Journals were the one big splurge in her life. She tried to write a little every day. Maybe later, the kids would read these pages and know who she really was, besides Cook, Maid, and Chauffeur. Meanwhile, even the journal had conspired against her. Without thinking, she had written tomatoes, baby carrots, cereal, juice, diapers on the first page. Shoot!
That just wouldn’t do. She carefully tore it out. Maybe it was silly, but she thought this book as a sacred place, not somewhere you wanted to put a shopping list.
She suddenly realized Ashley was gone! Oh my God, where is she?
She was right there a second ago, and now
she was gone.
Had it been just a second? She tensed. Maybe it hadn’t. Maybe it was longer than a few seconds.
“Ashley? Sweetie?”
Her eyes quickly scanned the small, crowded playground. Several blonde mop tops on swings or running around, but no Ashley. The whole place was enclosed with a wrought-iron fence. How far could she have gotten? She headed toward the gate.
“Excuse me, have you seen a little girl? Blond hair, jeans, a red T-shirt?”
No one had, though.
Oh, dear God, not this. No. No.
Just then Mary spotted her. Her heart nearly burst. Ashley was tucked behind a tree near the corner of the playground. She coughed out a little laugh, embarrassed with herself for getting this nervous so quickly. God, what is wrong with me?
She walked over to her. “What are you doing over here, sweetness?”
“Playing hide and seek,” she said. “Just playing, Mommy.”
“With who, for gosh sake?” She fought to keep her tone in check. People were starting to stare.
“With you.” She smiled so sweetly Mary could barely stand it.
She bent low and whispered against her soft cheek. “Ashley, you cannot run off like that. Do you understand? If you can’t see me, then I can’t see you. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good, now why don’t you go and try the jungle gym?”
Mary settled down on another bench away from the gathering storm of disapproving stares. A young mother reading the L.A. Times smiled over at her. “Hello.”
“You must not be from around here,” Mary said, giving her a quick once-over.
The woman’s voice was slightly defensive. “Why do you say that?”
“First of all, no one around here is that friendly,” Mary answered, then smiled. “Second of all, it takes an outsider to know one. I’m a Vermonter, myself.”
The other woman looked relieved. “Baltimore,” she said with a hand to her chest. “I heard everyone was friendly out here in California. They stop their cars and let you cross the street, right? You don’t see that in Baltimore.”
“Well, that’s true.”
“Of course, you don’t see this, either.” She held up the front page of the Times.
HOLLYWOOD MURDER INVESTIGATION CONTINUES
“Have you heard about this?” the woman asked. “I guess you must have.”
“It’s hard to miss these days.”
“It just makes me so sad. I know I should be afraid, too, but really, I’m just so sorry for those families.”