My Soul to Keep (10 page)

“The one on the floor?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Sure, sweetie.” I walked over to the closet and picked the towel up, folding it neatly and laying it on the floor beside the closet.

“Better?”

She smiled. “Can I have some ice cream?”

“You bet.”

She stuck her thumb in her mouth. “Strawberry,” she mumbled.

“Coming right up.”

I stepped out into the hall and signaled Wanda, who came in and checked on Christine while I hustled down the hall, and returned a moment later with some strawberry ice cream.

I pulled the cardboard off the top of the cup and handed it to Christine, who pushed her spoon into it weakly and shoveled a small bite into her mouth.

She smiled dreamily. “Yummy for my tummy.”

I watched her eat, adoring this kid who was breaking my heart with her sweet, quirky personality. Next time I crossed paths with Peter Terry, I was going to skin him alive for coming anywhere near my little borrowed family.

Christine was perking up, her face gaining color with each bite of Blue Bell. Then her brow furrowed. “Where’s Nicholas?”

I could feel my shoulders tighten. “Nicholas is gone, Punkin. Remember?”

She looked at me quizically. “I saw him in the closet.”

“I think that might have been a dream, sweetie. Remember? He’s with the man from the park.”

She frowned and took another bite.

I sat next to her on the bed. “Did you have some bad dreams?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you dream about Nicholas?”

“Uh-huh.”

I pulled her to me and hugged her. “It’s okay now. They were just dreams. Dreams can’t hurt you.”

Most of the time, anyway.

“I like Nicholas,” she said. “He’s funny.”

“Did you know bunny rabbits hate ice cream?” I said brightly. “All they like is crunchy food.”

“I used to like crunchy food. Now I like ice cream. Does Eeyore miss me?”

“Of course. He can’t wait for you to come home.”

She finished her ice cream and then drank a full cup of water, slurping it greedily.

“Thirsty, huh?” I said.

She nodded and handed me the cup, which I refilled and handed to her.

She drank the whole thing, handed it back to me, then snuggled into her pillow and quickly fell asleep.

I tiptoed over and checked the closet, just to satisfy my paranoia. It was empty, of course, except for the stinky cafeteria tray, which I took out to the hall and left on the floor outside the room.

I’d dialed Liz’s number a dozen times that morning. Now I sat in my Lysol-scented chair and pushed Redial over and over again. It went straight to voice mail every time. I checked the two waiting rooms at either end of Christine’s floor. Both were full, but there was no sign of Liz. By the time she finally appeared, I’d edged past worried and was closing in on frantic. She’d been gone at least two hours.

“Where have you been?” I demanded in a whisper, my anxiety quickly transposing into anger, as it so often does. Another Top Ten Terrible Trait. I scolded myself mentally and tried to calm down.

“Dispatch,” she whispered back.

“What’s dispatch?”

“The hospital has a radio dispatch station for helicopter landings and ambulance communication. I was trying to reach Andy.”

It hadn’t dawned on me once in this entire time that she hadn’t mentioned talking to him. “Doesn’t he have a phone?”

“He has a satellite phone with him, but it hasn’t been picking up. If the phone’s not working, they can only be reached by radio.”

She pulled me out into the hall. I could tell by the look on her face that something was wrong.

“I’m not even sure they got there,” she said quietly.

“When did they leave?”

“Saturday afternoon.”

“That’s three days ago. How long does it take to get to Guatemala?”

“Chicago to Guatemala City with a stop for fuel—somewhere around six hours in the Gulfstream. They’d switch to a twin engine in Guatemala City and fly into the jungle. That’s another couple of hours.”

“So what does that mean?”

“It means nobody knows where they are.”

I
STARED AT
L
IZ
, the dumb, open-mouthed feeling numbing me once again. I was completely unable to process what I was hearing. “Did they land?” I asked, finally. “Surely someone knows whether or not they landed. Did you call the airport?”

“There is no airport. Just a landing strip. A short landing strip. Out in the middle of nowhere.”

“What could have happened to them?”

“How should I know?”

“Well, what are they doing all the way down there anyway? Who takes preschoolers into the jungle?” I asked, exasperated.

She crossed her arms and glared at me. “Why, I believe we do, Dylan. Crazy us—we want our kids to grow up with a sense of gratitude for what they have and a burden for service to others who are less fortunate.”

“Oh.” I could feel my face turning red. “Well, that’s a good reason.”

“Thank you. I thought so.”

“Did you try to reach Tony?”

“Of course, I tried to reach Tony. There’s no phone, Dylan.”

“What about the radio? What’s wrong with the radio?”

“The radio must be out. I couldn’t raise anyone. I talked to a ham operator in the area who said that a plane landed on Saturday, but he didn’t have the tail number.”

“What’s that—like a license plate?”

She nodded.

“So there’s no way of knowing if it was their plane.”

“It probably was. There aren’t too many planes landing in the area.”

“Could you e-mail Tony and find out if he knows where they are?”

“Dylan, there is no e-mail. Okay? There’s weather in the area. The infrastructure is terrible. Everything goes out when it storms.” At this point she was so exasperated with me, she was talking to me like I was a special-needs donkey. She slowed down and drew out her words. “They … cannot … be … reached.”

“Is anyone looking for them?”

“They’ll dispatch a rescue crew as soon as the weather clears. Until then, there’s nothing to be done.”

“What if they landed? What then? How long does it take to get to the orphanage?”

“Depends on the roads. It’s three hours by Jeep in good weather. A local guide was going to meet them. They were going to camp for the night and drive in the next day.”

I stared at her. “So you’re telling me your husband and two little boys are missing in Guatemala.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you so calm?”

She threw up her hands. “Who said I’m calm?” She pointed at the door. “My little girl’s in a hospital bed with tubes coming out of her. A little boy got kidnapped by a man that grabbed my kid too and then changed his mind. I think calm is out of the question, don’t you?”

I took a step back. I’d never seen Liz angry before.

“Exactly what good is it going to do for me to fall apart now?” She began to pace in front of Christine’s door.

“None. None at all.”

“I can’t help them. I can’t reach them by phone or radio. If I wanted to go down there and look for them myself, it wouldn’t do the slightest bit of good. I couldn’t even get there, and even if I did, what use would I be? There’s nothing to do but wait.” She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, the anger dissipating into fatigue, her face draining of color. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m yelling at you. I’m on my last nerve.”

“I can take it.” I smiled and shrugged. “It’s one of my few strengths.”

Her face softened as the tension eased.

“Look, this happens all the time on Angel Wing missions. They always come back. Always.”

Always
seemed like good odds, but the way our luck was running, I wasn’t betting.

I left Liz in the hospital room and went to pick up cheeseburgers and fries at Jack’s—one each for Liz and me, and for Christine a junior burger with meat and bun only and a strawberry milk shake. I didn’t know if she’d eat the burger, but I thought the milk shake was probably a lock. By the time I walked into the room, Maria was sitting there with Liz, having just come off a three-baby half-shift. Christine was awake and energetic, sitting up in bed and listening to her own heart with Maria’s stethoscope.

We divvied up the food and ate ravenously.

“When are they discharging her?” Maria asked.

“They haven’t said.” Liz dipped a french fry in ketchup and handed it to her daughter. Christine took it, licked the ketchup off, and dropped it on her plate beside another half-dozen that had been licked clean and discarded.

“I’ll check on it after lunch. She should be out of here this afternoon at the latest. I guess you guys will be heading out after that?” Maria asked.

“George is on standby. We could load up and be out of here by …” Liz checked her watch, “… five or six, I guess. How does that sound, Punkin?”

I choked on my pickle.

“You okay, Dylan?” Liz asked.

I nodded. “Fine. Wrong pipe.” I took a swig of Dr Pepper and tried to remain calm.

Once again, I felt strangely appalled that she and Christine might leave. Like it would jinx Nicholas’s chances or something. The three of us had been through so much together.

“We can get Eeyore all settled in at home and then fix grilled cheese for supper. With the crunchy chips you like and some carrots?”

We turned to Christine, who was about to cry, her chin puckering, her eyes puddling with thick, drippy tears.

“I want to stay with Miss Dylan.”

Liz rolled her eyes. “Christine, it’s time for us to get out of Miss Dylan’s hair and go back home to Chicago.”

“We’re not in her hair. Are we, Miss Dylan?”

I fluffed my hair, running my fingers through the thick tangle of auburn strands. “Nobody in there but me.”

“We need to go see Dr. Friedman and see what she has to say about your breathing. You love Dr. Friedman.” Liz turned to Maria and me. “Dr. Friedman always has Tootsie Pops.” Then back to Christine, “Aren’t you ready to take Eeyore home and show him your room?”

Christine crossed her arms and launched into a full-blown pout. Her lip curled into a defiant frown as tears ran down her face.

I, of course, was absurdly flattered, though I managed to maintain a convincingly neutral mask so as not to betray my staggering self-absorption.

“Christine,” Liz said, “I’m not going to have any fits out of you. Not today. Now straighten up and finish your burger.”

“I wanted cheese on it.”

Christine wiped her tears, crossed her arms again, and refused to take another bite.

Liz ignored her and turned to Maria. “Will I be able to get copies of her records? I want her to get seen at home as quickly as possible.”

“Of course. I’ll make sure they have them ready for you.”

“Did you tell Maria about the … communication issue you were dealing with this morning?” I asked.

Liz cocked her head toward Christine. “Haven’t had a chance.”

Maria raised her eyebrows. Liz looked at me, the hint obvious in her eyes.

“Want to take a walk?” I asked Christine.

She nodded. I walked out in the hall and signaled Wanda, who came in, unhooked Christine from the monitors, and got her all arranged,
hanging her IV drip on a pole with wheels, which I slid alongside us as we walked. She named the pole Archie, chatting with it amicably as though they were fast friends. Christine wore a little yellow hospital gown with daisies on it and her Barbie sneakers that lit up when she walked. She looked sweet enough to eat, even after her little fit of temper.

We held hands and walked down the corridor, pausing often so Christine could introduce herself and Archie to everyone she encountered. Me, she forgot about completely. So much for her unflagging devotion to Miss Dylan.

When we got back to the room, I could hear my cell phone ringing through the thick door. I swung the door open and handed Christine off to her mother so I could take the call. It was Martinez. I stepped out into the hall and picked up.

“Where are you?” he said.

“At Children’s.”

“How is she?”

“She seems fine. They’ll release her any time now, I think.”

“Maria said she was going to check in with you guys.”

“She’s in there with Liz and Christine now. Do you want to talk to her?”

“No. I called to tell you something.”

“What?”

“They found a body.”

I fought off a violent urge to vomit, my face flushing and my skin suddenly clammy and cold.

“Is it Nicholas?”

“I don’t know. Some kayaker spotted something in the reeds out at White Rock Lake. All I know is small frame, curly brown hair. They’re on their way out now. I just wanted to make sure you were with Maria. Just in case.”

“Does she know?”

“I just found out myself. I don’t want to tell her unless it’s Nicholas.”

“Why put her through it?” I agreed.

“Can you stick with her for a while? I’m on my way out to the scene.”

“Sure. Enrique?”

“What?”

“Do you think it’s him?”

Silence. Then, “I’ll know in a few minutes.”

He hung up.

I slid once more to the floor in the hall, my back to the wall, hugging my knees. I couldn’t go back in that room knowing that Maria’s kid might be floating dead in a lake on the other side of town. I could feel myself sinking in a swirl of nausea mixed with rage mixed with panicky, frantic dread. I was losing my grip. My mind took off, spinning around like a lawnmower blade, ripping up everything it could find to run over and destroy. Shredding any remaining hope of calm, of common sense, of intentional optimism. My heart pounded, the blood pulsing loudly in my ears.