River's Edge (2 page)

T
wo hours later, they rode home in silence, each mired in their own despair. As she’d known he would, the doctor confirmed her fears. She had miscarried her child.

Guilt and anguish ached through her body.

How would Jonathan ever forgive her?

They both wept quietly as the sun rose over the Atlantic, heralding a day that others would find beautiful and welcome. But she would do anything to turn the clock back to this time yesterday.

Jonathan pulled their car into the shade of the red cedars at the end of the gravel driveway. Their house loomed big in the morning light, the yellow paint glowing like the sun, the Victorian trim clean and white. Gus—one of the home’s residents—had done some repairs on the house and coated it with fresh paint a couple of weeks ago. The full ferns on the porch overflowed their urns in bright, life-filled green. Impatiens in yellow, red, and purple lined the front of the house, well
cared for by the home’s other residents. It was one of those chores that helped their charges integrate back into the world after time on the streets or in jail. Cause-and-effect lessons about working hard, taking care, cultivating and nurturing, and reaping good results. The testimony of a job well done.

She spoke that lesson to them so many times, reminding them that obedience to God, self-discipline, and love all added up to blessings too numerous to count.

Yet here she was, a poster child that the opposite was true.

The front door to the big yellow house was still closed. Maybe that meant that no one was up yet. If they were, the door would have been open, letting in light, along with the ocean sounds from just across the street, through the glass storm door.

Morgan hoped no one knew where she’d been. She didn’t want to explain this to anyone but Sadie.

Jonathan helped her out of the car and walked her up the porch steps.

Sadie met them at the door, her eyes red-rimmed and worried. “I’m so glad to see you, Morgan!” She threw her arms around her. “I thought you were dying or something.”

“I’m sorry we worried you, honey.” Morgan held her in a tight, reassuring embrace.

“Jonathan didn’t say what was wrong. I saw the blood on your bed…”

“I’m fine, really.”

“But what’s wrong? What happened?”

Her effort not to cry twisted her face. “Honey, I found out yesterday that I was pregnant. And this morning…I miscarried.”

At seventeen Sadie had seen the dark side of life, and she knew what it meant to grieve. Her expression bore the weight of Morgan’s news, and she pulled her back into a hug. “Oh, Morgan. I’m so sorry.”

Morgan didn’t want the girl to suffer with her, so she tried to hold herself together. “I want you to keep this to yourself. I haven’t even told Blair yet. And there’s no need for anyone else to know, okay?”

Sadie wiped a tear. “Okay.”

Jonathan stroked Morgan’s hair. “Why don’t you go get changed and lie down? I’ll clean up the car.”

She nodded and started toward the stairs.

“I changed the sheets,” Sadie said. “The bed is clean.”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

Morgan went in, trudged up the stairs, and took a quick shower to clean up. She got dressed, and with her long, curly dark hair still wet, slipped into Caleb’s room. He slept soundly in his crib, his thumb shoved into his mouth. Within the next hour, the eighteen-month-old would wake up and cry out for her. She wished she didn’t have to wait.

She wanted to pick him up and hold him, crush him to herself, assuage those maternal hormones that hadn’t gotten the news.

She didn’t think she could have loved him more if he’d been her own son. But he wasn’t.

Caleb Seth Caruso had a mother who was serving time in prison on drug charges. Morgan was merely a temporary caretaker until his mother was set free. She started to weep again, and left the room so she wouldn’t wake him. He didn’t deserve to see her like this.

She went back into the bedroom. Jonathan was sitting on the bed, his face white, expressionless. “I want you to lie down,” he said. “When Caleb wakes up, I’ll get him.”

“Okay.”

“Are you feeling all right? Physically, I mean?”

“Yeah, the cramping is getting better.” She hated what that meant.

He sat down and looked at the wall, and she knew that he felt the loss as keenly as she. “We are going to be parents, sweetheart,” he said. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but we are.”

She nodded. They had been trying for over a year. In the scheme of things, she supposed it wasn’t as bad as other couples who’d tried for seven, nine, twelve years. She thought of Ben Jackson—Jonathan’s opponent in the mayoral race—and his wife, Lisa. They’d been trying for thirteen.

“Do you want to call Blair?” Jonathan’s words cut into her thoughts.

Morgan thought of waking her sister up to tell her this news. It hardly seemed fair. Ever since Blair had bought the newspaper, she hadn’t been getting adequate rest. “I’ll tell her later.”

She got into the bed, and Jonathan pulled the covers up over her and tucked her in. He bent over and kissed her cheek.

When he’d left her alone, she let her control slip away, and wept into her pillow.

Later that morning, the cramping stopped, and Morgan forced herself to get out of bed. She went downstairs, and saw that the kitchen was spotless. Gus and Felicia had gone to work, and Sadie was at school. She saw Karen on the back porch feeding her own baby. There was no sign of Jonathan or Caleb. Maybe Jonathan had taken him with him to do some campaigning today.

His big debate with his two opponents in the mayoral race—Sam Sullivan and Ben Jackson—was tomorrow. Jonathan—who worked as a fishing tour guide, pastor of their small church, and director of Hanover House—had only come into the race a month ago, so he was way behind. The special election was scheduled for three weeks away, and he didn’t have a moment to waste. If he won, he’d take office almost immediately, since the town had been without a mayor since the last one had been dethroned by scandal.

She went through the kitchen into the small office where she and Jonathan took care of the business of Hanover House. She sat down at the desk and moved a stack of donations out of her way. The home, a halfway house for people trying to change their lives, was supported by monthly contributions. She had yet to log them all this month, so much had been going on.

She picked up the telephone and dialed her sister’s number. When there was no answer, she checked the clock. Ten o’clock. Of course Blair wasn’t home. She dialed the newspaper office and got her voicemail. She was probably out tracking down a story, trying to find an interesting angle to the mundane events of the island.

Discouraged, she hung up. She would try Blair again later. But would her sister understand her grief over a baby that she had only known for one day? How could she? No one could understand unless they had been there.

Then she remembered. Someone had.

She thought of the wife of Jonathan’s fiercest opponent in the race. Lisa Jackson had been in Morgan’s shoes four different times.

One would never have known of her struggle with infertility. It was a secret, closely held. Morgan wouldn’t have known it herself, except that she had seen it on Lisa’s face when they’d both wound up in the bathroom at a mutual friend’s baby shower.

She had recognized those tears, and Lisa had recognized hers. Without saying a word, the two women, whose husbands were political archenemies, had embraced. They’d sneaked out for coffee to comfort each other, and had poured out their hearts about their infertility and their desperate desire for children.

Maybe it would help to talk to her now.

You call me if you need to talk, honey. Day or night, I don’t care. And if you don’t mind, I’ll do the same. These husbands of ours will just have to get used to it.

Morgan knew she’d meant it.

She knew Lisa probably wasn’t home, since her real estate business kept her hopping. But she called and left a message on Lisa’s voicemail, then tried her at her office. When her taped recording kicked in, Morgan decided to leave a message there too.

“Hey, Lisa,” she said in a soft voice, “this is Morgan. Could you give me a call when you have a chance to talk? I really need to share something with you.” She paused and tried to control the emotion wavering in her voice. “Something happened this morning. You’re the only one I know who’ll understand.” She hung up and stared down at the phone. She hoped Lisa would return the call soon.

But hours later, Lisa had not called back, and neither had Blair. Jonathan came home with Caleb—he had only taken him
for a walk on the beach—and she busied herself with his care and the affairs of the house.

She longed for night and the sleep that would numb her pain, but when it finally came, she lay awake, thinking about the dream she’d had last night about the little girl on the swing.

She prayed that God would let her dream it again.

P
olice Chief Matthew Cade—simply Cade to everyone who knew him—came to Hanover House early the next morning. From the look on his face, Morgan knew he hadn’t dropped in for breakfast. As Jonathan’s closest friend and the love of her sister’s life, he dropped in often—but not in full uniform.

He had bad news. She knew that look. It was the same tight expression he’d worn when he interrupted that City Council meeting last summer to tell her that her parents had been murdered.

“I hate to bother you this morning,” he said. “I know you’re all getting ready for the debate.”

She felt like sinking against the wall, raising her arms to deflect the blow. “Something’s wrong, Cade. What is it?”

“I’m here on police business. I need to ask you a few questions.”

She shivered, and her mind raced with possibilities. She still hadn’t been able to get in touch with her sister. Had something happened to her? “Is it about Blair?”

He looked startled at the question. “No, why? What’s wrong with Blair?”

“Nothing. I just haven’t heard from her. I tried to call her yesterday but never got her.”

His face relaxed. “I talked to her last night. She was working late, trying to cover a baseball game and an awards ceremony. She’s fine. No, it’s about Lisa Jackson.”

“Lisa? What about her?”

“Morgan, Ben reported her missing last night.”

“Missing? What do you mean, missing?”

“She didn’t come home last night, and she missed several appointments yesterday. Important ones, apparently. She seems to have vanished sometime yesterday morning. We’re talking to everyone who might have seen her yesterday. She had messages from you on her home and business voicemail. I wondered if you’d heard from her.”

Morgan just gaped at him for a moment. “No. She never called me back.”

“When’s the last time you spoke to her?”

She shoved her long curls back from her face. “Uh…a few days ago.”

“Did she give you any indication that she was upset about anything? Angry at Ben?”

“No, not at all. Cade, do you think something’s happened to her?”

He seemed to consider whether or not to answer that. “Maybe not. I’m hoping she’ll turn up today. Maybe she just left town for the night or something.”

“But what does Ben think?”

“He seems to think that she’s in trouble. He’s pretty upset. He claims they hadn’t had a fight, but with the stress of the mayoral race and the debate coming up, maybe she’d had enough and he didn’t know it.”

Morgan knew that was true. But it was more than that. The stress the Jacksons had been under with their fertility treatments was even more significant than the pressure of the race. But she
didn’t want to bring that up. “I’m sorry I can’t help, Cade. All I know is that Lisa isn’t the type to take off.”

“I didn’t think so either.”

She walked him back to the door and looked into his eyes. He looked tired, as if he’d been up all night. His black hair looked a little disheveled, and his limp reminded her how recently his own life had been in jeopardy. “Are you okay, Cade? Taking care of yourself?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Cane helps.”

Morgan knew his transition from a crutch to a cane spoke well of his progress. He’d had surgery a month ago for multiple fractures in that leg. It had been set internally with steel rods, but his recovery was not yet behind him. She reached up to hug him. “If you see my sister, tell her to call me.”

He smiled down at her. “Will do.”

She watched him limp out to his squad car and get in, and she knew Blair would call her soon.

But what would she say when she called?
Hey, Blair. Whatcha been doing? Me? Oh, I found out I was pregnant, then miscarried the next day. Most people get nine months, then a bundle of joy. Not me. Nosirree, not me. My womb is like a tomb, rejecting life and creating death. My womb is a tomb…my womb is a tomb. I’m a poet and don’t know it.

Tears pushed to her throat again, and she told herself she would have to stop this. She wasn’t this way. She didn’t think bitter, cynical thoughts. But then, she obviously had a skewed picture of herself. She had pictured herself as a mother, raising a house-ful of children—a big family, full of laughter and love…

But her body had kept secrets about its malfunctions, as if it had other intentions entirely.

Was this anger normal? Had Lisa had these same thoughts of self-hatred, these raging thoughts that she had failed her child?

Morgan hoped Lisa was okay. Maybe she’d been plagued by the same kinds of self-recriminations, the need to escape herself and go somewhere alone to scream out and rail against the world and her body and all those busy, stressed-out moms who could never understand the broken and empty
longing…

Maybe Lisa needed her, wherever she was.

Morgan blew her nose and dried her tears, then went to the phone. She dialed the Jackson’s house. Ben answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Ben, this is Morgan Cleary. I just heard about Lisa.”

“Who told you?”

“Cade came by to see if I’d seen or heard from her, since I’d left her some messages yesterday.”

“And have you?”

“No. She never called back.”

His voice cracked. “I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning. She’s just vanished. She’s not answering her cell phone, but that’s nothing new since you can’t get a signal on this godforsaken island. She missed several appointments yesterday. She even missed an important ultrasound she had scheduled. She would never do that.
Never.”

Morgan knew he was right. Lisa would never have missed an ultrasound, now that they’d decided to go through with another attempt at in vitro fertilization. Knowing when to harvest her egg was critical. “Ben, are you okay?”

“No, of course I’m not.”

“Look, if you want to call off the debate this morning, I’m sure—”

“I don’t care about the blasted debate! Let them declare Jonathan the winner, for all I care.
My wife is missing
!”

He slammed down the phone, and she felt shallow and silly for suggesting such a thing, as if he might have even considered showing up.

“Did I hear Cade?” Jonathan stood in the doorway, holding Caleb on his hip.

“Yes.” She hung up the phone. “He said Lisa Jackson is missing. I just talked to Ben, and he’s a basket case.”

“Missing?”

“The police have been looking for her all night.”

Jonathan stared at her for a moment, as if he didn’t believe it. “You don’t think this is a publicity stunt, do you? To get a few sympathy votes?”

She grunted. “Jonathan, I heard his voice. He’s frantic. He doesn’t even care about the debate right now. I think we should go over there.”

He set Caleb down, and the child toddled over to his toy basket and took out a plastic train. “Morgan, of all people, he doesn’t want me over there.”

“Then I’ll go by myself. He’s there all alone, Jonathan. Someone needs to wait with him. And I’m worried about Lisa. She’s my friend.”

He sighed, as if he couldn’t believe she was asking him to do this now. “All right, I guess we can go over for a little while.”

She knew he was worried about the debate, which was scheduled for eleven. They still had three hours.

He got that sober, concerned look on his face and touched her chin. “Are you okay? Sure you’re up to this?”

“I’m fine,” she lied. “Really, I am.”

He clearly had no choice but to take her word for it.