by Nicole Baart
“I know.” Jess paused, then pressed on. “Can you tell me what you talked about?”
Henry sucked in a breath. “Wow, Jess, I don’t know. I can’t say that our conversations were all that memorable. Typical stuff. Day-to-day.”
“He never talked to you about a project he was working on? Maybe a study of some sort?”
“I don’t think so.” Henry was silent for a few moments while he seemed to comb his memories. “Want to explain what this is about? Does it have something to do with your meeting with Deputy Mullen?”
Jess wasn’t ready to talk about it. “Just a hunch.” She shrugged, but it was difficult to do in her bulky winter coat. “I want to know everything about his final months. We weren’t together, but I always thought that we’d find a way to work it out.”
“Me too, honey.”
Jess was surprised to see that her father’s eyes had misted over. Or maybe it was just the gleam of moonlight on the snow. “How about a cup of coffee?” she said.
“Too late for caffeine.” Henry shook his head. “But if you have an herbal tea, I won’t say no. My fingers are frozen.”
At the mention of cold, Jess realized that her hands and feet were numb. And her nose. She had pulled her balaclava beneath her chin to talk with her dad, and now her lips were parched and dry, her chin so stiff she was slurring her words.
“Gabe!” Jess called. “Time to come in!”
“No!” he shouted back. “I’m not done yet!”
Since she hadn’t allowed him to play outside during the storm, she left him with strict instructions to stay in the front yard and come as soon as he was called. “I’m making hot chocolate,” she said. “And when I knock on the window, I want you to come running.”
“Pinky swear!” Gabe agreed, but he was already turning away to continue building what appeared to be the wall of a fort around the fallen limb.
“Where’s Max? Didn’t he want to enjoy the snow?” Henry asked when they were ensconced in the warm kitchen, blowing their pink noses and warming their fingers beneath a stream of tepid water.
Jess flinched as feeling trickled back into her frozen hands. “He’s in his room. Max is having a bit of a rough day.”
“Oh?”
Jess wasn’t sure what to say. She landed on: “He lost something. He’s pretty upset about it.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Not this time, Dad.”
The teakettle whistled, and Jess lifted it from the burner and brought it to the table where her dad had taken a seat. He looked tired, older than he had only yesterday. His eyes were hooded, the lines in his still-handsome face pronounced in the slanting light. But it was late and they had worked hard. His weariness was easily excusable, even if Jess knew that it was more than just exertion. Before he drove over, Henry had dug himself out, and though they used the truck and the snowblower, the sidewalks and edges had to be done by hand with a shovel. Jess was tired too.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, pouring hot water and sinking the fragrant tea bags with their spoons. Jess had chosen a peppermint tea, and just the steam of it soothed her throat and warmed the prickling skin of her cheeks.
“I thought of something,” her dad said, chancing a sip of his tea. It was too hot and he put it back down. “Something about Evan, I mean.”
Jess felt herself go very still. Her father had spent so much of his life keeping other people’s secrets that it was all but impossible to pry information from him. Even mundane things that most people would never consider sensitive or gossipy, Henry would refuse to divulge. Better safe than sorry was his motto. Or maybe, loose lips sink ships. Both.
“He asked me once about the legal side of adoption.”
Jess exhaled. “We had a lot of questions when we adopted.”
“No, this was recent. Late this summer, maybe?” Henry stared into his tea. “No, it was September, I think.”
“Why was he asking about adoption this September?” Jess mused.
“He wanted to know if I had any experience with forced adoptions.”
“What’s a forced adoption?” Jess felt herself bristle a little. Adoption was such an integral, beautiful part of her life she didn’t like associating negativity with it in any way. Forced certainly didn’t sound positive.
“I didn’t know myself and I told him as much. I’m afraid I wasn’t very helpful.”
“Do you know why he was asking about it?”
Henry shook his head. “But I looked it up later. Apparently some agencies use unethical practices to separate birth mothers and fathers from their children.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Jess took a long pull from her scalding tea and burned her tongue. She wouldn’t be able to taste for a couple of days, but she didn’t care. It drove her crazy when people didn’t understand something that was so near and dear to her heart.
“I’m not offering personal commentary on it, Jess. I’m just telling you what I discovered.”
“Well, it can’t be true.”
Henry gave her the same look that he used to give her when she was a kid and being stubbornly pigheaded. “Just because you don’t want to believe it doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
“Why would Evan want to know about that?” Jess said, ignoring her father’s pointed stare. “It can’t have anything to do with Gabe.” The second his name passed her lips, Jess remembered that he was still digging in the snow.
Apparently Henry thought the same thing because they pushed away from the table in unison, their conversation forgotten. Jess hurried over to the front door and threw it open, letting in an icy drift of snow that spread over the hardwood and immediately began to melt. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness outside. “Gabe?” she called. “Gabe! It’s time to come in!”
There was a flurry of activity by the fallen limb and Gabe poked his head out from behind a wall of white. His stocking cap was furred with ice and she could see even at a distance that his cheeks were crimson.
“Just a few more minutes!” he whined.
“Absolutely not.” Jess crossed her arms over her chest and stomped her feet against the chill. “I’m watching you until you’re in the garage.”
“I’ll meet him there and help him with his gear,” Henry said at her shoulder.
“Grandpa’s waiting for you,” Jess said, relaying the message, and watched as Gabe hung his head dramatically and clomped off in the direction of the garage door. It was a task because the snow came up to his thighs, and in no time he was giggling as he wrestled his way toward the driveway and the door that his grandfather had flung open to welcome him.
Jess waited until Gabe was in his grandpa’s arms, and then she bent down to try and push the snow that had fallen inside back out the door. They had shoveled off the steps, but apparently they hadn’t gotten close enough to the door. By the time Jess was done, there was a puddle of icy water on the floor and her hands were once again numb from cold.
Henry and Gabe were making a ruckus in the garage, banging out Gabe’s boots and hooting about something apparently hilarious, so Jess took the opportunity to check on Max. The door to his room was closed, but when she knocked, no one answered.
“Max?” Jess tried the handle. It wasn’t locked, so she called again and eased it open. The lights were on, but Max was nowhere to be seen.
The bathroom was across the hall, but the door was ajar and the room was dark. “Max?” Jess raised her voice a little, peeking her head in each of the rooms in the upstairs hallway. Gabe’s room, the spare room, even her own bedroom and bathroom were dark and empty. Standing at the top of the stairs, Jess shouted: “Max? Where are you?”
Henry and Gabe were on their knees in front of the dark fireplace. Henry looked over his shoulder as Jess came down the stairs. “I thought Max was in his bedroom,” he said, then turned his attention back to the task at hand. He set a preformed fire log onto the metal grate and picked up a box of matches. “We’re going to
cheat, Jess. All you have to do is light the corner and then throw a couple logs on top . . .”
But Jessica wasn’t paying attention. A quick check of the office proved that it was also empty. As were the kitchen, screened-in porch, and the main floor bathroom. Their basement was unfinished, a huge expanse of concrete and two-by-fours that they had framed but never drywalled. The Chamberlains had always planned to complete the basement, but they had never gotten around to it. Jess yanked open the door and heard her voice echo in the emptiness. Max wasn’t there, either.
“He’s gone,” Jess said more to herself than to her father and son.
“Who’s gone?” Gabe asked, scrambling up and running over to comfort her.
“Max.”
“He can’t be gone,” Henry said. “Where would he go?”
Jess gave Gabe a squeeze and then eased herself out of his embrace. “I don’t know. But we better find him. It’s freezing out there.”
Her heart began to thrum a frantic rhythm, a clip that made her fingers tingle with something other than cold. She was worried, but Jess was also angry. It was just like Max to pull something like this, to disappear without saying a word, on the night of the worst storm to sweep through Northwest Iowa in twenty years. When she got her hands on him, she didn’t know whether she would hug him or ground him. Both, she decided. But first she had to find him.
“I’ll hop in the truck,” Henry said, patting his pockets for the keys he had stashed there. “Gabriel, why don’t you ride along with me?”
“Wait,” Jess called as she searched the kitchen for her phone. Where had she left it? Maybe Max had been considerate—maybe he sent her a text or left a message on her voice mail. Jess finally discovered her phone on the counter beside the refrigerator, but there was nothing from Max. And when Jess dialed his number, he didn’t answer. She muttered a curse under her breath.
“We’ll find him,” Henry said. “He couldn’t have gotten far. You said he was upset about something. Maybe he just went for a walk.”
“He could have told us!”
“He’s thirteen,” Henry reminded her. “His brain isn’t functioning at full capacity.”
Jess didn’t remember her father being so understanding when she was a teenager. She had been strong willed and foolish, too, but she hadn’t given her parents nearly as much trouble as Max gave her. She wondered sometimes if it was all her fault. If she was as terrible a mother as she sometimes believed herself to be. God help her, being a mom wasn’t for the faint of heart.
“Keep your cell phone on you,” Henry said, zipping up his damp coat. There were snowflakes still glistening on the shoulders, and as Jess watched, he shivered. Whether it was from the cold or concern for his grandson, Jess couldn’t tell. “I’ll call if I find him. What will you do?”
“Search the neighborhood. Stay close to home. Maybe he just wanted to enjoy the snow.”
Jess laced up her boots as her dad and Gabe hopped in the truck and took off slowly down the road. She could tell that Henry had his headlights on high beam, and Gabe’s face was pressed to the window, hunting for a sign of his big brother in the winter wonderland that had descended on their neighborhood.
Her father was right—Max couldn’t have gotten far. And yet, she was so desperate to have him safe and sound, to know where he was, that she found herself choking on angry sobs. Max must have snuck out when they were all busy clearing the driveway. The snowblower threw a wall of powdery snow ten feet into the air and created a ghostly cloud that had obstructed Jess’s view. Never mind the sound. The scrape of the plow and Gabe’s happy screams only added to the chaos. Jess could imagine Max slipping on his boots and fading into the night. But why? And where?
Before she took off, Jess made sure that Max’s coat and boots were indeed gone. They were. But as far as she could tell, nothing else was missing. So he was on foot, or, she hoped he was.
The Chamberlains’ garage had a back door that was half-hidden behind a long work bench that ran the length of the garage, and Jess had paid it no mind when she passed in and out on her way to clear snow. The door opened onto a small, square patio that tucked against the side of the screened-in porch, and during the summer the grill lived here. It was the easiest way to access the backyard, and as Jess approached the entrance, she could see that the door was wedged open a couple of inches. A small avalanche of snow that had tumbled onto the concrete made it impossible for the door to shut completely. It was obvious that someone had used the door, and recently.
Jess’s heart was in her throat when she flicked on the floodlight that splashed across the backyard in a sudden harsh glare. It illuminated exactly what she expected to see: a furrow in the snow. A path that led over the patio, past the swing set, and off into the darkness. Away.
* * *
Evan Chamberlain
RE: Question for you
To: Henry Lancaster
Hi, Henry.
Thanks for meeting me for lunch last week. It was good to see you.
Wondering if you could answer a couple of questions for me. What do you know about the issue of so-called forced adoptions? I have a couple of legal inquiries that I’d like to run past you if you’re open to it.
Thanks,
Evan
* * *
Henry Lancaster
RE: Question for you
To: Evan Chamberlain
CC: Robert Wales
Evan,
I’m afraid your question is beyond my purview. I’m not even familiar with the term you mentioned. However, I’m cc-ing a good friend and colleague, Robert Wales, in this conversation. Robert has some experience with adoption law and may be able to answer your questions.
All best,
Henry
* * *
Evan Chamberlain
RE: Question for you
To: Robert Wales
Hello, Robert.
I hope it’s not presumptuous of me to email you out of the blue. I’m Henry’s son-in-law and have just a few questions about the issue of forced adoptions. Specifically, what are the legal rights of a birth mother who may have been coerced into giving her child up for adoption? I’m sure you can understand the nature of my question is personal, and if you need more clarification I’m not sure I can offer it at this time. Either way, thank you for your time and consideration.
Best,
Evan
* * *
Robert Wales
RE: Question for you
To: Evan Chamberlain
Hello, Evan.
The short answer to your question is this: a birth mother who has signed away her child has no legal rights to that child. Of course, the moral and ethical implications of what you are insinuating is much more complicated than an email exchange can accurately account for. I would be happy to meet you for coffee to continue this discussion if you wish.
Regards,
Robert
* * *
Kateri O.
19, Native American, HS diploma
Nearly bald, tattooed scalp. Looks much younger than she is. Lonely.
Mother knows. Father says he’ll kill her.
CPDD/CW, 52m, 4m 1w
CHAPTER 19
JESS TRUDGED THROUGH the snow, following Max’s footprints to the edge of the Chamberlains’ yard. Their property backed onto a small copse of trees and a gulley that trickled with water in the spring but was otherwise dry and treacherous. In the fall, leaves gathered in the trough and disguised the indentation in the earth, and Jess had wrapped her boys’ ankles on numerous occasions after they raced brazenly through the grove and twisted them. Beyond the trees, cornfields stretched as far as the eye could see. Though their neighborhood was the picture of suburbia, the Chamberlains lived on the very outskirts of town, and Jess dragged herself through the deep snow with a growing sense of urgency. There was nothing out there but wind and snow and a sweep of endless sky. Did Max have a death wish?
Her son’s footprints were two sli
m trenches, and Jess dragged her own boots through the uncertain path he had carved. Even though Max had paved the way, it was still tough going, a workout that made Jess hot beneath her heavy coat in spite of the freezing temperature. In minutes she was the unique combination of sweaty and cold, and panic-stricken on top of it all.
If her phone was ringing in her pocket, Jess would never hear it, but she was glad she had taken it with her all the same. She would stop at some point, maybe near the leaning fence that marked the edge of a farmer’s field, and remove her gloves so she could check in with her dad. A part of her wondered if she should let him know that she found Max’s trail, but they both knew that he was on foot. Jess had no doubt that her dad was circling the neighborhood, making his orbit wider and wider as he searched for his missing grandson. And that circuit would lead him to the gravel road and out of town. Max would hit the road eventually. He had to.
The world was brittle and bright at times, but when a strand of wispy clouds crossed the moon, the night fell into long shadows. Jess hesitated for just a moment at the line of trees, but Max had plunged inside and so did she. Weaving through gnarled branches and fallen logs, Jess stumbled down the short ravine and nearly got stuck at the bottom. The snow was almost up to her waist here, and she had to use an ice-slick sapling to pull herself up and out. She was heaving by the time she cleared the grove, but Jess stumbled forward at an unexpectedly swift pace until she abruptly realized that Max’s trail had ended.
Jess stopped, gasping, and whipped around to see if she had missed something in her pursuit. But there was no way. The snow was fresh and unmarked, Max’s carved escape route the only blemish in the otherwise unworldly white. Jess moaned, surprising herself with the sound. It was thin, agonized, and for some reason it made her think of Evan. He had been alone on a night like this, and it was enough to make her weep.
But Jess couldn’t think about Evan. Her Max was everything right now, and thirteen-year-old boys didn’t disappear into thin air.
