Free Signs and Wonders by Alix Ohlin Page A

mustache, was unshaken by this outburst. He persisted in a long line of questioning, his Scottish accent underscoring, somehow, the methodical rhythms of his speech: had Lucas ever disappeared before, what kind of a child was he, had he been known to speak to strangers, had they had an argument? Children could be testy and difficult, especially when traveling or particularly tired. As he spoke he held Lucas’s passport open to the photograph, his stubby thumb so close to the image that, Judith could tell, it was driving Jason insane. Finally he stood up and snatched the passport out of the officer’s hand.
    “I’m done answering questions,” he said. “Find my son.”
    What to do in a foreign city where your child could be anywhere? Jason couldn’t sit still, and Judith thought she understood. She offered to take Molly back to the hotel while he looked for Lucas. It was early evening now, suppertime.
    Jason agreed to this plan with a mechanical nod, then crouched down and gave Molly a hug. “Everything’s going to be fine. Okay, honey? I think Lucas probably just took a wrong turn and got disoriented.”
    Heartbreakingly, the child tried to act like she believed him.
    She and Molly took a black cab back to the hotel and ate in the restaurant downstairs, each of them just pushing food around the plate for ten minutes, then went back to the room. Somewhere in the city, she knew, Jason was retracing all their steps from both today and yesterday, scrambling frantically through the quaint cobblestone streets and alleys, the crowded maze of a very old city. All those Scottish words they’d laughed and wondered over: what was a close, exactly? What were mews?
    As if echoing her own thoughts Molly suddenly sobbed, down in her little cot. “I wish we’d never come to Scotland. Why did we have to come here?”
    “Oh, honey,” Judith said, kneeling down and putting her arms around her. Molly’s body felt hot beneath her Dora the Explorer nightgown. “Everything’s going to be fine.” The lack of conviction in her own voice embarrassed her, and she drew the girl closer, pressing her lips to her head. “We’ll find him, don’t worry.”
    She was so intent on sounding sure that it took her a moment to register how stiff the girl’s posture was; then she felt a strange pressure on her stomach and realized Molly was fighting her, that her tiny hands were pushing her away as she cried hysterically, her pretty face distorted and monstrous. “This is all your fault,” she said. “It’s all because of you. Get away from me. Get away.”
    Judith dropped her arms and awkwardly settled Molly back on the cot, where she curled into a sad little crescent, crying even harder when Judith touched her or adjusted the covers aroundher. Slinking back to her own bed, with no idea what to do, Judith pulled the blanket over herself. Molly’s tears subsided and she fell asleep, but Judith stayed awake, watching her, feeling like the worst person ever. It
was
her fault.
    For hours she waited in bed as the city outside faded into blackness, wondering where Lucas could be and where Jason was. In a daze, she remembered the dream she’d had on the plane and saw Lucas’s pale face.
I’m so sorry,
she told him in her mind. She started crying and was somehow still crying when she woke up, a few hours later, to see Jason asleep in the other bed, above the covers, still wearing all his clothes.
    In the early morning light she could tell Jason agreed with Molly that this was her fault, and was amazed at her own foolishness, thinking that his sunniness, his composure, his ability to be optimistic even in terrible situations, were permanent conditions. He could only take so much and now, over the breakfast table, as they tried exhaustedly to make a plan, she saw how much he hated her. He was sitting across from her, with Molly in his lap.
    “We should check in with the police first,” she said, hoping to sound helpful. Jason nodded