“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I guess you know. You’re the psychiatric nurse,” I said. “I’ll be right there as soon as I dress.”
She nodded and backed out, closing the door. Could this woman be that effective already? How good was she when it came to understanding what her patients were thinking and, more important, what the patient’s relatives were thinking?
I struggled over what to wear. It couldn’t be too flashy, too sexy, and yet I didn’t want to look drab, either. Maybe Detective Simpson would stop by. Some of the clothes Mother had bought us were so dull and uninteresting that criminals would feel safe wearing them in an identification lineup. I settled on an older blouse that looked a bit faded. It was a pink gauze long-sleeved shirt I usually would roll up to my elbows once we were out of the house. Right now, I kept it buttoned at the wrist and put on a pair of new blue jeans and blue Cleatskins. Realizing that my first stop was going to be Mother’s room, I checked my lipstick once more to be sure I didn’t look too radiant. Normally, she would jump all over that, so she might very well do it now, I thought, and then went to her room.
She was sitting up in the upholstered wing chair that matched the bedroom set. Mrs. Lofter was brushing her hair when I entered. She would never let one of us brush her hair; otherwise, she’d have to mess it up again and let the other sister do it. Mrs. Lofter paused in her brushing and nodded at me. I stepped forward slowly. Mother was focused as closely on me as ever, just the way she would be when she suspected one of us had done something wrong.
“Tell me why,” she said. “Tell me why she would put herself in such danger.”
I shrugged, relieved that it wasn’t me she was accusing of anything. “I told you, Mother.”
Mrs. Lofter stepped back but didn’t leave. She stood there watching me, waiting to hear me elaborate.
“It was exciting to her, I guess. She was finally doing something only she wanted to do. She knew I didn’t want to do it, but she did it anyway.”
Mother
shook her head. “She never hid anything from me like this.”
“That’s why she did it,” I said. “She wanted to do something dangerous, I suppose. I told her many times to stop. She thought I was jealous.” I looked at Mrs. Lofter. She was making me nervous with her staring. Did she realize I was lying? “My sister and I always checked with each other first before we did any social things. It was the way we were brought up,” I told her.
She said nothing.
“You’re helping them find her for us, aren’t you, Haylee?” Mother asked. “You’re doing everything you can?”
“I told them all I knew, Mother. I offered to go out and look, too, but Daddy didn’t want me to. All I can do is wait to hear from the police. I made Daddy some breakfast and had something to eat myself. I’m glad you’re eating,” I added, nodding at the dish and the empty cup. “We’ve got to stay strong so we can be here for Kaylee.”
“How sweet. See how sweet my daughters are?” she asked Mrs. Lofter, who smiled. Mother shook her head. “But I see,” she continued. “You’re so lost, aren’t you? It’s like you’ve been taken away as well, isn’t it?”
I nodded, but this time, when I looked at Mrs. Lofter, I thought she looked skeptical, even suspicious. She shouldn’t be here when I spoke personally with my mother, I thought. I intended to tell Daddy.
“I’m trying to be strong for all of us, Mother,” I repeated, more for Mrs. Lofter than for Mother. “I’m helping Daddy in every way I can, too. We’ve got to keep hoping they’ll find her.”
“Yes, that’s a good girl. My girls are good girls,” she said. She finally smiled and looked at Mrs. Lofter.
“Of course, Mrs. Fitzgerald,” she said. “That’s why things will turn out just fine.”
“Where is your father?” Mother asked.
“He’s out doing things he has to do.”
“What sort of things?”
“Things. I don’t know. He’ll be home soon. Nana Clara Beth called,” I said, remembering.
“What did she say?”
“She said she would think about coming to see us.”
Mother was silent.
“Is there something I can do for you, Mother?”
She sat back, her eyes glazing over. “It’s hard to look at one without the other,” she muttered. “It’s so painful. It’s like looking directly at the sun.” She put her hand over her heart.