The Face of the Earth

by Deborah Raney

  “You need that,” Jill had said. When Shelley left it behind––not wanting to tell her friend that it was simply not in her budget––Jill went back and bought it and presented it to her for her birthday several weeks later. Since then, whenever she and Jill scoured the flea markets and antique malls, old magnifying glasses were on her list of things to search out. Between Jill’s gifts and her own finds, she’d collected almost a dozen of the ornate little pieces. She reached for the jade-handled one and dusted off the round glass, then held it over the palm of her hand, studying the intricate creases that crisscrossed each other. “Oh, Jill,” she whispered. “Where are you? I miss you.”

  She’d tried to ignore the realization that Jill was the only real friend she’d had. Sure, she and Audrey had a warm mother-daughter friendship, and there were people she considered friends at work and at church, but no one she'd share her deepest desires and longings with. No one she would have confessed her sins to. Not like with Jill.

  She walked through the house and checked the locks one more time. At the front door, she remembered that she hadn’t checked the porch for deliveries since arriving home. She was expecting a package––a birthday gift for Jill that had been on back order so long she’d forgotten about it. Ironically, the day before Thanksgiving she’d gotten notification it had finally shipped.

  Jill. Would she ever get to see her friend’s face when she opened the gift? Shelley usually purchased her gifts at cost through Serendipity, but flipping through a specialty catalog last month, she’d found some little long-handled baskets for making s’mores over an open fire and thought they’d be perfect for the Brannons’ lake house. It had always been fun choosing gifts for Jill, because no matter what Shelley picked out, Jill was thrilled. Mitch gave his wife a hard time about being too “easily entertained.” Maybe so, but it was one of the qualities that had drawn Shelley to Jill––that quality of taking extraordinary delight in everyday things.

  She stepped out on the front porch. Sure enough, her package was leaning against the sidelight. Had probably been there since Friday. She took comfort in the fact that the little town of Sylvia was apparently deemed safe enough that UPS or FedEx would still leave a package on the porch.

  She picked it up and reached for the door. Instinctively, she looked up the street before going inside. Everything was dark at the Brannons’. The streetlight at the edge of her property caused the giant oak in the front yard next door to cast long shadows across the cul de sac. She’d always felt safer having the Brannons––having Mitch––next door. But tonight the darkness between them made her shiver.

  Chapter 15

  Monday, November 29

  The phone rang at eight p.m. and Mitch went to answer it, his mind still trying to track the evening news he was watching. He quickly refocused when he saw the Caller ID. The number was Marcus Simonides’s. The detective had been faithful about calling Mitch weekly to update him on Jill’s case, but he’d always called during work hours.

  He picked up, his pulse racing. “Yes?”

  “Mitch? Simonides here. I don’t have anything new on Jill––didn’t want to alarm you,” he said quickly.

  Mitch waited for the “however” he heard in the detective’s tone.

  “I did want to let you know that there will be a new detective assigned to your case from this point on. His name is Cody Fredriks, and he’ll be calling you in the next few days to introduce himself.”

  “You mean . . . you’re off the case?”

  “I’ll still be touching base, working with Officer Fredriks any time there’s new evidence or a break in the case. But Fredriks will be your main contact with Missing Persons now. He’s been briefed and he’s up to speed on Jill’s case, so you can––”

  “Why the change?”

  “Just routine shifts of duty.” Something in his voice said he was hedging.

  Mitch didn’t like the sound of it. Judging by what Simonides said––and the new officer’s given name––the guy was barely shaving yet. He knew what it meant and why Simonides was hedging: they were passing Jill’s case off to a rookie. It was hard not to think that meant something. They don’t expect to solve this case.

  After giving him the new extension to reach Fredriks, Simonides made excuses and ended the call.

  Feeling deflated, Mitch let TP out one last time and stood in the dark on the front porch waiting, contemplating what the phone call meant.

  The Lab barked twice and took off toward Shelley’s house next door. “TP! Get back over here!”

  The stupid dog had never obeyed him like it did Jill. Especially after a few days at the kennel. Mitch reached inside and flipped on the porch light, then trotted barefoot onto the lawn calling for TP. Despite the fact that Christmas was only three weeks away, the day had been warm––in the midsixties. But now the grass was damp and icy cold. He was a tenderfoot anyway, and considered running back in for his shoes, but he’d be chasing TP four blocks if he gave the mutt a head start.

  He tiptoed cautiously through the mulch in a flower bed at the edge of their property. “TP!” he hissed, not wishing to wake the whole neighborhood and certainly not wishing to wake up one neighbor in particular. “Get over here right now!”

  Silhouetted under the streetlight in front of Shelley’s house, TP’s ears pricked, but the dog made no acknowledgment that he’d heard his master’s order.

  Mitch picked his way across the wet grass, muttering to himself.

  Musical laughter floated across to him on the night air, and he looked up to see Shelley standing on her porch wearing a fleece hoodie. She was obviously enjoying his antics.

  He gave a self-conscious laugh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you called my dog just to put me through my paces.”

  “Me? I was merely picking up a package from the front porch when this rabid dog came charging onto my property.” TP pranced around Shelley’s ankles and she knelt on the porch steps and gave the Lab a good scratching behind his ears.

  “Come on, now. . . Don’t reward his bad behavior.”

  “Sorry.” She smiled up at him, gave TP one last pat and nudged him in Mitch’s direction. “How are you doing?” Her tone held much more than the rhetorical greeting.

  He hesitated. “Doing okay.” They hadn’t talked about Jill since that day Simonides had delivered Jill’s phone and the jewelry. He’d purposely avoided it. Avoided her. What else was there to say? He quickly changed the subject. “You were in Springfield for Thanksgiving, right? How’s Audrey?”

  “She’s doing great. We had a good time. And I stopped by to see my aunt Mona on the way home, too.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “And you guys went to Jill’s folks?”

  “We did. It was . . . hard. Her dad has really gone downhill since last time we saw him. I’m not sure he’s even aware of––everything that’s happened with Jill. And the first day we were there, Miriam burst into tears every time Jill’s name was mentioned. But she and Katie had some good time together.”

  “Oh, that’s nice. I’ve always loved Jill’s mom.”

  “Yeah. . . I thought it would be good for the kids to go out there, but . . . I’m not so sure it was good for me. It was hard to drop them off in Lawrence and drive back here without them.”

  “Oh, Mitch. I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine . . .” Shelley straightened and wrapped the pink hoodie tighter around her. She wore gray fleece pajamas pants and she was barefoot. In the dim glow from the porch light she looked so vulnerable and . . . feminine.

  He looked away, missing Jill so desperately the ache was physical. Missing the kids. Missing everything about the life he’d had just three short months ago.

  As if she’d heard his thoughts, Shelley whispered, “I miss her.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  “I found this little antique shop in Poplar Bluff on the way home from Springfield, and it was just the kind of place Jill loved. I kept seeing things I wanted to show her. Thi
ngs I knew she would snap up the minute she saw them. It seemed like she should be just one aisle over, calling me over to see something she’d found that she knew I would love.” Her voice broke. “I left without buying anything. It was just too hard.”

  He looked pointedly at her bare feet. “You’d better get inside. It’s freezing out here. Come on, TP. Do your business and let this lady be.”

  “I’m fine. I needed some fresh air. Is . . . is there anything new . . . at all?” She didn’t have to spell out what she meant.

  “No. Nothing.” He climbed the three steps to the porch so Shelley could stay under the overhang out of the wind.

  She wrapped her arms around her body and leaned her back against the door. “I haven’t heard anything for a couple of weeks now. It . . . it seems like the local news has completely quit covering it. I hope that doesn’t mean they’ve . . .” She fumbled for a word, trying, he knew, to avoid suggesting they’d given up.

  “No. I . . . just talked to Simonides tonight . . . He assured me the case is still open. There’s just nothing to go on.” He didn’t trust his voice to tell her about the case being relegated to a new officer––and about what he suspected that meant.

  “How are you doing, Mitch? How are you really doing?” Her eyes sought his, and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

  The simple action touched him in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge. “I’m okay. As long as I keep busy it’s not too bad.” That was a lie, but he didn’t dare tell her the truth––

  “Mitch, nobody expects you to be back to normal yet. You know that, don’t you?”

  He stared at her. “What brought that on?”

  “I see you. I know you, Mitch . . . Maybe better than you think.”

  He suddenly felt naked. He’d shared thoughts far too personal while they’d driven the roads between Kansas City and Sylvia. And from the things Shelley confided that she and Jill had talked about, Shelley probably knew even more about him than he knew about her. Things he’d just as soon she not know. It was disconcerting to have her look at him and read his thoughts.

  The truth was, for weeks now, he’d been walking around like an automaton. Barely eating, staying up too late watching TV and combing the Internet for any piece of news that might hold a clue to where Jill was. And when he did sleep, it was fitful and dream-laced. He attempted a grin. “So you don’t think I’m back to normal?”

  “No. I don’t.” Her expression remained serious. “And I’d think something was wrong with you if you were.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” The infernal lump that had taken up permanent residence in his throat threatened to strangle him, and it was all he could do not to turn tail and run back home.

  Shelley tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

  He felt a dam opening inside him, felt all the pent up emotions of past weeks rushing to his throat. He hadn’t been able to weep in those early weeks when it had first happened. But he’d made up for lost time these past few weeks, weeping sometimes till his throat was raw and he finally fell asleep. Worse, his emotions betrayed him at the least provocation. He’d choked up at a staff meeting last week when someone casually mentioned that the third-grade teacher’s position had been filled at the elementary school––Jill’s position. He didn’t think anyone noticed—or would have cared if they did––but he cared.

  “How am I supposed to go on like nothing’s happened, Shelley? How? My work is suffering, my faith is suffering. I feel like . . . like I’m on the verge of crashing and burning all the time. If I just knew. I think I could deal with––just about anything if I just knew what happened to her. It is killing me not to know. To think she might be out there somewhere . . .” He felt powerless to stop the flow of words, despite the fact that something told him Shelley was not the one to confide in.

  But it was too late.

  She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, Mitch . . . I’m so sorry you’re having to go through this. I’ll never understand why God let this happen. And . . . please forgive me. Those were thoughtless words. I didn’t think before I––”

  “No. It’s okay.” Even in the darkness he could see the pain in her expression. He felt like a heel. “I didn’t mean to unload like that.” He shook his head and took half a step back.

  He slid from beneath her touch and bent to pick up a tattered geranium leaf that lay beside a large flowerpot at the bottom of the porch steps. He mashed the leaf between his fingers. Its pungent citrus scent brought him to his senses, as if it were smelling salts. “I’d better get back.” He turned to scan the yard, whistling softly for TP.

  The dog trotted up, sniffing at Shelley’s bare toes. She gave him a perfunctory pat on the head.

  “Come on, boy. Let’s go.”

  “Mitch, wait . . .”

  He turned back, waiting.

  “It’s been almost three months. Do you really think she’s coming back? Do you have any reason to hope for that?”

  Her words stunned him. He felt the muscles in his neck tense. “Why would you say that? You don’t think she’s coming back?” He studied her, wondering. “Is there something you’re not telling me? Something else I don’t know?”

  “No, Mitch. No. It’s not that. It’s just, if she was . . . alive . . . they would have found her by now. You say it’s making you crazy thinking that she might be out there. But . . . how could she be. After this long? Not in these cold nights. I want to believe, but . . . I’m sorry. I just can’t anymore. At some point, don’t you have to just accept . . . that she’s probably not coming back?”

  He shook his head slowly, not believing what he was hearing. Her, of all people. “I can’t listen to this.” He grabbed TP by the collar and half dragged him across the lawn.

  Behind him, Shelley called his name. He walked faster, ignored her. He couldn’t listen to her. She was a traitor. He was hanging on by a slender thread of hope as it was.

  If he listened to her, he would have nothing left at all.

  January

  Chapter 16

  Saturday, January 1

  Mitch woke to the smell of bacon and pancakes. He rolled over in bed and looked at the clock. Nine a.m.? That couldn’t be right. He’d waited up until after one a.m. for Katie to come home from a New Year’s Eve party, but he hadn’t expected to sleep half the morning away.

  He crawled out of bed, threw on yesterday’s jeans and flannel shirt, and padded barefoot out to the kitchen.

  “Morning, lazy bones.” Katie flipped a pancake before stirring the pan of scrambled eggs on the stove.

  “What are you doing up so early?”

  “Hey, some of us have work to do.”

  “Yeah, right. Says the girl without a job.”

  “I’ve gotta start packing.”

  “Packing? I thought you weren’t going back until Friday.”

  “I’m not, but I’ve got a lot of stuff to pack.”

  He pulled a plate down from the cupboard and held it out to her. “Hit me.”

  She laughed. “Don’t try to be hip, Papa. It’s not a good look on you.” She flipped a pancake onto his plate and dished half the eggs beside it.

  “Why are you in such a chipper mood this morning? And where’s your brother?” He hadn’t heard Evan come in last night.

  “He’s still sleeping. I’m guessing he might be up around . . . oh, three or four at the earliest.” She tilted her head and studied Mitch. “And how come you waited up for me and not for him?”

  “He’s older.”

  “Not that much older.”

  “He’s a boy.”

  “So?”

  “So, I don’t worry as much about him as I do you.”

  “That’s really not fair at all, you know. And sexist. You need to take sensitivity training.”

  He rolled his eyes at her. “I won’t wait up for you next New Year’s Eve. How’s that.”

  “Promise?”

  “No, I do not promise.”
r />   “That’s because you know you won’t stick to it.”

  “How about we’ll talk about it this time next year?” He popped a bite of eggs in his mouth to keep from laughing.

  She narrowed her eyes and gave a little growl, but she was smiling.

  While they shared the morning paper in companionable silence, she kept him supplied with pancakes until he thought he might pop. He tried not to think about how quiet this house would be again after the kids went back to school.

  Katie seemed to sense his melancholy and heaved a sigh too immense for his little girl.

  He looked up from the sports page. “You okay?”

  “Are you going to be okay? After we leave?”

  He was immediately sorry for spoiling her good mood. She’d handled the holidays with such courage, making Christmas Day special by insisting on cooking a big dinner. And bossing him and Evan around. It had ended up being a surprisingly happy day, though they’d shed plenty of tears for Jill.

  The three of them had gone to Colorado the day after Christmas, and seeing Bert’s continued decline, they’d ended up staying almost a week, helping Miriam with the house and some business matters.

  He thought Evan and Katie had actually been relieved to stay in Colorado. And he understood why. Being at home, especially during the holidays, was too much of a reminder that Jill wasn’t there.

  He’d been relieved to stay away, too. For the same reasons. And for different ones.

  He forced a smile and patted her hand. “Don’t you worry about me, little girl. You just go back and enjoy college. And keep your grades up, of course. Don’t forget why you’re there.” He winked, hoping he’d staved off a black cloud.

  But she sighed again. “Dad? Could I . . . have something of Mom’s to take back to school with me? I mean . . . I have stuff you guys got me for my birthday and everything, but is there something that actually belonged to Mom that I could have? Just . . . to remember her by.” She swallowed hard, her voice wavering.