Blue shorts.
Red-brown hair. Like Nick’s.
And the person comes closer. Others start to stand up from their tables, napkins dropping on the deck, and I can feel the realization of it ripple through the whole place like a wave, like an earthquake, until someone—a waiter, holding a coffeepot—says, “Is that…”
No one wants to say it, in case they’re wrong and later on feel dumb and disappointed, like the hikers who’d found the hand. No one has the faith to say her name.
Except me, and I shout it. Shout it as loud as I can, and soon everyone is saying it, calling it out, frantically running down the wooden staircase that leads to the restaurant’s herb garden, which has a gate that opens onto the meadow.
The person stops and looks behind her, as if for a second not sure if she should keep going or return to wherever it is she came from. Then, she breaks into a sort of limping jog toward us, all of us, running to meet her, a lot of us crying and saying things like:
“Slow down, you’ll scare her!”
“Call 911!”
But all I can say is her name, over and over, thinking how I’ll tell Nick about it later, and how he should be here to see.
“Jody!”
“Jody!”
“Jody!”
Day 14
Friday
KPXU
BREAKING NEWS
… To recap what we know so far: Jody Shaw has been found alive and relatively unhurt. In a scene that has the whole country talking, an astonished crowd at the Lodge restaurant just outside of Pineview witnessed the thirteen-year-old emerge from the woods where she’d been held at the cabin of forty-seven-year-old Gerald Ladew, a friend of the family and director of the Pineview Community Church choir, of which Jody was a member. Ladew’s body was found shortly thereafter, dead of what appeared to be a self-inflicted gunshot wound. No note was found.
After being taken to the hospital for examination and observation, Jody was released to her family last night. The family has asked for privacy at this time, but spokesperson Charlie Taylor will be making a statement on their behalf later this afternoon.
Authorities say that Ladew was on a long list of possible suspects and was scheduled to be interviewed this week. We’ll be back after the break to talk with Police Chief Marty Spencer about where the investigation went wrong, and how Ladew managed to slip under the radar for nearly two weeks—a question I’m sure we’ll all be asking for months as the facts come to light.
But for today, an entire community celebrates a happy ending to this story, and the safe return of one of Pineview’s own.
Day 16
Sunday
There are only a couple of us at youth group. The twins are visiting grandparents and Paul has strep and who knows where everyone else is—maybe sitting at home, glued to the TV. It’s me and Daniel and Vanessa, and Allie. And Erin.
“So,” Erin says, balancing her Bible on her knees after having just read one of the Psalms. “What a week.”
“Um, yeah,” Daniel says.
The energy in the room, around church, is strange. Everyone’s happy about Jody, obviously, but bewildered about Gerald. Soon they’ll be chattering about my mom and dad, too, making guesses about why the church has to hire an assistant pastor, and why my mom is home but not coming to church. That’s one of the things we talked about in counseling. After everything on Friday we rescheduled for Saturday and it finally happened. Mom doesn’t want to come to church. Not yet. She doesn’t want to be “the pastor’s wife.” And then Dad said, well, maybe I shouldn’t be “the pastor,” and Mom said no, that’s who you are, and Margaret said we should take all of that very slow.
Erin closes her Bible now and drops it on the empty couch cushion next to her. “I have to tell you guys something.” She looks around the room with her earnest face, eyes landing for a second on each of us. “I’m… I got another job. I mean a different job. A really good one at a big church in Colorado. Pastor Charlie wrote me a recommendation and”—she glances at me—“I got it.”
Vanessa cries out, “No! Why?” Daniel and Allie join in the protests.
“I’ll be here a couple more weeks, then I’m going to move and start getting their fall programs in place.” Erin brushes a tear off her face. “God is calling me to this other place and I want to go. It feels right.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Daniel says. “It feels like crap.”
Vanessa looks at me like I should say something but I stay quiet. It’s not like I’m happy. It’s sad. It didn’t have to be this way, or turn out like this, but it did. And I’m the only other one in the room besides Erin who knows it’s for the best.
“I’m sorry, you guys,” Erin says. “I know it seems like I’m leaving you. But it’s more like I’m going to them.” She manages a smile. “Can you do me a favor? Can you guys pray for me?” Her eyes lock on to me. “Even if you kind of hate me right now?”
“We’ll never hate you,” Vanessa says. “I’ll start. Sam can close. Okay, Sam?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
One Week Later
I ride my bike to the hardware store. Big late-summer clouds roll across the sky, but I think I can beat the rain this time.
At the jingling bells, Cal looks up from the pile of coins he’s counting and rolling. “Hi there,” he says.
I don’t know if the police ever talked to him, or if my anonymous tip came too late for that, or if he ever knew anyone called in with his name. All I know is I feel a little bit guilty for suspecting, and I’m glad it wasn’t him.
Also, I need a job. I reach in my pocket and pull out the folded-up piece of paper and hand it to him.
“What’s this?” He unfolds it, and sets his wire-rim glasses on top of his head.
“A job application.”
“Oh. I didn’t know I was hiring.” He smiles at me and looks at the paper. “No experience. Very tempting.”
“I’m trying to help out with the family finances. And it’s pretty dusty around here… I could help you organize and keep things neat. Even a couple hours a week.”
He nods, and refolds the piece of paper. “I’ll run it by my business manager.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
On the way out I pass the rack of seed packets, and, on impulse, grab the one with the most colorful, huge, impossible-looking flowers on it. I turn to Cal. “How much are these?”
He puts his glasses back on and squints at the packet, then says, “How about I just deduct it from your first paycheck.”
I almost ask him if he’s sure, then decide not to overanalyze a good thing and slip the seeds into my shorts pocket. “Thanks.”
The bells jingle behind me, and I pedal home.
One Month Later
Dad pushes the cart. Mom holds the list. Their backs are in front of me, together, their voices saying the most regular things:
“We could grill some chicken later in the week.”
“There’s a good deal on pasta sauce.”
Mom’s been home awhile now and we’re adjusting. She has to keep reminding me and Dad that we don’t have to walk on eggshells around her. And Dad has to keep assuring us that the change he’s made to his work schedule is going to stick, he’s committed. The church hasn’t found an assistant pastor yet but he’s sticking to his forty-hour-a-week schedule and turning off his cell phone for whole evenings at a time.
Mom turns to me now. “Sam, why don’t you pick out some ice cream?”
I go down a few aisles to the frozen foods, stopping in front of the ice cream. The gourmet kind I like is on sale, but the store brand is, too, for less. We are about completely broke. Beans and rice, peanut butter and jelly, stretching our ground beef with oats, washing out every single plastic bag I use for my school lunches… broke. Our one splurge today is a new bag of potting soil for the single container Mom’s been using to teach me xeriscaping. Even she has a goal of looking for a job after she’s been home eight weeks solid. Margaret said not to
rush things.
Of the cheap ice cream, two flavors are left: Rocky Road and mint chip. Dad isn’t crazy about mint chip but none of us likes Rocky Road. I shiver from the cold air that wafts out of the freezer and let the door thunk shut.
I turn, moving the mint chip from hand to hand so I don’t freeze my fingers. As I come around the corner where the eggs are displayed, I almost run right into Jody Shaw and her mother.
Time compresses. In one moment, I remember those thirteen days that changed me: what it felt like when I first heard she was missing, the heat on the day of the search, Nick’s hand on mine in the truck. I remember standing on her porch with Erin and looking at the piles of flowers, wondering if the blue ribbons would ever come down. I think about the letter on my desk at home, the one I’m writing to Nick in response to his first letter to me, which came last week.
“Sam?” Mrs. Shaw is saying my name.
But I can’t take my eyes off Jody. The Shaws haven’t been back to church and Jody is doing home school for a while, so I haven’t really gotten a good look. Jody’s cut her hair into a little bob, no more braids. She seems taller, prettier. And there’s something else. “You got your braces off,” I blurt, as if that was the most remarkable thing that had happened to her all summer.
She smiles, showing straight and perfect teeth. She looks so much like Nick.
Mrs. Shaw starts moving their cart forward. “Tell your folks we say hello.”
I step out of the way. My fingers are getting numb from the ice cream. Jody lifts her hand to wave good-bye. “See you, Sam.”
I watch them round the corner out of my sight. I want to follow them through the whole store and watch them shop, watch them stand in line. I want to look at Jody again and study her. Her looking so different isn’t just because she’s growing up, or the haircut, or the braces. I don’t know how to say it other than there were shadows there, in her face, in her mom’s face. It makes me think of Lazarus. He must have had those shadows, too, after his miracle. You don’t spend time in the tomb without it changing you, and everyone who was waiting for you to come out.
But I leave them alone, instead speeding up to find my parents, looking up and down every aisle until I find them. Dad is setting two cans of turkey chili into the cart while Mom studies the list.
“Here I am,” I say.
They both look up at once. They both smile.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Fred Burmester and Mark Miller for answering technical inquiries early on. Extreme gratitude to Tara Altebrando and Ann Cannon for reading drafts. Kisses to Lauren, Sarah F., Sarah M., Tara, Alan, John, Emily, Maggie, and Maryrose for always being there on the other end of the e-mail. Life without regular writing dates with Anne Bowen, James Dashner, and Emily Wing Smith would be dull indeed. Hugs to Sarah Wick—I miss you already. I love all you guys and gals.
Love and thanks also to Michael Bourret, for regularly keeping me from going off the deep end, and for being a great friend and first-rate partner.
Many thanks to the LBYR family: T. S. Ferguson, Amanda Hong, Alison Impey, Zoe Luderitz, Ames O’Neill, Victoria Stapleton, and everyone who helps them. And thanks most of all to my editor, Jennifer Hunt, who is nearly almost always right.
As always, bonus thanks to my husband, Gordon Hultberg, for being here day in and day out in all of the unglamorous reality.
I’m thankful for Karin Bergquist and Linford Detweiler of Over the Rhine for their generosity with beauty, and for their song “Idea #21 (Not Too Late),” which helped me understand the questions I ask along with Sam. I owe a debt of gratitude to them and to all my other personal patron saints—the artists, musicians, writers, poets, and thinkers who articulate pain without losing hope, and whose boldness in doubt continues to show me the way.
READING GROUP GUIDE
1. When Sam assumes responsibility for her mother, how does Sam’s life change? Why does Sam choose to be responsible for her mom instead of letting her father take care of his wife? What does Sam sacrifice?
2. Why does Sam avoid conversation about her mother, even with her best friend? After Sam’s mother leaves, why does Sam continue to avoid going out with her friends?
3. Sam’s father is the pastor of the largest church in town; everyone knows her family. When Sam’s mother is placed in rehab for alcoholism, why doesn’t Sam’s father tell the church the truth about his wife? Why does this create a problem for Sam? What are the issues between Sam and her dad? How are they intensified by Jody Shaw’s kidnapping?
4. Here, Sam says, “I don’t feel like me anymore.” What causes this confusion in her life? How have her parents played a role in Sam’s emotional crisis?
5. When Jody Shaw is kidnapped, the entire community reacts. Sam’s father becomes the spokesperson for the Shaw family, and Sam is sent to live with her best friend, Vanessa, while her mother stays in rehab. How does Sam cope with each of these challenges? What are her concerns? Ultimately, how do these events affect the way Sam interacts with her world?
6. As the search for Jody intensifies, Sam’s father and Erin spend considerable time together, and Sam is convinced they are having an affair. What “proof” does she have? What does Sam do about it?
7. Sam seems to be intent on revitalizing the garden in her family’s backyard—even though she doesn’t know anything about gardening. Why is the garden so important to her? Does she succeed in making the garden grow again? How does she change the garden? More important, how does the garden change her?
8. Even though Sam’s father has forbidden her to be alone with Nick, she defies him. Why does she feel justified in her disobedience? How does Nick help her begin to find herself?
9. Sam calls and asks Nick to take her to see her mother. Why is it so important to Sam that she see her mom? How does Sam feel after talking to her mother? On Nick and Sam’s return trip, why does Sam jump out of Nick’s truck?
10. When Sam asks Nick to take her to see her mother, Nick knows it is against his probation. Why is Nick willing to risk jail to take Sam? What does he have to gain? Does he regret his decision?
11. When Nick is arrested, why doesn’t Sam tell the police and her friends what really happened instead of simply saying, “Nick didn’t do anything”? Of what or whom is Sam afraid?
12. Here, Sam tries to explain that “something happens” to her that enables her to accept her circumstances even though everything is definitely not okay. How would you explain what Sam is trying to express? Why doesn’t it matter to Sam at this point that everything in her life has not worked out in her best interest?
13. Once Sam’s mother comes home from rehab, how does her family plan to change? Will the changes be beneficial for all of them? Why or why not?
14. After Jody’s kidnapping, Sam matures as she experiences emotions and situations that force her to reexamine her beliefs and values. How does she emerge with a stronger sense of who she is as a person?
Turn the page for a sneak peek at
THE LUCY VARIATIONS
Life isn’t a performance, and everyone deserves
the chance to make a few mistakes along the way.
Coming May 2013
1.
Try harder, Lucy.
Lucy stared down at Madame Temnikova’s face.
Which seemed incredibly gray.
Try.
Harder.
Lucy.
She put her hands over Temnikova’s sternum again, and again hesitated.
Stage fright: an opportunity to prove herself or a chance to fail. Which was nothing new for her. It just hadn’t been a life-or-death issue until now.
This isn’t a performance. Do something.
But an actual dying person in the living room wasn’t the same as a Red Cross dummy in the school gym. Lucy tried not to think about Temnikova’s skin under her hands. Or the way, from the looks of things, that skin now encased only a body, no longer a soul.
Except the moment wasn’t definite. More like Temni
kova was not there and then there and then not there. Mostly not.
Gus, Lucy’s ten-year-old brother, started to ask the question she didn’t want to answer. “Is she…”
Dead?
“Call nine-one-one, Gus,” she told him for the second time. He’d been motionless, mesmerized. Lucy kept her voice unwavering, though she felt like screaming. She didn’t want to freak him out. Channeling her mother’s dispassion and authority, she said, “Go do it right now.”
Gus hurried across the room to the phone, and Lucy looked at the ceiling, trying to remember the steps in the Cardiac Chain of Survival—what went where and for how long. Where were her mother and grandfather, anyway? They were usually and annoyingly there, running the house and everything, everyone, in it like a Fortune 500 company.
The metronome on top of the piano ticked steadily; Lucy fought off the urge to throw a pillow at it. Instead she used it to time the chest compressions.
Still…
That sound.
Tick tick tick tick.
A slow adagio. A death march.
She didn’t know how Gus could stand it. Spending day after day after day after lonely day in this room, with this old woman.
Everything good (tick) is passing you by (tick) as you sit here (tick) and practice your life away (tick).
Except she did know, because she’d done it herself for more than eleven years. Not with Temnikova, but in this room. This house. These parents. This family history.
“My sister is doing that,” Gus said into the phone. Then to Lucy, “They want you to try mouth-to-mouth.”
When Lucy and Reyna signed up for the CPR workshop at school last spring, they’d assumed their future patients would be sexy, male, and under forty, an idea which now seemed obviously idiotic. Lucy swept her hair back over one shoulder and braced herself.