Chapter 31
31
TIME DRAGGED AS I WAITED for the police to show. Emergency response times in New Orleans had only worsened the past few years with the loss of officers to surrounding parishes. My call after them had been to Micah and Julia. Micah arrived within minutes and began examining all of the entry points, wanting to rule out foul play despite my theory.
Mayté and the rest of the staff continued searching the neighborhood. Julia and her husband, Samuel, arrived too. Julia’s pale, tear-streaked face mirrored mine. Samuel had set right back out, driving the streetcar line. A fresh wave of overwhelming fear had crashed over me at that realization. Hayley, now an experienced streetcar rider, could be miles away.
Micah emerged from Hayley’s bedroom, worry pinching his expression. “I think you’re right that she left on her own. Did you check your security camera footage? They’ll let us know when she left, confirm it’s not a kidnapping, and which direction she went.”
I shook my head, placing a hand to my queasy stomach. “They haven’t worked for over a year.”
Julia’s brows pulled together. “They do work. At least that’s what Wyatt had told me. Back in March, when he’d fixed your internet for that library event, he’d checked all your systems, noticed the cameras weren’t working, and restored the connection. I thought he’d told you.”
“He only said he’d restored everything. I didn’t realize...” A sliver of hope cracked through the wall of darkness surrounding me. I rushed downstairs and into my office, Micah and Julia trailing. On my desktop I entered my password and maneuvered the mouse, pulling up the two video feeds. One aimed at the front yard of the café, the other an angle of the courtyard. That camera had been set up on a corner column to capture the back door of the restaurant and the bottom portion of the stairway to our residence. With trembling fingers, I maneuvered through the courtyard footage first. Images of me and Ryan, and me starting up the steps. Within seconds, Hayley came into view, exiting the stairs. My breath whooshed out. “She must’ve been hiding on the side of the porch, waiting for me to go inside.”
Hayley cradled her backpack, which no doubt held Precious. She beelined through the courtyard and out of sight. The tightness in my chest eased. She hadn’t been kidnapped.
“Thank You, Jesus.” Julia’s whisper carried over my shoulder.
I clicked on the other feed, showing the café’s front. I matched up the timeline from Hayley leaving the courtyard and pressed play. From the side street, she appeared, darted across St. Charles Avenue, and caught a streetcar just as it pulled up to the stop. My heart thudded dully beneath my ribs. “She could be anywhere.”
Julia called Samuel, telling him what we’d found.
Micah quickly kissed the side of my head. “I’m heading out in the direction she went.” And he was gone.
A strange numbness settled over me. I rose from my desk and drifted down the hallway into the main dining room, my movements heavy and sluggish. “Lord, please,” I murmured to the empty space.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Julia asked, pulling out a chair at one of the tables.
I hadn’t realized she’d followed me. I gazed through the front windows to the spot where Hayley had gotten onto that streetcar. How much of that talk with Ryan had she overheard? Tears blurred my vision. Where were the police? Why was it taking them so long to arrive? I swiped my cheeks and glanced at the clock above the kitchen entrance. Twenty minutes had passed since calling them. I gave a slow blink, staring at the hour and minute hands. That couldn’t be right. It seemed like an hour, at least.
What if someone on the streetcar had taken advantage of Hayley? Or schemed at this very moment to? I’d watched Sound of Freedom and wept at how easily children were abducted and never seen again. I screwed my eyes shut, my chin trembling. God, please control my thoughts. Be Hayley’s shield. And mine .
Julia’s voice broke into my reverie, and I tried focusing on her. Focusing on anything other than the panic hooking its claws into me and trying to drag me into an abyss. With her phone pressed to her ear, she met my gaze. “Micah thinks she may be at the library.”
The library. My knees buckled, and Julia wrapped her arm about my waist, helping me to a chair.
“He’s nearly there.” A long pause followed as she listened, chewing her thumbnail. “He’s pulling into the parking lot. Says there’s a light on in the carriage house.”
My breathing shallowed, my fingers and toes tingling. Please, Lord. Please.
Julia smiled, tears tumbling over her lashes. “She’s fine. Totally fine.”
Hayley had refused to come home, so Samuel offered to drive me to the library. I’d notified the police before leaving, and Julia stayed behind, getting ahold of Mayté, who contacted our employees still out searching.
Samuel pulled his enormous black truck in front of the carriage house, his headlights cutting across Micah, who stood in the open entranceway, where one of the barn doors had been slid back. In his arms, he cradled Precious.
I exited on rubbery legs and headed toward him. Precious’s rat tail wagged.
Micah’s pallid and worn face could rival any father who’d been scared to death by the disappearance of their child. And I loved him for it. He managed a partial smile, his eyes glossy, and motioned me in.
I stepped through, air conditioning swathing my clammy skin, and took in the space crammed with old bookshelves of various colors and sizes. Exposed brick painted white matched the wooden slats on the tall ceiling. The scent of paper and mildew greeted me, along with Hayley’s red, tear-streaked face. Wearing an oversized graphic tee and shorts, she sat on a folding chair, arms crossed, radiating defiance.
Micah moved outside, sliding the door shut behind him, giving us privacy.
I eased forward across the concrete floor, dying to hug her and fuss at her for shaving ten years off my life.
She sniffled and roughly wiped the tip of her nose with her wrist. “You don’t want me.” Her quiet voice shook.
“That’s not true. I’ve always wanted you.”
Her cheeks flushed, and her voice grew stronger. “I heard what y’all said. I ruined your life.”
“No. You made my life immeasurably better.”
She rolled her eyes and stood. Moved to a small wooden table piled with books, angling away from me. Despite notching her chin, her thin shoulders curled forward.
The emotional strain of the last hour was fast catching up, heaviness seeping into my bones. Unfolding another chair, I placed it next to the one she’d abandoned and lowered onto it. “How much of that conversation did you overhear?”
“Enough.” She flung the word like a dagger and busied herself with moving books from one stack to another.
“But obviously not all of it.” I sighed, rubbing my aching temples. “I wish you had.”
Her petite frame turned a little more my way, her profile revealing a frown. A window unit softly hummed in the background.
God, please give me the right words. I clasped my hands on my lap and gathered a steadying breath. “When I was younger, I didn’t want kids.”
Hayley’s stare whizzed to mine, and she grew still.
“I never had that ... pull to motherhood.” I studied my intertwined fingers. “I think it had a lot to do with my relationship with my parents.” My gaze rose to hers. “But then you were born, and when I held you for the first time, you were so small and precious.” The tenderness of remembering that moment spread through my chest, chasing my weariness. “You looked like the last doll in a nesting set. And something tugged on my heart. Before that point, I’d never felt that way toward anyone else’s baby, and I’ve never felt it since.” I lowered my hands, realizing they pressed to my breastbone. “Two years passed, and your hold on me that entire time grew like wildfire. But as far as having children myself, that feeling never changed.” My mouth grew drier and drier. “But then your parents died, and I knew, with everything in me, I wanted you.” My voice rasped, and I gritted my teeth, my fingers curling into fists atop my thighs. “That I would fight anyone who tried to lay claim to you.”
Quick as a blink, Hayley landed in the seat next to mine, her face to my neck, her thin arms wrapping around me.
Thank You, God. Again.
We both shook with silent tears and shuddering breaths. I smoothed my hand across her auburn hair, swiping the strands from her wet face and tucking them behind her ear. Gently, I rocked us back and forth, like when she was little.
“I’m sorry I ran away,” she blubbered. “I feel awful for scaring you. And Mr. Micah.”
“Good,” I said dryly.
She sniffled a laugh and straightened.
I reached for a box of Kleenex on a nearby shelf. She pulled two, and I took one. I blew my nose and relaxed against the seatback, lifting my eyes to the whirling ceiling fans. Gratefulness, thick and sweet like pure cane syrup, coated me.
“I don’t remember my parents.” Hayley’s voice sounded a smidge stronger than a whisper.
Oof. I turned in my seat, facing her.
“I feel like I should, and it makes me a terrible person that I don’t.”
My heart tweaked, and I draped my arm across her shoulders. “You were only two.”
She fidgeted with her tissues, now rendered into limp wads. “But I should remember something.”
“I don’t recall anything from when I was seven, much less two. Maybe it was God protecting you.” I gave her arm a light squeeze.
Her lashes, dark and spikey from tears, fanned against the tops of her cheeks. “Did I grieve? Or something like it?”
“Did you grieve?” My tone oozed playful teasing. “You had insomnia for months after their death and only slept in spurts.” Only God’s grace had gotten me through that time of sleeplessness and keeping up with Hayley and the café. “Every time you woke, you asked for Mama and Dada.”
“I did?” Her voice pitched, a sparkle glinting in her bloodshot blue eyes.
I nodded, the corners of my mouth drawing up, and released my hold on her, swiping a late-arriving tear.
She settled against her chair with a small smile, appearing as though that cane syrup poured over her as well.
The chirping of a cricket inside the room pierced the silence. I glanced at Hayley and found her own mini crease puckered between her brows, contemplation clear in her features.
She picked the polish clean from her thumbnail and peeked up at me. “For a long time now ... I’ve wanted to call you Mom.”
My eyes blurred, along with a soul-deep stirring in my heart.
“But I felt guilty about it. That you’d be hurt because of how much you miss her.”
I struggled with the thickness in my throat and took hold of her hand. “If you want to call me Mom, I’d really, really love that.”
A full smile bloomed across her face, and she leaned, resting her head against me.
I wrapped both my arms around her and closed my eyes. Pulling in an expansive breath, wonder swelled through me at the good I was already witnessing from tonight’s maelstrom of drama. Lord, You sure do work in bizarre ways.
Hayley’s slender hand rested on my forearm, her dark violet nail polish a stark contrast to our fair skin. “What do you miss most about her?”
What a perfect gift her question was. To ask about Claire on her own. If a heart could burst from grinning, I knew mine was in this moment. “She was my best friend. We were partners in everything. Growing up with our parents, we understood each other like no one else could. It was like we were a team in dealing with them.”
“That’s how I’ve felt about their dinners all this time. That we were in it together.”
“We are in everything together.” I let go of her and leaned back, catching her gaze. “But as your parent, it’s for me to take care of you. Not the other way around.”
Her attention fell to the wadded tissues on her lap, her mini crease making another emergence. “What about those dinners with Grandmother and Grandfather? Do you think we’ll start doing them again?”
My spine withered. I certainly would, if I agreed to partner with them. It would be one of the items to cave on in lieu of opening the cafés on Sundays. “If we do, it’ll be up to you to decide if you want to go.” And I would forewarn my parents no comments would be made about Hayley’s appearance or grades. I could even add that as a formal stipulation to our partnership contract.
“I only dressed up for them so you wouldn’t get in trouble.”
An easy smile touched my lips. “Whenever we go, we’ll both dress how we want to.”
She perked. “My favorite ripped jeans?”
“How about we start with regular jeans and work up to those?”
Tonight God had shown me what mattered most, and it proved humbling. I leaned against the doorjamb to Hayley’s bedroom, watching her sleep. Light from the hallway poured in, illuminating the steady rise and fall of her breaths, and Precious snuggled to her side. The alarm clock on her nightstand read one in the morning. We’d been home for hours, and I should’ve been in bed too. But rest wouldn’t come. With each passing moment, clarity on two specific subjects had banished my emotional and physical exhaustion, keeping slumber at bay.
The first, unsurprising, was Hayley. How many times had Julia spoken about the importance of teen years? With Hayley on the cusp of what could be a challenging season, it didn’t sit right to start on a new and all-consuming business venture. What had felt right were the past few weeks of cutting back on networking events and the extra, intentional time Hayley and I had spent together.
The second matter, also unsurprising, was Claire, and how we’d crafted our restaurant goals. Praying and fasting over them. How we’d received certainty about moving forward with those plans. Why was I doubting that now? Why was I trying to rush the timeline God had made clear to us? Why hadn’t I treated this opportunity with the Vieux Carré Café the same way? Instead of praying and truly listening, I’d run headlong into my selfish desires. My old, sinful nature wanted control. But time after time, God had proven His ways were perfect for me.
A rich and familiar peace expanded within my core, and a soft smile crested my lips. Tomorrow I would decline my parents’ offer and let my real estate agent know I wouldn’t be bidding on the Vieux Carré Café.
I padded down the hallway, slipped beneath my cool sheets, and rested my head against my pillow. Breathing in the crisp scent of laundry detergent, a third aspect came to mind. Micah, and how I’d have more time for him and be able to support him with his dad when he needed it. Every muscle within me relaxed, my body sinking into the plush mattress. My eyes drifted shut not out of exhaustion but deep satisfaction. Thank You, Lord.