Since She Went Away(21)

Then a voice came through, low and raspy. “Do you kiss your mother with that filthy mouth, bitch?”

The words hit Jenna like a slap. “Who is this?”

“Why don’t you go away, bitch? You might as well as offed her yourself—”

She slammed the phone down, her hand shaking as she lifted it from the receiver. The calls had come before, mostly in the first month after Celia disappeared. Kids and cranks, weirdos offering their own theories of where Celia was and who took her. But sometimes a man like this called, one who seemed to be calling only to inflict some kind of emotional pain, to take a dig at Jenna and probe her wounds. No wonder she thought people in town blamed her.

“Mom?”

She spun and jumped at the same time. Jared stood in the kitchen doorway, his hair and coat wet. Under the harsh kitchen lights, his cheeks glowed from the cold. “You scared me.”

“I told you I was on my way home.”

“I know. I’m glad you’re here.”

He pointed to the phone, sniffling a little. “Another crank caller?”

“Some creep. Yes. It’s no big deal.”

“I told you to get rid of the landline. You don’t need it, and you keep the number listed. Anyone can call and say whatever shit they want to you.”

“We’ve been over this,” Jenna said. She was glad—no, thrilled—he was finally home. She wanted to hug him but didn’t, knowing he would grow rigid under her touch and back away in protest. “Did you lock the door?”

“Yes. Of course. I know the protocol.”

“Because you didn’t lock it earlier today when I came home.”

“Mom.”

“Okay, okay.”

“If Celia comes back or wants to find you, she knows your cell number. You don’t have to keep a landline listed for her.”

Jenna moved across the kitchen and continued with her cleaning. “I know it isn’t logical, okay? None of it is. I just want to make sure there are multiple ways for her to find me. I think you can understand that.”

“I get it. Really, I do.” He gave her a little smile, an expression of sympathy. Most of the time, he tolerated his strange mother very well.

“You should get out of those wet things,” she said. “It’s cold.”

“Yeah.”

But he didn’t move. He lingered in the doorway of the kitchen while Jenna rinsed glasses and plates and put them in the dishwasher.

“Aren’t you going to say anything about Tabitha?” he asked.

Jenna stopped what she was doing, dried her hands on a relatively clean towel. “I am sorry I walked in on you two. You know I try to respect your privacy. Like I said, I was a little frazzled today.” She watched his face. He seemed curious, his eyes intently watching her. “They thought they found a body out in an old barn.” She shook her head at the mad emotional rush the whole thing had brought down on her. How had she given in to it so easily? “I went out there for nothing. It was a deer skeleton. They found the leg bone and thought it was a person. Then they dug around and found antlers and everything else. So I let myself get worked up. When I came home and the door was open and I thought you weren’t here, I freaked a little. Sally came over tonight and calmed me down.”

“That’s messed up.”

“It is. Better yet, I cursed on camera, and they ran it on CNN tonight.”

Jared’s face brightened. “Really? What did you say?”

Jenna warmed to the conversation with her son, realizing that they could bond over this. After all, who would appreciate someone cursing on national TV more than a teenager?

“I dropped an f-bomb. And I used the Lord’s name in vain. A daily double.”

Jared laughed, but his eyes remained serious. Something was bothering him, and she waited to see if he’d share it.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

“Sure.” Jenna tossed the towel aside. “Do you want to change first?”

“No.” He seemed to be choosing his words, trying to think of the best way to say what he had to say. “Did Grandpa ever kiss you?”

“Kiss me? You mean like a peck on the cheek?”

“I was thinking on the lips,” Jared said.

“You remember Grandpa, right? He wasn’t the warmest guy. I don’t think he ever kissed Grandma on the lips. Why are you asking me about that?”

He seemed to be working up to another question, his eyes trained on the floor. But then he shook his head. “Forget it. I haven’t done any of my homework.”

“Wait.” Even as she spoke, Jenna knew she was violating her own rules. She was pushing the conversation, pushing at her son. She hated when she acted that way, maybe all mothers did, but she couldn’t stop herself because she thought something might be wrong. “Is there something about Tabitha?”

Jared stood still for a moment, wavering between walking away and staying. “It’s nothing, Mom. Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s just that there was something about her. She looked familiar to me, and I couldn’t figure out where I’d seen her before. But I’ve been thinking about it, and here you are, having some kind of issue.”

“There’s no issue,” he said, his voice getting louder.