Do Not Become Alarmed(66)

The drive was endless, and Raymond sat beside her, as wretched as she was. His mother, a woman Nora admired, was on a plane somewhere overhead, about to witness their failure as parents. Benjamin and Liv sat close together and seemed to be leaning slightly forward, as if that might get them to the hospital faster. They couldn’t wait to open the box.

When the Suburban finally parked, the morning was oppressively sunny. Benjamin and Liv climbed out.

“I don’t know if I can go in there,” Nora said.

“You can,” Raymond said.

“Come back and tell me who it is.”

“You’re going with me.”

So she climbed down into the parking lot, her legs weak. Benjamin and Liv were already halfway to the door. Nora gripped Raymond’s arm. “Someone would’ve said it was our kids, if it was,” she said.

“If that’s true,” Raymond said, “you’re going to be happy for Benjamin and Liv, do you hear me?”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. She’s your family. Her kids are your family. And whoever’s in there, they’re going to know something. They’re going to have information, and we’re going to get it.”

She held his arm and they passed through the doors, just in time to see Penny fly into Liv’s arms. Liv was kneeling, laughing, kissing her daughter’s face, holding her head as if she couldn’t believe Penny was real, as if she might be an illusion or a dream. Then hugging her again, so tightly that Penny laughed and said, “Mom!”

Nora felt a physical revulsion, and turned to go back out the door, but Raymond blocked her way. She looked up into his eyes. They were hard.

“Happy,” he said.

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

So Nora followed Liv into a hospital room where Sebastian was hooked up to an IV. He looked angelic and wan. Liv was sobbing. It was hard enough to keep Sebastian alive at home. Of course if there were two kids in the hospital, it would be the kid with the chronic illness and his self-important sister. Nora had been insane to hope at all.

Penny seemed healthy and fine, radiant from the attention, no surprise. She’d apparently carried Sebastian into the emergency room, like some sort of kiddie pietà, and she’d been petted and praised for it by nurses and doctors. Nora remembered that Raymond had said the kids would have information, and she crouched down in front of the child she had held as an infant in her arms.

“Where are your cousins?” she asked.

Penny looked at the floor. “I don’t know.”

“Where did you last see them?”

“On the train.”

“What train?”

Penny blew her bangs off her forehead in exasperation. “The train we were on. Before we went to the road and the woman left me here with Sebastian, who was really heavy.”

Nora recognized this for the humblebrag it was, and thought she had never known a more slappable child. “Were Marcus and June alone on the train?”

“No,” Penny said. “They’re with the others. It’s not my fault.”

Nora felt a cold certainty that it was Penny’s fault, whatever “it” was. But the detective had arrived, and she took Nora aside. She said that a social worker was coming so they could do a proper debrief of the children. Could Nora wait? It was easy for kids to get confused or dug in about details.

“A social worker,” Nora said. “Why?”

“She’s specially trained to do these interviews.”

Something about her tone was odd, and Nora moved to make sure they were out of earshot. “Are you looking for sex crimes?” she whispered.

“We’re just being careful.”

“Did you hear Penny? Have you ever seen a child who’s been assaulted be that smug?”

“Please, just wait,” Detective Rivera said. “She’s not the only child involved.”

So Nora sat on a bench on her hands, to keep them from trembling. When the social worker arrived, she was slight and gray-haired, in a lavender dress.

“You’ve had a terrible time,” she said, holding Nora’s hand in hers. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re American,” Nora said.

“I came here in the Peace Corps and never left,” the woman said. “My name is Allison.”

Nora asked if she could listen during Penny’s interview.

“Are you the mother?” Allison asked.

“No, I am,” Liv said, raising her hand.

Nora had a sudden flash of Liv at nine, always having the right answer in class, always getting the best grades. “But I’ve known Penny all her life,” she said. “And my children were with her.”

“It’s up to the mother,” Allison said, apologetic.

Liv said, “I think maybe we should talk as a family first.”

Nora stared at her cousin. Liv wouldn’t meet her eye.

“All right,” Allison said, all business.

“Sorry, Nora,” Benjamin said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Actually,” Allison said, smiling brightly at him, “it can be easier for children with just the mother there, at first. Do you mind waiting out here?”

Benjamin blinked. Nora thought he would object to being shut out, but he didn’t. He seemed too shocked to protest. It was like childbirth in her parents’ generation: Dads wait outside.