*
After dinner Bridgette and Moira ushered the children off to bed, while Jack listened as Frank and Angus continued to argue about whose turn it was to kindle the fire as the storm raged on outside. Letting out a yawn, he wearily rose to his feet as crumpled up bits of Christmas wrapping paper fell to the floor. Nearly an hour had passed since he’d escorted Catherine to bed and he had a sudden urge to check on her. He climbed each step gingerly, his knee protesting in anger with every movement. Jack’s heavy footsteps thumped down the dark hallway, only slightly illuminated by the lit candle in hand, as he approached the door. The door was ajar, and as he peered in, he realized the bed was empty and still made, as if no one had even attempted to go to sleep. Scratching his head, he began to turn as he set out to find his wife. In the background he could hear the faint groan of a door opening. In the frame of the bathroom door, Catherine stood clutching her burgeoning stomach, with a look of panic on her face.
“It’s time.”
Chapter Seven
Elkhart, PA
October 8, 1997
Early Morning
"Gone? What do you mean gone?!" demanded Jack, shooting an irritated look at Tommy over his morning paper.
Tommy, visibly shaken repeated his words, "Tristan... she's gone! I cannot find her anywhere!"
Jack sprung from the table, causing his coffee to spill onto the floor. He sped across the linoleum floor and disappeared from the kitchen. He raced up the steep staircase and threw open the door to Tristan's tiny bedroom. He ripped the purple curtains that hung above her alcove bed, only to find a neatly bed made with a journal lying on top. Jack frantically looked around the room, his sanity barely hanging on. His handsome face a dangerous shade of red, he cried out for a source of reasoning, "FRANK!" Jack's bellow echoed throughout the massive house. Still asleep, utterly exhausted from his overnight shift, Frank was startled awake by Jack's cry for help. He jumped out of bed, alarmed by the sense of urgency in his friend's voice. Hurriedly, he threw on a pair of beat-up jeans and ran into the hallway bare-chested to see what the matter was.
A look of frenzy clear in Frank’s still tired eyes was apparent to everyone in the hallway, “What’s wrong? What the hell is going on?”
“Tristan! She’s gone! We cannot find her anywhere!” The breath was taken from Frank’s lungs as an awful sense of déjà vu kicked in.
“Okay, hang on a second. Let's think things through rationally. When was the last time you saw her?”
“I checked on her last night before I went to bed, she was in bed, asleep.”
"She wouldn't run away... I know she wouldn't." said Frank.
"You guys did just have that argument last night," reminded Liam.
“Your sister didn't run away!” Jack yelled, his face a threatening shade of purple.
"Liam, you're not helping matters," said Frank earnestly, as he shot a knowing glance at Jack's face. His sanity was hanging on by a thread. Jack could do nothing but stare at his long-time friend, motionless and in shock. Jack, feeling completely helpless, stood there looking for Frank to give him direction. Adam, used to taking direct orders from his uncle obediently waited for instructions. Frank, in a bark of a Scottish brogue, addressed his brother-in-law.
“Get yourself together! I need you in one piece to figure out what is going on here! Have you reported it yet?!”
"Not yet."
"Well get on the phone, then!"
"I don't want those idiots in Elkhart anywhere near my property!”
“Do want to find her or not?!” Frank yelled.
Jack ran down the steep stairway and entered the kitchen where Blake and Tommy stood still and stoic, tears welling in their eyes.
“We need to figure out where she might have gone,” Jack said to his sons. “Did she say anything about running away?”
Blake gave his father a quizzical look and replied, “She wouldn’t run away!”
Tommy added “After coming home last night, she went right up to her room and was reading. It sounded like she was up for a while, then when we went to wake her up she wasn’t there. She wouldn’t have run away.”