“You’ve kept track of everyone?” Teri said.
“Most everyone.”
“How come I never heard from you?”
“I sent you a card when your son disappeared,” she said, looking up, surprised. It was very nearly a look of accusation, and Teri felt herself immediately fighting off the guilt. “And I called, maybe half a dozen times. I always got your answering machine, though. You never called back.”
Teri remembered those calls now, though only vaguely. There had been literally hundreds and hundreds of calls for several months after Gabe’s disappearance. People offering their condolences. Psychics claiming they’d had a vision. Cranks that seemed to always call in the middle of the night with something sick to say. After a couple of days, she had quit answering the phone, and Michael had taken over the duty of listening to the messages.
“It was a terribly difficult time,” Teri said, guiltily.
“I can’t imagine how horrible it must have been to lose your son like that.”
“I’m sorry I never called you back.”
“It’s all right,” Judy said. “I understood. I just wanted to let you know that my thoughts were with you.”
“That was nice of you.”
She smiled, modestly. “You ever miss the old days?”
“Sometimes,” Teri said. It wasn’t often, though. The music usually brought it back for her, when she’d hear I Ain’t Marching Anymore by Phil Ochs or Here Comes the Sun by Richie Havens or Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell. The world had been a different place then. Time had moved slower. Life had been bigger and brighter, somehow. If she had it all to do over again, she’d do it exactly the same. But she didn’t miss those days, not really, and how odd that seemed.
“I still long for them,” Judy said.
“Do you?”
“I guess what I miss most is the feeling of family we had.”
“Me, too,” Teri said. She thought how crazy the circle of life could be. The little girl she had once been was hardly more than a dream now, another spirit belonging to someone else’s past. And it wasn’t much different when she thought back to those high school and college years, either. The memories were fond, but they were memories pasted in a photo album, and sometimes when you flipped through them, it was hard to recognize yourself. She remembered the sense of family, though. That had never left her.
“What happened to us?” Teri said.
“I don’t know. I guess we changed.”
“It feels like a waste, doesn’t it?”
“Sometimes.”
The young woman and the little girl walked by, on their way out. They paused briefly at a rack near the front window, then the bell rang again and the woman held the door open for her daughter.
“Thanks for coming,” Judy said.
The woman smiled.
The door closed.
Judy pulled out a two-piece jacket dress, black with turquoise, and padded shoulders. She held it up, pressed against her body. “What do you think? Too simple?”
“Not at all.”
“Good. I like simple. But I like elegant, too.” She replaced the outfit and nodded to herself, as if she had finally come to a decision of some sort. “How about if I get you some phone numbers and addresses?”
“The old gang?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll never know how much that would be appreciated.”
“Maybe we could throw a reunion one of these days? What do you think? You think anyone would come?”
“It worked for Woodstock.”
Judy smiled. “Yeah, I guess it did, didn’t it? I’ll be right back. Just give me a second. My address book’s on the desk.”
“No rush.” Teri wandered across the room and browsed through a rack of sweat suits, finding a pink shirt with kittens on it and a matching plaid design that went great with gray sweat pants. It came in a medium or a large junior. She took out the large and held it up, thinking it looked better than anything she had bought for herself in a long, long time. The price was a very reasonable thirty-five dollars. It would be the least she could do, she thought, after all the help Judy had offered.
Then her pager went off.
Walt had given it to her this morning on his way out the door. He had picked it up over a year ago, he said, so his clients could get hold of him on the spur of the moment. This was only the second time he had actually used it, though.
Teri glanced down at the strange vibration at her hip. The phone number where Walt was calling from was listed at the top of the black box. It wasn’t a familiar number. She turned the pager off, and carried the outfit she had chosen over to the cash register.
Judy came back a moment later with her address book waving in one hand. “I never realized how many of us came up from the Bay Area. Did you know there were almost thirty of us?”
“No,” Teri said, surprised at the number. It had never felt like that large of a group. Now, looking back, she found it rather amazing that they all got along as well as they did. If the years had taught her anything, they had taught her that relationships were infinitely more complicated than you ever imagined they were.
“Listen, Judy, I’ve got a page. I was wondering if you had a phone I could use?”
“Oh, sure. It’s in the back, right around the corner, on your right.” Judy handed her the address book. “Here, why don’t you take this with you? There’s paper and pencils in the upper right hand drawer of the desk. Go ahead and pull out whatever names and addresses you need.”
“You’re a blessing, Judy. And I want that outfit on the counter.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to. It’s a nice outfit, especially the kittens on the shirt.”
In the back, Teri pulled out a chair and sat down at the desk. She dialed the number on the pager, and waited for someone to pick up the other end.
“Walt’s Fake and Bake. We fake it, you bake it.”
“You better have something more than that to say.”
“Well, if it isn’t little Miss Sunshine.”
“Walt, I thought you were only going to page me if it was something important?”
“This is important. I needed to make sure the pager was working.”
“Well, where are you?”
“In a phone booth across the street from the clinic. Our Dr. Childs, being the true conscientious professional that he is, has been conducting business as usual all morning.”
“Nothing new then, huh?”
“Nope. Sorry. How ’bout on your end?”
Teri picked up the address book and turned it over in her hands. “I’m still at the boutique. Judy’s given me a good list of phone numbers, though. I think I’ll head back to the apartment and call from there.”
“No more fears about the place being bugged?”
“No, I think you were probably right. They got Gabe. That’s who they really wanted.”
“We’re going to find him this time, Teri.”
“God, I hope you’re right.”
“And it isn’t going to take ten years, I promise.”
[93]
Michael slept in late, until almost ten, before he finally talked himself out of bed and into the shower. It was a long time before the water turned warm. The shower was short and perfunctory. Afterward, fully awake, he went across the street to have breakfast at a little coffee shop called Molly’s.
On his way, it was everything he could do not to look across the lot at the dark blue Ford. He listened intently for the sound of the engine starting up, and then for the sound of the tires against the blacktop as the car inched its way along just a few short yards behind him. But those sounds never came, and it wasn’t until he was sitting in a booth in the coffee shop that the Ford finally pulled out of the motel lot and parked half-a-block down the street, just at the edge of his line of sight.