Little Lovely Things, page 9
“Of course, honey. C’mon, May.”
Claire needed a last goodbye. Approaching the grave, her eye caught a small rose-colored square set near the freshly disturbed dirt. She lowered to one knee and picked it up. It was an envelope. Just then, she spotted the figure of a tall, slim man in a jean jacket and boots walking away. He turned and bowed his head toward Claire, exposing the part in his long, black hair. He was unmistakably Native American. Jay White. Claire felt a sudden, searing pressure along her ribs.
When he lifted his face, she found herself staring, but he didn’t notice—he was focused on something else. She followed his gaze past a line of neatly planted arborvitae to the west and discovered something remarkable. A small white flame seemed to emanate from the sky and hover over the greenery. The light pulsed, catching Claire in an astonished blink. She blinked harder. It didn’t go away. Could this be retinal flashes brought on by stress? Was she so far gone she was now seeing things? But it was real. Jay White could see it too.
Was this an offering of some kind, possibly from heaven? Claire felt momentarily luminescent, uplifted.
“Claire?” Glen was now at her side guiding her arm. “We need to leave now.”
She started to speak, to draw Glen into this amazing sight. But the flame burst into a small explosion of otherworldly light. As quickly as it had come, it slipped away, swallowed by a line of fast-moving clouds. And yet it left behind a remnant of sensation that surged through Claire’s entire being like a cool drink of water. There was a small but palpable easing of the sailor’s knot that was her stomach. She slipped the envelope into her pocket.
“I’m driving,” Vicki said firmly. Troy ushered Glen’s mother down the slope with one arm while his dad followed behind. “Troy’s taking your parents.”
Climbing into the car, Claire turned toward the place she’d seen Jay White. What on earth had happened? Who was this man? He was many yards away, pulling his jacket closed as he fought the wind, a mere outline against a now darkening sky.
Vicki set the car in motion.
“Glen, I found an envelope…” But his thoughts were somewhere else.
They took off. As they passed through the iron gates, Claire pondered the impossibility of this event, all of these terrible happenings, the abduction, losing Lily forever. But a slight warmth, as if a small ember had landed on her chest, brought back that same feeling she had experienced when she saw that incredible light in the sky.
They arrived home to an intimate group of family and friends who set out food and filled their house with comforting words and gentle touches. Gretchie, effusive at the house full of people, bounced from one person to another, being rewarded with pieces of cheese and crackers that snapped satisfyingly in her mouth. Claire didn’t bother to interfere with this gorging, even though a bellyache later was a foregone conclusion.
Butkus could be heard across the house, squawking his usual disapproval. Vicki draped a bath towel over his cage. “There,” she scolded. “Now keep quiet for a change.” He remained boisterous but muffled.
Claire slipped into the hall for a moment alone. Autumn twilight was sifting through the house, blurring the faces of her friends and relatives as if seen through cataracts. She leaned into the wall with her head on her forearms. A hand met the small of her back from behind. Glen. She turned into his embrace.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered through tears, trying yet again to apologize. “For all of this…”
Glen released her and moved to assist his dad in getting out of a chair, even though there were plenty others rushing to help.
Claire wiped her face before treading softly into the girls’ room. She’d placed the envelope Jay had left at Lily’s grave on the dresser when they first arrived. She ran her fingers over the soft, pink surface before opening it. Slowly and carefully, she lifted the contents from inside. A dream catcher. Lovely and delicate as spider webbing, it filled the shape of her palm. She almost smiled. Lily would’ve liked this. She took the small string attached and threaded it through the hook of the old mobile that still hung over the crib. When she stepped back, a delicate wreath of twigs and feathers spun softly in an unseen current of air. Once again, the feeling given to her by the light she’d seen at the cemetery returned. Briefly this time, but unmistakable.
She needed to talk to Jay White.
Chapter 10
Jay
Two days after Lily Rawlings’s funeral, in the wake of a cold front that brought early snow, Jay got off to a later start than he’d planned. The engine in the El Camino cranked but wouldn’t turn over. He was lucky to get a jump from a passing trucker and then was finally on his way. So long, Illinois. He couldn’t wait to see the state line sign in his rearview mirror. On the drive, slowed by traffic, he fought to replace the trauma of the past ten days with fantasies of his new life along the northwestern shore of Lake Michigan: cherries ripening on trees like small moons and crisp, rainbow-trout-laden streams crisscrossing through pristine dunes.
In the evening, close to the Indiana border, he pulled into a half-deserted campground outside Calumet City for a fast-food dinner and a quick nap. When he roused himself to get back on the road, the El Camino’s engine didn’t make a sound. It was just plain dead. October nights closed in early, so Jay settled into his mummy bag, tightening up against the cold. He could feel weather coming in his bones.
The next day he walked up the main road, to Danny-O’s garage, just past a strip mall. He learned that the tow alone would be forty bucks. All Jay had was twenty-seven dollars and some change. He offered to work it off. The manager said that he’d check with the owner when he got back, maybe later that day, maybe tomorrow. But he didn’t sound enthused.
Small pellets of snow and thin needles of sleet accompanied Jay as he returned to the campground. This probably wouldn’t last long so early in the season, but still a pain in the butt. He pulled his collar tight before lifting the hood and bending to take another look at the decrepit battery. Maybe if he stared hard enough it would charge. He laughed at himself.
An engine revved next to Jay. Startled, he banged his head against the hood. A local police cruiser had slipped up beside him with spooky stealth.
“Jeez, you scared me.” Jay rubbed the back of his head.
The guy inside was young. A block of granite. Kept his sunglasses on even though it wasn’t sunny. What now? What on earth had Jay done this time?
The officer dropped the window a quarter open. Did the same with his opaque glasses down his nose. Then a slow scan of Jay and the El Camino.
“I have a message from a Detective Juanita Hearns.”
All along, Jay had had a feeling about Hearns. Her suspicions about him. The disapproval on her face. That Hearns was able to find him in the campground felt like some kind of breach. Like he was being followed or something.
“She said you have her number.”
Jay nodded.
“She’d like you to give her a call.”
“About what?”
Jay was sweating. Standing next to the squad car did this to him.
The cop shook his head, shifted his car into Drive. He lifted his glasses above his eyes but kept his face forward.
“Just need to know you’re going to do this, buddy. There’s a pay phone up the street. Don’t want to be back here for another visit.”
“You don’t need to worry.”
The cop rolled up the window and moved the car slowly forward as if navigating a trash heap.
“Thanks for the lift, man,” Jay murmured. Not that he would’ve taken it.
He made his way back up to the main road and to the phone booth, an egg-shaped fixture at the edge of Danny-O’s parking lot, and dialed Hearns’s number, which was written on the card he kept, on the side printed with the Help Find Andrea! hotline.
“I hope you didn’t mind the visit from the squad car.”
“How did you know where I was?”
“Let’s just say I had a hunch you’d be camping.”
“If my car were working, you wouldn’t have caught me.”
Why did he say that? Made him sound like a suspect all over again.
“This message is actually from the Rawlings family. They asked if you would meet with them.”
“Why?”
“I’m not entirely sure. I just offered to reach out to you on their behalf.” Her voice remained cool, edged with disapproval. “Three o’clock at the Tin Drum Diner. On Tenth and Harmon. Half a block from the station. There’s a train station within walking distance. Brings you right downtown.”
Ugh. Train tickets cost money. And near the police station. That rattled him too. But mainly what shook him was that the last time he was with Hearns to review and sign his statement, Jay made the mistake of filling her in on a little too much of his history. He was tired, raw, distraught about the whole thing, and Hearns seemed comforting, almost maternal. In addition to the details of finding the body, he’d told her about his drinking and, foolishly, about his ability to sense things beyond what others could, even how his mother had been training him to be a shaman before she died. He cringed.
“Do me a favor.” Hearns’s voice slowed. “Take it easy on the family, huh?”
Jay was baffled. What was the detective talking about?
“Sometimes we see things, imagine things, that aren’t there.”
With a change in trains, followed by a five-block walk, it took Jay two hours to get to the diner. His jean jacket, the same one he’d worn to Lily Rawlings’s funeral, was damp from a clod of sleety snow that had fallen from a roof and smacked into his shoulder. What he’d do for a hot shower right then. A low-grade sense of embarrassment about his dirty clothes and slicked-back hair almost made him turn around. But this was important.
The Tin Drum. It was an old place—dim, all linoleum and gouged tabletops. Smudged windows. Jay slid into a booth with cracked vinyl seats that pinched the back of his legs like a crawfish. The Rawlingses were late. Jay’s head started to fill with second thoughts. What could they want from him? The idea of sitting across from this distraught family unnerved him, but it was too late now to bow out. A mother with little kids entered the restaurant. A boy and a girl. They were young, two and fourish. They chose the table next to Jay. The mother set out crayons.
When Claire Rawlings finally appeared, standing at the table, Jay was surprised. He’d expected her to have the frayed edges of someone in shock, a person diluted by grief. But she wasn’t that. Besides being thin—thinner than a person should be—she had a presence about her. What was it? Quiet strength.
She sat across from Jay. “I can’t thank you enough for this.”
She touched his hand. Her skin was pale as a ghost pipe, a plant that grows in sunless woods. Christ, she’d better gain some weight. The kids one table over were making a small ruckus. Claire looked at them quickly and then back at Jay.
“You must think I’m a terrible mother.”
The skin around her eyes was lined with creases. Her coloring was sallow. And then, in turn, he wondered, what did she see when she looked at him? He must be strange to her. As he was to so many.
“I’m sorry about everything,” he said.
That was a dumb thing to say. The waitress approached. Claire ordered coffee for them both in a no-nonsense manner indicating they didn’t want interruptions. Clearly the in-control type. Or used to be.
“Are you working?” she asked.
“No. I’m just waiting to fix my car.”
“And then?”
“I plan to move on to Michigan.” He briefly touched his hand to his chest pocket, where his talisman remained safely tucked away. “Plan to sell my crafts, maybe start a landscape business. I’m pretty good at that. Who knows?” He shrugged. “Maybe get a place of my own. A trailer or something.” What was he doing, yammering on about himself? “Will your husband be coming too?”
“Huh?” Claire Rawlings was there but, at the same time, she wasn’t. “Oh. No. People magazine called on our way out.” Claire’s voice grew slower, quieter. “Glen stayed on. He’s hoping for an interview.”
The waitress returned with two coffees. Jay stirred, even though he didn’t add cream or sugar.
“Please tell me,” he said. “What is it you need me to do?”
“The information you included in the police report.” Claire cleared her throat. “It was very detailed. You mentioned something about having feelings…what did you call it—an urge—that helped you find Lily… Can you tell me about that? Are you…” She struggled for the right word.
“Psychic?”
She nodded.
“It’s not really like that. Sometimes I sense stuff, but that doesn’t guarantee anything. It’s not like I can control it. Well, not anymore.”
“You could before?”
“There was a time.” Jay felt himself redden. “I was, well, training, sort of. To be a shaman.” He was doing it again, oversharing. And yet Claire somehow seemed safe. “I had a connection to things. Nonphysical things, sort of like signs. As did my mother. Probably sounds ridiculous to you, a Western medical doctor.”
“Doctor-in-training,” Claire corrected. “It doesn’t matter how I feel about it. What matters is you found my daughter. And my other daughter is still out there. Still with that crazy man.” She set her jaw and met Jay’s eyes strongly. “I’m not looking for guarantees. We are, as you can imagine, desperate. We will pay you for this. Compensate you for your time.”
Jay cleared his throat. “I just…I don’t want to disappoint you.”
He caught the sharp pain in her eyes before she glanced away. “I’m already disappointed,” she murmured, more to the window than to Jay.
He wanted to say You’re killing me, Claire. Stop it. He wanted to say he knew what it was like, what she was going through. But even after the terrible loss of his mother—he couldn’t imagine what it must be like to lose a child.
“I brought something that might help. Pictures. Of Lily, how she really looked.” Claire drew air quickly, as if something sharp had hit her chest. “And Andrea. I thought, I don’t know, I’m hoping it might stir things up in your mind…”
She opened the envelope and set the pictures on the table.
The black-and-white photograph of Andrea was the same one the Rawlingses had chosen for their search campaign. It was less grainy, more defined than on the missing persons posters. The little girl’s bangs were parted slightly. A clear, impish look lit her eyes.
God, she looks like a great kid.
Moving to the photo of Lily, Jay tried not to, but he shuddered. Before him was a perfect headshot of a beautiful, shining child with fluffy yellow hair like an angel’s halo. Nothing like that face he’d uncovered that horrible night two weeks ago.
The waitress approached, but Claire held up her hand to keep her from intruding. One tear made its way down her cheek before she wiped it away.
“Please. Take your time.”
Jay nodded. He scrutinized each photo, moving back and forth between the faces of the two little girls, willing himself to feel something, sense something. There was a stirring in his stomach, but only when he looked at Andrea. He struggled to clarify his thoughts, connect the dots from his head to his gut. And yet the overwhelming sadness he felt about Lily was messing with him. He was trying hard for this woman. Her desperation was filling his brain so he couldn’t think clearly, much less let his feelings flow. Jay briefly touched his hand to his chest pocket and bumped against the Petoskey stone. A slight warmth, maybe? Or maybe just his imagination. There was nothing concrete. Certainly nothing to raise Claire’s hopes.
“I…I’m sorry. I’m not…I can’t just turn this off and on…”
“I’m not trying to be pushy… We’re just so…” She looked out the window. Jay followed her gaze. The pane was thick and dirty and everything beyond looked wavy, unreal. “Can you tell me, Jay, what it was I saw? In the sky.”
“You mean the light.”
Just the mention of it and Jay felt something inside, a comforting warmth followed by the slightest tingling in his gut.
“Yes.” She circled her hands around the mug in front of her. They were trembling. “Did it make you…well…feel anything?”
“A sensation. Of being soothed, maybe…not really sure how to describe it…”
“That’s it!” Claire almost knocked over her coffee in astonishment. Even as she looked in his eyes, he was back at the graveside, catching sight of the indescribable glow just above him. “What does it mean?”
Jay remained silent and searched her face. It was more animated. He chose his words carefully. “Well, I grew up believing, being told really, that there are no coincidences.”
“Like you and I were meant to meet?”
“Uh-huh, and that light…in the sky. Might be a sign. From Lily.” He cleared his throat. “That she’s okay. And that…” Claire’s eyes widened as Jay continued, “Her sister, your other daughter, Andrea…”
There it was again, a tight sensation when he spoke her name.
“Yes?”
He smiled. “A really pretty name. I think, not certain, but maybe it was a message.”
He wasn’t making this up. He had the beginning of a feeling, nothing full-blown, but an inkling, about Andrea. And then Hearns’s voice was in his head. Sometimes we imagine things that aren’t there. He stopped himself from saying more.
“Please.” Claire drew air quickly. “Keep the pictures. Maybe something will occur to you, or you will have a sensation like before.”
“I promise. I’ll let you know if anything…well…arises…” He looked again at the image of Andrea, her bright open face, her windswept bangs. The constriction in his gut returned.
