Page 14

14

CALIFORNIA, 2011

As much as I tried, no amount of gentle persuasion or subliminal coercion could coax any more meaningful information from Hannah than she’d already given about the woman she called “Auntie.” In fact, as excited as she seemingly was to spend more time with her, their lost afternoon together was all but forgotten by the following day, much to my chagrin.

But I haven’t forgotten. Every second of every day is consumed with the same gut-wrenching fear and panic that coursed through my veins when I realized she was missing. In fact, sometimes the feeling is so overwhelming, I manage to convince myself she still hasn’t come home. So, to prove to myself that she has, I’ve spent the past week sleeping on the floor beside her bed, watching her chest rise and fall, wishing I could carry her around in my pocket to keep her safe from harm.

Brad keeps telling me that my time would be better spent trying to narrow down the list of vengeful opposers to my beach-closure petition, reminding me that in the past year we’ve had dog excrement left in the mailbox and a handwritten note delivered to the city council claiming that I’m misappropriating the funds of a grant I’ve not yet been given. But they’re not the people we’re looking for, because my work isn’t the reason Hannah was taken.

I’ve wanted to tell him that, countless times, but it would mean being honest, and in all the varying hues that comes in, I’m still not sure I’m ready to progress to the next shade, even after what happened to Hannah.

I want to figure this out for myself, before I burden him with a past he doesn’t know I had. I need to find out who this person is and what their end goal is. If it’s to disrupt the life they don’t feel I deserve, I can deal with that. But if it’s to hold me accountable for something they think I’ve done, then that’s another matter altogether.

“Mommy, Mommy, look!” cries Hannah excitedly, pulling me in the direction of the carousel ride. “Can I go on it?”

“Why don’t we go and see the fighter jets?” I offer, desperately needing to keep her in my line of vision at all times. “We might find Daddy.”

“He’ll be busy,” she says, knowing the drill on “air show day.” “I want to go on the carousel. Please!”

“OK!” I relent. “But I’ll come with you.”

“I went on my own last year,” she says, far too astute for her own good. “And I was only seven, so I can definitely go on my own now that I’m eight.”

I want to tell her that that’s not how it works when you’ve been kidnapped in between times, but I’m desperate to avoid offloading my own insecurities onto her. And besides, I reason with myself, what can possibly happen on a fairground ride?

“So, which one do you want to sit on?” I ask, assaulted by the kaleidoscope of color as we climb the steep steps. She runs around aimlessly, undecided between the horse and the carriage, before changing her mind at the last minute. I’m tempted to sit unnoticed on the mermaid behind her, but I know that she’ll be looking out for me each time she comes round, expecting a wave and a big encouraging smile.

“OK, hold on tight,” I say. “And if it finishes at a different place, wait for me to come round to you before you get off.”

She smiles and shoos me away, the eight-year-old in her so desperately wanting to be independent without realizing what it truly means.

The organ music starts up and a shiver runs down my spine as I’m transported back to childhood Saturday nights when the theme tune of Tales of the Unexpected would send me scurrying behind the sofa. Mum would laugh and try to coax me out, but I would only emerge once the TV show had started, as it wasn’t nearly as terrifying as the creepy music suggested.

One full turn and Hannah’s waving enthusiastically. I wave back, pathetically relieved and grateful that she’s still there. I don’t think I’ll ever take anything for granted again.

“Oh, hey, Nicole!” comes a voice from behind me.

I recognize the enforced joviality and force myself to turn around for fear of being rude. Eva may be the most interfering busybody on the island, but she has also ingratiated herself onto the mayor’s voluntary team, so I have to go out of my way to humor her, as much as it pains me.

“Eva.” It’s an acknowledgment more than a greeting.

“I’ve been meaning to call you all week,” she says, pulling me into her and suffocating me in a cloud of floral perfume. “Ever since I heard about young Hannah. What an absolute nightmare for all of you. How is she? Are you doing OK? Well, that’s a ridiculous question, of course—how can you possibly be doing OK…?”

The one saving grace with Eva is that minimal effort is required; she can have a conversation all by herself.

I wave as Hannah does another circuit.

“You poor thing,” Eva goes on, without taking a breath. “I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you.” Though not enough to warrant a phone call in the past few days, it seems.

“We’re actually doing—” I start, before being cut off.

“Funnily enough, I thought I saw you and Brad in town a few days ago,” she says. “Well, at least I assumed it was you because it was definitely Brad. But as I got closer, I realized it wasn’t you at all.” She pulls her mouth tight and widens her eyes as if needing to convey how awkward it was.

Hannah goes around again, but I no longer have the wherewithal to raise my hand.

“What day was that?” I can’t stop myself from asking.

Eva makes a show of trying to recall, but I can’t imagine another’s misfortune isn’t ingrained on her memory. “Wednesday, maybe?” she says, far too quickly. “Yes, it must have been Wednesday because I had my hair done and went to Brewster’s to meet friends after they finished work.”

I bite down on my lip, remembering the night in question and how out of character it had been for Brad not to come home. But I reasoned it had been an intense few days and we were still silently blaming one another, even though I’d bet my life on him not having a single enemy in the world. Not even a pissed SEAL candidate.

When he’d appeared the next morning, having admitted to being drunk and falling asleep at his buddy Kelsey’s house, it didn’t occur to me to think he might have been lying. That’s not the kind of relationship we have. At least, I didn’t think so.

“Ah, that must have been his sister,” I lie, aware of the bitter irony. “She was in town last week.”

Eva eyes me with suspicion and I find myself wondering if she knows something I don’t.

“Of course,” she says, trying to sound convinced. “That would explain their closeness.”

My lips pull thin, and I have an overwhelming desire to slap the meddling old cow in the face, but I restrain myself, if only for the sake of Hannah, who will be coming around again any second now.

I look up, my eyes furtively scanning the rise and fall of every horse that circumnavigates the 360-degree revolution. They all look the same, their colors bamboozling me, and I’m no longer able to distinguish between them. Yet I know that my red-headed daughter would be easy to spot if she were on one.

“Hannah!” I croak, taking four or five steps forward, as if it will help me see better. “Hannah!”

I spin around, my eyes no longer able to focus on my surroundings as panic descends and my legs threaten to give way.

“Nicole?” questions Eva. “Is everything OK?”

“She’s not… she’s not there!” I choke, the air to my lungs seemingly cut off at the pass. “She’s gone!”

The carousel continues to spin, churning out its macabre music, and I’m struggling to breathe.

“Hannah!” I scream.

Concerned faces turn at my pitiful shriek; strangers give me a wide berth, while those I recognize rush to me with a look of “Dear god, not again” etched into their furrowed brows.

“Stop the ride!” I yell, my adrenaline-laced legs unable to decide which way to go first.

The galloping horses slow to a trot, and I jump up onto the first board, desperately trying to correct my balance as I crawl up the steps.

“Hannah!” I call out, weaving my way through the startled faces of young children suspended on mythical creatures.

“Mommy?” comes a voice.

It sounds like Hannah, but my brain is so convinced that she’s gone that I dismiss it and allow the thousands of other noises in my head to run amok, goading me with a cacophony so loud that I put my hands over my ears to drown it out.

I see someone who looks a lot like Brad walking toward me on the platform and my blurred vision allows me to believe that he has our daughter’s hand in his. I pull myself together, forcing myself to breathe, as I hold on to one of the candy-cane poles for support.

“Nicole!” he shouts, his voice sounding far away, even though he’s getting ever closer.

I look down at his side and my little girl’s silhouette slowly begins to come into focus. My chest convulses, letting out the fear that had been trapped inside.

“Hannah,” I gasp. “Where were you?”

“Just here, Mommy,” she says, looking between me and Brad, wondering what she’s done wrong.

“But… but you weren’t on the horse,” I say, feeling like I’m losing my mind.

“I went in the mermaid,” she says, pointing to the sickly pink tail fin that hides a seat within.

“But I told you…”

“Nic,” says Brad sharply, taking hold of my flailing arm. “She’s fine.”

“She was supposed to stay where she was,” I cry, my utter relief rushing out of me.

“But I wanted to sit with Auntie,” says Hannah.

A knife plunges into my chest, twisting itself until I can’t breathe. My head swivels, my eyes scanning the crowd below, who look on awkwardly, their desire to know what’s going on at odds with the embarrassment they no doubt feel for me. I search for the features I vaguely recall from the woman at my door—the slim frame, the dirty-blond bob, the slight air of superiority about her—but my eyes still won’t let me see straight. Whoever she is and wherever she is, I will not let her hold my family for ransom in this way. I would rather tell the truth than have her blackmailing me into living a lie.

“Listen, sweetie,” I say, kneeling down to meet Hannah’s eyes. “I know we may call her Auntie, but she’s not really. She’s a pretend auntie who isn’t a part of our family, because Daddy doesn’t actually have a sister.”

Hannah screws up her face. “But she’s not Daddy’s sister,” she says. “She’s yours .”