Chapter 8 - Where Mom Went
The knock was still in the walls when Mr. Daniel put his finger to his lips. Not mad. Just wait.
We sat on the rug and did not move. My legs were under my dress. Noah was warm against my back and his breath made my neck wet. The vacuum sat beside us like a big gray dog. The lamp made a warm circle and outside the windows it was black and rainy.
Footsteps went past the door down the hall. Slow. Then back. Then nothing. My heart beat in my ears.
Mr. Daniel breathed out. He looked at the door a long time before he looked at me again. He sat down on the rug too, even in his suit. His knees cracked a little.
"Mia," he said quiet. "I need to ask you something, okay? No rush."
I nodded. I held my cloth tight in my hands.
"Where's your mom?" he said.
I looked down at the rug pattern. The red lines went around and around. I counted one, two, with my eyes so I would not cry.
"At the church," I said.
He waited. He did not push. The rain hit the window.
"Which church?" he said soft.
"The white one with the tall door," I said. "By the parking lot. She parked by the line where the buses stop."
I remembered the lot lights buzzing. The painted lines all cracked. Noah crying in his car seat and my mom's hands shaking on the wheel.
"She said stay here," I said. My voice got small. "She said lock it when I leave. She said she would be right back."
Mr. Daniel's face did not change much, but his mouth went tight. He glanced at Noah, then at me.
"How long did you wait?" he asked.
I swallowed. "It got dark. Then the lights went off. Then it got light again."
He closed his eyes for a second. Just a second. When he opened them they looked wet.
"She didn't come back," I said. Because I had to say it true.
"No," he whispered. "Okay."
My nose burned. I sniffed and wiped it with my arm. Noah moved and made a little sound, and I rocked just a bit to keep him asleep. The shawl held him. I checked the knot with my hand without thinking.
Mr. Daniel pulled his phone from his pants pocket. The light hurt my eyes. He typed with his thumb, slow, like he did not want me to see.
"I'm not calling anyone right now," he said fast, when I sat up straight. "I promise. I'm just looking."
I watched his thumb stop. On the screen I saw the words COUNTY SHERIFF in blue at the top. Under it a little box that said search.
He looked at me. "What town was the church in? Do you remember the name on the sign?"
My hands were cold. "There was a gas station across. It said EAT. Mom bought milk."
He nodded like that helped. He typed something, then stopped and put the phone face-down on the rug.
"Hey," he said. "You did good telling me that."
I did not feel good. My dress pocket felt heavy. I had kept it in there for a long time and never showed anybody.
I reached in and pulled it out. It was soft and folded. The edges were fuzzy.
"I have this," I said.
I held it out. It was a bus ticket stub. Thin paper, blue ink. The numbers were smeared where my hand sweated on it.
He took it careful, like it would break. He smoothed it on his knee. He looked at it a long time.
"This is from the highway line," he said low. "Ridgeway to here."
I nodded. "The driver helped me lift Noah. He said sit up front where he could see us."
Mr. Daniel stared at me. "You rode that bus alone? You and Noah? Just you two?"
I nodded again. My throat hurt. "I had money folded in my sock. Mom left it in the cup holder. I counted it two times. I asked for two but the lady said baby rides free."
The lamp buzzed a little. The rain was louder for a minute.
He put the stub down on the rug between us. He rubbed his face with both hands. His hair stood up where he touched it.
"You got on a highway bus by yourself," he said. Not a question. Like he was trying to make it real in his head. "At six. With an infant on your back."
"I kept Noah in the shawl," I said fast. "I did the knot like Mom showed me. I didn't let him crawl. I had the bottle."
He looked at the shawl. At the faded blue cloth tied across my chest. At Noah's bald head resting on my shoulder.
"Jesus," he breathed. Then he looked sorry he said it. "Sorry."
I folded the stub again and put it back in my pocket. I patted it flat so it would stay.
"Are you going to call them?" I asked. My voice shook. "The sheriff?"
He picked up his phone. My stomach dropped. But he did not dial. He just held it. His thumb hovered over the dark screen.
"If I call tonight, they take you tonight," he said. His voice was low and tired. "And I don't know where they'd take Noah. And it's raining."
He looked at the door, then at the windows, then at us on his rug.
"Not tonight," he said. "We clean this room by morning like we said. Then we figure out what's safe."
May you like
He slid the phone back in his pocket without calling. I let out a breath I did not know I was holding.
Noah sighed in his sleep. The house was quiet again.
