Seth walked into the living room, chewing on a Tootsie Pop. Holding a tattered copy of Stranger in a Strange Land, he was wearing tight jeans and high-tops and a ratty Gears of War tee shirt. His black hair was drawn back from his narrow face in one of those samurai knots. “What’s up?”
“Betsy’s not at home,” Carl said. “Michael’s worried.”
“I bet I know where she is,” Seth said.
“Really?” Michael said. “Where?”
Seth tossed his book on the sofa. “Wait here.” He ran past Michael and went outside.
Michael and Lulu followed him down the driveway. Carl grabbed an umbrella and joined them at the mailbox. Seth paused at the street, looked both ways and then crossed, climbing down to the beach.
She’s not supposed to go near the water alone. Rain thumped the umbrella overhead, drowning out the sound of their breathing.
Minutes later—minutes that felt like hours—Seth appeared again, with Betsy beside him. They were climbing up the beach path toward the road. Both of them were soaked.
Michael’s relief was so great he almost fell to his knees. “Betsy, thank God.”
As they neared, he could see how angry his daughter was, and how hurt. “How could you?”
“I’m sorry, Betsy.”
She shoved the wet hair out of her face. “You’re supposed to be here when I get home.”
“I know. I know.”
“I’m never supposed to come home to an empty house.”
“I’m sorry. But I think you’re old enough to come home by yourself.”
“Aaagh!” She pushed past him and stalked into the house, slamming the door shut behind her.
He looked gratefully at Seth. “Thanks, Seth.”
“It’s the big tree by the Harrisons’ dock. She always goes there when she’s upset.”
“Oh. Well. Thanks.” It shamed him that the neighbor kid would know Betsy better than he did. He turned and went into the house. There, he wrapped Lulu in a big towel and put her in front of the TV before he went up to Betsy’s room.
Her back was to him. Rainwater dripped down from her wet hair, darkening her shirt. She was staring out the window. “I’m sorry, Bets. If you had just listened to—”
She spun to face him. “Don’t you get it? I thought you were dead.”
“Oh.” How had he not expected this? Jolene would have known Betsy’s fear and protected against it. Of course Betsy would worry about losing the only parent here. “I’m sorry, Betsy. I screwed up. I won’t do it again. Okay?”
Betsy’s eyes filled with tears. She wiped them away impatiently.
“I’ll always be here for you.”
“Ha.”
Downstairs, the phone rang.
A moment later, Lulu shrieked: “It’s Mommy!”
Betsy pushed past Michael and ran downstairs.
Reluctantly, he followed. This was not good timing for a call.
“Mom,” Betsy said, holding the phone to her ear, looking furious. “Dad wasn’t here when I got home today. He forgot me. If you were here this wouldn’t happen.”
Lulu threw herself at Betsy. “Give it back! I was talking to her—”
Betsy pushed her away. Lulu plopped onto her butt and screamed. “I wanna talk!”
“Betsy,” he said, “let Lulu talk, too.”
Betsy made a face, but let Lulu into the conversation. The two girls sat down together at the table, talking over each other.
Sighing, Michael went into the kitchen and poured himself a drink. Within ten minutes, Betsy was handing him the phone. “She wants to talk to you, Dad. She doesn’t have much time for us. Like always.”
He took the phone and went into the family room, sitting down. “Hey, Jo.”
“Really, Michael? You forgot her?”
“If you want to bitch me out, don’t bother, Jolene. I feel bad enough.”
There was a pause, then, “You scared her, Michael.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
Another pause. “We’re leaving tomorrow,” she said. “For Iraq.”
“Has it been a month already?”
“Yes, Michael.”
In the insanity of the last four weeks, he’d forgotten this date, almost forgotten that she was going to war. He hadn’t really forgotten, of course; the knowledge had been a shadow, rarely glimpsed in the hectic mess of his days. Up until now she’d been safe, so it had been easier to think about himself.