âDonât worry, that guyâs gonna be sorry big-time for what he did,â he muttered. He stomped back to the kitchen and popped open another can of beer.
We sat down on the couch together, Jenna and I. And thatâs when she started whimpering. âI wish Mommy was here. Can we call Mommy?â
Her father came out of the kitchen. âYeah. Yeah, of course we can. We can call your mother. He frowned. âWhere is she, you know? She in San Diego?â
Jenna shrugged. âYouâll have to call the airline.â
Her father slammed an address book onto the counter and flipped it open. He picked up the cell phone and punched in a number.
I watched Jenna. She had stopped whimpering instantly and was all eyes on her father. Behind Jenna, on the side table at the end of the couch, was a framed picture of her parents all dressed up for a party. Her mother was really beautiful. Thick blonde hair. Perfect skin. Really good makeup. Not to mention a perfect figure. Jenna was like a miniature version of her.
âYeah, this is Bob Cartwright. I need to get in touch with my wife, Elaine. Elaine Cartwright. You know what flight sheâs working?â
Jenna and I couldnât hear what the airline was telling him. We only heard her fatherâs side of the conversation.
âSheâs workingâof course sheâs working. She left yesterday, and sheâs not due back until Friday . . . yeah, yeah, youâre darn right, buddy, youâd better check again . . . What do you mean sheâs off until Sunday?â
Jennaâs father flashed a look over at us. Jenna sat up. I heard her take a breath.
âAre you sure?â His eyes flashed, but his voice grew oddly quiet. âYeah . . . I hear ya.â He clicked off the phone, and, slowly, he settled it onto the counter. A lot of thoughts must have been racing through his mind.
In this incredibly calm voice, Jenna made a suggestion. âYou could call Captain OâBrien. I bet he knows where Mommy is.â
Her father narrowed his eyes at her. A really cold, hard stare that gave me the shivers. âOâBrien? What, that pilot?â
Jenna nodded, and honest to pete, you could see the red creeping into her dadâs face.
Her father slammed the address book onto the counter and flipped it open again. He punched in more numbers and started marching back and forth in the kitchen. I sat thereâstupid, naïve me, curious if that pilot guy knew where Jennaâs mom might be since she wasnât working a flight like sheâd told everyone.
âYeah, hi,â Jennaâs father said into the phone as he turned his back on us. âThis Tim OâBrien? This is Bob Cartwright. Look, thereâs, ah, been an emergency here with our daughter, Jenna, and Iâm trying to find Elaine. You know where sheâs at? . . . Jennaâs all right, yeahâwellâwell, actually, I donât know. They took her to the hospital, which is where Iâm headed. Look, itâs real important for me to find Elaine. If you have any idea . . . sure, yeah, sure Iâll hold on . . .â
Jenna glanced at me and bit her bottom lip. She looked really scared.
Suddenly someone was back on the line with Jennaâs dad. He walked away from us into the dining room with the cell phone at his ear. âElaine? Is that you?â he asked. âWhat the hell are you doing at OâBrienâs? What the hell is going on? â
At that point, we got up from the couch. Jenna started making her way down the hall toward the stairs to her room.
But I found my way out the door and ran all the way home.
10
Melody
I STAYED LATER THAN USUAL AT THE BARN, slowly measuring out grain and making sure each horse in each stall had three squares of hay. When there were no more chores, I returned to Novaâs stall and gently clucked to her. She turned around, still munching on her hay, and came over to the door so I could