Songs without Words (23 page)

A flood of possibilities came to mind as Harper imagined the three of them sightseeing. The list of places she thought of mingled with the list she already had in her mind for just Chelsea and herself. There hadn’t been time to do any of these things yet, and she wanted to do everything with Chelsea. Even ride a cable car! They had both done that, of course, but they had never done it together.

She took her cell phone out of its case and called Chelsea’s number. She answered on the second ring. “Oh, Harper, I was just thinking about you.”

Harper lay back on the wooden planks of the dock and pressed the phone closer to her ear.

“Miss you,” she said, staring up into a pale blue sky.

“Me too. Tell me about your day.”

Chapter 18

JUNE 23

Andrew held Harper’s guitar uneasily. She reached around the chair he was sitting in, placing his fingers on the strings and showing him how to use the pick. Then she had him play a chord and change his fingers, then play another, until he understood how the different sounds were made.

Wilona watched them from her rocking chair across the room. They were taking a break from working on the documentary, a task that was proceeding smoothly. Having made four already, Harper knew what to do, how to put together the story. With Wilona’s expertise, the film editing was going much more quickly than Harper ever could have done on her own.

So, after playing a couple of songs on her guitar to entertain them, Harper had asked Andrew if he would like to try it. He had responded eagerly. His face lit up each time he touched the strings and made music.
This is what Roxie does for a living, every day
, thought Harper. It seemed like rewarding work, though she knew that Roxie’s students were not all nearly as cooperative as Andrew.

“That’s wonderful,” Harper told him. “You’re a natural-born musician!”

They continued the lesson until Andrew had learned the C, G and F chords. After an hour, Wilona suggested that it was time for him to get ready for bed. To Harper’s surprise, he agreed. “My fingers have had enough for today,” he said, returning the guitar carefully to Harper before leaving the room.

“Thank you for that, Harper,” Wilona said.

“Oh, you don’t need to thank me. It was fun. I’ve never tried to teach anyone to play before. Of course, he’s an eager student. Makes it easy. When I first took piano lessons as a child, I was a terror. My poor music teacher...” Harper laughed, remembering what a petulant student she had been. “You were right, he’s a joyful child.”

“That’s enough to teach us all a lesson, isn’t it?”

Harper nodded.

“I think I’ll go to bed too,” Wilona said, pulling herself up from her chair. “I’ll see you in the morning, Harper, and we can finish up that film work.”

Once the rest of the household was quiet, Harper went to her room and phoned Chelsea again. There was no answer. In fact, the phone went to voice mail after only one ring, indicating that it was turned off. Harper hung up, then, after a few minutes, called again. This time she left a message. “Chelsea,” she said, “this is Harper. I got your message. I’d like to talk to you too. Call me back on my cell. I’m not home right now.”

Harper placed her phone on the bedside table, then read a book for a half hour, occasionally glancing at the phone, as if doing so might encourage Chelsea to return her call. Finally, tired and discouraged, she turned off the lamp. She lay in the dark with a window open to a warm, still night gloriously filled with stars, one of the tremendous benefits of being away from the city. A faint odor of pine came in periodically on the breeze. Starry skies like this reminded Harper of nights lying in a sleeping bag beside a mountain lake, one of those inspirational experiences that makes you feel so alive and so in tune with nature.

Whenever Harper contemplated a sky like this, deep in the night, she heard music—sonorous, profoundly resonating harmonies synchronized with the orbit and rotation of celestial bodies, united like the instruments of an orchestra under the direction of a grand maestro.

Harper and Chelsea had never gone camping. They’d never gone fishing or snorkeling, never gone to a museum or even to a movie together. Everything had happened too fast. Their weeks together were frozen in time at the first flush of love, suspended at the core of transcendent zeal, before it had a chance to lose any of its luster. In that respect, it was perfect, an untainted grand passion.

If Harper were an artist, she would have wrestled that summer into a painting or a novel or a song. An artist had that power, to transform the too-intense sting of life into an object of beauty. What sort of poem had Chelsea written, she wondered, to lessen the ache of that wound?

For Chelsea had been hurt too. Harper had been wrong about a lot of things, but not about that, surely. Chelsea’s tears that day, the day she said goodbye, they were genuine. After all of her second-guessing of Chelsea’s intentions, she was back to believing again. Harper knew that her gut could always be trusted, and her gut told her that the bond between them had been real.

It was nearly midnight. She tried not to draw any conclusions about why Chelsea wasn’t returning her call.
She’ll call tomorrow
, she reassured herself, drifting into a fitful sleep.

Chapter 19

JUNE 24

But Chelsea did not call, and Harper had to conclude that she wasn’t going to. After all, it had now been two weeks since her original message. Who knew what had prompted the call in the first place? Maybe it had been a momentary lapse of judgment. Perhaps the summer heat had had the same effect on her as it had been having on Harper, reviving in them both a driving need for one another. If so, Chelsea had clearly managed to master her desires.

Harper prepared to return home. Her documentary was already taking a semblance of its final shape. The background music, which she would choose on her own, would be added later. She thanked Wilona and said goodbye to Andrew, wishing him luck with his music.

It was nearly three o’clock when she pulled into her driveway. The first thing she did when she got inside the house was to pick up the phone to see if there was voice mail. There was. Had Chelsea called here instead of her cell phone? No, it was her mother, reporting that Sarah was still missing and the police were doing nothing at all about it.

Harper guiltily realized that she had completely forgotten about the family emergency while she’d been away.
Shit!
she thought.
How could I have forgotten that?

She needed to call them, but first... She switched on the air conditioner to relieve the stuffiness in the house and went to the kitchen to get a soda. She stiffened at the sight of a note taped on the refrigerator door. The note was written in a script she didn’t recognize. Someone had been in her house while she was gone. Nobody had a key, except... No, Chelsea had given hers back.

Then she saw that the note was addressed to “Aunt Harper.” Sarah? It had to be. She flipped the paper over to check the signature. It was! She read the note quickly.

Aunt Harper,

Surprise! I came for a visit. Arrived here Monday afternoon and hung around waiting for you, but after a while, I let myself in. You should get a better lock on your bedroom window. Don’t worry. I didn’t break it.

I helped myself to your food and stuff and hung out until this afternoon (Tuesday). I hope you don’t mind. Since you didn’t come home last night and I have no idea where you are or when you’ll be back, I think I’ll take off. Nothing to do here. Can’t even surf the Web because of the password on your computer. Don’t know your cell number either. Should have gotten that before I left. Stupid, I know.

Sorry, I don’t have a phone. Dad took it away months ago. I’ll find a way to call, though, in a couple of days to see if you’re back. For now, I want to see the sights. I’m going to Disneyland!

P.S. I saw the pictures of Chelsea in your guest room. I heard Mom and Dad talking about her once, a while back, about how she’s your girlfriend. She’s really
sublime
.

Sarah

The word “sublime” was underlined emphatically.

Harper stared at the note in her hand for a moment, letting this information sink in. Sarah had been here Monday and then left on Tuesday to go to Disneyland? Today was Thursday. Harper’s head was spinning.

Why did Sarah come here?
Harper wondered.
And where the hell is she now?

When she had recovered enough to act, she called her brother and gave him the news. Neil was ecstatic at first.

“Oh, thank God she’s safe,” he said. “So where is she now?”

“Like I said,” Harper explained. “I don’t know. Her note said she was going to Disneyland.”

“Disneyland. Isn’t that way down by L.A.?”

“Yes. Nowhere near here. She probably didn’t realize that. It would be at least six hours by car.”

“So how could she get there? Would she take a bus? Jesus, would she hitchhike?”

Harper didn’t know how to answer that.

“So what you’re saying,” Neil continued, in an accusatory tone, “is that you’ve lost her.”

“Well, technically, I didn’t actually have her.”

“But she was there, she was there to see you, to seek out your help.”

“I had no idea. I’m sorry, Neil. She did say she’d call me in a couple of days.”

“But it’s been a couple of days. That was Tuesday. Now it’s Thursday. She hasn’t called. Nobody’s seen her or heard from her. Anything could have happened. Oh, God, Harper, I wish you’d been home.”

“I do too. At least we know more than we did before. And her note sounded very cheerful. No mishaps along the way, apparently. She’s a resourceful child.”

Neil grunted begrudgingly. “I’ll call the police and tell them.”

After hanging up, Harper got her suitcase out of the car, then returned to the refrigerator for the soda she’d been after, noticing that several were missing. It looked like Sarah had also helped herself to that expensive imported gouda
. I hope she appreciated that
, Harper thought, opening the freezer with the aim of satisfying her hunger with a pint of strawberry ice cream. Gone. Oh, well, she thought, reaching for a Lean Cuisine spaghetti instead, Sarah had probably done her a favor with that one. She had just stuck the frozen dinner in the microwave when her doorbell rang. Thinking that it was Sarah returning, she ran to the door and pulled it open without even looking through the peephole. It wasn’t Sarah. It was a female police officer.
Oh, God,
Harper thought, a hundred imagined disasters trampling each other in her mind.

“Good afternoon,” said the officer. “Are you Harper Sheridan?”

Harper nodded, scanning the police cruiser at the curb. It was empty.

“I’m here about your niece. To take a statement,” she added quickly. “To help us find her.” She stuck out a hand. “Officer Wakely.”

“Come in,” Harper said, standing aside.

Officer Wakely stepped inside with a confident stride, taking a rapid glance around the room before turning back to Harper. “You’re Roxie’s friend, right?”

“How did you—”

“Elaine. That’s me.”

“Elaine? Oh, you’re—” So this was Roxie’s girlfriend. Harper took a closer look at the officer. She was not very tall, but she looked strong and solid. She looked tough, like a woman who could take care of herself in any situation.

“Figured it was you when I saw the paperwork,” Elaine said. “How many people in this town are named Harper, right? I mean, first name. Can’t say I ever knew your last name. Roxie just says, Harper, you know, when she’s talking about you. Your brother called his local force. They called us. I’m here to verify the details.”