Now, adult Jason pulled into the middle school parking lot, found a space, and killed the engine. Ree stirred in the back, blinking awake with that internal monitor kids had that registered vehicles stopping. She’d need a moment or two, so he flipped down the Volvo’s sun visor and contemplated his expression in the vanity mirror.
His sunken eyes were rimmed with dark shadows. He’d forgotten about shaving, and his thick beard was rapidly overtaking his gaunt face. He looked weary, worn around the edges. But he also looked rough, perhaps even dangerous, the kind of man who might have a hot temper and secretly beat his wife and kid.
He tried various positions with his lips, screwing up his features this way and that. Grieving husband, he reminded himself. Grieving husband.
His mother was right-he could rearrange his entire face, and his eyes still gave him away. He looked like a man with a thousand-yard stare.
He’d keep his head down, he decided. Bowed with grief. It was the best he could do.
In the back, Ree finally yawned, stretching out her arms and legs. She looked at him, then looked at Mr. Smith, then at the scene outside her window.
She recognized the building and perked up immediately. “Is Mommy here? Are we picking up Mommy?”
He winced, choosing his words carefully. “Do you remember how the police sent out officers to help us find Mr. Smith?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, we’re going to do the same thing for Mommy. The police are sending officers to look for her, but also, our friends want to help. So we’re going to talk to Mommy’s friends and see if they can help us find her. Just like we did with Mr. Smith.”
“Mr. Smith came home,” Ree said.
“Exactly. And with any luck, Mommy will come home, too.”
Ree nodded, seemed content. It was the first real discussion they’d had regarding Sandy’s disappearance, and it went about as well as he could expect. Of course, children cycled in and out of strong emotions. At the moment, Ree was still exhausted from the morning’s ordeal and eager to be pacified. Later, when the grief and rage returned…
He got out of the car, unloaded Ree. They left Mr. Smith behind with the same
They hit the front admin office, Jason with his head bowed, Ree clutching Lil’ Bunny.
“Mr. Jones!” Adele, the school secretary, greeted them immediately. The rush of sympathy in her voice, the pitying look she bestowed upon Ree hit him in the solar plexus, and for a moment, he stood there, honestly stunned, blinking at the rush of moisture in his eyes. He didn’t have to pretend anything, because at that precise moment, for the first time, Sandy’s disappearance became real. She was gone, and he was the grieving husband, alone with his bewildered kid.
His knees wobbled. He almost went down, in the middle of his wife’s school, looking at the linoleum she trod upon five days a week, the walls she gazed at five days a week, the front desk she passed by five days a week.
No one had offered him any sympathy. Up until this point, it had all been about gamesmanship with the police, his own employer, the pervert down the street. Now, here was Adele, coming around the counter to give him a quick pat on the back while wrapping his daughter in a great big hug. And he decided at that moment, in his typical way, that he hated Adele the school secretary. Her sympathy burned. He’d take gamesmanship any day of the week.
“I’m sure Phil would love to speak with you.” Adele was chattering away, referring to the school principal. “He’s in a meeting at the moment-why, the phone has been ringing off the hook since this morning’s announcement. We’ve hired a grief counselor, of course, and you know all of the staff wants to help. We’re having a special meeting at four to discuss organizing search efforts for tomorrow. Phil thought we could stage everything out of the gymnasium, get other locals coming in to assist-”
Adele broke off abruptly, seeming to realize she might be saying too much in front of the child. She had the good grace to blush, then gave Ree another bolstering hug.
“Would you like to wait?” the secretary asked him kindly. “I can get you some coffee or water. Maybe some crayons for Ree?”
“Actually, I was wondering if I could swing by Mrs. Lizbet’s classroom first. Just for a minute, if you don’t mind…”
“Of course, of course. Second period lunch break will be starting in about three minutes. I’m sure she’d be willing to take time for you.”
Jason managed a quick smile of gratitude, then held out his hand for Ree. She went with him down the hall. Sure enough, a bell rang and the space began to fill with students, pouring out from various classrooms. The sudden commotion distracted Ree, saving him from all the questions he was sure she now had.
They took a right turn down past a row of blue-painted lockers, then a left down a bright orange row. Elizabeth Reyes, aka Mrs. Lizbet, taught seventh grade social studies, her classroom at the very end of the hall. Early fifties, gracefully thin, with long silver-streaked hair generally wound into a thick knot, she was still erasing the chalkboard when he and Ree walked in.
“Mrs. Lizbet!” Ree cried, and ran over immediately for a hug.
Mrs. Lizbet returned the embrace, kneeling down so she and Ree would be at eye level. “Ree-Ree! How are you, sweetheart?”
“Good,” Ree replied shyly, because even at the age of four, she already understood that was the only answer one gave in polite society.
“Hey, who is this?”
“Lil’ Bunny.”
“Hi, Lil’ Bunny. Nice dress!”
Ree giggled and leaned into Mrs. Lizbet again, wrapping her arms around the woman’s waist. It wasn’t like Ree to be so affectionate with other adults, and Jason could see in his daughter’s eyes her longing for her mother, for the familiar comfort of a female embrace. Mrs. Lizbet met his gaze above Ree’s head, and he tried not to flinch at her steady appraisal. She was granting him neutral status, it appeared, a step above the police’s immediate distrust, a step below Adele’s sympathetic rush.
“Sweetheart,” Mrs. Lizbet said now, pulling back from Ree, “do you remember Jenna Hill, from the basketball team? Well, I happen to know this is Jenna’s lunch period, and she’s been dying for someone to practice with. What do you think? Can you shoot some hoops?”
Ree’s eyes lit up. She nodded her head vigorously.
Mrs. Lizbet held out her hand. “All right, come with me, child. I’ll take you to Jenna and you can practice together. Your father and I need just a minute, then we’ll join you there.”
It was a gracious way of buying time for frank conversation, and Jason was impressed.
His daughter followed Mrs. Lizbet toward the door, balking only at the last moment. He watched the emotions play out over her face. Her need to be with him, her only anchor in a rapidly disintegrating world, warring with her desire to play with Jenna, a bona fide basketball player, which ranked up there with rock star in a four-year-old’s universe.
Then Ree squared her little shoulders and headed with Mrs. Lizbet down the hall. Jason was left alone in the classroom, already missing Ree ten times more than she could ever miss him, and wondering why he had to be so miswired that hatred fortified him, while love cut him to the bone.
Elizabeth Reyes had served as Sandy’s instructor last year and her mentor this year. Over that time frame, Jason supposed that he had met her at least a dozen times. Him bringing Ree to join Sandy for the occasional lunch. Drop-offs or pickups after school. He would wave, Elizabeth would wave. So many meetings and yet he was
