Mind of Her Own (11 page)

“What?”

“The kids are hungry.”

He sighed. “Tell them to eat some cake.”

“I burned it,” Jazz said. “I’m shocked the smell didn’t invade your kingdom down there.”

Now that he was back in the present, he was surprised too that he hadn’t noticed the acrid odor. “I’ll be up in a minute. Tell the kids to get ready. We’ll go out for dinner.”

She smiled at him. “Terrific. They’ll enjoy that, and so will I.”

Collin went back to his workshop. He had to hide the journals. But where would they be safe from prying hands and eyes? Maybe he was being paranoid; no one ever came down here. Just in case, he put the journals back into the box and buried them under a pile of wood scraps.

He stood back to see if the bright yellow and blue box could be seen. Just a bit of color peeked through. He shifted a few of the wood scraps to cover the spot. Satisfied, he closed the shop door behind him, tested the lock, and went to collect his family.

The sound of the TV behind her assured Jazz that Tim was still watching his show. She chewed on the end of the pen and stared at the legal pad in front of her. Did she want to kill off this character, and why was she even considering death for him? She wrote romance, which was not a genre known for gruesome death scenes. Maybe she should think about changing her focus. A mystery might be fun and challenging to write. She snorted. She could write about her own life. It qualified as a mystery, didn’t it? One woman begins to make dinner and then disappears deep inside herself to become a stranger to her and her family.

Tim climbed into the chair next to her. “Are you almost done?”

She shook her head and didn’t even look up. “Not yet, kiddo. Watch something else.”

“Are you writing a good story?”

“I hope so.”

Tim plunked an elbow on the table and propped his chin in his hand.

Jazz could feel his quiet stare. She ignored him. She just needed a few more minutes to come up with a twist to her plot. “Aha!” she said, and her pen scratched and skittered across the paper like a match to a month-old Christmas tree.

At the chiming of the clock, Jazz looked up. It couldn’t be noon! Pages of paper littered the table. Lucky for her, Tim had been independent this morning and played by himself. She hadn’t even noticed when he left the table. She glanced over her shoulder at the television. The primary colors of the Cartoon Network shot across the room.

She stacked the papers together. “Tim? Are you ready to go for our walk?”

Only the chatter of animated voices answered back. “Tim?” Maybe he had fallen asleep. She couldn’t tell from here, with the back of the couch facing her. If he were sleeping, she could keep writing. She slid out of her chair to avoid scooting it across the hardwood floor, tiptoed into the living room, and peeked over the edge of the couch. It was empty.

A warm breeze fluttered past, lifting papers from the table and sailing them like dandelion seeds through the air before they landed on the floor. Startled, she wondered where it had come from, and then she noticed the open French door that led to the backyard. The sunlight bounced off the lake, causing her heart to pound. Had Tim gone out without her? She walked out onto the deck and searched the yard for any sign of him. “Tim, are you out here?” When he didn’t answer, she spun around and ran upstairs to his room.

“Tim! Are you hiding from me? Please come out. You’re scaring me.”

Once again, the only voices Jazz heard came from the television. Not even Cleo whimpered an acknowledgment. In her heart she knew Tim had gone outside, alone. She raced down the stairs. She would have to find him. But what if he’d fallen into the lake? She’d need to get help. What to do first? She hesitated by the door, then remembered Louisa’s cell phone. She rushed to the counter and grabbed it.

Jazz stumbled over a pair of boots that Collin had left on the deck but caught herself before she could fall to her knees. “Father, help me find him. Please let him be safe and not . . . in the lake.”

“Tim!” She ran to the boat dock. She didn’t see anyone or anything. No sign of him. But if he had fallen into the water, she might not see anything. Maybe he went for a walk on the bank. She squinted in the bright light. Nothing!

Maybe Cleo was with him. The thought brought her a moment of comfort, but that passed as she remembered how easily the dog could be distracted. She clutched the phone tight in her hand. A sob broke from her. She had lost Louisa’s baby.

She would have to call Collin. He had told her his cell was number 1 on the speed dial. As she pushed it, she wondered how often Louisa had needed to call Collin for help.

Never,
she thought.

* * *

The phone call came while Collin was driving to the courthouse. If Jazz had called ten minutes later, she wouldn’t have been able to reach him. As it was, he was only planning to observe another lawyer’s courtroom delivery, so he wouldn’t be missed this afternoon.

She had lost his child. Anger welled within Collin as he drove down the street. This would never have happened with Louisa. Tim had never felt the need to run away with her in charge.

The stoplight turned red, and he banged his hand on the steering wheel. He should run it. He glanced in his rearview mirror to make sure there were no police nearby nor a camera mounted on the pole. Still, he kept his foot on the brake. He couldn’t break the law.

Getting to the house a minute earlier wouldn’t change things, he tried to reassure himself. As he argued internally, the light turned green and he sped through the intersection. He would risk a speeding ticket. In fact, if he were pulled over, he’d enlist the help of the police in searching for Tim. He glanced in the mirror again, almost hoping to see flashing lights behind him this time. Nothing but an empty road followed him.

With great relief, Collin turned onto his street and raced to his driveway. He hit the horn as he slowed the car to let Jazz know he was home, climbed out of his roadster, and slammed the door behind him. He could see her running to meet him as he pulled into the driveway. She was alone, and her face was streaked with tears. He bit back the angry remarks he had planned to make as she flew into his arms.

Instead, he welcomed her with a tight embrace, the comfortable fit of her body next to his giving him strength. He brushed the tears from her cheeks. “We’ll find him. I promise.”

“I’ve looked everywhere. I’ve called and called,” Jazz said with a sob. She stepped away as if she suddenly remembered she didn’t belong this close to him. “Even Cleo is missing.”

He pulled her back toward him. “Jazz, don’t. It’s okay to accept comfort from me.”

“Thank you, Collin, but finding Tim is the only comfort I need right now.”

With reluctance, he let her slip away from him. Later, he reassured himself, after they found Tim, he would find a way to bring her back to him. He had a feeling the journals hidden in the basement would help him rediscover his wife and his marriage.

“I’ve searched everywhere I can think of,” Jazz cried, her words clipped and shrill, like a high-speed gun.

“He likes to hide in closets,” Collin said as he walked toward the back of the house.

“I checked all the closets. I even went to the basement. Collin, why do you lock your workroom? I couldn’t open that door. I yelled, but Tim didn’t answer, so I don’t think he’s in there.”

“Power tools. I lock it so the kids don’t mess with the tools while I’m not home. He can’t be there. I’m the only one with a key.” The worry and fear Jazz felt crawled inside his skin and gouged into his heart.

“If he’s not in the house, then he went to the lake. He loves the water.” Collin loosened the knot in his silk tie and pulled it off with a snap, shoving it into his pants pocket. “We’ve got to find him.”

As he and Jazz walked along the shoreline, they took turns yelling Tim’s name. Collin’s throat burned and his stomach roiled from the anxiety that kept building as each moment passed. “Tim!” Again no answer; even the ducks on the lake remained silent.

“Tim!” Jazz’s voice was no longer loud but more of a croak.

Collin wiped the dampness from his face. He began promising God he would be a better father if only Tim could be found unharmed. Then he switched to asking for God’s guidance, realizing his promises to God meant nothing.

Jazz whispered, “Amen.”

He looked at her in surprise. Had he spoken out loud? No, he thought, she was praying too. He felt comforted by that knowledge.

“Collin, I can’t yell anymore,” Jazz said with a hoarse voice.

“No, I suppose not.” Frustrated, Collin kicked at the stones that covered the beach. “I think we need to call our friends and maybe the police. We need more help.”

“I left the cell phone at the house. Do you have yours?” Jazz brushed her hair back from her face.

Collin groaned. “It’s in the car. We’ll have to go back to the house.” Dejected, he turned and began walking back.

“Collin,” Jazz called to him. “He wanted to play soldiers today. Do you think he might have gone somewhere else?”

New hope flooded Collin. “Jazz, you’re brilliant. The old farm! I bet that’s where he went. He likes to crawl through the ruts in the field.” He began to run. “Come on, Jazz. I know where he is.”

Collin looked back to find her lagging behind. He slowed, letting her catch up. “He knows he isn’t supposed to go there alone.”

“It’s my fault, Collin. I told him I would go outside with him. He asked me several times, and I kept telling him as soon as I finished what I was working on we would go. I guess I took too long.” Jazz stumbled on a clump of dirt.

Collin grabbed her so she wouldn’t fall. “You can’t do that to kids, Jazz. Tim, especially. He thinks he can do things on his own, like his brother.”

“I’m sorry, Collin. I didn’t mean to lose your son.”

“I know,” he said, wishing she would remember that Tim was her son too.

Collin led the way as they walked single file through the corn stubble in the field.

“It goes on forever,” Jazz said. “How will we ever find him?”

“At the edge of the field there’s an old tree house. Tim and Joey have decided it’s their fort. They’ve kept it a secret from the neighborhood kids, even Madison. I’m sure he’s up there.”

“Did Louisa know about the fort?” The jealousy in her voice made him turn and look at her.

“Yes, she knew. She would pack them a lunch and let them spend Saturday afternoons out here while she sat on a blanket and read.”

“I should have known. You should have told me, Collin. You leave me with your kids, but you don’t tell me the rules.”

“Tim knows he isn’t supposed to come here alone, ever,” Collin defended himself.

“And I bet he never did, until today, when I failed him,” she said, hanging her head. “He could be hurt.”

“I should have told you about the fort, but I forget what you don’t know. He still shouldn’t have come here alone, Jazz.” Collin tilted her chin and looked into her eyes. “You’ll see. He’ll be fine when we find him.”

* * *

Jazz followed Collin down the uneven path, glad for a reason to watch the ground rather than the muscular form in front of her. She couldn’t calm her emotions, unsettled since Collin had lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. At that moment she’d wanted to be Louisa more than anyone else, even more than Liana Desire, the top-selling romance author in America.

“There’s the tree house,” Collin said.

Jazz looked into the distance and saw nothing that looked like a tree house. “I don’t see it.”

Collin moved closer to her and pointed his finger into a grove of trees. “Right about the middle. You can’t see the tree house from here; it blends in. That’s what makes it so fun for the boys.”

“Should you yell for him?” Jazz didn’t offer to do it herself. Her throat hurt, and she was tired and didn’t want to walk any farther.

“Nope, I think we’ll creep up on him. Scare him a bit, you know?”

“That’s mean. Why would you do that?”

“Because he isn’t supposed to be here alone. Because if I scare him, maybe he’ll think twice before running off again.”

“But you’re his father. Shouldn’t you be a comforter?” Jazz was puzzled.

“Yes, but he has to learn in a safe way. What if someone else found him? I don’t even want to think what might happen to him.” Collin began to walk faster.

Jazz found it hard to swallow around the lump of fear stuck in her throat. “What if someone already found him? What if someone took him? What if he’s hurt? Hurry, Collin!” Her heart tripled its beat. She took off at a run. Collin ran after her.

At the bottom of the tree, Jazz collapsed. Her lungs hurt and her legs ached. “Tim!” she called into the tree branches.

There wasn’t an answer back.

“Tim!” The fear in Collin’s voice spidered through her veins.

A sharp breeze whirled through the leaves, making the dust sting her eyes. She blinked to clear the tears and took a gasping breath. It seemed she and Collin had been staring at the tree house without breathing for hours. In reality it had been only seconds since she had yelled for Tim and hadn’t received an answer.

“I’m going up,” she cried. She felt Collin’s hand grab her shoulder. “Let go, Collin. I lost him. I’m responsible.”

“Jazz,” he whispered, the pain in his voice halting her next step. “Please let me go. You don’t know what’s up there.”

“Maybe Tim is there. If he’s not, we’re losing time by arguing about who goes first.” She felt Collin release her. She scrambled up the crude step boards nailed onto the trunk.

She didn’t hold out much hope of finding Tim inside. He would have answered when she called, wouldn’t he?

Poking her head through the door, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the shadowy light. Sunlight pushed through tiny cracks in the walls, dappling the floor.

Jazz exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Tim lay curled up in the corner of the minuscule room, sound asleep.

She felt Collin’s warm breath on the back of her neck and turned to him. “He’s here, asleep.” She knelt and crawled a few feet to the peaceful child. “Tim,” she said softly. “Wake up!” She brushed his bangs back from his face.

His eyes fluttered open. “Mommy, I love you. I was quiet.”

Tim’s declaration tore at chains she hadn’t realized bound her heart. “I love you too, Tiny Tim.”

“What are you doing here, Tim?” Collin asked from the doorway. He leaned into the room, unable to come into the child-size crawl space.

“Writing stories, like Mommy. I had to go somewhere quiet.” Tim picked up a notebook from the floor and held it out to Jazz. “See, I wrote my story in pictures.”

Jazz took the book with joy. “You wrote a story? Tim, that’s great! Pictures work better than words sometimes.”

“Can we read it together?” Tim asked.

“Later, big guy. After we get home and talk about why you were here all alone,” Collin said.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. Mom was busy and I couldn’t wait anymore. Cleo came with me.”

“Where is Cleo, Tim?” Collin asked.

“I don’t know. She left. I think she was hungry.” Tim rubbed the sleep from his eye. “Maybe she went home.”