Secrets She Left Behind. Diane Chamberlain

Andy up,” she said.

      “How did she sound?”

      “Annoyed, actually,” Mom said. “I didn’t blame her. She probably wanted to go shopping and was worried about leaving Andy alone. We were three hours later than we thought we’d be.”

      “Do you remember exactly what she said?” I liked that he was asking Mom questions and not me.

      Mom shook her head. “Something like, ‘you said you’d be home by one-thirty.’ Something like that. I felt terrible. She…we haven’t been close this year and I know it was a big favor to ask her to watch Andy.”

      “I could’ve stayed home alone okay,” I said.

      “Did she seem angry to you, Andy?” Officer Cates asked.

      “No.”

      “When she got off the phone with your mom?”

      I waited for him to finish the question. He looked at me funny.

      “I mean, did she seem angry at all?” he asked. “About anything?”

      I shook my head. “She was happy.”

      “Happy?” He and Mom both said it at the same time, and I laughed.

      “Happy Maggie was coming home,” I said.

      “She was?” Mom asked.

      “Like how you cried yesterday morning ’cause Maggie was coming home,” I explained. “She kind of did that, too.”

      “She was crying?” Officer Cates asked.

      “Not exactly.” I knew I had to be very truthful talking to the police. “I didn’t see her cry, but her eyes were red like they get when you cry.” I suddenly remembered the box. “I remember something else she did,” I said.

      “What’s that?” he asked.

      “She carried a box with a pot on it outside.”

      “A pot in a box or on top of a box?” Mom asked.

      “No. A picture of a pot. The box had a picture of a pot on it.”

      Officer Cates wrote something down. Then he chewed the end of his pen.

      “Maybe she was going to return a pot she bought,” Mom said to him. “That’s what she meant when she said she was going to the store.”

      Officer Cates nodded. “Possibly,” he said. “So where did she usually shop?”

      “She liked the Wal-Mart in Jacksonville, but it could’ve been just about anywhere. I can’t imagine she’d leave Andy that long, though.”

      All of a sudden, I heard a brake-screech sound at the end of our street. I jumped up.

      “Mom!” I said. “The bus!”

      She looked at her watch. “Oh, no. We made you late.” She put her hand around my wrist. “I think we’re done here for now, aren’t we?” She looked at Officer Cates.

      He closed his little pad. “For now,” he said.

      “You go get some breakfast.” Mom let go of me. “Then I’ll drive you to school.”

      I ran into the kitchen and stuck some cinnamon-swirl bread in the toaster. I couldn’t wait to tell Kimmie I was late to school and it wasn’t even my fault.

      Chapter Eight

       Sara

       Stepping into Jamie’s World

      1989

      I HELD STEVE’S HAND AS WE SLIPPED INTO ONE OF THE PEWS at the Free Seekers Chapel. With Steve home and not interested in going to the chapel, months had passed since my last visit, and the congregation had swollen to thirty people. I spotted Jamie sitting in his usual pew, but Laurel wasn’t with him.

      Steve let out one of his long, weary sighs that told me he was already bored, and my chest tightened up at the sound. I’d struggled to explain to him why I wanted to return to the chapel. It was the sense of community, I told him. Being part of something.

      “What are you talking about?” he’d asked. “You’re surrounded by military wives. You have a built-in community.”

      “This is a spiritual community.”

      He stared at me with those steel-gray eyes. “One of the things we had in common is that we weren’t into religion,” he said.

      “This is different,” I said. “You’ll see. Please come with me. Otherwise, I’ll go alone.” I felt nervous talking to him that way. Steve wasn’t a mean man, but sometimes I remembered how it felt when he pried my legs apart in the backseat of his car. It hurt, and the animal that took him over didn’t seem to care. I remembered that, and I was always a little afraid to stand up to him. But I needed what I’d found at the chapel. Was it the pull of the beautiful setting or the pull of Jamie Lockwood? I didn’t even want to think about that question.

      Steve finally said he would go to the chapel with me, just one time. I felt intimidated by his presence, though, so I didn’t stand up to say where I’d experienced God that week. It would embarrass him. Or maybe I was afraid he’d think I’d been brainwashed. He kept up with the sighing. A few times he shifted in the pew as if longing to get up and stretch his legs. It wasn’t working out as I’d hoped. He wasn’t getting it at all.

      After the service was over, Jamie greeted people as he usually did by the exit of the chapel.

      “Is there any other way out of here?” Steve whispered as we moved toward the front door.

      “I don’t know.” I didn’t care, either. I was already smiling at Jamie, stretching my hand out to shake his.

      “It’s good to see you back, Sara,” he said.

      “This is my husband, Steve,” I said. “Steve, this is Jamie Lockwood.”

      Steve shook his hand. “Nice building,” he said, and I was grateful to him for making the effort to be sociable.

      “You have a new baby by now, don’t you?” I asked. The last time I came to the chapel, many months earlier, Laurel had announced her pregnancy. Saying the word baby out loud made my breasts ache.

      “I do.” Jamie glowed. “She’s a month old. Her name’s Maggie.”

      “Congratulations!” I said. “How’s Laurel?”

      He hesitated just long enough to let me know that all was not well with his wife, and I wished I hadn’t asked.

      “She’s doing okay,” he said finally. “We’re both a little overwhelmed right now, but I guess that’s to be expected.”

      “Let me know if I can help somehow,” I said. “I have plenty of free time.”

      Steve nudged me, so I walked forward, making way for the people behind us to talk to Jamie. My offer to help was genuine. I longed to get out of the house, but Steve didn’t want me to work. “None of the guys’ wives work,” he’d said. Anyway, jobs were few, especially for a military wife who might have to move at a moment’s notice.

      

      Jamie caught up to us in the small, sandy parking lot in front of the chapel.

      “Were you serious, Sara?” He shaded his eyes from the sun. “About wanting to help?”

      “Oh, yes,” I said.

      “We can really use it,” he said. “I’ll pay you, of course.”

      “No! Please. Let me just help out. Like I said, I have loads of free time.”

      I gave him our number, and he wrote it on a small notepad he pulled from