My Wife Is Missing(37)
CHAPTER 17
MICHAEL
He rang the doorbell at 16 Percival Way, unable to rid himself of his persistent foreboding. The lovely colonial, home to Natalie’s parents, had weathered to a light gray over the years, giving the exterior the look and feel of a beachfront cottage. Michael was fond of his in-laws—they were good, decent people—but despite their years of spending holidays together and visiting the grandchildren, he didn’t feel particularly close to them.
He couldn’t say why he’d never quite hit it off with Harvey and Lucinda. There were no great disagreements, no issues with values or child-rearing practices to get in the way. However, there was a tension that had taken its toll over the years, like the wear and tear of waves eroding a beach over time.
Without another set of parents to compete for time and attention, holidays were the exclusive province of Natalie’s parents. Michael got the sense Lucinda was glad his parents were out of the picture, as the idea of mixing clans would never have meshed with her vision of family holidays. Knowing her, she’d resent a shared approach.
Lucky for Lucinda, such wasn’t the case.
It was Natalie’s mother who came to the door after Michael rang the bell. Lucinda, who looked like he imagined Natalie would in thirty years—still thin, her gray hair slowly replacing the darker shades—opened the door and gave Michael a confused stare. She was wiping splotches of flour from her hands onto a patchwork apron tied around her waist. Lucinda was a master when it came to baking, and Michael was always mindful not to overindulge on his visits. A lemon scent came wafting out from the kitchen, coupled with, of all things, a strong smell of vanilla. The odor momentarily sent Michael back to the hotel, to the traumatizing events he now had to share with Natalie’s parents.
“Michael,” said Lucinda. “What are you doing here? Did you come back early? Natalie didn’t call. Is everything all right?”
Lucinda instinctively looked over her son-in-law’s shoulder, searching for her daughter and the children. Michael watched her expression morph into a look of concern. This is going to be horrendous, he thought. No, what’s worse than that? A few choice words came to him before he settled on shocking and appalling. The fear would soon follow.
“Hello, Lucinda,” he said. He’d forgo her nickname, Lucy, as it felt too informal, and their relationship had never quite made it below the permafrost layer. “Is Harvey at home? We all need to talk. It’s important.”
Lucinda called out in a troubled voice, “Harvey, its Michael. He’s here at the house. I need you to come to the front door right away. Something is wrong.”
Moments later, Harvey appeared in the living room. His khakis and polo combo looked rather dapper, especially for a guy who wasn’t going anywhere that day, or the next for that matter. Since retirement, Harvey ventured out of the house only to play golf, but he still dressed like every day was casual Friday at his law office.
Coming up behind his wife, Harvey placed a hand on Lucinda’s delicate shoulder, a gesture of compassion and connection that came as naturally to them as breathing. A stab of guilt hit Michael like a sharp pain with no point of origin. It was just everywhere, radiating in every nerve of his body.
It was hard to see his in-laws like this, moments away from having their world rocked. They should be seated for this news, but that suggestion went nowhere.
“Tell us right here and now,” Harvey said in the commanding way he’d perfected in the courtroom. “What’s going on? Where are Natalie and the kids? Has something happened to them?”
The emotion imbedded in his voice came out raw and ripe. Lucinda didn’t speak, but she nodded her head in vigorous agreement as if those were her words, too.
Harvey’s hand intertwined with Lucinda’s. Facing off with his in-laws, watching the tenderness between them, seeing all that through new eyes—it made all Michael’s justifications for his choices (I was lonely … I deserve love … I’m too young to be in a sexless marriage) ring even more hollow. The lies he’d built upon lies now felt like a crushing weight for him to lug around.
“Let’s sit down,” Michael said again, but Harvey wasn’t budging.
“Where is Natalie?” he asked.
For a man who’d once been larger than life during his professional career, Michael now saw in Harvey the fragility of a flower.
“I don’t know,” he confessed.
Lucinda seized Michael’s arm, her grip tightening as her nails dug into his flesh.
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Where are the children?”
And so he told them, standing in the foyer of their spacious home, rocking back and forth on his heels. He told them about Teddy and the empty hotel room, his conversations with the NYPD, the Lexington PD, and how they wouldn’t issue an Amber Alert. Harvey’s ruddy complexion changed, chameleon-like, to the greenish hue of seasickness. Lucinda went white as an envelope.
“Why would she do that?” Harvey asked, focusing on the obvious.
Why, indeed? thought Michael.
The question from Michael’s point of view was how much to share. He was always so adept at skirting the truth, he figured why stop now?
“You know Natalie has been having trouble sleeping,” he said. “Her insomnia has gotten worse over the past few months.”