When the volunteer sign-ups had circulated months earlier, Max had left his name off the sheet, imagining instead a long motorcycle ride out west. Maybe he’d spend an entire month traveling, even driving down to Mexico. Instead, when he’d learned of the missing kids, the trip left his brain as if it had never been there at all. He’d only remembered it that afternoon when he recalled his reason for not volunteering.
“Kim,” he called.
She looked up from the table where she carefully filled Dixie cups with strawberry lemonade.
Martha, director of Ellie’s House, stood beside her. When she saw Max, she offered him a wave and nodded at Joan, who slipped from behind the table and walked over to Max.
He wanted to hug her, but instead took both her hands in his and squeezed. “You look beautiful,” he told her.
She blushed and reached self-consciously to the hem of her green t-shirt, which read Safe Haven Vet Clinic. When she glanced at the shirt, her eyes lit up, and she pointed at the words.
“I got a job today!” she announced, grinning.
“At Safe Haven? That’s great. I took Frankie there to sacrifice his manhood. He still hasn’t forgiven me.”
She laughed. “Is Frankie your dog?”
“My cat’s full name is Frankenstein Wolfenstein, and now that I say it out loud, I realize I’m one of those dreadful cat parents who ruined his life by giving him a name destined to be the focus of bullies everywhere.”
“Frankenstein Wolfenstein,” she repeated, still laughing. “It has a nice ring to it.”
“Especially if you’re an emperor during the renaissance period. These days, I’m not sure it makes the cut. But enough about Frankenstein Wolfenstein. How do you like the Summer Shindig?” he asked.
He gestured at the park emblazoned with twinkle lights, though the sun had not yet set. Picnic tables held potted daisies. Kids played tag while parents stood around drinking lemonade and chatting.
“I love it. We never had anything like this in Mesick. It’s as if I’ve stepped into another world.”
“New life, new world,” he told her.
“Yeah.” She touched her face where the bruise had nearly disappeared.
“Can I grab you a drink? I have it on good authority that the table over there,” he pointed to a table manned by his friend Randy from the martial arts studio, “has spiked cider.”
“Okay, sure,” she said, running nervous fingers through her long auburn hair.
“Here,” he said, grabbing two lawn chairs. “Hold our seats.”
She sat down, crossing and then uncrossing her legs.
“Randy Bo-Bandy, I need some of the good stuff.”
“Max!” Randy high-fived him across the table. “Do tell,” he said, winking and nodding his head at Kim.
Max smiled and shook his head. “That’s Kim Phillips. She’s new in town. And we’re just friends.”
Randy arched an eyebrow and shook his head disbelievingly.
“Sure you are.” Randy handed him two cups of cider with large black x-marks on the side. “The parents insisted I mark the cups this year. Apparently last year a few pre-teens were acting rather giggly after their cider.”
Max took a sip. “Where are your wife and kiddos?”
Randy gestured with his ladle toward the bonfire where his wife, Greta, helped their twin boys put marshmallows on sticks. “They’re middle schoolers next year, Max. Better watch out.”
Max laughed and walked away. “Thanks, Randy,” he called over his shoulder.
When he returned to Kim, he saw her brush at her face where a sparkle of fresh tears faded from her eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asked, looking beyond her to where a group of kids held sparklers.
One of their fathers walked amongst them with a lighter, lighting the tips. The sparklers erupted, shooting sparks into the dusky evening sky. They chased each other around the fire, their sparklers held out like magic wands.
“My son should be there,” she said. “He should be playing with sparklers and eating too many roasted marshmallows. His biggest worry should be whether he’ll make the soccer team next year.”
“I’m sorry, Kim. I’m sorry I haven’t found out more.”
“Max,” she turned to face him. Her eyes reflected the flames in the growing bonfire. “You’ve changed my life. I don’t expect you to find Nicholas. I don’t even know if we can find him. Please,” she put her hand on his forearm. “Please know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done.”
A tall slender woman with short golden hair that framed her face walked into the park. She wore a figure-hugging black dress and black sandals. It was an outfit completely unsuitable for a park bonfire and cookout, but it made heads turned. Within minutes she had a group of men around her, laughing too loudly at her jokes.
Kim glanced at the woman and back to Max. “Is it just me or does that woman keep staring at you?”
Max didn’t have to turn around to know who Kim was referring to. He sighed and looked skyward. “Sheila Hopkins. I dated her for about six months last year.”
“She’s very pretty,” Kim said, tugging her t-shirt lower. She wore jean shorts and faded tennis shoes.
Kim looked beautiful. She was an entirely different kind of beautiful than Sheila, with her made-up face and tanned, aerobicized body.
“She is pretty,” Max agreed. “Not so much on the inside, though.”
Kim frowned and tilted her head to the side. “She must be very funny,” she added, as the man beside her let out a bellow of laughter and slapped his leg.
Max tried not to roll his eyes. He’d witnessed Sheila’s effect on men. Funny was not how he would describe her. Disarming, maybe. She said things to shock people, to knock them off kilter.
“Why did you break up? Is that too personal?” Kim asked, taking a drink of her cider. She balanced the cup on her knee.
“It’s no great story. After dating a few months, I realized we weren’t compatible. Sheila’s the type of woman who needs undivided attention. She can’t share. If I stayed after school to grade papers or went for a solo motorcycle ride, I’d get the silent treatment for days. I had the feeling she wanted a man she could put on a shelf and take down when it suited her. The rest of the time he needed to sit on the shelf and admire her from across the room.”
Kim smiled.
“Sounds like a sad life for the man on the shelf.”
“Exactly,” Max agreed. “And my mom didn’t like her. A bad review from Maria Wolfenstein is the kiss of death in our family.”
Kim chuckled. “Why didn’t your mom like her?”
Max glanced back at the group, and Sheila caught his eye, trying to hold it, but he swiveled back around to Kim.
“She sensed that she was… fake. I never probed much into it. By the time my mom told me her feelings, I’d already started to distance myself. She said Sheila needed a good tragedy, some heartache to add depth to her character. It’s a strange thing to say, but it made sense to me. I wanted to meet the person beneath the pretty exterior.
“In a way, the mystery is what drew me to her. I kept waiting for the big reveal. Everyone has a secret, right? But nope, no skeletons ever leapt out of the closet, unless you count the jealousy and pettiness.”
Kim rubbed her arms. “Your mom must love me then; tragedy is my life’s motto.”
“Was. Tragedy was Joan’s life motto. Kim’s is triumph.”
“Triumph,” Kim said. “That sounds like a powerful word. I feel like I should do something more to complete the transition from Joan to Kim.”
Max bent down and picked up her purse. “Do you mind?” he asked.
She shook her head and watched, perplexed as he rifled through her bag.