This sort of thing; running away in the dark, where God only knew what waited. If Jolene had been a better mother in the past weeks, they wouldn’t be here, staring out at the cold night, praying. She heard Lulu’s small sob, and she turned.
“She ranned away again,” Lulu wailed.
Opening her arms, Jolene whispered, “Come to me, baby. Let Mommy hold you.”
Lulu’s teary eyes widened. “Really, Mommy?”
Jolene’s voice cracked. “Really.”
Lulu hurled herself forward so hard Mila stumbled sideways. Jolene caught Lulu in her arms and held on tightly, breathing in the familiar little-girl smell of Johnson’s Baby Shampoo and Ivory soap.
She felt Lulu’s sobs, and all she could do to help was hold on tightly, to tell Lulu over and over again that she was safe in Mommy’s arms. Finally, Lulu drew back. Her dark eyes were swimming in tears, and her cheeks were glassy-looking with moisture. “You scared us, Mommy.”
Jolene smoothed the damp hair from Lulu’s face. “I know, Kitten. The war made your mommy a little crazy. I’m going to get better, though.”
“You promise?”
The trust in Lulu’s eyes was a balm to Jolene’s battered spirit. She wanted to say I promise. That was what she would have done in the old days; deflect and pretend. But promises were fragile things, and the future even more so. “I promise I’m going to do everything I can to be the mommy I used to be. But I might need your help. Sometimes if I’m … you know, crazy, you’ll have to just raise your hands and shrug your shoulders and go, ‘That’s my mom.’ Do you think you could do that?”
Lulu raised her small pink palms and shrugged and said, “That’s my mom.”
“Perfect,” Jolene said, her smile unsteady.
Then Carl and Michael emerged from the darkness across the street and appeared in the driveway, walking slowly toward them. Betsy and Seth weren’t with them.
“Where is she?” Lulu said.
Jolene’s fear kicked up a notch, edged toward panic. She kissed Lulu and handed her back to Mila, “Will you put her to bed, Mila? Please?”
Mila nodded. Taking Lulu, she carried the little girl back into the house. The screen door banged shut behind her.
Jolene met the men at the end of the porch.
“They weren’t there,” Carl said. “There was no sign that they’d been there, either.” He looked down at his watch. “It’s ten o’clock. Should we call the police?”
Jolene felt a chill go through her. Betsy was out there, somewhere, in the night, running away from a family that made no sense to her anymore, from a mother who could no longer be trusted. She went to the railing, stared down toward the road. Come back, Betsy. I will explain it all to you, please …
Michael came up beside her, put an arm around her shoulders. She couldn’t help thinking that before all of this, she would have shrugged his comfort away, would have been pacing now, trying to control a situation that wasn’t hers to control. Now, she leaned against him.
How long did they stand there? Long enough for Michael and Carl to call everyone they knew, long enough for Mila to put Lulu to bed and come out to the porch, wrapped in a purple and pink afghan. Long enough to see their friends and family walk over from Carl’s house and stand clustered along the fence line. Long enough to see the red and yellow flash of police lights coming their way.
Jolene saw the bursting bits of color, and she tightened her hold on the railing, freezing cold now, shivering. She was reminded of another night like this, long ago. She’d stood on another porch, all alone, watching her parents drive away. She’d never seen either one of them again.
Tami, bring her back to me.
The police cruiser pulled into the driveway and stopped. The colorful lights snapped off, leaving darkness behind.
Two uniformed officers got out of the car.
Michael tightened his hold on Jolene’s waist. Was he thinking about the night he’d been told about her accident? Hadn’t Ben Lomand come up at night with the news?
The older of the two officers opened a pad of paper. “We’re here about the missing children?”
Missing children.
Jolene gripped the railing so tightly her hands went numb. Think, Jolene. You know Betsy. Where would she be?
She heard the questions being asked and answered beside her; descriptions, names, favorite places, reasons they might have run away. She heard the pause after that question, and then Carl’s halting answer.
“We were having a memorial for Seth’s mom tonight. She was killed in Iraq. Jolene had an … um … flashback and threw herself to the floor. It caused some … I don’t know … upset to the kids, I think. Later, I heard Seth say to Betsy, ‘That picture doesn’t even look like my mom.’ That’s the last time I remember seeing them. It was, maybe, eight thirty or nine. I can’t be sure. There was so much going on.”