One Imperfect Christmas (15 page)

She strained to recapture the image, feeling as if it must be real, as if she should remember something. For a fleeting moment she glimpsed a mental image of her father's barn—the immaculate tack room … the brimming storage closet. Something appeared out of place, but she couldn't make sense of what it was. The vision slipped away, this time irretrievable.

Natalie shoved the covers aside, felt around with her feet for her slippers, staggered to the bathroom, and flipped on the light switch. While she waited for her eyes to adjust to the sudden glare, the phone rang. Still squinting, she stumbled to the bedside table. “Hello?”

“Nat, it's me. She's run away again.”

10

D
aniel stood in the middle of his cluttered apartment kitchen and gripped the phone. He pressed his eyelids shut. It sickened him to make this call. Natalie would hold him responsible, and she probably had every right, considering his questionable parenting skills lately.

“Daniel?” Natalie's voice sounded sleep-drugged.

“Did you hear what I said? Lissa's gone again. When I went to wake her for school, she wasn't in her room.” He leaned against the refrigerator. A mixed array of magnets holding photos, reminders, and shopping lists dug into his shoulder blades. Unfortunately, unless he overlooked it, none of the magnets held a note from his daughter.

“What do you mean, she's gone? You were supposed to take care of her!”

He stood erect with a shiver that wasn't entirely from the coolness of the refrigerator door. “I can't get through to her anymore. You know how she's been. Ever since she turned thirteen, it's like talking to a brick wall.”

“No, I
don't
know how she's been, remember? I hardly see her anymore.”

Suddenly, his frustration got the better of him. Words poured from his mouth before he could stop himself. “And whose fault is that, Natalie? Lissa needs her mother, but you've buried yourself completely in your work for months now. You're the one who hasn't been there for her.”
For either of us.

“Oh, like you are?” Her pain and anger stabbed at him through the phone line. “Lissa's had two working parents since the day she was born. At least I was home in the evenings, not gallivanting all over the countryside with a bunch of smelly middle-school jocks.”

The well-aimed barb hurt more than he expected. Clawing stiff fingers through his hair, he caught his harried reflection in the black glass of the microwave door.

“Okay.” He spoke slowly, forcing a calm he didn't feel. “So maybe we both have a few things to learn in the parenting department. Can't we just focus on Lissa?”

Natalie didn't speak for several moments. Daniel listened to her rapid breathing. Finally, sounding more rational, she said, “Let me call Dad. Maybe this is a replay of last time.”

“I doubt she'd try that again. She knows the farm is the first place we'd look.”

“Okay, where do we start?”

He pushed a stack of mail off one of the kitchen chairs and sat down. “Actually, maybe I've jumped the gun. This could be another stunt to get our attention, so maybe we don't need to panic just yet.”

“Oh, so now 'we' aren't going to panic, are we?” Natalie's voice again dripped sarcasm. “And why on earth would Lissa think pulling another disappearing act has any chance of getting us back together?”

He wanted to say their getting back together was all Lissa lived and breathed lately, that if Natalie only paid a little more attention, it would be obvious how much Lissa was hurting— how much
he
was hurting.

The silence stretched between them, until Natalie burst out, “So what's the deal, Pearce? Has Mr. Head-Coach-Wannabe been too busy with
his
work to keep up with what's happening in his daughter's life? How many résumés did you send out
this
week?”

He flinched as though she had slapped him. “Stop it, okay? We can fight on our own time. This is about Lissa, not us.”

“All right, I'm sorry.” Remorse took the biting edge off Natalie's tone. “I just get so crazy when she pulls stunts like this.”

“Yeah, me too.” He rubbed the spot between his eyebrows and tried to clear his thoughts. “I'll start making the rounds here in Putnam, and you get busy in Fawn Ridge. Between the two of us we can hit all her friends' homes in both towns and any other likely spots where she might hide out.”

“I'll make a few calls before I leave for the office.”

Daniel felt his restraint slipping again. “Our daughter's missing and you're going in to work?”

“I can't be away from the print shop today. Things are too hectic. I've got to keep up with business.”

“Your only
business
right now should be your daughter. Call if you find her. I'll do the same.” He slammed down the receiver.

He finished dressing, forgetting about breakfast completely. His chin bore stray stubbly patches and a couple of scrapes from a slapdash rendezvous with his razor. He slid one arm into the sleeve of his red Panthers jacket and grabbed his canvas briefcase from the kitchen table. Juggling his car keys and cell phone, he stormed out the door and took the stairs at a run.

Jamming the Bronco into reverse, he played through all the possible reasons Lissa would choose now to disappear. Had she overheard his phone conversation with Coach Arnell? If so, he could only imagine what might be going through her head. Yeah, she'd hate the idea of having to change schools. Any normal kid would feel that way.

But Daniel's real fear went much deeper. Lissa would never forgive him or Natalie if she so much as suspected her parents' marriage was over.

His jaw muscles bunched. He should never have agreed to the Langston interview in the first place. How could he consider a position in another city when his life was in chaos? It would be insane to make that serious a decision until things were settled between him and Natalie, one way or another.

Whatever happened, he had to be certain Lissa could survive the adjustment. After she ran away last summer, he'd taken her to their pastor several times for counseling. Sometimes it seemed to help—mostly not. At least it kept her talking.

If only Natalie would talk to someone, if only she'd continued attending the stroke survivor meetings with her dad. But he hadn't even seen her at church in months. On top of everything else, had she given up on God?

He'd fought the truth as long as he could; maybe no one could help Natalie but herself. Lissa deserved at least one sane parent who could walk with her through the emotional upheaval of her grandmother's illness and her parents' divorce. With or without Natalie, Daniel had to salvage his family.

Now, if he could only track down his daughter!

Natalie stood under the shower for several long minutes. The hot, needle-like spray nipped at her shoulders while the rising steam enveloped her in a fog as thick as the myriad thoughts wrestling for attention.

Lissa, where are you? What are you up to?

Daniel had to be right. This must be another of Lissa's ploys to reunite them as a family. Natalie still remembered the heartbreak in Lissa's eyes when they first told her they were separating.

Okay, maybe she could have held their marriage together. Maybe she could have tried harder for Lissa's sake. But for so long, it felt as if Daniel didn't even attempt to see her side. Every time she tried to make him understand her feelings about letting Mom down, his eyes would glaze over. If her own husband couldn't deal with her emotions—the man who had taken vows to love her for better or worse, in case he'd forgotten—whom could she trust?

At least Dr. Sirpless hadn't called her crazy or told her to snap out of it. Digging through the debris of her guilt took its toll, but knowing Dr. Sirpless was only a phone call away helped Natalie feel more secure. Dr. Sirpless was the safety net under Natalie's emotional tightrope.

She turned off the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. Much as she hated to admit it, Daniel was right about one thing. She
had
become a workaholic. Working late became a convenient excuse when Dad and Hart pleaded with her to “just drop by” the convalescent home.

“Spend a few minutes with Mom,” Hart would beg. “She needs to see you, Rosy. You need to see her.”

But she couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't see her mother that way, trapped in the tangled web of a stroke-ravaged brain. Her unspoken prayer for her mother to die peacefully in her sleep only compounded her guilt, making her hate herself even more than she already did. Yet in her desperate attempt to protect herself from more grief, Natalie had shut out everyone she loved.

The beveled edge of the bathroom counter cut into her palms as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She leaned toward the steam-fogged image.
Oh, God, what am I going to do?
Somehow she had to put in at least twelve hours at the office today, or they'd never catch up by Christmas. The clients they'd worked so hard to gain would take their business back to Putnam.

How could Lissa do this to them again, now of all times? Natalie's complaint echoed accusingly through her mind and brought her up short. How could she be so selfish? How had her priorities gone so far wrong?

While her one-cup coffeemaker spit the strong brew into a black-rimmed travel mug, she vowed to inform Jeff as soon as she got to the office that she would have to put the day's projects on hold until she located her daughter. At the shop, she parked near the rear entrance and had just stepped out of her car when Deannie rushed over.

“Natalie, thank goodness. I tried to catch you at home but you'd already left, and your cell must be turned off.”

Natalie snatched the phone from her purse. The screen returned her blank stare. “I guess my battery's dead. What is it, Deannie?” Remembering Lissa, her heart lurched. “Did Daniel call? Did he find Lissa?” She couldn't wait to hug her daughter, and she promised God she would try everything to repair their relationship if Lissa would just come home.

“Uh, no.” Deannie gave her a confused look. Her mouth dropped open. “Oh my goodness, is Lissa
missing
? That's
terrible
! Have you called the cops? Did you check with—”

The momentary splash of hope dissipated like the light snowflakes melting on the hood of her car. Natalie laid a gloved hand against the girl's fluttering lips. “It's under control, don't worry. I'm about to make some calls.” Her voice carried more assurance than she felt. She locked her car and started toward the building.

Deannie's mincing, high-heeled boots sounded on the pavement behind her. “But what I was going to tell you—it's kind of important too.”

What else could possibly go wrong today?
Exasperation snatched away what little peace of mind Natalie had reclaimed. She whirled around. “Do you not understand that nothing short of a nuclear attack could take precedence over my missing child?” She wouldn't even think about how long it had taken her to realize this for herself. Then she apologized for snapping. “I'm sorry, Deannie. It's not your fault.”

Standing there in only her thin sweater, Deannie shivered and hugged herself. “That's okay. But I've got something important to tell you.”

Natalie cast her gaze heavenward. “What?” Moonbeams Bookstore? Eleanor's Flowers?

“It's that lady from Hope Gardens, where your mother is. She wants you to call right away.” Deannie held out a crumpled pink message form and made a halfhearted attempt to flatten it.

This was not good. Not good at all. Natalie snatched the note and carried it into her office, where she dropped her shoulder bag on the desk and flung her coat across the chair. She started to dial Hart's clinic number and then remembered he scheduled all his farm and stable visits in the morning. She could call his cell, but he'd asked the family to use it for emergencies only during clinic hours.