Hadley & Grace(23)

She hates life-altering-decision moments like these. She’s never been good at them: always so terrified of making the wrong choice, inevitably she ends up hemming and hawing so long the decision gets made for her.

She needs a cigarette. She looks at the backpack again. Along with the money, it holds the contents of her purse—Skipper’s backpack the only bag they had, which would leave her hands free so she could grab onto things for balance.

She never smokes in front of the kids, so this might be her only chance.

She’s still thinking about sneaking outside when, through the slit between the curtains, she sees two men approach the nurses’ station. Both wear dark suits and have the rigid bearing of military men. One is white, the other black. They look like they’re here on official business, and Hadley leans in to listen, wondering who’s in trouble and why.

“Yes, Torelli, Hadley Torelli . . . ,” the white one says, nearly causing Hadley to fall off the table.

Heart pounding, she slides to the floor, slings the backpack onto her shoulders, and then grabs her new crutches and hobbles quickly out the back of the exam bay. Her brain spins as she races for the elevators, wondering how Frank figured it out so fast. Maybe he went to the office? He wasn’t supposed to. He was supposed to play golf. She called him before they left the hotel, and he said he was getting ready. He was excited. He had bought new clubs.

Irrationally, she pats herself down as she jabs the down arrow, checking for a bug or a tracer or some sort of homing device.

The elevator opens, and she races onto it and presses the button for the basement, then presses it again and again until finally the doors close.

When she reaches the cafeteria, she scans the large room and spots Grace and the kids in the corner, trays of empty plates in front of them. Grace holds a cup of coffee, while Mattie and Skipper play on their handheld PlayStations. The baby is in his car seat on the table, the striped bag on the ground at Grace’s feet.

Grace looks up, sees Hadley’s expression, and says, “What’s wrong?”

“Frank,” she stammers. “He found us.”

Before Hadley has finished the sentence, Grace is standing and moving so fast Hadley falls back a step. The coffee is no longer in Grace’s hand; the striped bag is over her shoulder; the car seat is being lifted; then she is racing for the door.

“Wait!” Hadley says, but Grace is already halfway across the room. “Mattie, grab Skipper and make him keep up.”

Hadley whirls and race-hops after her, instinct more than thought telling her it’s important not to lose her.

“Grace!” she yells when she reaches the corridor, Grace now thirty feet ahead, the car seat and bag clunking against her legs and making her slow.

“Please.” Hadley hops faster, throwing the crutches out in front of her and propelling herself forward. She catches up as Grace pushes through a set of double doors with a sign above them that says EMPLOYEES ONly.

“Do you know those guys?” Hadley says, breathless.

Grace’s face snaps sideways. “Guys? You said it was Frank.”

“Yes. Frank’s guys, but . . . please, Grace, slow down.”

Grace doesn’t slow down; instead she continues to race forward, lugging the baby and the heavy bag as fast as she can. Hadley works hard to keep the arm-leg rhythm of the crutches in sync as she chases after her. The room they’ve entered is some sort of mechanical space, machines and computers whirring. A man in a workman’s uniform looks up from a clipboard and watches as they race by.

“Grace, they might not be Frank’s guys,” Hadley wheezes.

Grace stops so suddenly Hadley nearly crashes into her. “You just said they were Frank’s guys.”

“Yes, I thought they were. I mean, they have to be. Who else would be looking for me? But I don’t know. I think . . . it’s just . . .”

“Christ, Mrs. Torelli, spit it out.”

“One was black,” Hadley says.

Grace’s eyes squint, then tick side to side, and then she frowns.

“Exactly,” Hadley says. Grace knows as well as Hadley that Frank would never hire a black person.

“Blue?” Skipper says, racing up with Mattie beside him and looking up with worry.

“It’s okay, Champ,” she says.

“What did they look like?” Grace says.

“I don’t know. One white. One black. Both big and athletic and dressed in suits. They kind of looked like jocks dressed as businessmen, except for their shoes.”

“Their shoes?”

“Yeah, their shoes were . . . I don’t know . . . practical. The kind a restaurant manager might wear. You know, made for comfort, not style.”

Grace’s face blanches, the color draining clear out of it.

“What?” Hadley says.

Grace doesn’t answer; instead she pivots away and starts running again, even more frantically than before.

Hadley hurries after her.

“Please, Grace,” she says as Grace pushes through a door with blue sky blazing through the glass. “At least tell me who they are.”

The door starts to swing closed, but Mattie races past to push it open before it shuts. She holds it for Hadley, and Hadley hops through. In front of her, Grace has stopped and is scanning around her. They are in the back lot of the hospital, most of the spaces empty, a few ambulances parked off to the side.