The Truth About Delilah Blue (24 page)

The girl’s name was Hilary Cooper, and her shorts were so short that Lila could see the pale half-moon of the underside of her buttocks. She looked away as she followed Hilary and Mr. Cooper up the steps from the cabin to the road. It hadn’t gone well. The only thing that had prevented Mr. Cooper from calling in the police, animal control, and the Department of Fish and Game, he’d said, was that he had to catch a flight to London that night and didn’t have time for all the follow-up. But Lila should consider herself warned: Her father was a dangerous man.

Mr. Cooper said, “Thinks he’s above the law, stealing a dog. Man’s capable of just about anything.”

She couldn’t help herself. “Tell me about it.”

In spite of the afternoon’s warmth, Hilary had the pug swaddled in a fleecy white blanket with silky fringe. Sammi
stared at Lila and grinned, tiny tongue darting in and out contentedly.

“Missed my golf game. Missed a breakfast meeting,” Mr. Cooper ranted. “Idiot dog’s been more trouble than it’s worth.” When Hilary shot her father an aggrieved look, he added, “Daddy’s just tense, sweetheart.”

“I’m really sorry,” Lila repeated for the hundredth time.

Mr. Cooper circled the hood of the convertible BMW and paused at the wheel well, inspecting the paint. “What’s this?”

No. Please, no.

“Where did this scratch come from?”

Lila looked back to see Victor’s face dart behind the kitchen curtains. He did it—he actually scratched up a car this time. Followed through with his written threats and moved right into vandalism.

“It goes all the way…” Mr. Cooper followed the gauge to the taillights, around the rear end, and back up the right side of the car. “All the way around the car!” He looked up and down the street, then at the 240Z as if he might be able to wrestle up a class-action suit. But the 240Z was, of course, pristine.

Lila started to apologize. “I’m really sorry. If you get an estimate, we’ll pay for any—”

“Hilary?” Mr. Cooper boomed. “Have you been driving my car?”

Lila was about to explain, but thought better of it. The man was already livid. Learning Victor trashed his paint job might send him raging down to the house again.

“Shut up and drive, Dad,” Hilary said, climbing into
the passenger seat and arranging the dog in a patent leather carrier. “I have my bikini wax in twenty.”

Mr. Cooper shook his head and trotted around the car, slapping his keys against his palm. “Nightmare of a day.”

“I’m so sorry for your trouble. Please know we took good care of your dog. Of Sammi.”

Hilary peered over the tops of her sunglasses, reached a slender arm over the car door, and gave Lila the finger. Then the car sped away, washing Lila’s feet in dust.

Slowly, Lila turned around to see Keith Angel leaning on a tree at the road’s edge, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

Or, quite possibly, satisfaction.

She marched past him and down to the house. Shoved open the screen door, stomped into the kitchen, and pulled out a phone book, flipping through it so fast the pages tore. Victor peered over her shoulder. “Who are you calling, Mouse?”

She reached for a pen and scrawled a number on the back of an envelope. “A doctor.”

“For whom?”

“For you.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

She laughed angrily. “Oh, yes it will.”

“I have an appointment booked already.”

She stood up straight, shocked. “You booked an appointment?”

“I did.”

“With an actual doctor?”

“That’s right.” Victor pulled his shirt away from his wrist and looked at his watch. “I’m due there in twenty-five
minutes—that pale pink building away over by the pharmacy.” Lila reached for her keys and started for the door. “Get in the car. I’ll drive you.”

I
F HIS DAUGHTER
was surprised he didn’t fight for the privilege of driving, she didn’t show it. The poor girl probably hadn’t recovered from the shock of his canine caper. It was okay. She’d soon know all she needed to know. With any luck it would soothe her. Not fully. Never fully.

After leaning over the center console, he patted her knee, said, “I’m doing this for you, my dear,” then hauled his guilty bones up and out of the car, across the empty sidewalk, and through the revolving doors of the Goodhew Medical Arts Building.

It was true. Nearly 100 percent true.

S
EPTEMBER
21, 1996

Victor hunched in the little plastic tub chair at Pearson International Airport, certain his pounding heart was casting reverberations down the adjoining seats in his row. He pressed a hand to his knee to stop the nervous bouncing, then set his Styrofoam cup on the floor behind his feet, unable to tolerate airport coffee on top of the guilt and fear already churning in his gut.

It wasn’t that he had imagined abducting his own child and smuggling her out of the country would be emotionally uncomplicated, but, deep in his heart, he never really believed following through with his just-in-case plan would be necessary. Preparation had been intense—six full weeks of planning. There were
no how-to guides on paternal abduction. He’d had to consider every possible glitch that could arise—and what did a former Boy Scout know about skipping town with his daughter?

If there were a merit badge awarded for the act, surely he’d earned it. He’d emptied bank accounts, dropped hints around the office as to whom would be a good replacement should he suddenly get hit by a train, risked his life picking up fake IDs from a nail salon with a hidden back room that locked from the inside, and studied different states to determine where a single father and his shell-shocked daughter might best remain anonymous. The activity, the busyness, had kept him astonishingly calm.

Until now.

Every flight attendant and sanitation worker who cast a glance in his direction while going about their business caused him a gush of stomach acid. Every time Delilah looked up from her sketchpad, he thought he might drop dead from guilt for what he was about to do to her. To her mother.

He couldn’t go through with it.

It wasn’t too late. He hadn’t yet done anything wrong.

He would gather her up, explain that the trip had to be canceled, quell the girl’s tears with ice-cream sundaes and one last trip to Toys “R” Us before Children’s Aid knocked on his front door. It was barely seven
A
.
M
., and there wasn’t a chance in hell Elisabeth was even awake yet, let alone wondering where her daughter was.

It would be so easy to undo everything.

Delilah’s head sunk down onto Victor’s arm. Soft. Heavy. Sweet. He looked at her, curled up in the seat beside him, her face puffy with lack of sleep, sparkly fairy wings strapped to her back. “Can we go back and get my new bike?”

Victor stiffened, a prickly feeling spreading through his chest. No. Elisabeth wouldn’t have. The doctors had been clear
after the accident. No jumping, no running. No skipping, no skateboards. No bikes. Not for a full six months. Another hit to the head could be devastating.

He tried to sound casual when he spoke. Tried to sound as if the lives of all three of them didn’t depend on the child’s answer. “Your mother got you a bike?”

Delilah yawned into her hand and closed her eyes. “Mm-hmm.”

“When?”

“Last week.”

It was all he needed to know.

A garbled voice announced over the loudspeakers that flight 764 was ready to board. Passengers in business class were to move toward the gate, as well as anyone with small children or limited mobility. People in the seats around them began to rise, gather their bags, move toward the gate where a flight attendant checked their tickets.

Victor stood up and pulled his daughter to her feet. “Time to go, Mouse.”

“Wait. I forgot about my secret code.” People picked their way past them and their toppled carry-on bags, until no one remained in the row. “It’s the rule,” said Delilah, refusing to budge. She looked up at Victor. “We have to call Mum. She told me not to go anywhere with anyone unless they say my secret code. It’s from Stranger Danger Day.”

“Delilah, I’m your father. Secret codes are for strangers, not people who love you.”

Delilah folded her arms across her chest, chin tilted upward. “I can’t get on the plane unless Mum says I can give you my code. We have to call her.”

“We’re not—”

“I WANT TO CALL MY MOTHER AND YOU CAN’T STOP ME!”

All around them, heads snapped around. Couples mumbled to each other. An airline employee frowned. Victor had no choice. He couldn’t afford to make a scene.

Red-faced and fumbling, Victor pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and dialed. As Delilah snatched it, holding it to her ear for all to see, he slung their bags over his shoulder and got ready to dart onto the plane once Elisabeth caught wind of what was going on.

“Hello?” Victor could hear Elisabeth’s sleepy voice.

“Mummy! I’m on Dad’s cell phone.”

“I can barely hear you, Delilah. Speak louder.”

“Daddy’s taking me to Disneyworld. That’s in Florida.”

The line filled with static. Elisabeth said something, but Victor couldn’t make out what, exactly. “I get to miss school on Monday.”

More static. Then, “No! Delilah, you wait there. I’m coming right now…”

Delilah covered the receiver and looked at Victor, crinkling up her nose. “I think she wants to come.”

Victor, sweating, pacing, rubbing his temples, shook his head and pointed to the shrinking lineup of passengers, most of whom had disappeared onto the boarding ramp. “We have to go, Delilah. Now. The plane is boarding.”

“He says you can’t come. But we’ll be home soon. Can I tell him my code?”

“Delilah?” More crackling, then, “Delilah? Daddy does not have your code—” and the line went dead.

Victor stuffed his phone back into his bag. It was now or never. Final boarding calls were being announced. And Elisabeth
would be on the phone with 911 at this very moment. Police would storm the airport, armed with descriptions. And from the looks of things, he and Delilah were the only bearded father and fairy-winged daughter in the vicinity. Victor forced a relaxed smile. “Well, young lady? Shall we go?”

“She said you don’t have the code…”

It wasn’t the time to argue with Delilah. She was antagonistic and would fight for the sake of the fight. He decided upon a different tactic.

“Well, then. I forbid you to tell me the code. It is top secret and I am never allowed to know. It would be terribly wrong for you to tell me. Much worse than drinking backwash for money.”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

“I assure you, I do not want to know that code.”

Her little chest heaved up and down with all the possibilities.

Such power lay at her feet. The disobedience. The lawlessness.

It was too much for her. A smile spread across her face, nearly reaching all the way to her bent wings. She shouted, “Monie and Cézanne!”

Looking through the tiny oval window at the mouth of the runway, as the engines rumbled with the might necessary to heave the great aircraft into the sky, he could feel the city waking up and stretching. The millions of people going about their lazy morning rituals, showering, shaving, maybe scanning the
Globe and Mail
over their first cup of coffee
.

Then he thought of Elisabeth. There would be no coffee, no paper for her. By now, twenty-three minutes after her daughter called to say good-bye, she would be panic-stricken, unsure what this unplanned, unapproved weekend trip would mean.

The plane lurched forward, nudging the passengers back
against their seats. As it lumbered along the runway, the engines let out a mighty roar and picked up speed. The plane lifted off the tarmac, and Victor watched the ground hurl itself farther and farther away. He whispered toward the vanishing city, “I’m sorry, Elisabeth.”

The day had started out rough. Lila had woken to find Victor gone. He’d been quiet since his visit to the doctor a few days prior, though he’d insisted nothing conclusive had come from the appointment. Just a series of tests and an assurance the office would call him with results within a couple of weeks. A quick tally of his footwear revealed his bedroom slippers had disappeared with him. So had the baby blue pajamas he’d worn to bed. She’d checked the property, the neighbors’ properties, and was about to get in the car when she’d stopped, sensing he might be close by. She wandered to the end of the street where there was a path carved through a precipice, almost completely obscured by half-dead bracken. It was the route the local children used as a shortcut to the elementary school. She followed it, ducking under branches in spots, and, sure enough, there he was.

Sitting on a smooth flat rock in the clearing where the more rebellious sixth graders used to sneak cigarettes.

His back was to her, but even in his baggy pajamas she could see he was tense, sitting on his hands the way he was, rocking back and forth as if trying not to vomit. Shoulders hunched, he looked around him, chattering nervously to an audience that didn’t exist.

As she moved closer, she could make out his words. “Articulated skeleton, miniature and life-size. Latex tourniquet in three fashion colors. Adhesive bandages in flexform fabric…”

An inventory of products available through RoyalCrest Medical Distributors. For no one in particular. Keeping him calm, she supposed. She started toward him then stopped. There, in the bushes, relaxed as could be, lay Slash, panting contentedly and staring at Victor. It wasn’t until the animal saw Lila that he stood up, then dropped forward into a stretch, and trotted off into the trees.

It hardly seemed possible. The old dog had been watching out for Victor? Coyote as hero—just like the myths said. Stunned, she stared at the place Slash had lain and mouthed the words “Thank you.”

If it hadn’t been her mother’s birthday, she wouldn’t have left Victor alone. But by the time they arrived home, he had settled down and seemed more himself. Lila locked the doors, hid the car keys, and climbed into the Toyota with her mother and Kieran.

Elisabeth wanted to celebrate her birthday at Disneyland. A day at the “Happiest Place on Earth” with her two girls. Lila wasn’t sure what was more dizzying—the hordes of blond people speaking a language she guessed was Swedish or maybe German, the pastel-colored shops that looked
as if they were made of cookie dough and peppermint icing, or the impeccably clean asphalt on Disney’s Main Street. They had been inside the theme park a full hour before Lila spied a piece of trash, and even then, a cast member came by to sweep it up before Lila could confirm it wasn’t just a fallen scarf.

Now Kieran stopped in front of a pretty little building with scalloped trim. Her cotton candy drooped sideways as she stared at the sign, which read
DISNEYLAND BABY CARE CENTER
. “What’s that? They keep babies in there?”

Lila smiled. “You change their diapers in there. Also, it’s a place kids go if they get lost.”

Kieran lit up. “You mean Zachary John Miller? Christiana del Toro? Joanna Vicenze? Frederick and Jackson Bur-roughs…?”

“No.” Lila stopped her. “Sadly, those kids have much worse trouble than getting lost for a few minutes at Disneyland.”

“If only it were that simple. If only every parent whose baby has gone missing could come to this little cottage and find them. God.” Elisabeth reached out to stroke her older daughter’s cheek. “How different life would have been for me.”

“Actually, if you’d come at the right moment, that Saturday, you’d have found me here.”

Elisabeth stood still, only her hair twisting in the soft wind. Her eyes traveled over the hut. “You were right here. In this little house.” She sunk down onto a bench. “If only I’d known.”

“We came here straight from the airport. Later, when it was getting dark, I ran off to find the bathroom and got lost
in the crowd. A Disney employee brought me here to wait.”

“So while I was calling the police, crying and screaming and throwing up, here you were.”

“Trying to call my mother.”

Her lips parted like a dying fish desperate for oxygen.

The Baby Care Center on Main Street had seemed surprisingly small, even to an eight-year-old. She’d waited on a wicker chair, swinging her legs as she watched a mother and infant step outside and rush into the crowd. Delilah slipped off her new Disney sunhat and dropped it onto the floor.

An employee sat down beside her. The woman didn’t appear to be much older than a teenager, with her peachy lip gloss, tanned face, and long brown hair pulled into a ponytail. Her breath smelled like cherry cough drops. “Hi there, honey. What’s your name?”

“Delilah Lovett.”

She showed her teeth. “Nice. You can call me Janice. Can you tell me who brought you to the park today? Was it your mom?”

Delilah shook her head. “My dad.”

“Does your dad have a cell phone, by any chance?”

“He used to. But he threw it in the garbage.”

She laughed. “I sometimes feel like doing that with mine. Well I can assure you, your father is probably looking for you right now. And the first cast member he approaches will tell Daddy to come straight here, so you’re going to be just fine.” She shook Lila’s knee to show her just how fine she would be. “Does that sound good?”

“Do you think we could call my mum in Toronto? My stomach’s sore and she knows the right medicine.”

Janice thought for a moment. “I don’t know. That’s Canada, right? Long distance. Let me just ask someone.”

After a little while, an older man poked his head into the room and said his name was Richard. He considered the phone call for a moment, then shook his head. “I have no problem with making the call. But here we have her father, poor soul, who’s taken his daughter on the trip of a lifetime and lost her. Won’t go over too well at home. Let’s give the guy a break, see if he doesn’t show in a few more minutes. Might prevent a whole lot of trouble for him.” He left the room.

Victor was taking too long to come. The blackened waters of the river flashed in Delilah’s mind. Her father was probably panicking at that moment, certain that she fell in and drowned. In his frenzy, he probably forgot she was a great swimmer, that if she did fall in, she’d only paddle around and climb right back out again, stand on the riverbank, and ask him if he could buy her a dry sweatshirt.

“Please can I call my mum now?” Delilah asked.

Janice looked around to make sure Richard was gone, then leaned close. “Okay. Come and we’ll call your mother and tell her we have you. Safe and sound.”

Delilah leaped off her seat and followed. Janice motioned for her to sit down in another chair in another room. This chair leaned back with you and spun. Delilah whirled around with excitement until Janice pulled a phone onto Delilah’s lap and put the receiver in her hand. She pressed it to her ear and started to dial.

Just then, Richard appeared, a big grin on his face. “Guess who’s here?” He stepped aside to reveal her father standing in the
doorway. Victor rushed forward and scooped her up, pressing his daughter into his chest so hard she could barely breathe.

“Don’t ever wander away from Daddy,” he said into Delilah’s ear. “Promise me you’ll never, ever leave Daddy again. Not even for a second.”

The phone dropped to the floor with a clatter.

As Richard led them to the door, Janice called out, “Wait!” She stood behind her desk with one hand over the phone receiver. Could Elisabeth be on the phone? Delilah wriggled out of her father’s arms and tore back into the other room.

But Janice just smiled. “Y’all will want to go straight toward Sleeping Beauty’s Castle to see the fireworks.”

Now Elisabeth shaded her eyes from the sun, her caramel skin blanched with emotion. “So close.”

“So close.”

Kieran was growing bored with all the memories. She leaned against Lila and whimpered, “I heard there are black widows in California. Are they here?”

“People live here their whole lives and don’t see a black widow,” Elisabeth said. “I’ve been here a few times in my life—before either of you were born—and I’ve never seen one.”

“They’re more poisonous than a rattlesnake,” said Kieran. “I saw it on TV.” She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her sticky hands. What was left of her cotton candy dropped to the ground. “I want to go home.”

“Home?” said Elisabeth, scooping up the candy and stuffing it into the plastic bag she held. “We’ve barely
been here an hour. Who wants to go over to Tom Sawyer Island?”

T
HE REST OF
the day passed in a blur of arachnid-laced misery. Every ride or attraction seemed to be the perfect hiding place for a deadly spider. Pirates of the Caribbean, Tarzan’s Treehouse, the Jungle Cruise, Thunder Mountain. Kieran couldn’t enjoy any of them, so busy was she trying to ensure a deadly spider wouldn’t scuttle across her bare toes.

By the time they got out of the Haunted Mansion, it was dusk and Kieran was exhausted. They waited in a long line for food, then Lila and Kieran trailed behind their mother toward a table that was being emptied of a group of giggling preteens wearing Mickey ears.

Kieran bit into her burger and looked around, her gaze resting on the T-shirt of a brawny young man at the next table. On his back, just below the strawberry blond curls at the base of his neck, was a small red maple leaf. “Look. Canada.”

Elisabeth smiled. “It’s what Canadians do, you know. Wear the flag when they’re traveling. So people will treat them well.” She leaned over to tap the man on the shoulder.

“Mum, leave him,” said Lila. “He’s trying to eat his dinner.”

Too late. The man turned around and, when asked if he was from Canada, he nodded, his mouth full. “Toronto.”

“Really? We are too!” said Elizabeth.

His plumpish female companion, sunburned and cheery, leaned across the table to shake Elisabeth’s hand. As she did so, Lila noticed she also wore the flag shirt. “I’m Kate. And this is Tony. Or Doc Brock, as his patients say.”

Elisabeth introduced herself and her daughters, her smile trapping the tip of her tongue between her teeth, her fingers caressing her jawbone, when she discovered Tony worked out of St. Michael’s Hospital, a stone’s throw from Cabbagetown. Kate and Tony, recently married, had just moved to the Danforth area, to a funky row house in Greektown. After a brief conversation about the sunshine in Los Angeles, the frigid late-autumn air back home, and the ups and downs of converting to American dollars, all talk turned Disney.

“Have you been on the teacups?” asked Kate, short brown hair blowing back from her round face. “That’s where we’re headed next. Though I haven’t been since I was a kid. You should try them.”

“No way,” said Lila. “I’m not a fan of spinning.”

“Kate’s a big talker.” Tony pointed at his wife with a French fry. “She’ll never get on the teacups when she sees how fast they twirl. And I’m not sure I should sit next to her if she does.”

“How about this, funnyman?” said Kate. “I go on teacups with you and you agree to Space Mountain.”

He waved his hand above his food. “I’m not getting flung around in the dark after this meal. No way.”

“Then we may have reached an impasse,” said Kate.

“Kieran is dying to go on the teacups, aren’t you, doll?” said Elisabeth.

Kieran nodded. “With my sister.”

The couple broke into a collective “aww” at this, but Lila put a stop to it. “Sorry, Kieran. I’ve been on it once and vowed never to do it again.”

When Kieran crossed her arms and slumped in her seat, Elisabeth slapped the table. “I have an idea. Why don’t you
go on it with Tony after we eat? Delilah and I will take Kate and meet the two of you at Sleeping Beauty’s Castle. Right at the gates. Then we can all watch the fireworks together.” She leaned over and nudged her suntanned shoulder against Tony’s, her hair trailing across his arm as she sat straight again, giggling. “We’ll make an evening of it.”

Tony took a moment to consider this. He pushed his hands through his curly hair and looked at his wife. “I suppose that could work. What do you think, Kate?”

“Then it’s all set,” said Elisabeth, not giving Kate a chance to reply. “That teacup line might even be long enough that we big girls can sit over a glass of Chardonnay, if we can find a place that serves in here. And don’t you worry, Tony, we’ll bring you a nice cold beer.”

“Mum,” Lila whispered.

“I’m so glad we bumped into you. Like kismet.” Elisabeth winked at Tony, seemingly unaware of Kate, who was no longer smiling.

It wasn’t because Kate was reaching for her jacket. Nor was it Kieran’s obvious displeasure at being handed off to Tony. It was Elisabeth and her willingness to dump her youngest child with a stranger because he had a red leaf the size of an animal cookie on his shirt and an MD license in his wallet. “That’s okay, Mum,” Lila said. “I’ll take Kieran on the teacups.”

“But that’s silly. Tony is headed there anyway. And if you’d rather, you and Kate can go on Space Mountain. I don’t mind waiting.”

But Kate was already getting up, tugging on Tony’s sleeve. He stood up, guzzling the remainder of his soda under Kate’s stern glare. “You know,” he said, “we might
not head over there just yet. Probably best if we part ways right here. Really nice meeting all of you, though.”

Of course, thought Lila. Not only was it weird to be trusted with a stranger’s child, but Elisabeth had been presumptuous and manipulative and downright flirtatious.

“Okay then,” Elisabeth said. “Lovely to meet you.”

Kate and Tony mumbled good-byes and hurried away.

“Did you see the rock on her finger?” said Elisabeth, tucking away her burger. “Definitely pays to marry a doctor.”

K
IERAN FELL ASLEEP
halfway through her meal, her head resting on Lila’s beaded handbag, whitish hair fluttering in the soft evening breeze. Inside the toppled purse, being fondled by strands of hair, was a turquoise box with a tiny silver bow.