Since She Went Away(54)

She settled on a nature show, something about hippos wallowing in the middle of Africa. But just like with the romance novels, she found herself tearing up when they showed a mother hippo with one of her calves. What’s wrong with me?

And then Jared came into the room, throwing himself into a chair. He propped his feet up on an overstuffed ottoman and stared at the screen.

She saw his presence as a peace offering, a gesture of reconciliation.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Hippos.”

“Cool.”

“Do you want to change it? I’m not really paying attention.”

He held out his hand and she tossed him the remote.

“But no news,” she said. “I don’t want to see my face or hear my name.”

“Neither do I,” Jared said. And then he laughed. “I mean on the TV.”

“Nice.”

He flipped around carefully, skipping the channels that might show news or crime stories. Jenna watched him and tried to sound casual.

“I Googled Tabitha yesterday,” she said. “Just curious.”

“There’s nothing there, right?”

“No. But that’s not so unusual. She’s young.”

“Did you Google me?” he asked.

“Yes. For comparison. And Syd and Mike.”

“And?” he asked.

“You all came up for something. But not Tabitha.”

“Weird, huh?”

“Yeah. A little. I tried her dad as well. Also nothing, but there are a lot of Edward Burkes. Do you know her mom’s name?”

“I don’t. I never asked.”

“But they’re separated, is that it?”

“It seems that way.”

“And her mom still lives in Florida? Is that where you said she was from?”

“Mom, do you know that my answers to these questions aren’t going to change? I said I don’t know anything about her mom.”

“I hear you.”

Jared didn’t seem to want to say more, and she felt relieved. He surfed some more and then settled on a show about the life of JFK.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Sure. Just don’t expect a happy ending.”

“I know what happens,” he said.

Together they watched, and Jenna felt somewhat normal again.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE


During lunch, Sally came into the break room and informed Jenna she had a phone call.

“Here?” Jenna asked. “Did they say who it was?”

“No, but it’s a guy. He sounds kind of formal. Maybe it’s Manuel, the waiter from Saturday night. I could tell he liked you.”

“He was what, seventeen? And gay?”

“He had to be twenty-one. He served us margaritas. Line three for your mystery call.”

Jenna stepped into the records room. Jared would have called on the cell or texted if he had a problem. So would the school. She picked up and pushed the flashing light. “Hello?”

“Hi, Jenna. It’s Ian.”

She would have recognized the voice even without his identification. It took her a moment to answer. “Oh, hi. Is something wrong?”

She assumed there had been a break in Celia’s case, something Ian needed to let her know about.

“No, nothing’s wrong. And I would have called your cell or something, but I don’t have it. I just knew where you worked and figured you’d be there on a Monday afternoon.”

“I’m here. I’m pretty much always here.”

“And I don’t want to take up a lot of your time. I just wanted to tell you I’m glad we talked on Friday. You were right at lunch that day when you said I should have spoken to you sooner and given you a chance to say whatever you needed to say.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Jenna kept her voice low. Even though she’d pulled the door to the records room closed behind her, coworkers and patients passed by talking and laughing. “I wasn’t up nights worrying about that. In the big picture, how I feel or what we talk about isn’t the most important thing.”

“But maybe it is in a way. It helped me, talking to you. Sure, Ursula and I have a bond and a relationship to Celia. But it’s nice to talk to another adult who knows her as well as you do.”

Jenna remembered the feel of his hand against hers, both in the restaurant and then in her kitchen. Had he really been caressing her skin with his thumb that night? Or had she imagined it, like a foolish schoolgirl? Either way, the memory of the touch made every nerve end in her body tingle. And as soon as she realized that, she told herself to make it stop.

“I wish we could talk about the good things,” Ian said. “All we’ve talked about is this awful stuff. This stuff that has blindsided us. When Celia disappeared, it felt like I’d been hit by a truck. And now this news of the affair . . . it feels like I got hit by another truck.”

“Or kicked in the balls?”

Jenna cringed. Had she said too much?

Ian laughed a little. “Right.”

Ian never seemed like the kind of person who needed sympathy, but what else could she say to him? “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s good. Let’s just make sure the next time we talk, we focus on something else. Maybe we can involve Ursula like we talked about. She’s at an age when she’s going to want to know what her mom was like as a teenager. Who better to tell her, right?”