Eric became even more agitated at this news, and he began to question Sergeant Blanco extensively. “Can you be sure that this man’s not involved in Phoebe’s disappearance?” he demanded. “Did you check him for any violations?”
The sergeant shook his head emphatically. “I know him personally. He lives on my street. In fact, his wife and baby were with him in the car, and they were driving home from a church function. No, I’m positive he couldn’t have anything to do with Phoebe’s disappearance. I think she’s wandered off.”
Eric walked outside abruptly and went to the dock railing. Moonlight touched his hair with silver and cast his profile in stark relief. Molly’s first instinct was to go to him, but Sergeant Blanco had more questions for her.
“Now, Ms. McBryde, suppose you tell me what Phoebe was wearing when she disappeared.”
Molly, feeling increasingly bereft, haltingly described the red T-shirt and plaid shorts that were missing from Phoebe’s room. In her hands she held the headband that Phoebe had dropped on the dock.
“Thanks, Ms. McBryde,” Blanco said, snapping his notebook closed. “Don’t worry, we’ll do our best to find her. Greensea Springs is a safe place. We have a low crime rate. I have a feeling that Phoebe will turn up soon.”
“I hope so,” Molly said fervently. A glance out the window told her that Eric was no longer standing at the railing, and she excused herself to find out what he was doing.
The wind had picked up, and Micki, Craig Farrell and some of the others who had aided in their earlier search of the marina huddled in a knot outside the laundry room. “Any luck?” Micki asked.
Molly shook her head and wrapped her windbreaker more closely around her. “Did any of you see where Eric went?”
“He jumped off the dock, started walking along the beach,” Craig told her.
In the bright moonlight, Molly spied Eric making his way along the narrow apron of sand exposed by low tide. He scuffed at debris, his head down and his shoulders slumped. He seemed walled inside his own pain, beaten down by worry.
As she watched, he bent and scooped something up from the ground. He stared at it, held it up to the light. Though the wind was not cold, a chill swept through her and clamped icy fingers around her heart.
“Eric,” she called. “What are you doing?”
“Come here,” he said. He sounded shaken.
It was only a short jump over the edge of the dock to the earth below. Wind-driven sand stung her face as she made her way toward Eric. She prayed that whatever he had found would lead them to Phoebe.
When she drew closer, she saw that Eric was twisting the cap off a plastic soda bottle. He shook out a piece of paper rolled into a tight cylinder and unfurled it. “One of Phoebe’s messages,” he said.
As he held the sheet of lined notebook paper out to her, she saw that it bore that day’s date.
Phoebe had drawn a picture of a house with three people standing in front of it; one of them was Eric, identifiable because he was taller than all the rest, with a gray baseball cap on his head. It was easy to figure out that the woman with the red hair was Molly, and Phoebe was most certainly the child in the picture, because she wore a red headband and her favorite red plaid shorts. There was even a black-and-white spotted dog, whose leash the girl held in her fist. Cookie, thought Molly. And the house, drawn in some detail with a red door and a chimney, was undoubtedly the home that Phoebe wanted so much.
“Read it,” Eric said unsteadily, his voice raw with emotion.
DEAR PERSON,
HERE IS A PICTUR OF THE HOUSE I WANT. THAT’S DAD AND MOLLY AND ME IN FRONT. I GOT MY DOG COOKIE BACK. MY LIFE WILL BE WUNDERFULL AT LAST.
Then there was a long space, and a watery splotch that had almost obliterated the next words, though Molly could still read them.
THEY ARE FITTING FITING. OH IT IS AAWFUL. INSTEAD OF SAYING THEY LUV EACH OTHER THEY ARE BRAKING UP. ALL MY SAND WISHES DID NOT WORK. I HATE THEM. I NEVER WANT TO SEE THEM AGAIN. I AM GOING AWAY. AT THE CONTEST I WILL FIND SOME ONE ELSE AND LIVE WITH THEM.
I DON’T NO WHEN I WILL SEND MY NEXT MESSAGE. MAYBE NEVER.
YORE FRIEND
PHOEBE ANNE NORVALD
“What contest?” Eric asked, looking dumbfounded.
Molly remembered Phoebe’s avid interest in the vacuum cleaner competition and related as much about it as she could recall. “It’s in Jacksonville this weekend,” she told him.
“A vacuum cleaner competition?” he said as if he couldn’t believe it. “She’s never mentioned it.”
“She’s well aware that you don’t approve of her interest in vacuum cleaners,” Molly reminded him.
“Where would she go if she were trying to get to Jacksonville? The bus station? The highway out of town?”
Molly considered this as she gazed out across the marina. The wind had whipped the surface of the water into a light chop. The boats rocked restlessly, tugging at their lines. She turned back to Eric. “I think she’d ask Ralph Whister for a ride. He said he was going, and he was looking forward to it. He said—”
“Never mind what he said. Where does he live?”
“I have no idea. I’m sure Phoebe doesn’t, either. She’d know that he’d be opening up his shop in the morning, and it’s near the playground.”
“Let’s go,” Eric said urgently, grabbing her hand. He jumped up on the seawall, pulled her after him. The next moment, they were racing down Water Street, past parked cars, past the moss-hung trees, past the quaint wrought-iron benches lining the sidewalks.
Eric’s hand in hers felt warm, and Molly was heartened that they were united in this task of finding Phoebe. After the harsh words they’d exchanged earlier, it seemed strange and yet so right to be working as a team. She should have been out of here by now, out of his life and Phoebe’s, too. But as long as Eric’s daughter was in jeopardy, Molly knew with great certainty that her place was beside him.
The sign outside A Perfect Vacuum swung gently in the breeze. “We should call Ralph Whister, ask him to come open his shop,” Molly said as they halted in front of the big plate-glass windows. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and prepared to dial the emergency number posted on the front door.
Eric stared through the window. It was illuminated by the streetlights so that the sparkle finish on the shiny Orvasweep vacuum glinted invitingly; in the window on the other side of the door, the Robo-Kleen robotic vacuum went about its endless cleaning duties.
“Look,” he said, pointing at what appeared to be a bundle of clothes next to the case of Orvasweep attachments.
Molly stepped closer and saw that Phoebe was curled up beside the vacuum cleaner, her head pillowed on her backpack, her Barbie and Blaine dolls propped nearby. Her chest rose and fell gently with each breath, and though her face was tearstained, she seemed peaceful and so innocent. Best of all, she was safe.
Relief washed over Molly, and she gripped Eric’s arm. He tapped on the window, and Phoebe opened her eyes. Dazed confusion was followed by relieved recognition when she found herself staring back at her father and Molly. She raised her tousled head.
“Dad,” she said in a tone of wonder. “Molly. You came for me.”
Even though the words were muted by the window between them, they tugged at Molly’s heart. If she had left before they discovered that Phoebe was missing, she never would have seen her again, and right now that seemed unbearable. Somewhere between the hairstyling lessons and manicures, the bedtime stories and peanut butter sandwiches, Molly had grown to love Phoebe as if she were her own.
Slowly Eric raised his outspread fingers and pressed his hand against the glass, and Molly, following his lead, did the same. Phoebe knelt on the other side of the window, her gaze never wavering from them, and held her two smaller hands up to theirs. The three of them were connected like that when Ralph Whister arrived with the keys.
Chapter Sixteen
Eric lay flat on Fiona’s foredeck, lost in the twinkling benevolence of the s
tar that he had long ago designated as Heather’s. Tonight it shone with a special radiance, like a diamond affixed to the fabric of the sky.
He had carried Phoebe home from the vacuum cleaner shop where she’d sought refuge, her sleepy head nodding against his shoulder. Now Molly was below, putting her to bed.
He sighed and adjusted his position; the deck was hard beneath his back. He hadn’t bothered with the cushions, thinking that he wouldn’t stay up here long. But he would do nothing to interrupt Phoebe’s time with Molly, since it seemed so important to her. And to Molly, too, of course. She had shed tears of joy when they’d found Phoebe, and she’d held his daughter’s hand tightly on the short walk back to the boat.
Phoebe had apparently crawled into Ralph Whister’s shop through a pet door at the service entrance in the back. It had been left unsecured for some reason, even though the dog that once used it no longer accompanied his master to work. Since the vacuum cleaner competition in Jacksonville was coming up over the weekend, Phoebe had intended to talk her friend into taking her along. She’d headed for her favorite vacuum cleaner, the Robo-Kleen in the window, and sat watching it at work until she felt sleepy. Then she’d climbed in the neighboring window and curled up beside the Orvasweep to go to sleep. Phoebe had never been in any danger, Eric was convinced of that.
He heard a quiet footstep on deck and turned his head to see Molly walking carefully toward him, holding on to the railing. She eased down beside him and clasped her hands around her knees.
“Phoebe’s asleep,” she said. “She’s exhausted.”
Molly’s hair, teased by the wind, fell over one shoulder, a tumbling cascade of color. He reached for her hand, prepared for her to pull it away, but she didn’t.
“You were wonderful with her,” he said. “You comforted her when she started to get upset that you might leave before she woke up tomorrow, and you settled her down with a glass of milk before she had a chance to bring up our argument.”
“I didn’t do much. I feel so guilty that she ran away because of the things I said.”
“That we said,” Eric corrected her. “We never intended her to hear us.”
Molly didn’t speak, only stared resolutely toward Bottlenose Island.
“Molly?”
“You’ve got Phoebe back. I’m going to bed.”
“Wait,” he said, turning on his side so that he could see her expression. She looked beautiful and determined and sad.
She skewered him with a glance. Her eyebrows lifted slightly as if she were asking a question, and he recalled a time when that expression had seemed imperious, demanding.
“I’m numb, Eric. I don’t have the emotional reserves to handle any more tonight.”
He was all too aware of the many ups and downs of the past week. Her grief over Emmett, her dashed hopes about their relationship and Phoebe’s disappearance had all contributed to emotional overload. “Please stay here awhile,” he said. He reached up and slid his hand under her hair, brought her lips in line with his. He kissed her, an exploratory kiss, and when she didn’t pull away, he deepened it.
She was the one to end the kiss, but not immediately. The scent of her skin filled his nostrils, a heady perfume. Her hair was soft against his cheek.
“We shouldn’t be doing this, Eric,” she said, her voice a mere whisper.
“Who says?” he whispered back. He kissed her again, more intensely this time.
“Maybe it’s not only Phoebe I want back. Maybe I want you, too,” he told her when they broke away.
“You can’t get back something that wasn’t yours to begin with,” she said with unexpected spirit.
“Oh, but you were always mine. I knew it in my heart from the moment I saw you.”
“Eric, don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“I never do,” he said. “In fact, I’m going to say something momentous in a few seconds.” He sat up and took her into his arms. He was surprised to find that she was trembling.
“Dearest Molly, I love you. I never want us to be apart. I’ve been wrong about us, just as I’ve been wrong about a few other things in my life. Luckily for me, I’ve had an epiphany of sorts, and it was brought about by my daughter’s disappearance. I panicked when I thought I might lose her, and it made me realize how important both of you are to me. I couldn’t live without Phoebe, and I can’t live without you, either.” He paused to catch his breath, noticed Heather’s star.
“See that star up there? Heather’s star? I’ve been lying here on deck, trying to figure out what to do, and while I was staring at it, it seemed to twinkle a bit brighter. Some people might believe that’s because of conditions in the earth’s atmosphere or because the moon isn’t as bright as on some nights, but I believe it’s Heather telling me that I’ve found the right woman for me.”
“I don’t think—”
He gently placed a finger to her lips. “Stop, Molly. Just say yes. Will you marry me? Be my wife forever and ever? Be Phoebe’s new mommy?”
She studied him as if he’d lost his mind. When she finally found her voice, she stammered, “D-didn’t we have a big discussion about this very topic? Where you told me that you couldn’t offer me anything? Where you ran yourself down and I got angry because I can’t stand for you to undervalue yourself when you’re one of the finest, most intelligent, loving men I’ve ever known?”
He managed a sheepish grin. “Well, I guess we did have quite an argument, but I’ve reconsidered. Without you, the freedom to wander becomes a prison. I still don’t have many material possessions to offer you, Molly, but I can give you the most important thing of all. Love, Molly. I love you more than you’ll ever know, and it will last a lifetime.”
He had a few moments’concern when she looked up at the heavens, at the water rolling by, at the flag billowing on the cabin cruiser across the way.
“Eric,” she said with great deliberation, “I do love you. I told you that earlier tonight, and you broke my heart when you said you wanted to end it between us. There were so many things I wanted to say to you, but you never gave me a chance. I accept you as you are, Eric—as a kind, loving man who chose an unconventional way of dealing with the problem that fate dished out to him. I don’t fault you for that. If you and Phoebe hadn’t been on Fiona, I wouldn’t have met you, and my life is so much richer and more meaningful with the two of you in it. I love you and I love Phoebe, and in answer to your marriage proposal, my answer is…yes.Yes, yes, yes!” She shouted the last word so loudly that everyone in the marina could have heard.
Eric began to laugh, starting with a long chuckle. He leaped to his feet and pulled Molly along with him. “I’ll find some way to earn a decent living, Molly, I won’t disappoint you,” he said. Their joy burst into an impromptu waltz along the length of the foredeck. They danced to music only they could hear, sidestepping cleats and piles of rope and the open hatches that provided ventilation below.
One of the hatches creaked open even more, and a small head popped out. “Dad?” said Phoebe in a voice fuzzy with sleep. “Are you and Molly fighting again?”
Holding Molly’s hand, Eric knelt beside his daughter. “Absolutely not, Peanut. This is what people in love sound like when they’re making up. I’ve just asked her to marry me.”
Phoebe’s eyes grew wide. She blinked at Molly. “Did you say yes?” All the awe and concern she must have felt were contained in those short words.
“I certainly did,” Molly told her.
“Wow. Oh, wow,” Phoebe said. She looked from one to the other, a wide smile spreading across her face. “I can’t believe it.”
“Come up here with us, Phoebe. We’re going to have a family celebration.” Eric reached down and eased her up through the open hatch, then settled back on the deck with her in his lap.
“What do you do for a celebration like this one?” Phoebe asked, wide-awake now.
“I’m not exactly sure,” Eric said, smoothing her nightgown. He winked over the top of her head at
Molly. “Before we find out, I have a story I want to tell.”
Phoebe perked up at that. “A story? What kind?”
“It’s something like the Greek myths and the Egyptian ones. In fact, you might call the story a Norvald myth, except that it’s true,” he said, improvising as he went along.
“Tell it, Dad.”
“Well, once upon a time, there was a true goddess, and her name was Molly Kate McBryde. She had long and beautiful hair in a color that looked as if gold and copper had been melted together.”
Phoebe wriggled delightedly. “Eric,” Molly began, laughter in her voice, but he silenced her with a wink.
“The beautiful goddess Molly Kate lived in a cold, hard land called Chicago. Sometimes she was lonely and gazed up at the stars from her window, thinking about how much fun it would be to ride away on the flying horse Pegasus to play her harp. Unfortunately, she had other duties, and this was never possible. One day, she escaped from Chicago due to the kindness of a sage old man named Emmett. She got on a big silver bird and traveled to a faraway place where she boarded a magic boat. There she met an angel named Phoebe and a man called Mr. Grumpy.”
Phoebe darted a surprised look up at him. “You know about that name?” she asked with trepidation.
“Yes, but it’s okay,” he said. When Phoebe relaxed, he went on spinning his tale, enjoying the telling of it. “Mr. Grumpy was lonely, but he loved the angel Phoebe, who was his daughter. Together they went on many travels. Sometimes Mr. Grumpy felt as though he carried the whole world on his shoulders, and—”
“That wasn’t Mr. Grumpy’s job,” Phoebe interjected. “Nut, the enormous naked blue giant woman, was supposed to do that, like in the Egyptian myth.”
The Mommy Wish Page 22
