She's Not There

“What makes you ask that?”


“I was just thinking of this woman at the hospice,” Michelle said. “She isn’t that old. Fifty-ish. A former drug addict, but then she got religion and turned her life around. Everything was starting to look up. She got a job, met this guy, then boom, she got cancer. I was sitting with her the other day and she asked me to read the Bible to her. So I opened it, just randomly. And it’s this passage from Luke about the Prodigal Son. Do you know it?”

“It’s been a long time since I read the Bible.”

“Well, Jesus is telling a group of people this story about a wealthy landowner who has two sons. And one day he decides to give them each a lot of money. One son takes the money, then immediately takes off. ‘See you around, Dad. Nice knowing you.’ And off he goes. But the other son, he stays put, saves his money, works hard. Years go by. The father doesn’t hear boo from the one who left. And then one day, he’s back. And guess what? He’s dead broke. Spent every last dime. Pissed it all away on cheap wine and loose women. ‘Dad,’ he says. ‘I’ve sinned, but I’ve come back home.’ And what does his father do? Does he cast him aside? Does he lecture him, tell him he’s no longer welcome?” Michelle paused dramatically. “No. He welcomes the ingrate back with open arms. He even throws a huge feast to celebrate his return. And the other son says, ‘Hey, wait a minute, that’s not fair. I’m the one who stuck by you all these years. Don’t I deserve a little party?’ But the father says no. He doesn’t see it that way at all. And according to Jesus, the father is right. According to Jesus, it’s better to welcome one sinner back into the fold than to honor the ones who never strayed in the first place.” She shook her head. “I don’t get it. Do you?”

Caroline felt the full weight of the parable fall across her shoulders, like a heavy woolen blanket. “I know you feel I haven’t always been there for you,” she began. “And I’m sorry if I’ve let you down…”

“Wait a minute. You think I was talking about me and Samantha? About you?”

“Weren’t you?”

“I was talking about Jesus.”

“I’m sorry. I just thought…”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not everything is about you.”

Caroline bit her tongue to keep from apologizing again.

“What difference does it make anyway? It’s all so lame,” Michelle pronounced. “God, religion, heaven, hell. It’s just a load of crap.”

“Michelle…”

“Don’t worry. I don’t tell that to the residents.” She pushed herself away from the table and stood up. “I’m going outside for a smoke.”

“Do you have to?”

“I won’t be long.” She fished inside her purse for her cigarettes, held up the package triumphantly.

“It’s dark…it’s cold.”

Michelle retrieved her jacket from the closet, throwing it over her shoulders as she opened the door. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll be back.”





The hours immediately after Caroline discovered that Samantha was missing were a blur of tears, screams, and veiled accusations. “Samantha!” she screamed repeatedly over Michelle’s terrified cries. “Samantha, where are you?” She raced through the suite, Michelle nipping at her heels like a frightened puppy. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

“What the hell is going on?” Hunter demanded, coming out of the bathroom, his shirt off, toothbrush in hand.

“She’s gone. Samantha’s gone.”

“What are you talking about? How can she be gone?” He ran into the children’s bedroom, emerging wide-eyed and ashen-faced. “Where the hell is she?”

“Oh, God. Oh, God.” Caroline was on her hands and knees, searching the closet, under the coffee table, behind the drapes. “She’s not here. She’s not here.”

“That’s impossible. She has to be here.”

They searched the master bedroom, then searched the entire suite again.

“Mommy,” Michelle kept crying. “Mommy, what’s wrong?”

A terrifying thought crept into Caroline’s brain. Michelle had always been jealous of her baby sister. Was it possible she’d done something to harm her? Caroline had heard stories of resentful siblings dangling babies out of second-story windows. Was it possible that Michelle…? The thought was too horrifying to finish. She rushed to the window between Michelle’s bed and the crib. But the window was too high for Michelle to reach on her own and besides, it was securely locked and impossible for a child to open, let alone close and re-lock. Even so, Caroline threw it open and leaned well over its side, her eyes desperately searching the ground below. The restaurant was right there. Surely someone would have seen or heard a child fall.

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