When I'm Gone: A Novel (10 page)

“Your daughter is
nine
?” Lacey chimed in, leaning over the counter.

“Hush, Lacey. Go into the house. This is none of your business.” Ms. Stephani shooed the girl, flapping her hand toward the open doorway. “Now. Or you lose your front desk shift and have to switch with Daisy in the kitchen.”

“Fine,” Lacey huffed but stood and waddled toward the door, glancing at the closed bathroom one last time before turning the corner as if she still expected someone to come out of it. Once she was gone, Ms. Stephani turned around to face Luke, her face distorted, suspicious.

“Please, follow me into the office.” On the other side of the desk, there was a sliding door with an
O
FFICE
sign printed in bold letters above it. The office within the office. This couldn’t be good. Once when Luke was eleven, his fifth-grade teacher sent him to the principal’s office when he refused to dissect a frog in science class. Eleven-year-old Luke was only slightly more nervous than thirty-seven-year-old Luke at that moment.

Luke didn’t know what to expect inside the Maranatha House office. Judging by Ms. Stephani’s appearance, he’d guess piles of dusty books and maybe a cat or two. So what met him inside was a pleasant surprise. First, a large oak desk with a rolling leather chair behind it and two neatly upholstered wing-back chairs covered in a floral print. The room was painted a soft yellow with white trim; pictures hung on the wall with hundreds of anonymous faces staring back at him. He felt like he was in the sitting room of an old country farmhouse, not the office of a mysterious adoption agency. Once they both sat down, Ms. Stephani spoke first.

“I’m going to stop making assumptions about who you are or why you are here. But before you speak, please understand we respect our residents’ privacy and cannot release any information about guests past or present or their children. So if you are here to ask questions of a confidential nature, I’m sorry, but I must ask you to leave.”

Ignoring her request, Luke reached into his coat pocket, grabbed a slick piece of glossy photograph paper, and slapped it down on the amber wood desktop. “This is my wife.”

It was a picture of Natalie two Easters ago, when her mother visited and insisted the children attend church. Before Ewing’s sarcoma was a regular part of their vocabulary. Natalie wore a yellow sundress with lace around the shoulders and neckline. The yellow made her skin look like porcelain. May wore a light-pink dress with tiny flowers printed on it. She was seven at the time and looked like a smaller version of her current self. Will had gone through puberty since then. The little boy in that picture, his hair combed back with a perfect part, tie on crooked, was so familiar, yet so different than the son he’d left at home.

Ms. Stephani didn’t move to touch the photo, but leaned forward just enough to peek at it. “She seems very nice, but we don’t serve adults here, only young women ages twelve to nineteen.”

“She’s not pregnant.” He nudged the picture forward. “Her name was Natalie Richardson, and she’s dead.” Luke tried to gauge Ms. Stephani’s reaction to hearing Natalie’s name, but her face was blank. “While going through some of her belongings, my fourteen-year-old son found an envelope from Maranatha Family Services postmarked a few weeks before his birth. Now the kid has it in his mind he’s adopted.”

Ms. Stephani kept her arms folded in front of her on the desk, not letting her gaze leave Luke’s. “I still don’t see how we can help you.”

“Listen. I know he’s not adopted.” He wrestled the folded envelope out of his pocket, a flake of spiral notebook paper fluttering onto his thigh. Luke stared at it for a moment before sliding it off into his palm. As discreetly as possible he dropped it back into his pocket, patting it softly to make sure the scrap of paper was secure. Ms. Stephani cleared her throat, and Luke remembered why he was there. “I mean, I wasn’t actually there through the whole pregnancy, but still . . .” Luke unfolded the envelope and held it up for Ms. Stephani to inspect. “I was hoping you’d have some idea where this envelope came from since I can’t exactly ask Natalie.”

She squinted, her lashes, heavy with mascara, nearly touching. “That is from the legal arm of our organization in Chicago. It facilitates any adoption from a young lady who spent her time at one of the six Maranatha Family Service homes throughout Illinois, Indiana, and Michigan. The adoptions are usually regional. Other than that, there’s not much I can tell you.” She leaned back in her chair till it squeaked as if the springs were about to break.

This was a dead end.

Swallowing his irritation, Luke snatched the documents and picture off the table and stood quickly. Defeated and disappointed, he needed to get out of the office before he exploded.

“Well, thank you for your help,” he spat, twisting the words enough to make it sound like an accusation. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but an immovable, compassionless wall was not it. Luke turned to leave, his face hot and teeth clenched, but he heard Ms. Stephani’s voice one last time over his shoulder.

“I’m so very sorry for your loss. Natalie was a . . .” Her voice wavered like she was holding back tears. She coughed and tried again. “I’m sure your wife was a wonderful woman.”

When her words soaked in, the room began to spin. He caught hold of the door frame and turned around, mouth open. He’d push harder this time, get real answers. But one look at Ms. Stephani’s face let him know that all kindness and pity were gone. If he was going to go up against this version of Ms. Stephani, he’d need more information and maybe a lawyer.

“Thank you.” Luke cleared his throat and put his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave. Taking a moment at the door he paused, straightened his back, and turned his face to stone before walking into the lobby. In that pause, one of the hundreds of pictures covering the wall caught his eye. It hung right above the door, a group of six smiling couples wearing matching purple T-shirts with Maranatha Family Services across the front. The photo was faded from years of sunlight pouring in from the curtained window on the opposite side of the room, so determining its age was difficult. But looking at the photo he did know one thing—Natalie was one of the faces smiling out at him. Her hair was pulled back in a long dark ponytail, and she was smiling so widely he could almost see her molars. Right next to Natalie was another familiar face: her high school boyfriend, Andy Garner.

CHAPTER 10

Luke stumbled out of the Maranatha House in a fog. With one hard push he opened the front door, the ancient hinges whining back at him. A hand tapped him on his back as he started down the peeling wooden steps, and he slowed only for a second to take the off-white trifold brochure Ms. Stephani silently offered him.

It wasn’t until he smashed the unlock button on his car that Luke realized he’d never even told them his name. It was too late; nothing could entice him back inside now. He tossed the brochure onto the passenger seat, slid inside, and slammed the door.

Revving the engine, he forced the car into reverse, creating a cloud of dust. No careful turns and easing over hills this time. Luke needed to get away from this place and the secrets inside it as fast as his three-ton SUV would take him. As soon as his tires hit asphalt, the undercarriage scraping as he left the dirt road, Luke flicked on the radio, punching buttons till he found a song that suited his mood. He needed something confused but angry, with a touch of betrayal.

Once the bass was pumping so loud his eardrums hurt, he pushed the gas pedal to the floor, merging onto the empty highway within minutes. He didn’t want to think. Thinking only hurt, only made tears of fury cloud his vision. He didn’t know what that picture meant, but it did explain why she had the Maranatha envelope in her box. It’s not like he could tell Will that. Damn it. What was he going to tell Will?

Despite the blaring music, Luke’s mind raced through various scenarios of why Natalie could possibly be in those pictures and why she was in them with Andy. He’d seen Andy several times since reconnecting with Natalie at Michigan University. Andy’d been to their wedding, and in the early years of their marriage, Andy would sometimes stop by for dinner if he happened to be in town. But Luke hadn’t seen him in over ten years.

Instead of going to college, Andy stayed behind in their small, lakeside town of Pentwater to take over his father’s real estate business. If Luke remembered correctly, the offices were right off Main Street, only a block away from One More Time, the used bookstore where his mother used to work.

Pentwater was a fishing town turned tourist attraction, and perfectly situated between the resort community of Silver Lake and the small but growing city of Ludington. Between selling vacation homes by the dunes and real homes in town, Andy and his dad were always busy. Especially during the housing boom that accompanied the beginning of the 2000s.

Andy had visited Ann Arbor twice while Luke was dating Natalie and once during their engagement. They’d been kids together, grown up in the same town until high school, but seeing him again in Ann Arbor fifteen years ago was like meeting a stranger.

The first time Luke saw Andy at the University of Michigan, he was running through the quad at full speed. As he flew across the yard, the lanky twenty-year-old dropped his shoulder bag halfway between the sidewalk and Natalie. When he reached her, Andy scooped Natalie up in a bear hug more appropriate for a recovered hostage or a returning war hero.

Luke had sized Andy up. Though taller than in junior high, Andy was still a head shorter than Luke and was in his pre-real estate, full-on grunge phase. Back then he still thought he’d get out of Pentwater and make it as a musician. His dark hair brushed the top of his shoulders and fell into his almost black eyes. It looked like he hadn’t eaten real food in a month, and the baggy shirt he wore barely covered the boxers showing at the top of his saggy jeans. Andy’s appearance had reassured Luke at the time. Natalie liked clean-cut guys, or at least that’s what she’d always said.

After spinning Natalie until she yelped, Andy put her down gently, holding her at arm’s length for a second longer. When he let go, she wobbled on her feet, grabbing Luke’s arm for balance. Her cheeks flushed pink in the way they did when she was truly happy.

“I’ve missed your pretty face, Nats!” He pushed the long clump of hair out of his eyes. “Why don’t you come home anymore?”

Natalie looked at her shoes, drawing circles in the dirt. “Life is busy, I guess. Plus, my parents don’t even live there anymore—kind of lost my excuse for visiting.”

Andy clutched at his chest like his heart was going to explode; one of his fingernails on each hand was painted black. “Oh, you know how to wound a man’s pride! Lost your reason to visit? I’m not reason enough?”

“Stop it.” She swatted at him playfully. “Of course you are. Maybe Luke and I can take a visit out there for spring break. I know it’s a bit early for the seasonal stuff, but we could get a room for next to nothing.”

When Natalie mentioned Luke, Andy seemed to notice him for the first time since the dramatic reunion. Andy ran his eyes over Luke, looking warily at his tucked-in polo and belted jeans.

“Hey there, Luke. Been a while.” They’d been in school together from kindergarten to eighth grade. Andy had been a chubby kid with a huge bug collection he’d bring to school every year for show-and-tell, which did nothing to help him make friends. Then again, Luke was the son of the town drunk, so neither of them was exactly “cool.” Andy gave two strong shakes and let his hand drop. “Nats used to talk about you all the time back in the old days. You know, when you left and broke her heart.” He chuckled like it was a joke and not a dig.

“Well, I’m okay now. I mean, when you’re fourteen you don’t have a whole lot of choice in where you live . . .” Natalie broke in, probably sensing the hostile undercurrent between her current boyfriend and her past boyfriend. “I forgave him a long time ago.” She put another hand on Luke’s arm and stood on her toes to place a soft kiss on his cheek. Yeah. That’s all it took. He never worried about Andy and Natalie again.

Luke was never a jealous guy, and though he found Natalie and Andy’s relationship immature and slightly annoying, it had never concerned him. Now Luke wished he’d been the suspicious type. How on earth did he go from never questioning his wife’s loyalty when she was alive to questioning it constantly now that she was gone?

The next two hundred miles went by in a blur of bare trees and small towns. When Luke finally pulled into his driveway, passing Jessie’s car on his way into the garage, it was 5:15 p.m. Perfect timing. He took a second to gather the papers he’d thrown on the front seat, including the brochure he’d rather burn than look at ever again. Carelessly, he tried to shove them into the back pocket of his workbag.

It wasn’t until he walked through the door and was hit by the scent of tomatoes simmering with garlic and butter that he remembered he hadn’t eaten all day. His stomach growled, but he still took the time to place his workbag out of sight. He needed to ensure no prying hands could uncover the secrets stowed inside. Reentering the hall, Luke removed his still-dusty dress shoes. When the second shoe fell out of the overflowing shoe basket, a rush of footsteps stomped out of the kitchen.

“Daddy!” May ran toward him, her long hair streaming behind her except for the frayed damp chunk hanging next to her face. She jumped into his arms and pressed her moist cheek against his. “How was work?” she chirped like Natalie used to.

“Just fine, sweetie.” He kissed her forehead.

“Dad!” Luke couldn’t remember the last time Will came out to greet him after work. Even worse, he couldn’t recall a day Will seemed excited to see him. After a long day, Will’s happy face reminded him why he had so many covert errands. “How was your trip?”

“Trip?” May tugged at the arms of her oversize blue-and-green sweater, her fingers making giant holes. Luke was almost certain it belonged to her mother. “I want to go. Is it business? I can be very perfessional,” she said proudly, although struggling with her new word. “I help at the school store, Daddy, and Jessie says I can have a garage sale this summer if it’s okay with you.”

Jessie stood in the hall leading out from the kitchen dressed in her usual uniform of jeans, an oversize T-shirt—this one filled with rainbow letters—and ballet slippers. She really wasn’t much taller than May, and her features were small, nymphlike almost. Her dark hair was pulled back, as always, in a high ponytail that touched her shoulders. Today the darkness under her eyes made him wonder if she was working too hard—or maybe if the medical problems Natalie mentioned in her letter were acting up. He really didn’t know how to bring that up though. Better not to.

Jessie leaned against the picture wall, in between a picture of Will from eighth-grade graduation and another one of Luke and Natalie, all in white, sitting in the tall grass together during a professional photo shoot they had done when Clayton was three months old.

“Sorry,” she said, giving a short wave before folding her arms and clearing her throat. “I thought I’d have plenty of time to pass that plan by you.”

“You definitely have plenty of time to pass it by me. I know it’s April, but that doesn’t mean the snow is over.”

“I’m ready for sketti now, Jessie!” Clayton shouted from the kitchen. “I’m waaaaaaaiting!”

“I sure taught that kid some awesome manners, didn’t I?” Luke chuckled, shrugging out of his suit coat. As soon as it was off, May pulled it out of his hands and ran toward the stairs with it.

“I got this one,” she shouted. Her overattentiveness should have been adorable, but it made him worry she was trying to fill her mother’s shoes with her nine-year-old feet. Will sat down on the bottom step, apparently willing to sit through all the boring adult small talk in order to get the lowdown on what happened at Maranatha. Luke stalled, heading to the kitchen, still unsure of how much to tell his son.

“Did the handoff with Annie go all right? Any temper tantrums today?” Luke asked Jessie, rustling Clayton’s hair. The eager boy was already seated at the table with a fork clutched in one hand and a butter knife in the other. Luke expertly whisked the knife away and replaced it with one of the strips of garlic bread cooling on the counter.

“It was actually really great. I don’t know if it was the early nap or being home all day, but he was a happy boy today.”

“That’s great.” Luke took a quick sweeping glance around the spotless room. A pot of sauce bubbled on the stove, bread sat on the cutting board, a colorful tossed salad looked appealing on the table with a small dish of homemade dressing—not the bottled Paul Newman stuff—nearby. No wonder she looked so tired. “Dinner looks great. You really didn’t have to—”

She cut him off, holding up both her hands. “Oh, no! Can’t take credit for any of this. It was Annie. She had everything ready when I got here; all I had to do was set it on the stove at five to warm up.”

So it was Annie. “Hey, you remembered to warm it up, so I’m giving you some credit.” Luke counted out four plates from his fresh stack of paper products and laid them on the table. He paused and looked Jessie over again. “You should stay for dinner. Looks like we’ve got plenty, and after all, you did
so
much work . . .”

“Ha-ha. Hilarious.” Jessie flapped a hand at him and twisted her lips up to one side. Natalie used to do something very similar when he teased her. “I actually have a date tonight, so I’ll have to pass.”

“You have a date?” May ran in, breathless from her errand. She almost bumped into Will, who was leaning against the wall, still waiting and listening. “Who is he? Where are you going?” She folded her arms, looking over Jessie with a sour pout on her face. “Are you wearing
that
?”

The questions poured out of her mouth without stopping. She was so excited you’d think she was the one invited to meet a boy for dinner. May raised both of her arms above her head to free her hands from the giant sweater’s engulfing sleeves and clasped them in front of her. Jessie shook her head, bangs tickling the top of her eyebrows.

“Yes, I am wearing this,” she answered, smirking defiantly and pulling the bottom of her oversize T-shirt taut so they could better see the logo of
Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat
.
May rushed across the kitchen to stand beside her beloved Jessie, who ran her fingers through May’s tangled hair, each nail painted a different color of the rainbow. “And I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it’s only a date with my dad.”