“I don’t even have one bedroom,” Bailey heard herself saying. “Mine is a studio apartment. Rents are high in LA. I’ve been tempted to buy a Murphy bed, so I could put it up when I’m entertaining, except—” she was winding down “—well, I don’t entertain very often.”
“You have a bedroom here.”
Her stomach twisted. A bedroom that had been kept as a shrine for twenty-three years. The idea creeped her out.
“Do you remember anything at all?” Karen begged.
She set down her fork. “The bedroom. I know it’s weird, but I remember the bedroom.”
The face of this stranger who was her mother lit with happiness. “I’m so glad we didn’t change it, then.”
“I’m not six anymore,” she said, sharper than she’d meant.
The happy expression froze, then slipped away. It was like watching death happen, and Bailey felt like a crummy human being. See? she wanted to say to Seth. I’m not kind.
Smart she’d give him. She’d found her college classes easier than she’d expected. Poised...maybe.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said that. This is...” She moved uncomfortably. “I guess it’s harder than I thought it would be.”
“No,” Karen said with dignity that surprised Bailey for some reason. “I was pushing you. It’s difficult to accept that the daughter we missed every day of her life doesn’t remember us at all.”
“I’m hoping it will come back.” Am I really? She honestly didn’t know. “He didn’t want me to remember. So I have this kind of mental block. But...maybe the memories are still there, on the other side of it?”
Some of the happiness bloomed again on Karen’s face. The one that looked so much like Bailey’s, unsettling her. She’d never had what other people took for granted, the ability to think, It’s Mom’s fault I have skin so ridiculously white I burn whenever I step outside, or, It’s not my fault I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, it’s Dad’s. Other people could make a face and say, My family is cursed with freckled redheads, but her, not a clue who to credit or blame for the thousands of bits and pieces that made her up.
Except for him. She’d spent a lot of time wondering about the nature versus nurture thing. How much was his fault? Maybe she’d been abused at home, too, which made her easily trained by him. At that point she always felt sick. Had she been dumb enough to let herself be lured by him, or had he taken her forcibly? Why hadn’t she run away from him? She still didn’t know.
Now, at least she could say, I have my dad’s eyes and Mom’s cheekbones. And my mother’s smile. Seeing it made her skin burn and feel too tight.
She could hardly wait to get out of here. But this was why she’d come. To meet these people, to get to know them, open the possibility of some kind of relationship, if they still wanted one when they found out how truly messed up she was. Mostly she didn’t mind being alone, but there were times, like the holidays, when she listened to other people complaining about family and buying gifts that probably got returned or tossed in a drawer, and she’d think, At least you have somewhere to go. The Neales invited her every year, but they’d had a lot of foster kids since her. Going to their house, she’d have felt like a ghost from Christmases past, chains rattling.
Say something.
“Was I horse crazy?” was what popped out.
It was that easy. A question now and again, and she heard all about her childhood. Listening was surreal. Her life sounded like something out of a storybook, as if nothing had ever gone wrong, nobody had ever argued and Hope had mostly gotten her heart’s desires, including a “princess” bed.
No wonder I was in shock, she thought. Maybe...maybe she had quit believing in that perfect childhood. It must have seemed as unreal as Disneyland. A phantasm. Maybe, to survive, she’d had to quit believing.
She noticed that Kirk didn’t say much. About all he did was murmur agreement when his wife said, Do you remember when...? Those steady blue eyes stayed on Bailey. Seth had told her Kirk was quiet, but she began to suspect he was more sensitive to her mood and discomfort than Karen was.
Finally, he laid his hand over Karen’s to prevent another spate of reminiscences. Although she looked startled, she also closed her mouth. He cleared his throat. “There’s so much we don’t know, Bailey. Can you tell us what happened?”
As if the air had been sucked out of the room, she suddenly couldn’t breathe. It took everything she had not to leap up and say, “I’ve got to go.” But years of therapy paid for by the state of California had brought her to a point where she knew to breathe deeply and clear her mind before she did or said anything. Be calm. You don’t have to do this.
She shook her head. “I don’t like to talk about it.”
“Oh, but—”
Once again, Kirk’s big hand gently stopped his wife’s outburst. Bailey found herself staring at that hand. It filled her vision to the point where she didn’t see their faces. Why a hand? That hand? Don’t know.
“Detective Chandler said you spent years in foster care,” he said.
Not the best part of her life, either, but this she could talk about. She wrenched her gaze from Kirk’s hand.
“Six years. I didn’t know how old I was, so we guessed. I aged out of the foster care system when we thought I was eighteen. As it turns out, I’d have been only seventeen.”
Pain showed on a face rough-hewn enough to almost be homely. “Did you have a good home?” he asked.
“I...actually was moved several times.” More like seven or eight times, but who was counting? “I was pretty traumatized at first. I hardly spoke at all. He... I was way behind in school.” Yep, eleven years old and she had kindergarten under her belt. “Of course they had no idea what was wrong initially. They put me in special ed classes, but I picked things up so fast, I was back in regular classrooms after about a year. I must have already been reading pretty well when—you know.”
Tears in her eyes, Karen nodded. “You were reading at a second-grade level after kindergarten.”
Bailey nodded. “I kept reading. Books, when I could get my hands on them, or newspapers or just about anything. And I watched TV, so I knew about politics and crime—”
Both flinched.
“Not a clue about multiplication tables,” she said lightly. She hadn’t had a clue about so many things. “I’d never had a chance to use a computer.” She shrugged. “But, like I said, I adapted fast. The first few years were hard, though.”
“But...you’d been rescued from so much worse,” Karen faltered.
How do you know? Bailey thought resentfully, but caught herself. The fact she’d just admitted to receiving no education in those missing years must have given them a hint. Of course he hadn’t dared put her in school, even aside from the fact that he couldn’t produce the identification or records any school district would have demanded. Never mind the fact he kept them on the move. She’d didn’t remember ever staying in the same place more than a couple of months.
She tried to think how to explain how fish-out-of-water she’d felt after he left her.
“Any reality gets so it’s almost comfortable. The new reality was so extremely different—I didn’t fit. I didn’t know how to relate to people.” Not as if she was an expert at that, even now. “I withdrew, and a lot of foster parents didn’t know how to deal with that, even if they were well-meaning.” Seeing their faces, she said hastily, “I had some nice ones along the way, though. I lived with the same family my last three years. They’re...good people. I’ve stayed in touch.”
“Oh.” Karen dabbed at her wet cheeks with her cloth napkin. “I’d love to be able to thank them.”
“I...maybe I can introduce you sometime.” Weird thought. Weirder was realizing that once the press conference happened, the Neales would read all about her history, just as everyone else she knew would. Maybe she should call them before that happened.
Your life will never be the same. Hearing Seth’s voice, she felt panic
swell in her, stealing her breath again. Everyone would know. Casual friends, fellow students, employers. Her face would become famous.
It already is.
The Lawsons were both staring at her in alarm, and she wondered what she’d given away.
“Um, have you told anyone else about me?”
“Yes, of course. I called your grandma and grandpa Peters, and your grandma Lawson.” Karen looked momentarily sad. “Your grandfather Lawson died two years ago of a stroke. I wish he could have lived to see this day. And, well, I called my sister, and Kirk’s brother, and some friends. I’m sure Eve has told people. She was so excited.”
Sure she was.
But what boggled Bailey’s mind was the number of people who already knew.
“You don’t think any of them would have called a reporter, do you?” she asked anxiously.
“I can’t imagine,” Karen exclaimed, looking shocked. “Why would they?”
“Because my reappearance is news? Big news, and they might enjoy the attention?”
“But that’s...that’s...” She stopped, either unable to describe what that was or because understanding was finally dawning. “You’ve surely told people, too,” she said at last.
Bailey shook her head. “Nobody.”
“Not even friends?”
“No. I...wasn’t sure I believed it.”
“That you’re our Hope.”
“Yes.”
“Do you now?” Kirk asked, eyes keen on her face.
Bailey tried to smile. “It’s hard not to. I mean, look at us.”
He glanced at Karen’s face and back to Bailey. “Nobody could mistake you two for anything but mother and daughter.”
“There’s the birthmark, too.”
He nodded, as if feeling a weight settling onto him. “Your smile. We’ll have to show you pictures.”
“I’d like that,” she lied.
“You think we’ll need to have the press conference right away,” Karen said suddenly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t use my head. I don’t believe anybody close to us would go to the press, but everyone I called has probably told everyone they’ve talked to since. I should have kept it quiet until you were ready.”
Bailey couldn’t help making a face. “Are you ever ready for something like this?”
“No. Oh, my. A press conference. Everyone will be staring at us.” She sounded appalled. “What should we wear?”
Bailey laughed, the familiar, feminine wail providing comic relief. “I have absolutely no idea. I’ve seen this kind of press conference on TV without ever paying the slightest attention to what people were wearing. I’m not sure anybody cares.”
Her mother’s back straightened. “I care.”
“So do I,” Bailey admitted, then thought—wait. Did I just think of her as my mother?
Yes.
“I suppose we should talk to Seth—I mean, Detective Chandler. He said he’d arrange everything.”
“Should we call him?” Karen sounded dithery.
“I agreed to meet him later today,” Bailey said. “I’ll call you after I do, okay? Um, I should get your phone number.”
Adding so many new numbers to her contacts list made this all seem real.
Jarred, she thought, Another new reality.
She added the Lawsons’ home phone, Kirk’s cell phone, and Eve’s cell phone.
“She doesn’t have a home phone,” Karen said, sounding mildly disapproving.
“I don’t, either. Most people our age don’t.”
Her phone rang, startling her. Seth. She answered. “Is something wrong?”
“Not wrong.” He hesitated. “I just had an inquiry from a journalist at our local paper asking if there was any truth to the rumor that Hope Lawson had been found alive and well.”
Bailey closed her eyes. “We were just talking about that. Karen called everyone in the family as well as some friends. And of course they may have spread the word, too.”
“Cat’s out of the bag. I think we need to accelerate our timing. I’ve talked to the sheriff and our PR people. We want to do it this afternoon.”
He gave her details. There was apparently a small auditorium of sorts in the new public safety building that held the courthouse as well as the Stimson city police department. The sheriff’s department was borrowing it. Someone was already calling news outlets.
“I think we’ll have a full house, Bailey.”
“Oh, God.”
“It might be good if we can get Eve there, too. Otherwise, someone will think to corner her later for a quote. Best to get it over with in one gulp.”
She pictured herself slithering down some monster’s maw. Lovely thought.
“Um... Karen wants to know what we should wear.”
There was a prolonged moment of silence. “Something nice?” He sounded out of his element. “No big prints or gaudy colors. Probably not too dressy.”
“No sequins. Check.”
“Business casual.”
“Gotcha.” Sort of. Even as her heart raced, she mentally sorted through the clothes she’d brought with her.
“After you change, I think you’re going to want to check out of the Quality Inn. If you feel ready to stay with the Lawsons—”
“No,” she said too quickly.
Another silence. “All right.” He said it so gently. “We’ll talk about it when I see you. Lunch?”
She glanced guiltily at her plate. She really hadn’t done justice to this breakfast, and Karen must have worked so hard on it.
Pathetic though it was, she’d have begged if she’d had to. She swallowed. “Yes, please.”
“I’ll get takeout. We can park somewhere.”
“That...sounds good.” Her gaze slid sideways again to the amount of food left on her plate. Maybe by then she’d have conquered this roiling in her belly and be hungry.
Letting him go, she then had to detail the plans to the Lawsons, watching Karen’s eyes widen again.
“Eve? Oh, my.”
“I hope this isn’t a problem for her, given her job. She’ll suffer from some reflected notoriety.”
“Oh, my.”
Which pretty well said it all.
* * *
SETH STEPPED BACK into the small staging room where all four Lawsons huddled like a herd of deer unsure which way to leap. Kirk looked his usual stoic self, if uncomfortable in a white shirt and tie, Karen excited and terrified all at once, Bailey resigned and Eve... He couldn’t quite tell.
He’d call her tonight. Or even take her aside after the circus was over, if he had a chance.
“We’re set up,” he told them. “There are a lot of cameras out there. Ignore them. Look people in the eyes when you talk. Along with reporters, we have some curiosity seekers.” His mouth quirked. “I saw the Stimson police chief himself standing at the back.”
Over lunch, eaten at a relatively deserted riverside park, Bailey had finally thought to ask why a detective with the county sheriff’s department was investigating, given that the Lawsons lived in Stimson. The high school, she’d learned, was outside city limits. Since that’s where the crime had occurred, the original and any continuing investigation had been the responsibility of the sheriff’s department.
The sheriff himself had shaken all their hands and been briefed to do the initial talking. Usually detectives stayed in the background, but under the circumstances he’d warned Seth to expect to have to answer questions.
“All right,” he said quietly. “Let’s do this.”
He ushered them all onto the stage. Flashes momentarily blinded him. He blinked as they continued. The forest of big-ass cameras was intimidating as hell. He’d ended up by design with a hand on Bailey’s back. He felt her stiffen, but a sidelong glance reassured him that she and Eve looked remarkably poised. The parents...well, everyone would expect out-of-control emotions.
An experienced, folksy speaker, Sheriff Jaccard had his audience bespelled from the moment he began.
; “Twenty-three years ago, a little girl who’d been born and grown up in Stimson vanished into thin air. The community was shaken when news of the abduction spread. Even then, we had our share of crime, but having a child snatched by a stranger under the noses of a whole lot of other parents scared the daylights out of everyone. How was it that not a soul, adult or child, had seen anything at all? This department’s best efforts never produced a fruitful lead. The FBI had no more success. Six-year-old Hope Lawson was gone, for all intents and purposes, from the face of the earth. Her parents were left to grieve and yet cling to their belief that she would someday come home. The rest of us...well, we came to assume she was dead.” He swept the audience with a gaze that commanded attention. “We were wrong.”
Exclamations and shouted questions filled the auditorium.
When they died down briefly, he raised his voice. “We’ll take questions eventually, but first let me finish. Hope Lawson is with us today because of Detective Seth Chandler, who has a special interest in pursuing cold cases. He moved to Stimson only three years ago and had never heard of Hope until someone mentioned her disappearance to him. He’s had some success in tracing missing people, in part because law enforcement agencies are getting a lot better at communicating with each other. But Hope didn’t appear in any of those databases, either. He took the extra step of having an artist create an age-progressed picture.” The sheriff used his laptop, open on the podium, to project a picture on the white screen behind him. He turned to look at it, as everyone in the audience did the same. “This is that picture.”
The flashes dazzled Seth’s eyes again. Photographers, crouching, got as close to the stage as they could, probably trying to get Bailey and the picture in the same frame.
The sheriff explained how Seth had created interest in the case and how the picture had spread across social media sites until someone had said to a young woman, “Your picture is online.” He smiled and stepped aside, motioning Bailey to join him. “Meet Hope Lawson.”
Again questions flew before she could open her mouth. Again he waited for quiet and said, “She’s prepared a statement.”
Poised had been a good word to use for her, Seth thought. Given her background, it was hard to understand where she’d come by so much strength and confidence. Confidence that hid a whole lot of damage and a mess of insecurities, he suspected, but the beautiful woman who gazed calmly at the roomful of people and cameras had one fine facade.
Yesterday's Gone (Two Daughters Book 1) Page 6
