My stomach rolls over into another dead drop. Amber put her to bed at eight, then found the bed empty and her sandals and windbreaker gone at nine. It’s ten thirty now, the temperature ten degrees above freezing and falling.
Because our street backs onto a wooded hillside, the search and rescue team thinks she’s most likely lost in the trees, curled up somewhere to wait until morning.
It’s going to be difficult work, covering the rocky, unevenground. There are countless hidey holes a kid could seek refuge in—hollow logs, shallow caves, cedars with low, sheltering branches. I try not to think about ravines and drop-offs and loose rocks.
Searchers pair off and head out, their calls of “Eleanor” growing fainter as they move farther afield. I pour coffee and hand out energy bars and don’t scream as I think about the fresh bite to the air, and the mountain lion that stalked a jogger last summer, and mama grizzlies with curious cubs.
Tobin’s the odd one out after everyone else pairs up, standing by to help another team.
I always loved watching him work—he’s so focused and joyful. Wholly in the moment, no matter what he’s doing. Tonight is different, because it’s Eleanor, but also because he’s careful not to look over here. He doesn’t have a smile for anyone, not even the cute paramedic who asks me for two cups of coffee, then gives him one.
We’ve hurt each other so much, Tobin and I. Maybe too much. We’re stuck in conflict, telling each other “no,” not able to move ourselves forward.
It doesn’t make good improv, and it doesn’t make a good marriage.
“Liz.” Jason tugs a silver foil packet from my hand. “You’ve rearranged the blankets six times. Take a break, yeah? I can handle things for a bit.”
“Yeah, no, for sure.” I’m twitchy, filled with destructive, fearful energy. There’s no possible way I can rest.
I’ll make sure the house is okay. Let the dog out.
Kris Kristofferson whines and shivers inside the front door. “Hey, girl,” I whisper, even though there’s no one I could wake up. Kris wiggles away when I try to hug her. It’s for the best; if I’d been able to bury my face in her fur, there’s no telling when I would’ve stopped crying. I need Yeti for cuddles.
A quick scan of the main floor turns up no evidence Yeti’s made it home. Although if anyone would know where he is, it’s Kris.
“Where’s the cat? Find the cat. Find him,” I tell Kris, hopeful. She prances in a circle, ears up. It’s impossible to tell whether she knows the cat isn’t here, or she’s choosing to disregard commands from the least important member of her pack.
“Come on, girl.” Defeated, I grab her leash from the hook by the door. A walk will do us good, away from the flashing lights and radio static.
The night would be beautiful under any other circumstances. The wind sighs through the treetops, stars showing off in the moonless sky. After a couple of blocks, Kris settles down and stops pulling, and I feel calm enough to type a list into my phone, Kris’s leash looped precariously around one arm. I hope all the squirrels are safe in the treetops, because this arrangement won’t last if the dog makes a break for it, but the list gives me a sense of purpose.
Get Mom and Dad’s bedroom ready. Grocery shopping—vegetarian for Dad.
Find somewhere to board Kris.
On second thought, I delete that. Amber and Kris would rather be together.
Find reliable friend to walk Kris.
That’s a tough one. Someone close to the family, good with dogs, who can be trusted not to ask painful questions.
Kris and I round the corner into the gauntlet of people and vehicles. Tobin’s chatting to Jason, which, oof. Guess he waited until I was gone.
I try to give Tobin space, but the dog catches his familiar scent. One pull on my absurd leash configuration, and she’s bounding toward him.
“Sorry. She got away, and I… Sorry.”
Tobin looks up from giving the dog an energetic neck rub. “It’s okay. You want me to take her around the block so you can stay near?”
“Thanks, I just took her. But…” I shouldn’t ask Tobin for anything ever again. He should never have to say yes to me. Or no.
But if there’s one thing he is, it’s a reliable friend. “Could you take her out tomorrow?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Sure. Morning and evening, or add a nooner in there as well?”
“Twice would be great. Three times would be amazing, if you can.”
“No prob. You want to bring Yeti back to the house for now?”
