Winnie’s people, Annie thought. Her dear friend no doubt had quickly spread the word around the tribe.
She felt a twinge of guilt that she’d slept for a few hours. “What about Rex?” she asked. “Has he joined the search?” She felt an urge to ask if Kevin could get his hands on a piece of Rex’s handwriting. Though she’d turned the note over to John, the image of it was imprinted on her mind.
“Don’t know,” Kevin replied. “Haven’t seen him.”
She wanted to pry some more, to ask if he knew where Rex had been the afternoon before, and if so, what he had been doing. But Annie stopped herself. This was no time for idle accusations: she must keep her thoughts on Bella. And on helping Francine get through this, whatever “this” turned out to be. Maybe that way she’d be able to get through it, too.
Slipping her arm from Kevin’s, she patted his knee. “I need to see Francine. You want to walk up to the Inn with me? Get a refill on that coffee?” It would be nice if Kevin went with her. Not that she’d need or even want him in the same room when she gave Francine the news, but it would be nice to know that she had backup right outside the door.
They began a slow trek through the pastels of dawn, through the far-off sounds of footsteps treading in unison through the meadow and the mingle of voices drifting up from the boats down on the water. The reinforcements were clearly still at work, while no doubt praying that Bella would be found, that Bella was all right.
* * *
Francine was sitting on a stool in the kitchen, hugging her small self and staring out the window that stretched the entire width of the big room. Across the channel, the beacon in the lighthouse on the Edgartown side winked red, pause, red.
Annie bit her lip. “Hi, honey,” she said quietly. There was no sign of Claire, only collective murmurs coming from the great room.
Francine hugged herself more tightly and nodded in response.
Annie stepped away from Kevin and went to her. “They’ll find her soon,” she whispered. “Now come with me into the reading room. Just the two of us.”
Francine slid off the stool and walked out of the kitchen, her gaze having shifted from the window to the floor in front of her. She headed toward the shortcut through the hallway that ran under the staircase between the chef’s room and the laundry room, most likely to avoid the volunteers who were gathered in the great room. Assuming that her thoughts were functioning well enough to think to do that.
Kevin and Annie exchanged painful glances, then Annie asked him to give her a couple of minutes, then bring them coffee.
By the time she reached the reading room, Francine was seated in one of the cozy barrel chairs, staring at the wall of bookshelves just as she had stared out at the lighthouse, then at the floor.
“Can you stand up for a second?” Annie asked.
Francine’s long-lashed eyelids blinked, but she didn’t move.
“Please?”
She stood.
Annie went to her and wrapped her arms around her. In her embrace, Annie felt the robot start to weaken. Then tremble.Please cry, Annie wanted to say.Please let it out right here, right now, just the two of us.She moved one hand to the back of Francine’s head and threaded her fingers through the girl’s pixie-cut black hair.
“It’s okay,” Annie whispered. “She’s going to be okay.”
It seemed to take forever before small heaves began, followed, at last, by subtle shudders and, finally, tears.
“She’ll be okay,” Annie whispered over and over.
“But I can’t . . . ,” Francine sniffled.
“Sssh. Yes, you can. You can stay strong and positive. And know that we aren’t going to give up. Not until they find her.”
But Francine shook her head. “I can’t go on without her.”
Annie’s heart felt as if it were swelling and about to leap out of her chest. She wanted to reassure Francine that the worst was not going to happen, but she kept seeing the image of the doll, her soggy orange hair matted against the round cotton face that Claire had painted with pink circles for her cheeks, round black eyes like Bella’s, and a perfect little mouth. “I think she’s still on the property,” Annie said. “Come on, let’s sit.”
Francine whisked some of her tears away, then dropped onto the barrel chair again. Annie pulled a matching one close to her. She sat, then reached out and took both of Francine’s hands in hers. And prayed for the right words to come.
“They found Bella’s doll, Francine. The one with the orange hair. She must have dropped it.” There was no need to say that the doll was on the beach, that the tide had been coming in again, that there was a chance Bella had walked into the surf and been carried away. Instead she said, “So it must mean she’s here. Somewhere.” With that, she offered a small smile that she hoped looked optimistic.
Francine didn’t respond.
Annie kept holding her hands, hoping to transfer any courage she might have. She’d do anything if it meant taking Francine’s pain away, the way she supposed a mother would want to do for her hurting child.
