The Return(95)

I raised an eyebrow, thinking she was savvier than I’d imagined. I doubted I would have been able to do everything she’d done at her age. With all of that, however, only a couple of obvious questions remained.

“I’m assuming that after your family sold the house, your dad found a job in Helen, right?”

“I ran away before they actually moved, but that was the plan. My dad got a job as a hotel manager up there.”

I wondered if it was the same hotel where I’d stayed; I wondered if it was the same man who’d handed me the pen earlier in the morning. “How did my grandfather know your family was in Helen?”

“One night, I was really homesick. Heather and Tammy are twins and it was their birthday, and I was crying because I missed them. Somehow, I think I mentioned that I wished I were with them in Helen now. I didn’t think he’d even heard me or knew what I was saying, but I guess he did.” Her eyes shifted off to the side, and I knew she had more to say. I brought my hands together, listening as she sighed.

“I really liked your grampa,” she offered. “He always watched out for me, you know? Like he truly cared about me, even though he had no reason to. When he died, I was so upset. It kind of felt like I lost the one person in this town who I really trusted. I went to the funeral, you know.”

“You did? I don’t remember seeing you.”

“I stood in the back,” she said. “But after everyone left, I stayed around. I told him thank you, and I said I’d watch out for the bees for him.”

I smiled. “I know he cared about you, too.”

When she stayed silent, I finally reached into my pocket. I pulled out my phone and set it on the bed beside her. Callie stared at it without reaching for it.

“What do you think about calling your parents?” I said.

“Do I have to?” she asked in a small voice.

“No. I’m not going to make you do that. But it’s either you speak to them on the phone, or the police are going to show up at their door, which might be frightening for them.”

“And the police will tell them for sure? Even if I don’t want them to?”

“Yes.”

“In other words, I don’t have a choice.”

“Of course you have a choice. But even if you don’t call them, they’ll show up here. You’re going to see them whether you want to or not.”

She picked at one of her fingernails. “What if they still hate me?”

“I don’t think they ever hated you. I think they were just struggling with grief, like you were. People do that in different ways.”

“Will you stay here with me? So they can speak to you if they need to? Or if I need you to talk to them because they start yelling or going crazy? And maybe be here tomorrow, too?”

“Of course,” I said.

She chewed her lip. “Do you think you could do me another favor, too?” She touched her matted hair subconsciously. “Could you pick up some things for me from the drugstore? I look like hell.”

“What do you need?”

“You know…makeup. A hairbrush, some cleanser, and lotion for my hands.” She stared at her cracked cuticles in disgust.

I nodded, making notes on my phone as she rattled off a list of products. “Anything else?”

“No,” she said. “I guess I should call, huh?”

“Probably. But I want you to know something first.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m proud of you.”





Chapter 21





I stayed with Callie as she made the call. Naturally, her parents were both shocked and elated to hear from their daughter. After gasps of disbelief and joyful sobs, they had a barrage of questions, many of which Callie promised to answer more fully when they arrived. But when Callie handed the phone to me, their initial relief was gutted by fear as I explained who I was and walked them through Callie’s diagnosis and prognosis. I promised them that Callie’s doctors would fill them in on all of her treatment options when they reached New Bern, and that it was imperative that they come as soon as possible in order for Callie to explore all of her medical alternatives.

I also updated Chief Robertson by phone, letting him know he could contact the GBI and Decatur police with the news that Callie had been located and had already contacted her parents. At the end of the call, he asked that I keep him apprised of Callie’s condition, and—with Callie’s permission—I promised to do so.

For the rest of the afternoon I continued to sit with her, listening as she spontaneously lapsed into memories of her life before Roger had died, sharing details of an ordinary teenage existence. It was as if the dam imposed by the past year’s isolation and secrecy had suddenly burst, releasing a flood of nostalgia for the life she had been grieving all this time. From her regional volleyball tournaments to the habits of her Labrador retriever, the names of her favorite high school teachers and the boy she’d briefly dated, the particulars of her personal life tumbled out randomly over the next several hours, painting a picture almost startling in its normalcy. I found myself marveling at the courage and independence she’d developed since running away, as nothing in the placid, relatively tame existence she described could have prepared her for the hardships she would face as a runaway.