Pearl gasped and put her hand to her mouth. She didn’t say anything for a long time, and when she did, her voice was accusatory. “Where did you get this?”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, I . . . Where did you find this?”
“It was in a frame behind another photo.” His grandmother nodded, her face softening, her eyes never leaving the picture. In the short time he’d known her, Pearl had displayed an array of emotions ranging from jubilation to irritation, but this expression was new to him. He couldn’t quite identify it. Longing? Regret? Whatever it was, she appeared close to tears.
“Why? Is there something wrong?” he finally asked.
“No, I just didn’t know a copy of this photo still existed. I hadn’t seen it in, well, forever.” She smiled ruefully. “When my father died, I burned a lot of photographs. Trying to erase some bad memories. Turns out you can’t erase them, in case you were wondering. The past follows you around whether you want it to or not.”
Joe pushed his chair closer and leaned in to look. “I’m guessing that’s you with your sisters. Am I right?” He pointed to the one he thought was Pearl, second from the left, her chin tipped upward, a mysterious smile on her face.
She said, “This is the only photograph of all seven of us together.”
He asked for their names, and she started with the littlest girl, Daisy, and worked her way across the photo ending with, “And Emma and Helen, and me, of course.” There was a catch in her voice when she pointed to the last young woman. “And my older sister, Alice.” Her lips pressed together as she looked beyond him at some point down the hall. Looking into the past, he thought. “Ally-bird, we called her, because she was always singing.”
“I don’t think you mentioned her name before.”
She took a sharp intake of breath, and he saw it again. The expression he couldn’t place, but now he recognized it as sorrow. “I’m sure I didn’t mention her name. It’s too difficult for me. I haven’t been able to talk about her for a long time. She died young, too young. It was the biggest tragedy of my life.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
1983
With a job in sales, Ricky was able to set his own schedule, and he made sure it matched Kathleen’s. He became bolder, showing up where he knew she would be. He didn’t approach her, though, something that took all his willpower. She had to know that he now lived in the area. Whenever they were in the same place, he’d glance in her direction. Once he was sure he’d caught her eye, he’d pretend to be preoccupied. His strategy was to wait for her to approach him. This, he thought, was particularly generous on his part. Allowing her come to him in her own time would give her a sense of control. The ball was in her court. His devotion could not go unnoticed.
To grease the wheels, he began to send her small gifts—jewelry, books of poetry, candles—the kinds of things she used to go nuts over back when they were dating. He left them in her parents’ mailbox or behind the screen door at their house. The notes he included were romantic and said things like: We are meant to be together. You’ll never find someone who loves you like I do. I will spend the rest of my life convincing you that we need to be together. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you by my side.
Her routine outside work became his routine. Sometimes he’d boldly position himself close to her, overhearing conversations between her and the librarian or taking note of the cardigan sweater she’d purchased at Kohl’s. She’d never have bought anything that shapeless when they were married. Without his advice, her taste in clothing had gotten sloppy.
At one point, a policeman had shown up at his door, saying Kathleen was uncomfortable with his gifts. Ricky had offered him a cold beer, which he’d turned down, and then a can of Coke, which he took, and they had a man-to-man talk about how difficult women could be. By the time the officer left, they’d nearly been buddies. After that, Ricky held back a little bit—not that he was giving up, just giving her some space.
And then, one day, she was gone. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary prior to her disappearance. She’d walked her parents’ dog just the night before, as usual.
Where could she be? He went over the week’s events in his head. She’d gone to work every day, returned her library books on Saturday, watched Dynasty on television with her parents in the living room the night before. Nothing odd. No signs of any new developments.
After much observation, he realized that her mother was gone as well, leaving Kathleen’s father home alone. A girls’ trip? It seemed unlikely. He called all of the area hospitals, thinking maybe they’d gotten in a car accident or something similar, but neither of the women were patients anywhere. When he finally called Kathleen’s job, the woman who answered the phone said she no longer worked there. “Did she quit, or was she let go?” he asked, careful not to use the word fired. No one in their right mind would fire Kathleen, but the job market was tight, and positions were eliminated all the time. It happened even to people who were outstanding employees.
“I can’t really speak to that,” she answered, her voice guarded.
“Is it that you don’t know, or that you won’t tell me?” He tried not to let his impatience show, but it must have snuck out because the woman quickly bid him goodbye and hung up the phone. Rude. He was tempted to call back and ask to speak to management but thought better of it. He could figure this out on his own.
A month later, when Kathleen’s mother returned home without her daughter, Ricky thought he’d go out of his mind from worry. Over the next few weeks, he watched from down the street as her parents came and went to work, church, and the grocery store and wondered where in the hell his mother-in-law had left her daughter. He followed them to their church twice, an excruciating experience of murmured prayers and boring songs, and listened as Kathleen’s mother made small talk with other people after the service. At one point, an old biddy asked her, “How’s Kathleen doing these days?” and his ears went on high alert, listening for the answer.
“Never better,” his mother-in-law had answered. “She’s really coming into her own.”
Really coming into her own? What the hell was that supposed to mean?
And then the biddy had said to give Kathleen her love, as if she had any idea what it meant to love Kathleen. Only he was entitled to that privilege.
Ricky had swallowed his pride then and called her parents’ house. When her mother answered, he greeted her warmly and asked if he could speak to Kathleen.
His mother-in-law’s voice turned icy. “She doesn’t want to talk to you, Ricky. Leave her be.”
“Can you at least tell me where she is? Did she move?”
“Goodbye.” The receiver slamming onto the base was an assault to his ear. How dare she! No one treated him that way.
He tossed and turned that night, running through all the possibilities. Had Kathleen joined the Peace Corps or the army? Gone back to school? Moved to work in another city? That last one seemed unlikely. All her friends and family were here in her hometown. Why randomly move? It would be so unlike her to do something on her own. She always needed guidance.
Eventually, Ricky fell asleep. When he woke up, he had an idea. His father-in-law’s birthday the following week was a special occasion Kathleen would surely remember. Birthdays of loved ones and holidays were sacrosanct to her. She would never forget. If it were humanly possible, she would be coming home to celebrate in person, or if that wasn’t doable, she’d certainly send a card or a package.