The Last Time She Saw Him (4 page)

Finally alone, I rest my elbows on my knees and allow a single tear to slip free. I watch it fall to the ground and make a tiny puddle in the dirt. I pick up a stick, mix my tear into the earth, and trace Ben’s name.

CHAPTER 3

D
avid leaves for the city, and I call my best friend, Kim, for some much-needed company. Kim was married to Ken, one of the partners in David’s firm. Our friendship withstood their divorce, which, although Kim never confirmed this, was probably caused by her inability to have children. Kim got the big country estate near the lake house in the generous divorce deal, and Ken got a new trophy wife, whom he subsequently knocked up on their honeymoon.

Kim is always late, so I gather up the boys to enjoy the last few hours of daylight down by the lake. I dip Will’s feet in the shallow end and chase after him as he tears ahead to reach Logan, who is tossing stones with a steady hand across the shimmering lake’s surface.

“Sorry about the concert tonight,” I say. “I know your daddy is going to try and do something special for you next weekend.”

“He already told me. He’s going to get box seats for the Tigers game.”

The fine art of bribing a child to get your way
, I think to myself. I hold my tongue and give Logan a tight smile instead.

“Lo Lo!” Will cries, trying to get his big brother’s attention.

“Check that out,” Logan says proudly as his rock skips four times across the lake. “It’s all about the smoothness of the rock and the skill of the thrower.”

“Again, Lo Lo!” Will begs. He lets out a high-pitched squeal of delight every time Logan tosses another rock across the water. I rest my face against the back of his blond head and breathe deeply, taking in all the wonderful smells that are Will.

The quiet solitude of the lake is interrupted by the snap of gravel under tires as Kim’s silver Volvo pulls into the driveway. Kim eases out of the car and gives us a big wave, looking like a 1950s screen siren sporting a pair of large round sunglasses, a matching floral sheaf dress and cardigan, and a scarf tied in a perfect knot around her neck. Kim’s impeccable style and grace always reminds me of a modern-day Grace Kelly.

“Hello, young men!” Kim calls out to Logan and Will. “I swear you both have grown an inch since last week.”

“What’s in the basket?” Logan asks.

“Chocolate éclairs from my very own kitchen,” she answers.

“They haven’t eaten dinner yet,” I say.

“I know the rules. I brought the éclairs especially for Logan. First day of school is Tuesday, right?”

“Don’t remind me,” Logan answers. He grabs Will by the hand, and the two resume a serious search for the perfect skipping stone.

“God, they are so cute,” Kim says as she reaches inside her Coach purse and extracts her cell phone. She walks to the water’s edge and points it in the direction of the boys.

“Are you taking pictures?”

“Well, of course. Is that a problem?” Kim answers, her finger still snapping new frames. “I need some new pictures to put up on my page.”

“You’ve been posting pictures of my kids on the Internet?” I ask and snatch the phone out of Kim’s hand.

“Why are you acting crazy? This is harmless. I have all the security settings up on my Facebook page. If you were actually on Facebook, you’d know there was nothing to worry about.”

A knot of anger builds in my stomach, and I feel like throwing the cell phone in the lake.

“I’ll give you back your phone if you promise to take down the pictures of my kids. Predators troll the Internet looking for photos of children.”

“They can’t copy the pictures. Not on Facebook anyway.”

“But they can look at them. And they can find out where a child lives.”

“You’re going a little overboard, don’t you think?”

I give Kim a hard, unflinching stare until her eyes begin to fill up with tears. She looks back at me, unblinking, until she recovers with a forced smile.

“Of course. They’re your boys, so whatever you feel is best,” Kim answers in a sparrow-shrill tone.

“Look, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s not that I don’t trust you,” I say and begrudgingly hand Kim her phone back.

“It’s just the rest of the world you don’t trust,” Kim answers, her voice softening slightly. “The boys are growing up so quickly, and if you don’t take pictures, you won’t have their milestones captured. Before you know it, you’ll be sending Will off to kindergarten.”

“He’s so independent now. It scares me.”

“Everything scares you about those boys,” Kim says and offers a real smile this time. “You don’t want them to grow up being scared of everything. They’ll either turn into social misfits, living in your basement until they’re thirty, or they’ll rebel and wind up in jail before they get out of high school.”

“If they’re minors, they’d wind up in juvie first. But thanks for the ringing endorsement of my parenting skills. Logan and Will can have as much fun as they like just as long as I’m there to watch them,” I answer.

Kim slides the phone back inside her purse, and I can see her mind work as she searches for a less heated topic of conversation. Kim hates confrontation more than anyone I know.

“Did you figure out a plan for when you go back to work? You know, if you stay at the lake house, I could help out sometimes. That way you wouldn’t have to worry about leaving Will at a day care with strangers every day.”

“Thanks for the offer. I might take you up on that, but you work too.”

“Interior decorators have more flexibility than journalists. And I don’t have that dreadful daily commute into the city.”

“That’s true. I’m not sure your clients even know where Detroit is.”

Kim rolls her eyes at my attempt at a joke. “Very funny. I just finished a job down in Grosse Pointe, decorating a wing of an estate for a widow whose husband was a CEO at Chrysler. Her dogs were my clients. Imagine twenty-five hundred square feet of fire engines and hydrants. I guess if you have that kind of money, you can spend it any way you want.”

“I think if I had my choice, I’d stick to the scumbags I cover on the crime beat,” I answer.

“You need to come over before you start back at the paper. The remodel on my guesthouse is almost done. My property is going to be featured in this year’s Parade of Homes.”

The way she is glowing over the news, I guess the annual local home tour must be Kim’s version of a Pulitzer.

“Good for you,” I answer.

“You’ll come on the tour, won’t you?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” I answer and silently pray Kim will forget to ask me again.

“What’s going on with you and David?” she asks.

“Besides him breaking plans at the last minute with Logan again, not much. We’re trying to work on a reconciliation, but it’s not been easy. He asked me to see a psychiatrist.”

Kim’s mouth purses as though she just tasted something rancid.

“A psychiatrist? For what? And what does he have to fix on his end? Nothing?”

“He’s supposed to try and spend more time with me and the boys instead of working every weekend.”

“Did you see the psychiatrist?”

“Once.”

“Is he cutting down on his hours?” Kim asks.

“Not yet.”

“He’s too controlling. He’s always been that way with you.”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now,” I answer.

“You’re right. I’m not saying another word because if you and David get back together, you’re going to hate me. But you know how I feel.”

Kim smoothes the nonexistent wrinkles from her dress and digs inside her cream-colored bag for her keys.

“That’s it. You and the boys are coming with me. I have guests, but you’re going to join us for dinner.”

“Thanks, we’re going to just have a quiet night at home,” I say. “Is your mom back from Europe?”

“Not for two days. Mother’s cousin Alice and her daughter Leslie are staying with me.”

“I don’t remember you ever talking about them before.”

“I haven’t seen them in years, at least Alice anyway. The last time I saw her, I was a little younger than Logan. My mother fell out of touch with that side of the family when they moved to California. I know you hate Facebook, but that’s how Leslie found me. They’re in town looking at boarding schools for Leslie. She’s going to be a junior this year.”

I look off to the far edge of the lake and the sun beginning to slip beneath it.

“Are you sure you won’t come with me?” Kim asks.

“No, enjoy your relatives. I’ll call you later.”

Kim gives the boys a tight squeeze and slides into her Volvo. Her car disappears down the country road, and I gaze into the distance at the lake house. In the quickly fading light of day, my welcoming sanctuary looks lonely and remote, with only miles of water and woods between it and our nearest neighbor.

“Wow, check out my shadow. It looks like I’m ten feet tall,” Logan remarks.

“The long shadows of dusk. Let’s get home,” I say and hurriedly gather up our belongings before night falls.

* * *

The children and I fall into our usual nightly routines. Logan pulls on his Scooby-Doo pajamas and hunkers down in front of his DVD player to watch his favorite old-school Bugs Bunny videos. I collect Will up into the comfort of my arms, and we rock back and forth in the nursery’s white wicker chair until his eyes start to flicker.

“Mama loves you,” I say as I press my lips against his warm cheek. Will’s breathing becomes slow and heavy. I know he is asleep, but out of pure selfishness, I wait for an extra minute and hold him in the rocker before I put him in his crib for the night.

“Good night, beautiful boy,” I whisper. I pull Will’s door ajar, so I will be sure to hear him if he wakes up.

With one child down, I head to Logan’s room, secretly hoping he is too tired to request his usual bedtime story. It’s the one Ben told me when I was little, about a magical wizard named Mr. Moto. Even when we were sleeping in the backseat of my dad’s old Chrysler, Ben always made sure I got a bedtime story.

I tiptoe into Logan’s room, but he is alert and ready for his story.

“Aren’t you tired of hearing it?” I ask.

“Never,” Logan answers.

I sit down on the bed and pull Logan’s Spider-Man blanket up over his shoulders.

“Okay. Once upon a time there was a magical wizard named Mr. Moto. He lived in a castle high above the town where he could watch and protect all the people who lived there.”

“What about the dragon?” Logan asks.

“I’m getting to that part, Mr. Impatient. One day a family of mean fire-breathing dragons came to the town and decided they were going to steal all the people’s treasures.”

“What about the invisible shield?” Logan asks.

“Mr. Moto was watching to be sure the people of the town were safe when he noticed the terrible dragons. Since he was a magical wizard, he pulled out his invisible shield and hid all the people so the fire-breathing dragons couldn’t see them.”

“So the dragons left, and then Mr. Moto and the people of the town lived happily ever after?” Logan asks.

“Exactly.”

“If Daddy doesn’t move back in with us, I’ll protect you and Will from fire-breathing dragons,” Logan vows.

“Don’t you worry about that. Time for bed,” I respond and gently touch the side of Logan’s cheek with my hand and then turn on his nightlight before I leave.

With both boys down, I am anxious to check the deadbolts and activate the security system.

7.9.1977.
I punch in the alarm code on the most expensive home security system money could buy. Seven is the age I was when Ben was taken. Ben was nine when he disappeared. 1977 was the year he went missing. My finger pauses over the red activate-alarm button, and Ben’s image, so clear, flashes through my memory, as if I could reach my hand back thirty years and be with him just one more time.