“Don’t you worry,” James says. “We’ll find her. You trust me, don’t you?”
“Most definitely,” she says, sliding a foot to the right so the light shining through the front window catches her hair. If it glows and her lips shine, James will feel better.
Because he’s so very glad Grace is unharmed, James smiles. The whole drive home he probably imagined what his life would be like without Grace and his baby. The thought surely frightened him, but seeing Grace now, he is reassured life works out for the best. Mother is right. James doesn’t want to hear the truth and Grace can never tell.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The moment the twins have left the house and Bill has closed the front door behind them, Julia kicks off her shoes, hikes her skirt over her knees, and runs up the steps two at a time, not caring that she’ll snag her nylons. Once upstairs, she throws open the girls’ bedroom door, yanks Arie’s suitcase from under her bed, and flings it into the center of her mattress.
“Don’t say a word,” she says when Bill enters the room. She pulls open the dresser’s top drawer, scoops an armful of undergarments and socks and flings them into the open suitcase. “They’re going back to my mother’s.”
Bill moves in front of the dresser, not allowing Julia to open the next drawer. “Your mother is not there, remember?”
Dropping one shoulder, Julia rams it into Bill’s side, trying to move him. He crosses his arms. “I’m not budging, and the girls are not leaving,” he says, and once Julia begins to simmer down, he rests his hands on her shoulders.
“Can you imagine what might have happened?” Julia says. Edging away from Bill, she flips the suitcase closed and drops onto the bed. Her skirt hugs her thighs well above her knees from her trek up the stairs. She tugs and wiggles until she has yanked it back into place. “Who on God’s green earth fires a rifle at two young girls?”
“You know he wasn’t firing at them.” Bill sits next to Julia but not so close as to let their legs touch. He always knows when best to keep his distance.
“I know no such thing,” Julia says. “You didn’t hear him caterwauling the other day.”
“I’ll speak to the girls,” Bill says, patting Julia’s hand. “We should make sure they keep clear of Orin for a while. But I’d guess the fright they got will do the best job of keeping them close to home.”
Julia slides off the bed, drops to her knees in front of Bill, and takes his hands in hers. “That’s not enough,” she says. “They’re going to be our responsibility one day. You know they’re getting to be too much for my mother. If not now, then soon enough.”
“Yes,” Bill says. “And I’ll be happy to have them.”
“We need to move,” she says. “Right now. Sell this house and move. Our own neighbors are firing on us.”
Bill shakes his head. “You’re overreacting.”
“Why shouldn’t we move?” Julia lifts up and rests her hands on Bill’s chest. “We’ll never be comfortable having a family here. And what about a baby? I know you wouldn’t want to bring a baby into this neighborhood. It’s not the same as it used to be. Even after Elizabeth finds her way back…”
“This is no time to think about a baby.”
“It’s the perfect time,” Julia says “Our baby and Grace’s, growing up together. Perfect. No matter where we live, it’ll be wonderful. We could adopt like Jerry and Betty. She’s not admitting it, but I know that’s what they did. We could go to Kansas City. The train, it’ll take us straight into Union Station. You were a good father to Maryanne. Why don’t you want that again? Did you not love her?”
“What did you say to me?”
Bill doesn’t make a motion toward her, doesn’t lift a hand or make a fist, but something in the room shifts and it feels as if he wants to slap her.
“There has to be some reason,” Julia says, leaning back and resting on her knees again. “Is that it? Did you not love Maryanne?”
“You think I didn’t love our daughter?”
“Is it me? Do you think I wouldn’t be a good mother? Do you think I’m to blame for what’s happened to Elizabeth too? That I’m unfit?”
“I think Elizabeth Symanski won’t ever come home,” he says. “Everybody knows it and nobody’s saying it. I’ve been up and down Woodward, me and others, more times than I can count. We’ve been through every neighborhood within five miles. We’ve talked to every employee in every store, in every restaurant, in every bar. We’ve been through every park and talked to every neighbor. We’ve asked them all, Julia, and not a single person remembers seeing her that day.”
“Stop,” Julia says. “You stop saying that.”
“You know how Elizabeth walks. She’d run into folks, people would notice. But no one, Julia. No one even thought they might have seen her. We have list after list of every person we’ve talked to. And not a single one. She didn’t wander away. She didn’t walk down the streets on her own. Someone took her, Julia. Took her away, and that’s why no one has seen her. Probably swept her up in a car and drove off. If not right here on Alder, then somewhere close. If she’d have wandered off like before, someone would have seen her. Someone would remember. But one thing’s for damned sure. Bringing a baby into this house won’t bring her back.”
“Of course she’ll come home. She’ll find her way. You’ll keep looking and you’ll find her.”
Bill shakes his head. “She’s gone, Julia. And I hate to think what became of her.”
“Don’t you say that. Don’t you dare say that.”
“Nobody is blaming you, Julia. You’re doing that to yourself. But now is the time to be thinking about the girls. Time we think about keeping them safe.”
“And you think I don’t want that?”
“They’re most important now. Those girls and you too.” Bill pushes away Julia’s hands and stands. “It’s no time to think about bringing a baby into this house. Not my own, and damned sure not one born of another man.”
Malina waves a hand overhead and walks toward Mr. Herze’s car as he climbs inside. Across the street, the twins are backing up the sidewalk leading to Julia’s porch. It doesn’t seem possible that, even from this distance, Malina can smell Mr. Herze’s girl. The odor must have leaked from inside his car when he opened the door. Whether or not it’s Malina’s imagination, eventually the smell will come home again with Mr. Herze because his girl is not the dead one.
“Won’t you come inside for a bite to eat?” she calls out yet again.
Mr. Herze’s large blue sedan backs down the driveway and into the street. One long arm reaches out the driver’s-side window and waves at the girls. Malina steps over her hedge of snapdragons, all of them wilting with the heavy watering she gave them this morning. She teeters on one heel, nearly twisting an ankle before she marches off the curb and into the street.
“Hurry home,” she shouts. “I’m planning a lovely roast tonight. Hurry home.”
Standing in the middle of the street, Mr. Herze’s sedan having reached the end of Alder Avenue, where it will idle at the stop sign before turning right, Malina stares at Julia’s house and at the twins standing in the front yard. Such a thin line between girls and young women. Malina has seen it before, the subtle pleasantries that morph so slowly into something else that others don’t recognize it, won’t recognize it. They think Mr. Herze is a kind man, giving, thoughtful-charming, even. The other girls, women, didn’t have the twins’ good fortune. These girls will leave in a few short weeks, possibly sooner. By now, they’ve already been here several days. Soon they’ll be gone. It’s nothing to worry about.
“You girls,” Malina shouts.
Together, the girls look Malina’s way.
“Do you see these flowers?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they say together, one speaking over the other.