He squeezed her. “That could be hard on you. I know a girl who
…”
“What?”
“Never mind. Are you gonna tell your mom about this?”
“I won’t have to. She’ll know. But we’ll never talk about it. She doesn’t want to disown me.”
“God, Pearl!”
“I’m gonna have the baby, Cody. Don’t try talking me out of it.”
“I wouldn’t do that. It’s your choice.”
“You don’t have to worry.”
“About what?”
“Child support, whatever. I’m gonna put it up for adoption. Not even gonna look at it.”
“You might change your mind about that,” Cody had said.
But she didn’t. The next week she saw him and the guys off to California in the beat-to-hell Volkswagen bus they’d found somewhere. Somebody had painted yellow stars all over the thing. She could see it now. And hear it. And feel the tug of the parting. Cody…
“Pearl?” The woman’s voice. Her daughter’s. The bittersweet past was gone.
“Yeah?”
“You do believe me, don’t you?”
I believe you. I dreamed about you. I searched for you during the first few years of your life. When I look at you, every part of me believes you.
“Yeah. I think so. How’d you find me?”
“I’ve been looking for you off and on. Finally came across you on the Internet. ’Least I thought it was you. It seemed like you. Then I saw you on campus with that other cop.”
“Quinn.”
“Whatever. I figured you were investigating the Macy Collins murder. So I asked around. Learned it was you. I decided to find and follow you.”
“Why?”
“Curiosity, I guess.”
“You been curious about your father?”
“Not for a while. He died fifteen years ago in a nightclub fire in Holland, along with a dozen other people. He was there playing music. I never met him.”
Pearl wasn’t prepared for the way her heart dropped. She began to sweat and felt dizzy.
“You okay?” the woman asked.
Pearl straightened up. I’m not okay. You dropped a nuclear bomb on me. I feel sick. “Yeah. Listen, what’s your name?”
“Juditha Jason. People call me Jody.”
“Juditha…?”
“I think somebody wrote my name down with a flourish.”
“And you’re a student at Waycliffe?”
“Studying law.” She grinned. “You find ’em, I put ’em away.”
“Lame,” Pearl said, dabbing perspiration off her forehead with the back of her hand.
“Yeah.”
“Er, Jody? Your time growing up? I mean…”
Jody smiled. Pearl saw Cody and almost keeled over. “It was good. I loved the Jasons. They loved me.” The smile widened. “You did right by me. The right thing.”
“Are they…?”
“Both gone now. Mom of breast cancer two years ago. Dad had a stroke six months later.”
Mom… Dad… Would Pearl ever get her mind around this? “I’m sorry, Jody.”
Jody gave a sad smile. “Thanks. And thanks for giving me my time with them.”
Pearl took a deep breath and felt better, as if she’d been carrying around a weight most of her life and it had been lifted, though in truth she’d outlived the guilt she’d felt for putting Jody up for adoption. Yet here, along with surprise and joy was-not guilt, but something like guilt. She hadn’t even seen her daughter before the Jason family had obtained her. Of course Pearl hadn’t known their names. Or her baby’s. Nobody knew anybody then. The agency wanted to keep it that way. It had made sense to Pearl then. Still did.
For a few seconds she felt a deep anger directed at Jody. Then it passed. What had the girl done other than grow up well and search for her mother and father? She’d found her father. At least his memory.
And now… what? Could all this… disruption… be true?
Pearl looked hard at Jody, who grinned and shrugged her shoulders to great effect but without much movement. The way Pearl shrugged her shoulders.
“We need to talk,” Jody said.
“One of us was bound to say that.”
“It figured I’d be the one.”
“I know a quiet place near here,” Pearl said.
She touched Jody’s elbow lightly to lead her out of the passageway, and found that she couldn’t release the elbow. She couldn’t. Her legs were numb and weak. Jody could feel her trembling and moved closer to support her. The two women hugged, and both began to sob.
God, Pearl hated this!
30
D eena was skating fast with a tray full of food. Hamburgers, mostly. The famous (so the restaurant claimed) Roller Burger. There were two beers on the tray, a small egg cream, and two orders of fried onion rings. She didn’t see Rolf, one of the busboys, with his tray full of plates and stacked cups, speeding toward the kitchen.
“Hey!” a man at one of the tables yelled, seeing the imminent collision.
Both Deena and Rolf turned their heads to look at him, which is why they collided with such force.
Deena was sure she’d blacked out for a moment. Her back hurt, just below her shoulder blades. And her head was throbbing. When she opened her eyes she was looking up at one of the slowly revolving ceiling fans. There was also a circle of faces above her, staring at her. Most of the faces wore concerned expressions. She caught two of the men and one of the women obviously enjoying her pain and embarrassment.
That was when she felt the real pain. Her right ankle sent spasms of agony up her leg.
“Could be sprained,” she heard a man’s voice say.
“It’s not sprained,” Deena said. If she could get upright, the pain might go away. She might not lose her job. “I’m telling you, it doesn’t hurt.”
“It’s gotta hurt, Deena,” her boss said, though she couldn’t see him.
“Gimme a chance!”
Hands reached for her, levitated her, and set her on her skates.
And the pain did go away. Her ankle felt numb, though. One by one the hands removed themselves from her arms and shoulders.
She stood still for a moment, and then attempted to take a step.
Pain ran like electricity up her leg and she heard herself scream. She landed hard on her ass and sat leaning back on her elbows. The woman who’d been enjoying her pain was grinning at her now.
I’ll remember you, bitch.
“Call nine-one-one,” Deena heard her boss tell someone.
“Hey! What about me? I’m hurt, too.” It was Rolf, the busboy. Deena looked over at him. He was lying among a mass of broken plates and cups, but she knew he wasn’t really hurt. He was making a joke of it.
“If we saw bone sticking out of your leg like Deena’s,” a woman said, “we’d take you more seriously.”
Deena’s stomach lurched. She looked down at her ankle. Looked away.
