“Mary!” I open her bedroom door, but I find the room empty. “Where is that girl?”
I walk inside, turn in a circle, as if she’ll appear from behind a curtain or step out of the closet. Where is she? She should be ready for school, eating breakfast downstairs with Cole, but my search of the house so far has produced zero results.
Cursing, I wander back down the stairs and check every room on my way to the kitchen. I wanted to talk to her before leaving, and last night she appeared to be asleep when I peeked into her room.
Is it possible that my little girl is avoiding me?
What the hell’s going on?
“Cole.” He’s still slurping his Fruit Loops, watching cartoons on the small TV set on the counter. “You sure you don’t know where your sister is?”
He shrugs quickly, a light roll of bony shoulders, and shoots me a furtive look.
Oh boy. I drag a chair back and sit down across from him. “Cole. I need to talk to Mary. Where is she?”
He swallows his mouthful of cereal, glances back at the TV as if he can escape through the screen, then turns back to me, mouth downturned. “She doesn’t want me to tell you.”
“Well, I am her father. Yours, too, yeah? As your father, I need to know where you are, always, so that I can make sure you’re all right. Do you understand, buddy?”
He gives a jerky nod, puts down his spoon. His cheeks are turning red. “She just didn’t want to talk to you, that’s all.”
“Funny thing is, I want to talk to her, so tough cookie. Where is she?”
“Outside. Under the tree. She likes sitting there.”
True, but it’s fucking cold out there. “Thanks, buddy.” I reach across the table and pat his hand.
He snatches it back, looking away. “She’ll hate me for telling you.”
“Mary can’t hate you, Cole. She loves you too much.”
The corners of his mouth turn up in a pleased smile. “Yeah?”
He’s smiling, still looking away, when I get up and walk outside to find my daughter. Stupid kid, this boy of mine. How he doesn’t know Mary adores him is beyond me. Ever since she was a tiny thing and he was a squalling baby, she’d rock his cradle, stroke his dark curls and act like his own mother. She can’t hate him for telling on her.
Although, I think as I walk down the garden path toward the oak towering on one side, Mary is changing. She’s acting in a way I wouldn’t have predicted. She’s acting not like herself.
Isn’t it too early for the teenage acting-up thing?
Cool wind whistles down the street, bringing a promise of rain. I put my head down and shove my hands into my pockets, cursing myself for not grabbing a rain jacket before rushing out.
The tree leaves rustle as I approach. Why didn’t I think to look for her here?
Probably because I didn’t think she’d rather get drenched than talk to me.
“Mary.” I step under the branches. “Where are you?”
I see the pale flash of her small face, and she steps out from behind the thick tree trunk, hands jammed in the pockets of her pale pink parka. “Dad.”
“Daughter,” I say gravely, and I catch the curl of a quick smile.
“What are you doing out here?”
“What am I…? Are you serious? Why are you out here, and not eating breakfast with Cole?”
“I ate. I’m done.”
“And what, you thought hanging out in the wind and rain would help you digest faster?”