“Right.”
“Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for letting me put my things in your shop.” Her eyes felt blurry as she stared down at the table he was currently working on. “And I know you’re busy. I should let you get back to it. This is lovely by the way, and I know you’ve got a lot to get done before Christmas.” She hurried out, and without saying a word to Crystal, grabbed up her coat and purse and ran outside.
As she drove home, she felt hot tears streaking down her cheeks. She hadn’t expected Caleb to react like that. She’d thought he would understand. But then, he wasn’t a dad. He was a “confirmed bachelor” who didn’t have the kind of grown-up responsibilities she had. But witnessing his strong reaction reminded her that Jackson’s would be even worse. Oh, why did this have to be so hard?
Wendy had no incentive to do anything back at the cottage. Instead, she simply walked around and around, with Oliver trailing her. As she walked, she stared at all the projects she and Jackson had worked so hard to complete—knowing full well that the cash buyers would probably just tear it all out anyway. Based on Sandi’s comments about deep pockets and expensive taste, this cottage would probably be completely gutted in a week or two. If they paid her cash on Thursday, they could be tearing into it as soon as this weekend. It made her want to scream.
The bare and unlit Christmas tree felt like a metaphor for her life. She wished she hadn’t taken all of her ornaments to Caleb’s shop. What difference would it make whether they sold or not? And with the nor’easter just starting to bear down, it was unlikely that holiday shoppers would be around. The sooner she and Jackson got out of here, the better it would be—for everyone. And yet the idea of saying goodbye to Caleb—if he would even talk to her again—made her feel sick inside.
As she continued to pace back and forth through the house, watching with only mild interest as the rain came down in sheets, she remembered that Jackson was supposed to work with Caleb after school, and that Caleb planned to deliver him home after five. Would this be her last chance to repair the rift between her and Caleb? Was it worth trying to make him understand? What if she ran out to meet him? She could apologize profusely—and invite him for dinner. And who knew where it might go from there?
Fueled with hope and fresh urgency, Wendy went into action making more tree ornaments. No reason she and Jackson shouldn’t enjoy their Christmas tree while they could. At a little before four, she cleaned up her crafting things, tidied the house, and started organizing for dinner, even putting cloth napkins and candles on the kitchen table. As she stirred the meat sauce, she hoped Caleb liked spaghetti as much as Jackson did. It was nearly five when she got a fire going in the fireplace. Then with everything sweetly ready and in place, she waited by the front window, her coat ready to throw on when Caleb showed up with Jackson. Perhaps the pouring rain would gain her some sympathy when she apologized. She would insist Caleb join them for dinner, and with Jackson watching, how could he refuse?
But five o’clock came and went. She fed Oliver and put another log on the fire and then, at five thirty, she texted Jackson, telling him that dinner was ready and it was okay to invite Caleb. When she didn’t hear back from him, she grew concerned. She called Jackson’s number, and when it went straight to voice mail, she grew even more worried. She called Caleb’s number and, relieved to hear his voice, inquired about Jackson.
“Jackson?” He sounded slightly disoriented.
“My son,” she clarified with a bit of irritation. “Your able-bodied assistant. Remember?”
“Jackson hasn’t been here. He didn’t show up for work.”
“What do you mean?” she demanded.
“I mean he’s not here, Wendy. I haven’t seen him today.”
Her heart began to pound as she stared out to where the storm was raging with a vengeance. “Then where ... where is he?” she asked in a tiny voice. “I, uh, I gotta go.” She hung up and tried to think. Where was Jackson? Of course,Taylor—he had to be with Taylor. She called Kara’s number, trying to keep her voice calm as she asked.
“I’m sorry, Wendy. I haven’t seen Jackson today.”
So Wendy asked to speak to Taylor, pressing her about Jackson’s whereabouts. “He didn’t ride the bus home,” Taylor explained. “He stayed in town. He was going to Caleb’s shop to help him today.”
“Oh.” Wendy felt tightness in her chest. “Okay then, if you happen to hear from him, please tell him to call me.” Still clutching her phone, she ran outside to where the wind was howling and sleet was mixing with the rain. Standing on the porch, she helplessly looked all around. Oliver, shivering beside her, seemed to be anxiously looking too. “Where is he, boy?” she asked in desperation. “Where is Jackson?”
Her phone jangled, making her jump. “Jackson?” she said without even checking the caller ID.
“It’s Caleb. What’s going on, Wendy?”
“He’s not here! He never came home on the bus. Taylor said he stayed in town—to work with you. And there’s—this—this storm!” She burst into tears. “Oh,whereis he?”
“I’m on my way! I’ll search along the road as I drive. And I’ll call my friend Jim Burns. He’s the Seaside sheriff, and he can let his guys know to be on the lookout. We’ll find him.”
She thanked him, then shaking from fear and trembling from cold, she went back into the house. Where could Jackson be? Had he been kidnapped? In a small town like Seaside? It made no sense. But why would he stay in town and not go to Caleb’s shop? He loved working with Caleb. And to take off on foot in this storm? Nothing made sense.Please, God.She got down on her knees next to the sofa.Please, get him home safely to me. Please, please, please!
She was still praying when Caleb arrived. “Did you find him?” she demanded as she opened the door, letting the wind and Caleb in, peering over his shoulder, hoping to spot her son loping up the walk.
“No. I didn’t see anyone walking out there—not in this weather.”
“What about your sheriff friend?” She closed the door against the wind. “Does he know anything? Do you think Jackson could’ve been kidnapped?”
“Jim’s on it, Wendy. He’s told all his men to be looking. And he said there’ve been no reports of anything out of the ordinary or suspicious lately. Seaside is a small town,” he assured her. “Nothing goes unobserved here—and there has never been a kidnapping.”
“Then where is my son?” She dissolved into tears again.
“Would he have any reason to, uh, run away?” Caleb’s tone was cautious.
“Run away?” She blinked, wiping her tears with her hands. “Are you serious?”
“Jim asked me to ask you. He said that when kids his age go missing, nine times out of ten, it’s a runaway.”
