there, sneaky. I saw you put that movie in just now. If you think you’re staying up until midnight to finish it, you’re dreaming.”
“I know,” he replied with a smile.
We all chuckled softly from the kitchen.
Trudy yawned, rolled onto her back, then slid off the sofa to join us. “I’m tired,” she mumbled as she climbed onto my lap.
I kissed the top of her head. “No wonder. It’s way past your bedtime.”
“I don’t want to sleep in Danny’s room,” she said. “Can I sleep with you, Grammy?”
I met my mother’s gaze questioningly.
“Of course you can,” she cheerfully replied. “I’d love that. We can snuggle all night.”
Holly’s cell phone—which was lying on the table in front of her—vibrated and rang with a familiar ring tone, the main theme from Star Wars. Trudy giggled and leaned forward to look at it.
“It’s the lady,” she said, smiling.
Holly picked up her phone and checked the call display. Her eyes met mine. “It’s Dad.”
My father. Rarely did he ever call me on my cell phone. Not that I expected him to, or wanted it. At least we’d made it over the hurdle of learning how to speak to each other again—as men. He had grandchildren now and my mother insisted. Though I knew we would never be close, at least we were civil with each other, which was all I could ask for. We both had our regrets. We’d both made our mistakes. On some level, we both understood that and were able to bury the hatchet. Though it would always, for the rest of my days, be in a shallow grave.
Holly swiped the screen. “Hello? Hi, Dad. Yes, we made it. Flight was on time.” She paused. “No, still no news. Yes, Lois is doing fine. Riley says she was moved out of the ICU this afternoon.”
The Color of Joy Page 11
