Even Now (12 page)

She told him she’d do her best, then she hung up and called the local police office. “Our daughter ran away. We need your help.”

“Okay, hold on.” He connected her to another officer.

“I’m Officer Rayson. Your daughter ran away?”

“Yes.” Angela put her hand against her chest. Her heart was racing so fast she could barely feel the beat. “Just today.”

“Okay, let’s start with her age.” His voice held compassion, but still she had the sense this was a routine call for him.

“She’s seventeen. She . . . she just had a baby.”

The officer hesitated. “A baby? Is the baby with her?”

“Yes. She’s four weeks old. My daughter packed a few suitcases, best I can tell, and the two of them set off today. Probably this morning.”

“Ma’am, you’re asking me to make a report on a seventeen-year-old runaway with a newborn baby?”

“Yes.” Angela clenched her fists. The man wasn’t going to help her. She forced her next words. “Is . . . is that a problem?”

“Sort of.” The sound of rustling papers came across the phone line. “Ma’am, she’s almost an adult, and since she has a four-week-old baby, we can assume she left on her own without any foul play, is that right?”

“Definitely. She left a note.” Angela gripped the counter in front of her and stared at the piece of paper. “She said she was going to California to find the baby’s father.”

“Okay, then.” Resignation rang in his tone. “If she doesn’t call in a few weeks, let us know. Maybe we can get someone in California on the case.”

“What?”
It was a shriek. “Sir, we need your help! She’s only seventeen. She hasn’t had a driver’s license for a full year yet!”

“I’m afraid we look at things a little differently.” He waited a beat. “She may not be an adult, but because of the baby we see her as one. At that age, they have a pretty good idea of what they want. It’s a family issue.”

“What about — ” She gave a series of light taps to her forehead.
Think
,
Angela. Come on. “
What about a missing person’s report. Couldn’t I file one of those even if she’s almost an adult?”

“You can file one on a person of any age, Ma’am. But they need to be missing for twenty-four hours.” He sounded doubtful. “I have to be honest with you, though. We can’t put manpower behind every missing person’s report.”

She couldn’t make sense of what was happening. The room felt like it was shaking beneath her feet, and all the colors seemed to melt together. The police couldn’t help her? What good was a police force, then? Her daughter was gone, headed one of a dozen different ways toward California. Los Angeles. But LA was a huge city, gigantic. How would Lauren find Shane?

More important, how would she and Bill find their daughter?

Bill came home while she was still sitting there, still poring through the yellow pages looking for someone who could help. She contacted three private investigators, but all of them said it was too soon to do anything. Lauren would be driving for the next week. If she wanted to call, she would. If not, there wasn’t much any of them could do. She would need to arrive in Los Angeles and set up residency before they could be of much help.

Bill walked in, set his things on the kitchen counter, and put his hand on her shoulder. “Are the police on their way?”

She looked at him, and for just a moment hatred gripped her. He had done this to them. He and the Galanters. She’d gone along with it because they were convincing. They made her believe the kids really would be better off apart. But hadn’t she doubted the decision all along? Watching the two of them say good-bye that night in the city, hadn’t she known this could happen?

She blinked, letting the rage go. She could hate him later. Right now they had to find Lauren and Emily. “The police aren’t going to help.” She explained the situation. “I’ve tried a few private investigators, but they all say it’s too soon.”

He hesitated, but only for a handful of seconds. “Then we have no choice.” He turned and went to the kitchen cupboard. It was his routine when he came home from work, and now he went ahead with it as if this were nothing more serious than a traffic ticket. He took a glass and filled it with ice water. “We’ll have to wait till she gets there.” He sipped the water. “I’m sure she’ll call.”

“Bill!” She stood, slamming the chair back in against the counter. “Do you
hear
yourself? Your daughter has run away. She’s taken her newborn daughter, our grandchild, and you — ” she gestured at him — “calmly pour a glass of water and tell me she’ll call?” She was trembling, her voice loud and shrill. “I can’t believe who you’ve become. Sometimes I think I hate you for what you’ve done to her.”

The water was still in his hand, but he set it down. His eyes found hers and a layer of remorse colored his expression. “Angela, calm down.” He went to her, but as he tried to touch her shoulder, she jerked away.

“Don’t
touch
me.” She pushed her finger at his chest. “I didn’t want this, Bill. We pushed her out, don’t you see that?” Tears flooded her eyes and her throat felt scratchy. “All that mattered to any of you, to any of us, was how things looked. The kids needed to be apart, but why? So we could pretend this never happened, so we could pretend Lauren didn’t get pregnant and everything was perfectly normal, right?”

“Lower your voice, please.” Though his tone was kind, Angela knew he still didn’t understand what she was feeling. “Everything will work out. You’ll see.”

“No, it won’t. We let this happen, and now . . . now we might never see her again.”

She spun away from him and hurried around the corner to their bedroom. How had life become so crazy? And where were Lauren and Emily? She wasn’t sure she could survive without them. Suddenly she realized her daughter held a piece of her heart, the part that understood life and the purpose and meaning of getting up in the morning. And now that Lauren was gone, that part of Angela was dead.

The part capable of loving.

Even loving the man she had married.

Emily was sick. There was no denying that now. They’d been on the road for two full days, and the baby was burning up. Lauren drove aimlessly through the streets of Oklahoma City trying to decide what to do. She’d already stopped at a drugstore and bought pain reliever, something to lower Emily’s fever. That was half an hour ago, and it seemed to be working, but her baby still sounded terrible. She was sneezing and coughing and now she was wheezing every time she breathed in.

A rush of fear and desperation worked its way through Lauren’s veins. Where should she take Emily? She had money, enough to see a doctor, but then what? Would they put the baby in the hospital? Would they find out that Lauren was a seventeen-year-old runaway? And what then? Maybe she would lose her daughter forever.

In the backseat, Emily started to cry, and the sound of it made her wheezing worse.

“Okay, honey, it’s okay. Mommy’s here.”

The words hung in the small, stuffy car and mocked her. Mommy was here? So what? She didn’t have a clue how to be a mother, otherwise her baby wouldn’t be sick. She was about to get back on the freeway, head for the next town, when she spotted a sign that read, Hospital.

She sped up and pulled into the parking lot. The least she could do was get someone to look at Emily. That shouldn’t raise too many flags. She parked and lifted the car seat from the back. Once inside the emergency area, she stood there, shaking, mouth dry. Other people were waiting in the lobby, and most of them turned and looked at her. Could they tell she was on the run? Was it obvious? And what about the people who worked there? What would she say? How would she explain her situation, other than by telling the truth?

A blonde woman behind the counter smiled at her. “Can I help you?”

“Yes.” She looked at Emily and back at the woman. “My baby’s sick.”

The woman handed Lauren a clipboard and a pen. “Fill out the information sheet, and we’ll get your baby seen as soon as we have an empty room.”

“Okay.”

The form asked a dozen questions, some of which she couldn’t answer. Address, for instance. And phone number. She also left blank the part about emergency contact information and next of kin. But she filled in Emily’s birth date and the fact that they didn’t have insurance. Then she signed the form and turned it in. They were called back five minutes later. The woman from the front office led her to a room. “Wait here. Dr. West will be in to see you in just a moment.”

“Thank you.” Lauren sat on a chair in the corner and slid Emily’s car seat close to her feet. She felt her daughter’s forehead and a shudder passed through her. The baby was hotter than before. There was a knock at the door.

“Yes?” Lauren gulped. What if they called the police or sent her back home? What if they could tell she was running?

The door opened and a pretty black woman walked in. “I’m Dr. West.” She held her hand out to Lauren. “Let’s take a look at your baby. Why don’t you get her undressed, everything except her diaper.”

Lauren lifted Emily from her car seat and laid her on the cold examination table. She started to cry, and as Lauren undressed her, she noticed that her baby’s face was red. “I think she has a cold.”

When Emily’s hot body had nothing on but her diaper, the doctor held a stethoscope to her chest. She moved it three times before looking up, her face knit in concern. “Her lungs sound pretty full. Do you live nearby?”

“Is it a cold?”

“I’m not sure.” The woman gave her a slight frown. “Where did you say you lived? We might have to admit her. I’d like to see her get an X-ray.”

Panic coursed through Lauren. She put her hand on Emily’s head and patted her hair. “I’m not from around here. I’m . . . I’m moving to California.” She looked at her daughter. “The two of us are moving there.”

The doctor waited until Lauren looked back up at her. Then she made a thoughtful sort of sound. “I tell you what. Wait here for a minute.” She gave a last quick look at Emily and then she left the room.

Lauren couldn’t draw a deep breath. Where was the woman going? Was she calling the police or maybe a social services department? Maybe she was doing a check on her name, and by now her parents would’ve called and reported her missing. That would bring the police for sure. Emily was crying, squirming on the table. Lauren studied her, the look in her eyes. She didn’t look that sick. And with the pain reliever and maybe a cough syrup, they should be okay until she got help. There was only one place where she could turn now, and it would feel like utter defeat. But her medical insurance, her support system, everything was in Chicago. She had no choice but to go back.

Then, when Emily was well, they could head for California once more.

“It’s all right, sweetie.” She cooed at Emily as she slipped the baby’s tiny arms into her little sleeper. After four weeks it no longer felt awkward dressing her, but here she felt anxious, like she was doing everything wrong. When her baby was dressed, Lauren picked her up and cradled her close, bouncing her slightly so that she would settle down.

After a minute Emily was quieter, her crying only in small bursts. Lauren checked the clock on the wall. No wonder her baby was upset. It had been four hours since she’d eaten; she was probably starving. The idea brought a memory back to her. She’d been maybe eleven years old, home with the flu, but she came downstairs and found her mother in the kitchen.

“I’m hungry, Mama. Can I eat something, please?”

“That’s a great sign.” Her mother pulled her close and stroked the back of her head. “Little girls get their appetite back when they’re feeling better.”

Her mother’s words faded from her mind. Hunger meant that children weren’t that sick, right? That was what her mother had told her that day. She sat down and adjusted her shirt so she could nurse her daughter. Sure enough. Emily was starving. She made precious little sounds as she ate.

Maybe that’s all this was. A little cold, a fever, and a lot of hunger. She’d driven a long way that day. They probably should’ve stopped sooner.

The doctor walked in then. She was holding the form Lauren had filled out. “Lauren.” Her voice was tender. “I see you’ve listed no emergency contact and no next of kin.”

“No.” She looked at Emily. The baby was much happier now, content to be eating. Her eyes lifted to the doctor’s. “No, we don’t have family at this point. We’re making a new life for ourselves out in California.”

“Okay.” She leaned against the examining table and took a slow breath. “But you’re a minor, is that right?”

Lauren searched her mind for the right answer. She hadn’t written her age on the form, so how did the doctor know? Had the woman contacted the police or found out that she’d been reported missing? Lauren gulped and just as she was about to shake her head and deny anything of the sort, she felt herself nodding. “Yes. I’m . . . seventeen. I’ll be eighteen before Christmas.”

“You know what I think?”

“What?” Lauren held Emily a little closer.

“I think you need help, Lauren. We have social workers here in Oklahoma City who can help you if we admit Emily. They can find somewhere for you to stay while your daughter’s being treated.”