Since She Went Away(43)

Jenna brought out the book, its bulk making her hand sink toward the couch. She held it out to him, and Jared took it, handling it like something precious and fragile. “She said it belonged to you, and she wanted you to have it back. I tried to find out how she was doing, but she just took off. I even offered her a ride.”

He stared at the cover of the book, one hand rubbing its surface while the other held it. “Why did she come and give this to you?” He asked the question absently, not really expecting a response. His words were the words of someone who’d been wounded, stung by another’s rejection. “She could have brought it to me, here or at school.”

“She told me the two of you broke up.”

“She broke up with me,” he said.

“I got that feeling.”

“Was she okay?” he asked. “I haven’t talked to her or seen her. She hasn’t been in school. Did I mention that?”

“You did.” Jenna removed her coat and tossed it over the back of the couch. “Did it ever occur to you that Tabitha might be having bigger problems than your relationship? Maybe she’s in some kind of real trouble.”

Jared told Jenna that he’d tried to search for information about Tabitha online but found nothing. No social media, no trace of the life she’d lived before she arrived in Hawks Mill. And then he told her about a discussion he’d had with his guidance counselor, the woman who dressed like a hippie and seemed to want to be everybody’s friend. Jenna always felt put off by her clothes and demeanor, but Jared loved talking to her, and if she helped him navigate school and get into college, then so be it. Who cared what she wore?

“She said something about having to accept the fact that I may never see Tabitha again,” he said. “She knew something, something she didn’t or couldn’t tell me. I’d swear it.”

“Why don’t you let me call Detective Poole?” Jenna said. “She could just do a little looking around if she has a free moment, which she may not.”

“No, Mom.”

Jared’s voice was insistent, as hard as steel. He rarely flashed an angry side, but when he did, he resembled his father more than Jenna wanted to admit. Marty had a short fuse and liked to play the role of the stern patriarch when he felt strongly about something.

“But if she’s in danger, the police can help.”

“No. You don’t understand. What if you call the police and tell them about Tabitha, and then they go to her house and talk to her dad? She could end up in more trouble or she could . . .”

His voice trailed off. But Jenna understood.

“You think she’ll blame you,” she said. “She’ll blame you and then what? You’ll never be able to get back together with her?”

Jared looked down at the book cover. Jenna remembered those days when a fledgling little relationship meant more than anything else in life. There had been other boys in high school besides Ian. So many little crushes and flirtations, so many little disappointments and broken hearts. Hell, she felt that way when Marty left. He was no prince, but for close to six months after he walked out the door, she would have taken him back no questions asked. She had felt that desperate, that lonely and scared.

“Jared, there are more important things than a relationship sometimes,” she said. “There’s a person’s safety.”

“I’ll go. I’ll check on her.”

“No.” Jenna rarely told Jared not to do something. She trusted him to make his own decisions. Mostly. But she needed to play the parent this time. “You shouldn’t go over there.”

“Why not? It’s better than calling the police.”

“I thought you were worried about what she thought of you. What’s she going to think if you come knocking on her door after she’s dumped you?”

The word “dumped” sounded harsh and stinging, but Jared didn’t react.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, his voice lower.

“I won’t call the police, if you don’t want. Not right now. I’m holding on to that option, just so you know. If there’s more trouble with her or other bad signs.”

“Fine. That’s fine.”

Jared started paging through the book, not really stopping to read or look at anything. Just paging. It looked like a nervous gesture more than anything else.

“Are you hungry?” she asked. “I could call Stanley’s and order a pizza. I’m not cooking, I can tell you that.”

“Sure. That would be good.”

“Are you seeing Syd and Mike tonight? Or are you staying home with Mom?”

He shrugged. “I’m just hungry. Can you call soon?”

“Sure.”

She hung her coat up by the door, and on the way past the chair where Jared sat, she stopped. She wanted to hug him, pull him close the way she used to when he was little. He didn’t look up or invite any contact, so she ruffled his hair with her hand. He tolerated the affection without resisting, and then Jenna went down the hall to the bedroom. It felt good to change her clothes, to shed the day and all of its problems. She hoped Jared would stay in, that they would watch a movie together while eating the pizza, a little mother-son bonding they both needed.

She heard a noise from the other room. Something opening and closing.