'Well, here you are now. I have to get some blood from you.'
'Why blood for a twisted ankle?'
'Don't know. The doctor ordered it.'
'You'll be gentle?'
She grinned again. And stuck the hell out of me.
Within a year, we were married.
I walked through the Hilton lobby and out to the deck overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. Laura was sitting at a table, a cup of coffee and a glass of water in front of her. A large banyan tree provided shade, and lines of twine were strung across the area to discourage the gulls from joining the guests for meals. The sun was behind us, rising over the bay, and a soft morning glow suffused the air. The scent of the sea surrounded us. She sat quietly, staring out at the turquoise water. She was not aware of me.
I stood for a moment, drinking her in, remembering. She'd left me ten years before, but I couldn't see any changes in her. She was still beautiful, her dark hair swept back over her ears. Just the way I liked it. Did she do that for me this morning? She was wearing a pink tank top and white shorts. Her feet were in sandals, toenails painted pink, her ankles crossed under the table.
Her face was still unlined, except for a few laugh wrinkles at the edges of her eyes. She was staring out to sea, her face locked in a grimace. A glint of sun slipped through the banyan branches and reflected off her water glass. She raised the coffee cup to her lips.
She put it down without taking a swallow. She turned toward me, as if some silent signal had hinted at my presence. She smiled and melted my heart. She stood, arms out, as I strode toward her. She wrapped me in an embrace that was more than friendly. Her hair was redolent of lilacs, and the scent of vanilla tickled my nose. She still used the same shampoo and body lotion.
'I've missed you,' she whispered. 'More than I should.'
'Me too,' I said, choking back a wave of emotion, wary of saying more.
She stood back, her arms still on my shoulders. She had a quizzical look on her face, and a smile played on her lips.
'You don't have any gray,' she said. 'Your hair's still dark.'
'Good genes.'
We parted, and she said, 'I ordered you coffee.'
We sat, and the waiter arrived with my drink.
'I need help, Matt,' she said, without preamble. 'My stepdaughter Peggy is missing.'
Laura had left me with good reason. I had been too caught up in being a lawyer and an occasional drunk to give her the family she wanted. She'd met a good man, a widower with two children, and she had married him and moved to Atlanta.
I'd spent the first part of my life doing what I thought I was supposed to do. The military, college, law school, the practice, politics, the climb up the ladder of success. It didn't work out. I was unhappy and drinking too much. I couldn't quite figure out where I was supposed to be in the world. Laura was unhappier than I knew, and after she left, my life spiraled downhill faster than a falling meteor.
I'd been a good lawyer, a trial lawyer, a believer in the system and the nobility of my profession. I worked hard and cared about my clients. I told them the truth, and never took on a case just for the fee. If a client's cause was unwinnable, I told him so at the beginning; told him he didn't need to throw away money on a lawyer who couldn't help him. And I refused the case.
The profession changed. Money became the Holy Grail. The law became a business, and I hated it. I stayed in it because I didn't know anything else. Then Laura left and a fog of despair settled over me like a dark night. There were days when I couldn't find my way through the void.
Laura took nothing from our marriage but my heart. I kept working for a couple of years, trying to salvage a career I no longer cared about, and then said the hell with it. I sold everything I had and moved to Longboat Key. I had enough money to live a modest life without working.
I was enjoying myself. I'd made a lot of friends, and occasionally I used my legal skills to help out someone who needed a good lawyer. I never charged any fees. I didn't need the money as much as the people I helped did.
'Tell me about it,' I said.
'She came to Sarasota on spring break, and we haven't heard a word from her since.'
'How long?'
'Three weeks.'
'Maybe she's just not communicating.'
'No. She's had a bad time lately, but she always checks in with her father. She wouldn't just fail to call.'
'Her cell phone?'
'It goes straight to voice mail, and now we're getting a recording telling us that her box is full. She's not returning anyone's calls.'
'Have you talked to the police?'
'They won't do anything. She's eighteen and is considered an adult. Unless I have some proof that she's been kidnapped or something, the law isn't interested.'
'What can I do?'
'I don't know. You're a lawyer. You know this area, know people. Maybe you can help find her.'
'I don't practice anymore.'
'I know. I keep up with you. Jock and I talk.'
I was surprised. Jock Algren was my oldest friend, and I didn't know he'd maintained contact with Laura after the divorce. I felt a little betrayed.
'I didn't know that,' I said.
'Don't be angry. I call him sometimes when I'm missing you a lot. That's all.'
'You miss me?'
'I've always loved you. I've always wondered if we could have made it work if I'd been a little tougher.'
'No, you did the right thing. I'd still be in Orlando drinking myself to death if you hadn't left. It took losing you to get my life back on track. Are you happy?'
'Yes. I love Jeff. He's been a great husband. We have a good life, but that doesn't mean I have to stop loving you.'
'I take it you're talking platonic love here.'
She laughed. 'Not really, but that's the way it'll be. I'm a one-man woman.'
'I know. Damn.'
She laughed again, and reached out and touched my hand. 'We'll always have Paris,' she said.
I laughed now. We must have seen Casablanca a hundred times, and she still couldn't get the accent right.
We ate breakfast, chatting and enjoying the soft breeze off the Gulf. She told me about Peggy, a troubled teen who had dropped out of the University of Georgia after her first semester. She moved into a house near the campus in Athens with several other disaffected former students. Her father had pleaded with Peggy to come home to Atlanta until she was ready for college, but the girl was staying put. Laura and Jeffsuspected that Peggy had gotten mired in the drug culture that often grows up around college campuses, but they were powerless to do anything about it.
Peggy was not completely lost to that underworld culture, and she called home every Sunday to chat with her family. She had never missed a week, until she'd come to Sarasota for spring break.
Laura sighed. 'We didn't think too much about it the first Sunday she missed calling,' she said, 'but after the second week we tried to track her down.'
'Did you check out the house in Athens?'
'That's the first place we went. There were some kids living there, but they told us Peggy had moved out. They didn't know where she'd gone.'
'Do you know where she was staying in Sarasota?'
'No. She told us she would be at the beach, but that's all.'
'So, you don't even know if it was a hotel or a rented condo.'
