The Missing Place (46 page)

Shay had married Frank. She had found a father for her daughter and then she'd had a son. She'd tried hard to hang on to her marriage, and when they split, she worked to keep it friendly. When he died she tried to be both mom and dad to her kids.

All her damn life, she had just tried so hard. She'd shown up at school for mothers' teas and choir concerts and See's Candies fund-raiser meetings. She'd worked extra shifts to pay for softball team fees and prom dresses and orthodontia. She made sure her children knew how to clean a bathroom and write a thank-you note and pay for what they broke or, in one memorable case, shoplifted. She'd confined her rogue needs to late at night or weekends stolen for trips to Reno, dates at the Red Lobster in the next town, hurried couplings in backseats and cheap motel rooms and guest rooms in the middle of the day. She'd never brought a man home and she'd convinced
herself she was only borrowing them for a while, the ones whose wives wouldn't really miss them.

She looked at herself in the full-length mirror, the one for brides to do a final primping before they headed down the aisle. She was wearing a simple black scoop-neck top with butterfly sleeves and her favorite jeans and black sandals with leather flowers stitched to them. No one knew, not even Brittany, that she had cut the small “26” from the sleeve of Taylor's game-day jersey and had been carrying it in her pocket for weeks. She touched it now, the soft cotton fabric a comfort.

Father Greg had retired, but he came back for this. He'd done Frank's service too. The church had been full when she took refuge here fifteen minutes ago. Brittany had come with her, and she'd only stepped out now to confer with Father Greg about where they would stand to receive the overflow crowd afterward.

Shay had asked Father Greg to keep it short. She didn't want to spend this day falling apart. She figured she could keep her shit together for fifteen minutes. There weren't going to be any eulogies, hell no. Later, maybe, at the barbecue, after everyone had eaten and had a few drinks, people could get up and say whatever they wanted. By then Shay would be all right with it. And she could take Leila down to see the goats if she needed a break.

But here . . . she'd always had a special reverence for churches, even though she hadn't been a believer since she was in grade school. She liked their cool, chemical floor polish smell. She liked the leatherette covers of the hymnals. She couldn't have chosen a better place for all of the flowers than the marble altar. But Taylor was up there, in the shiny dark casket that Brittany and Robert had chosen. And Shay just didn't know how she was going to survive having to look at it, even if it was just for a few moments.

There was a sound at the door. “Britt?” Shay said, turning from the mirror.

The door and a woman slipped through, closing it behind her.

“The flight was late,” she said quickly, breathlessly. “I got here as fast as I could.”

Only then did Shay see that it was Colleen, transformed again. This time she was wearing one of the shirts some of Taylor's old friends had printed up—his beautiful grin, in his football team photo, posed on one knee. Shay knew that on the back the shirt read
TAYLOR C. ALWAYS AND EVER IN OUR HEARTS
, because the boys had one made for her. The shirt was much too large for Colleen, and she'd knotted it at the waistband of her black slacks. The rest—the low patent pumps, the pearl earrings, the shiny stiff hair—was all Colleen. But the expression on her face was new.

She stood there looking completely peaceful, like she was ready for whatever Shay might dish out. Her brown eyes were solemn, but the deep hollows under her eyes were gone, and the creases in her forehead seemed to have smoothed out.

“You don't have to go,” Shay said. “I'm just . . . all those people.”

“I know,” Colleen said. She didn't say she was sorry and ask was there anything she could do. Which was good, because Shay didn't want to hear that one more fucking time. They were all sorry, and no one could do a damn thing.

“You saw Paul?” she asked.

“Yes . . . he introduced me to Brittany and Robert. And Leila. She's beautiful.”

Shay didn't miss the pain that passed over Colleen's face. Well, she wouldn't have been able to miss Brittany's condition, not in that black jumper.

“So I guess we're both going to be grandmothers the same month,” Shay said. “Paul says Elizabeth's due the fifth. Brittany's not due until the eighteenth, but Leila was almost two weeks early, so . . .”

“You're so lucky,” Colleen said softly, almost wistfully. Then she looked stricken and slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my God,” she said. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—”

“It's okay,” Shay said. “Come on. Today, let's just cut all the shit. Me and you—we earned that, right?”

After a moment Colleen nodded. “All I meant was . . . Brittany and Robert, it's just so clear how much they love you. They told me you're going to cut back to half time so you can watch the new baby. I . . . I would give anything for Paul and Elizabeth to . . . well, to want to be with us, like that.”

Shay bit her lip, wondering when Colleen was going to figure it out. “There's no magic,” she said. “We don't get along any better than anyone else. Robert came home drunk Tuesday from poker and Brittany came over and stayed with me. Then they patched that up and suddenly Britt's mad at me for letting Leila watch
Real Housewives
and neither of them are speaking to me.” She smiled at the memory. Brittany had hung up on her last Thursday morning, but then that night she'd brought Leila over, since Robert had the evening shift, and they'd all done their nails after dinner. Shay had done Leila's, holding those tiny hands and dabbing at the little perfect fingernails and then doing the wave-your-hands dance with her until they were dry.

“We never fight,” Colleen said miserably. Then she took a breath. “I've decided something. When we get home I'm going to kick them out. I mean, as soon as they can find an apartment. And if Paul wants to take a break from school . . . well, I'm not going to stop him.”

“Damn, girl,” Shay said, holding up her hand. “You rich people are so fucked-up.” Colleen gave her a high five. And then Shay gave Colleen a quick, hard hug, pulling away before Colleen could hug her back.

Colleen stood there with her mouth open for a moment, then smiled. It wasn't much of a smile, but it was a start.

“We should probably go,” Shay said, checking her hair one last time in the mirror. She'd managed not to mess up her eye makeup yet, and she had a pocket mirror and a tube of concealer in her purse just in case. “Is Andy saving you a seat?”

“I, uh . . . well, I told him not to come, actually,” Colleen said. “He stayed in Boston with Elizabeth.”

Shay raised her eyebrows. There was a story there for sure, one they could get to later, when the day wound down and everyone went home. They'd take a bottle and a couple of glasses and sit out on the back porch, where Frank's dad had rigged a swing so you could watch the sunset.

“Well, all right, then,” she said, putting her hand on the door. “Turns out I don't have a date for this thing. Want to walk me to my seat?”

“It would be an honor,” Colleen said, and the two of them went out into the waiting crowd together.

IN THE BOOMING
oil town of Lawton, North Dakota, two men hired to work on the rigs go missing without a trace, and only their mothers hold out hope of finding them. Shay, a hardened woman from the wrong side of the California tracks, and Colleen, a woman from the wealthy suburbs of Boston, discover the doors in Lawton are closed to them and form an unlikely partnership. In this barren landscape, against all odds, these two women have no choice but to join forces to find their lost sons, and in doing so must learn that each has much to teach the other.

1. Describe and discuss how the setting of Lawton, North Dakota, evokes the major themes in Littlefield's
The Missing Place
.

2. Compare and contrast the two main characters, Colleen and
Shay. Why might the author have created characters who differ from each other in so many ways?

3. Which mother handles the news of her son's disappearance better at the beginning of the book? What about as events progress? How do their backgrounds help or hinder them in their efforts?

4. Shay criticizes Colleen's parenting throughout the book, challenging her on her “helicopter parenting.” Do you think these criticisms are valid? How could Colleen have been a more effective parent given the challenges her family faced?

5. There is a shortage of housing in Lawton, North Dakota, and Colleen and Shay have great difficulty finding a place to stay. In what other ways does the oil boom affect the community? How does the oil boom affect the mothers' search?

6. T.L. is introduced in the third chapter with little explanation. On first meeting him, how did you imagine he might fit into the story? How did your evaluation change as the book progressed?

7. Many theories about the boys' disappearance are advanced by people Colleen and Shay meet, as well as by their own sleuthing. Which theory did you find most convincing? Why?

8. The North Dakota oil boom has been in the news for quite some time. How did media coverage affect your perception of the fictional town of Lawton? The Fort Mercer reservation? The quest for domestic oil?

9. Shay and Colleen are not the only two driven to Lawton by desperation. As in real life, many rig workers seek work after losing jobs to the economic downturn, in other fields, leaving behind loved ones. What difficult decisions have people in your own life made in similar circumstances?

10. As Shay learns about Paul's troubled history, she questions her son's choice of friends. Colleen has agonized over her son's social life for many years. Did each mother do right by her son? Have you faced similar challenges?

11. Once the mystery has been resolved, the relationship between the mothers shifts again. How would you describe the balance of compassion, indebtedness, and blame? Does either mother “owe” the other?

12. Though the boys are at the center of the story, they rarely appear in the book. What techniques did the author use to develop their characters? How did your evaluation of each boy change over the course of the book?

13. Near the end of the novel, Andy makes surprising choices in dealing with the tragedy. Do you think his actions are appropriate? How do they affect his relationships with his family?

14. In the end, all the parents in the book—Colleen, Shay, Andy, and Myron—return to lives in which they will no longer live with their children. Are they equipped for this transition? Are you optimistic about their future well-being?

SEE THE MOVIE
There Will Be Blood
, starring Daniel Day Lewis. It is based loosely on Upton Sinclair's book,
Oil!
. It is about a turn-of-the-century prospector in the early years of the oil business.

Read
Grapes of Wrath
–the story of the Joad family leaving Oklahoma after the “Dust Bowl” to go to California, where prospects are rumored to be better.

Another movie comes to mind–
Fargo
, starring William H. Macy and Francis McDormand. It is set in Fargo, Minnesota, whose landscape is as forbidding as that of Lawton, North Dakota. This movie by Joel and Ethan Coen features a murder.

Learn more about The Trail of Broken Treaties, a national movement that took place in 1972 to call attention to American Indian issues including treaty rights and inadequate housing.

1. What drew you to the bleak landscape of the North Dakota oil boom?

Over a year ago, I came across an article in
People
magazine about the North Dakota “man camps” where rig workers live, most of whom have left families behind in order to come find work. I was drawn to the images of these exhausted, lonely men. I decided that I had to see for myself how the overtaxed town coped with the influx of outsiders, and how the workers found the grit to get up each day and do this dangerous, difficult work.

2. Were you surprised by what you found?

Yes. I was expecting to find corruption and despair in the camps—drugs, alcoholism, grievances parlayed into violence. I had read about the skyrocketing crime statistics and the tensions introduced by the overwhelmingly high ratio of men to women.

What I found instead was a community of men, and a smattering of women, working and living together and making the best of things. They were unfailingly polite, and their greatest asset in coping with their circumstances seemed to be a sense of humor and an atmosphere of respect. I don't mean to imply that everyone I spoke to was a candidate for sainthood, only that their stories were far more relatable than I had expected.