Mary, Mary - James Patterson [41]
“Sure, go,” I said.
“Talk to you tomorrow?” she asked. “Sorry. I have to run. Tomorrow, Alex?”
I promised, and then hung up. Just a friend, I thought. Well, two calls down, one to go. The really hard one. I picked up the phone again and punched in numbers I knew by heart.
“Hello?”
“It’s me. Alex.”
Christine paused—another undecipherable response. “Hi,” she finally said.
“Could I talk to Alex?”
“Of course. Hang on, I’ll get him. He just finished his dinner. He’s in the playroom.”
I heard a rustling and then Christine’s muted voice. “It’s Daddy.” The word gave me a strange pang—warm and regretful at the same time.
“Hi, Daddy.” A whole lot of mixed feelings intensified at the excited sound of his voice, but mostly, I just missed him like crazy. I could see his small face, his smile.
“Hey, pup. What’s new?”
Like any three-year-old, Little Alex wasn’t quite up to speed on the whole phone thing. It was a quick conversation, unfortunately. After a particularly long pause, I heard Christine again in the background.
“Say bye-bye.”
“Bye-bye.”
“See you soon,” I told him. “I love you, buddy.”
“Love you, Daddy.”
Then Little Alex hung up the phone on me. With a dismissive click, I was back in my room, alone with the Mary Smith case, missing all the people I loved more than life itself. That was the exact thought in my head—but what did it mean?
Part Three
JUGGLING ACTS
Chapter 47
MARY SMITH SAT on a park bench while her darling little Ashley monkeyed her way around the playground. Good deal. The exercise was just enough to tire her out before Mary had to pick up Brendan and Adam from their playdates; hopefully it was enough time to let Mary’s brain cool down from another impossible day.
She looked at the brand-new diary on her lap, admired its nice heavy paper and the beautiful linen cover.
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