Chapter 4 - The Call About Grace Bennett
I didn't let go of the bear when he reached for the blue band again.
We were alone in that dressing suite off the ballroom and it was too quiet. The music from the gala came through the wall as a low hum. The makeup lights around the mirror made everything too bright and I could see my pink shoes dangling off the chair he'd lifted me onto. He'd knelt down to be even with me again, and his black bow tie was a little crooked now.
He touched the thin blue strip on the bear's leg with two fingers. He didn't pull it. He just turned it enough to read it.
"Can I look for a second?" he asked.
I shook my head and held tighter. My arms were getting tired but I didn't want to loosen them.
"I'm not going to take him," he said. His voice was lower than it had been out on the sofa. "I promise. I just need to check something."
I let him slide the band just enough to see the edge of it. It was plastic, like the one they'd put on my wrist once at the clinic, only smaller. There were letters printed on it. I couldn't read them. He stared at it for a long breath.
Then he stood up and took his phone out of his tuxedo pocket. The silver watch on his wrist caught the light when he moved.
"I need to make a quick call," he said to me. "You stay right there, okay? Keep holding him tight."
I nodded. He stepped to the far corner by the coat rack, turned his shoulder so he was half-facing me and half-facing the wall, and dialed.
I watched his back. His shoulders were tight under the black jacket.
"Hey, it's me," he said, quiet and urgent. "I'm at the house. I need you to check something for me right now." He paused. "Grace Bennett. The bear program."
I hugged the bear closer. My name wasn't Grace. I wanted to tell him but he was still talking.
"No, not a donation call," he said, keeping his voice low like he didn't want anyone in the hallway to hear. "One of the bears is here. With a little girl. It's got the blue band, the hospital band." He listened. "I know they aren't sold. That's why I'm calling."
The person on the other end talked for a while. I could hear the faint buzz of a voice but not the words. His hand tightened around the phone.
"You're sure?" he said. "Every single one was hand-gifted through the foundation? Through the children's program?" Another pause. He looked back at me over his shoulder. "And the name on the band would be the recipient? Not the donor?"
My legs swung a little. The room smelled like hairspray and clean towels.
"Okay. Okay, thanks," he said. He ended the call but he didn't put the phone away right away. He just stared at it.
He came back and knelt again. He didn't reach for the bear this time. He looked at me, not at the band.
"Sweetheart," he said carefully, "did someone tell you that bear's name was Grace?"
I shook my head. My hair moved against my cheeks.
"No," I whispered. "I'm not Grace."
He blinked. "I know you're not. Who gave him to you?"
I had to think about how to say it right. My throat felt dry.
"Mama said to hold him," I said. I held him up a little so he could see. "She said Grace Bennett gave him to me so I wouldn't be scared. She said to not let go until someone found me."
His face changed. It wasn't shock like when I'd said Bennett out in the ballroom. It was something quieter. He glanced down at the blue band again, then back at my face.
"Your mama gave him to you tonight?" he asked.
I nodded. "In the car. Before we came in. She said stay on the couch."
He let out a slow breath. I could hear it.
"And she told you to say Grace Bennett if someone asked about the bear?"
"She said if they ask whose bear, say Grace Bennett," I whispered. "So they'd know."
He didn't say anything for a few seconds. The gala music kept going behind the door, all those people laughing and glasses clinking while we sat in that bright little room.
He finally nodded, more to himself than to me, and his eyes stayed on the bear in my arms.
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"Okay," he said. "That helps. Thank you for telling me the truth."
He stood up slowly and checked the door to make sure it was still locked. Then he looked back at me on the chair, still holding tight, and I realized he wasn't deciding whether to take me back out to the ballroom anymore. He was deciding what he had to do next, and it wasn't going to be just finding my mom in the parking lot.
