Stay Tuned (14 page)

My heart plummeted into my stomach. It wasn’t Jaden. A dark-haired little girl with coal-black eyes and curly pigtails peeked out at me from behind the house. She held half of a chocolate chip cookie in one hand and wore a telltale smear near her top lip. I guessed she was about Jaden’s age and size.

“That’s my doggie!” she shrieked. “Please don’t take him.”

“Doggie,” Addie repeated, clutched to my neck.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m not trying to take your dog,” I started to explain. “I’m looking for a little girl. With blond hair. This is her sister.”

The girl with the pigtails frowned and took a cautious step toward us. “Here, Jake,” she called, bending toward the dog and motioning with her hand. Jake ignored her, running circles around Addie and me with yips of joy, wagging his tail. His leash wrapped around my ankles.

Addie clapped her hands with glee at the dog’s antics. A screen door slammed.

The leash tightened around my ankles. I teetered to catch my balance and gripped Addie with both arms.

“Ella Marie,” a woman exclaimed from around the corner. “Whatever is going on?”

When she came into view, her face melted from frustration to surprise.

I could hardly contain mine. It was Cher. “Hey, Melissa,” she exclaimed. “Remember me? From
Posh Couture
?”

Any other time I would have been thrilled to stop and chat about WSGA or shopping.

“Oh my gosh, Cher,” I interrupted. “We’re looking for my friend’s little girl. She disappeared from the park about ten minutes ago. She has a blonde ponytail, pink ribbon—”

“She’s in the house.”

“—and this is her twin sister.” I held out Addie for verification. I continued my nervous blabbing until Cher repeated herself, this time much louder.

“Melissa, she’s in my house,” Cher said, this time, slowly. She made a motion for us to follow her. “The little girl you’re looking for?”

“Ohhh. Really?” I exclaimed once I realized what she was saying, and squeezed Addie so hard she gasped for breath and squealed.

“Just follow me. Come inside, Ella. You, too, Jake. Naughty dog.” Cher reached down and scooped up Jake, who barked at her again for disrupting his fun.

I cried out in relief when I stepped inside the door of the house. Perched on a stool at the kitchen table, Jaden glanced up ever so casually, milk in one hand, cookie in the other.

“Hi Aunt Melissa,” she said calmly, and took a bite.

I rushed over and hugged Jaden. She was unharmed, untouched, and completely oblivious to the havoc she had caused.

With my free hand, I yanked out my cell phone to call Candace. My hand shook, making my fingers fumble as I punched the buttons.

Addie reached out an arm. “Cookie, please!”

“Jake must have wiggled through the fence again and wandered across the street. She probably followed Jake back to the house.” Cher tousled Jaden’s ponytail. “When she said she didn’t know where her mom was, I brought her inside and called 9-1-1.”

A sharp rap on the door interrupted. Candace burst in the door, face tear-streaked, but happy.

It was blissful chaos. Candace hugged everyone, a chorus of, ‘thank you,’ spilling out of her mouth. Ella Marie walked around the kitchen in circles while Jake barked and licked cookie crumbs off the floor under Addie’s feet.

“She’s darling,” I commented to Cher about her daughter.

“Isn’t she though?” Cher beamed and took a step back from the children, then lowered her voice and whispered. “I think I mentioned it at the shop, but I adopted Ella Marie. Her mother was a migrant worker. There was a terrible accident.”

Candace, who was listening, got wide-eyed.

My reporter brain kicked on. “So, how in the world did you find her?”

Cher smiled. “My sister. She worked as a family law attorney and started a local chapter of the National Adoption Center. Ella was one of her first cases.”

“What a real-life happily ever-after,” Candace murmured out loud, marveling at Cher’s good fortune.

“My sister knew we’d be perfect for each other.”

It was a great story. The more I thought about it, the better it sounded. And I was certain people in Macon would love it, too.

“Cher,” I said, “Would you talk to WSGA about adopting Ella Marie?”

Candace buckled Jaden and Addie into their car seats. Both rubbed their eyes furiously, heads drooping.

“They’re exhausted,” I said, handing over the last of the picnic gear.

“Me, too,” Candace agreed and stowed the cooler between the seats. She clicked a button on her key fob. The air conditioning kicked on. Then, with a soft whir and snap, the mini-van door slid shut behind us.

“About your mom,” she began.

“Listen, I’ll be okay. She hurt my feelings. Nothing new,” I shrugged.

“Try and forgive her,” Candace reminded me. “What does Chris have to say about it?”

“Not much,” I said ruefully. “Probably because he hasn’t been home. I see Rick Roberts more than my own husband, and that’s pretty sad.”

“Has Rick Roberts been friendly?” She put her hand on the door and cocked her head.

“Of course,” I said. “But I’ve only worked with him a few days.”

“I mean
friendly
.” She scrutinized my face. “From what I hear, he’s hard to resist when he turns on the charm.”

The skin on my face grew hot. I couldn’t argue with his charm. People fell in love with Rick. It was an unspoken truth, like the sun would rise in the morning, kids loved ice cream, and new parents needed sleep.

I caught my breath. “He’s fine.”

Candace squeezed my fingers. “I don’t want anyone trying to take advantage of you.” She opened the door to the van and climbed inside. Candace rolled down the window, and stuck one elbow out, resting her chin on her hand.

The touch under the desk from Rick was nothing but a friendly gesture. Wasn’t it?

Okay, he did make my skin tingle when he walked by and looked into my eyes. And the way the lights in the studio made him almost, well, that was a different story. But it meant nothing. Nothing at all.

Candace waved her fingers in front of my face. “Okay?”

I jumped. “Okay, fine,” I answered.

Candace softened. “Good.” She straightened her back against the seat and adjusted the rearview mirror.

When she turned back to look at me, tears had filled her eyes. “Here I am trying to lecture you and you just found my child. I don’t know what I would have done—”

“We found her. That’s all that matters.”

Candace swallowed hard and nodded. “Thanks for everything. I mean it.”

“Anytime.” I hugged her through the window then stepped back and waved.

Candace wiped her eyes, slipped on her sunglasses, and eased the mini-van away from the curb. I watched as they rolled down the block, homeward bound.

The dark green grass bent and cushioned my steps the few steps to my car. The park was busier now, almost mid-afternoon, with families dotting the picnic benches, a few daddies throwing footballs, mothers holding babies. The crack of a ball and wooden bat connecting echoed from the baseball diamond.

One hand on the car door, I fumbled for my keys.

A whistle pierced the air. “Hey!”

When I whirled around, Candace was driving back toward me. She parked, extended a hand out the window, holding a tiny box.

“Here!” Candace grinned. “In all the excitement, I forgot to give you this.”

I started to ask why, only to have her put a finger to her lips.

“A reminder that I believe in you,” Candace said, “and that you need to believe in yourself.” She blew me a kiss. She drove away as I cradled the narrow gold box in my hand. Its opalescent white bow glimmered in the early afternoon light.

In any other circumstance, I’d have unwrapped the present eagerly, held it out, and admired it. The ribbon pulled apart easily, the paper unfolded with barely a rustle. Inside the box lay a delicate chain on a white cushion.

A round locket with an intricate design slid into my palm. As I brought it closer, I realized the engraving spelled out a word
.
I hugged my fingers around the locket.

Believe.

I was so engrossed in thinking about the day that it didn’t register that Chris’s car was sitting in the garage when I pulled into the driveway. It took pulling my filthy jacket over my head in the kitchen before I realized I wasn’t the only one there.

“Hey, honey.” A perplexed Chris was mid-bite, a half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich in one hand.

“Hi! Wow, what are you doing home?” Out of shock, I grabbed the t-shirt to cover up my bra and bare stomach, then realized Chris had seen me in far worse shape.

“Forgot my wallet,” he said sheepishly. “I decided I might as well eat.” He chuckled. “I used to come home for lunch every day. Remember that?”

The memory of it jolted me. I did remember, but it seemed ages ago. It had been early in our marriage. When Kelly arrived, she became my world. Maybe I had pushed Chris away.

“Care for a glass?” Chris held out the carton of milk like an olive branch.

“Sounds good.”

He poured me a glass, passed it across the table. “What happened?” His eyes rested on my hands, the dirt streaks on my jeans. “You look like you’ve been on
The Amazing Race
.”

“Um, feels like it, too.” I took a long drink before I explained. “Jaden disappeared in the park. We spent a half-hour searching for her. Candace was a mess. I wasn’t in much better shape, but we found her at someone’s house eating cookies like nothing ever happened.”

Chris’s eyes widened. “God, Mel. Kids disappear every day. She’s…”

“Lucky.” I finished his sentence. The reality of it was almost too painful to put into words like, ‘kidnapped,’ ‘raped,’ or worse. And Candace would be left to live in her own private hell.

Chris took another bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly. I stared at the flecks of gray in the table until they swam together in a big storm cloud.

“Sorry,” we both said, as if it had been rehearsed.

Chris smiled at the coincidence, dissolving some of the tension.

“Let me go first,” I said.

My husband nodded.

“Look,” I began. “I didn’t realize about your work, how much competition there was over this promotion.” I confessed. “And I didn’t mean to be insensitive. I’ve just been really wrapped up in everything else. Like finding a new anchor and getting used to having Rick Roberts around.”

That was the understatement of the year. Now, I felt awful. He’d flirted with me and I’d reciprocated. Guilt crept up my spine.

Chris was staring at me.

 
“I shouldn’t have jumped all over you about changing your hair,” he said and tapped his hands on the table nervously. “Just everything was so drastic. I don’t know. It surprised me, is all.”

“Thanks for saying that,” I twisted my hands together to keep them from shaking.

“If this makes you feel better,” Chris added. “Or you just want to do something different, I’m all for it.”

 
Wow. Where was all of this insight coming from? Guilt? Did Chris have an epiphany? Reasons buzzed around inside head like a swarm of bees.

When I didn’t answer, Chris filled the empty space between us. “And I gave some thought to what you asked me.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“About anchors and people on TV being successful,” he explained. “Remember?”

How could I forget?
I nodded.

“Well, here’s my theory.” Chris drew a rectangle on the table, like he was giving a presentation. “It’s simple. You win people over by building relationships. By letting people see who you are, what you’re about. That you care. That you’re real and have integrity.”

His assessment blew me away. This was the side of Chris I fell in love with:
 
Smart, introspective, intuitive.

Where had he been?

“You don’t have to be someone else, Melissa.” Chris downed the rest of his milk, then pushed his plate away so that there was nothing between us. “Just be you.”

I bit my lip so hard tears sprung into my eyes.
That was so sweet.

“Thanks. That means a lot.” I blinked back the tears and kissed him on the cheek.

The doorbell rang. I wiped my cheeks and rushed to answer it. “Hey, I
have
to get cleaned up. I’m going to grab a shower, prep for interviews, then think about what to wear for the Gala. Your company always gets a table, right?”

“We’ll all be there,” Chris answered.

I opened the door just as the bell rang a second time. A uniformed man waited on the steps holding a small box. “Can you sign here?”

I scribbled my signature and took the delivery.

The box was small and square, non-descript, and addressed to me. I carried it back into the kitchen and opened it up.

Beneath layers of tissue paper, there were photos. Fuzzy pictures of Chris in a crowd of people. Another on the golf course. One of him outside Macon Financial. And a note, scribbled in a child’s handwriting. I unfolded it, smoothed it with one hand.

He loves me.

Astonished, I handed the paper to Chris.

He grabbed it, scanned the message. “What in the hell?”

Stunned, I watched him reach for the box. He turned it on its side to search for a return address or clue about the sender. Breathing hard, he ran back to the front door and flung it open, looking for the delivery guy. He was long gone.

I waited for him to come back, my hands gripping the counter. I couldn’t think, move, or feel any emotion. I was numb all over.

Chris stormed back into the room, waving the piece of paper. “Who sent this? Is this some kind of a twisted prank?”

He balled up the note and sent it flying toward the trashcan. He missed. Instead, the wad of paper flew to the right instead, bounced off the wall, and spun across the floor.

We both watched it in silence until it came to a stop.

“I don’t know, Chris,” I answered finally. “You tell me.”