Free Kiss Her Goodbye by Wendy Corsi Staub

now.
    All her life, Jen has been trustworthy. Responsible.
    As far as Kathleen knows, the only lie her daughter ever told—until now—wasn’t even a verbal one. At seven, Jen scrawled Curran’s name in crayon on the dining room wallpaper—clearly a hasty afterthought, as it was below a row of meticulously drawn stick people and flowers. At the time, Curran could barely scribble, much less create actual art complete with a signature.
    That incident has become a family joke.
    This one, Kathleen suspects, will not.
    She sighs, slowing her pace as she nears the chattering neighborhood moms, envying the ones whose daughters are giggling toddlers or pink-bonneted infants safely tucked in their strollers. It will be years before they’re out of their mothers’ sight, free to sneak around and lie and take all the risks teenaged girls take in their growing independence.
    Not all teenaged girls . . .
    But look what happened to me.
    The big yellow school bus pulls up, flashing its red lights.
    As Kathleen welcomes her younger children into her arms, her hug is more fierce than usual.
    â€œHow was school, guys?”
    Curran shrugs. “Fine.”
    â€œStinky.”
    â€œStinky? Why was it stinky?” she asks Riley.
    â€œSomebody threw up on the rug after snack.”
    â€œOh. That is stinky,” she agrees, thankful that she still has a kindergartner, allowing her a moment’s reprieve, whenever she needs it most, in a blessedly uncomplicated world.
    â€œI hope you don’t catch it,” Curran tells his little brother.
    â€œCatch what?”
    â€œThe throwing up thing.”
    â€œMommy, am I going to catch it?” Riley’s eyes widen with worry. “I don’t want to throw up.”
    â€œYou won’t.”
    â€œYou might,” Curran tells him.
    â€œCurran!”
    â€œWell, he might.”
    Kathleen sighs, wishing Curran would leave Riley alone. There are times when he teases him unmercifully, preying on kindergarten fears of throwing up, the monster under the bed, the evil pirate in the closet.
    As an only child herself, she’s no expert at sibling rivalry. And Jen longed for a baby brother, so she was thrilled when Curran was born. Curran was outraged when Riley was born, usurping his position as baby of the family. He has yet to outgrow his disgruntlement.
    Matt, who has three brothers, assures Kathleen that the intense jealousy is a normal reaction, especially with same-sex siblings who are five years apart.
    When Riley was a newborn, Kathleen didn’t dare leave him alone in a room with Curran for fear that he’d harm him. Even now, the boys inevitably end up scuffling if they spend too much time together.
    â€œRiley, you aren’t going to throw up,” Kathleen tells her youngest child, ruffling his hair. “And Curran, cut it out.”
    â€œI’m just worried about him. I don’t want him to get sick or anything.”
    â€œGee, that’s big of you,” she says dryly.
    â€œHey, Riley . . .” Curran breaks into a run. “I’ll race you home.”
    â€œNo fair! You got a head start!”
    Watching her sons scamper ahead of her, Kathleen wonders again where Jen really is.
    Maybe she and Matt should have given in on the cell phone issue. After all, it would work both ways. If Jen carried a phone, Kathleen would be able to track her down any time she wants to.
    A feeling of helplessness seeps in. Instinctively, she does what she was taught to do all those years ago at St. Brigid’s.
    She prays.
    She prays that God will bring her daughter home safely.
    And she prays that He’ll give her the strength to do whatever it takes to make sure it never happens again.

FOUR
    Hearing the front door slam, Maeve hastily returns her half-full pack of Salem Lights to the drawer of the end table. Damn. After fighting off temptation for the past hour, she was just about to light up at last.
    As far as she