her cheek, despite everything-Judy recognized Denise as the young woman who used the computers at the library. The one with the cute little boy who liked the books about airplanes. . . .
Oh, no . . . the cute little boy . . .
Denise, however, didn't make the connection as she squinted at the lady standing before her. Her thoughts were still hazy. Nurse? No-not dressed right. The police? No, too old. But her face seemed familiar somehow. . . .
"Do I know you?" she finally croaked out.
Judy, finally gathering her senses, started toward the bed. She spoke softly.
"Sort of. I've seen you in the library before. I work there."
Denise's eyes were half-open. The library? The room began to spin again.
"What are you doing here?" Her words came out slurred, the sounds running together.
What, indeed? Judy couldn't help but think.
She adjusted her purse strap nervously. "I heard about your son getting lost. My son is one of the ones out there looking for him right now."
As she answered, Denise's eyes flickered with a mixture of hope and fear, and her expression seemed to clear. She broke in with a question, but this time the words came out more lucidly than before.
"Have you heard anything?"
The question was sudden, but Judy realized that she should have expected it. Why else would she have come to see her?
Judy shook her head. "No, nothing. I'm sorry."
Denise pressed her lips together, staying silent. She seemed to be evaluating the answer before finally turning away.
"I'd like to be alone," Denise said.
Still uncertain of what to do-Why on earth did I come? She doesn't even know me-Judy said the only thing she herself would have wanted to hear, the only thing she could think to say.
"They'll find him, Denise."
At first Judy didn't think that Denise had heard her, but then she saw Denise's jaw quiver, followed by a welling of tears in her eyes. Denise made no sound at all. She seemed to be holding back her emotions as if she didn't want anyone to see her this way, and that somehow made it worse. Though she didn't know what Denise would do, Judy acted on motherly impulse and moved closer, pausing briefly beside the bed before finally sitting. Denise didn't seem to notice. Judy watched her in silence.
What was I thinking? That I could help? What on earth can I do? Maybe I shouldn't have come. . . . She doesn't need me here. If she asks me to go again, I'll go. . . .
Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice so low that Judy could barely hear it.
"But what if they don't?"
Judy reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "They will."
Denise drew a long, uneven breath, as if trying to draw strength from some hidden reserve. She slowly turned her head and faced Judy with red, swollen eyes. "I don't even know if they're still looking for him. . . ."
Up close, Judy flashed upon the resemblance between Denise and her mother-or rather, how her mother used to look. They could have been sisters, and she wondered why she hadn't made the connection at the library. But that thought was quickly replaced as Denise's words sank in. Unsure if she had heard correctly, Judy furrowed her brow.
"What do you mean? Do you mean to say that no one's kept you informed of what's happening out there?"
Even though Denise was looking at her, she seemed very far away, lost in a kind of listless daze.
"I haven't heard a thing since I was put in the ambulance."
"Nothing?" she finally cried, shocked that they had neglected to keep her informed.
Denise shook her head.
At once Judy glanced around for the phone and stood up, her confidence rising with the knowledge that there was something she could do. This must have been the reason she'd felt the urge to come. Not telling the mother? Completely unacceptable. Not only that, but . . . cruel. Inadvertent, to be sure, but cruel nonetheless.
Judy sat in the chair beside the small table in the corner of the room and picked up the handset. After dialing quickly, she reached the police department in
Oh, no . . . the cute little boy . . .
Denise, however, didn't make the connection as she squinted at the lady standing before her. Her thoughts were still hazy. Nurse? No-not dressed right. The police? No, too old. But her face seemed familiar somehow. . . .
"Do I know you?" she finally croaked out.
Judy, finally gathering her senses, started toward the bed. She spoke softly.
"Sort of. I've seen you in the library before. I work there."
Denise's eyes were half-open. The library? The room began to spin again.
"What are you doing here?" Her words came out slurred, the sounds running together.
What, indeed? Judy couldn't help but think.
She adjusted her purse strap nervously. "I heard about your son getting lost. My son is one of the ones out there looking for him right now."
As she answered, Denise's eyes flickered with a mixture of hope and fear, and her expression seemed to clear. She broke in with a question, but this time the words came out more lucidly than before.
"Have you heard anything?"
The question was sudden, but Judy realized that she should have expected it. Why else would she have come to see her?
Judy shook her head. "No, nothing. I'm sorry."
Denise pressed her lips together, staying silent. She seemed to be evaluating the answer before finally turning away.
"I'd like to be alone," Denise said.
Still uncertain of what to do-Why on earth did I come? She doesn't even know me-Judy said the only thing she herself would have wanted to hear, the only thing she could think to say.
"They'll find him, Denise."
At first Judy didn't think that Denise had heard her, but then she saw Denise's jaw quiver, followed by a welling of tears in her eyes. Denise made no sound at all. She seemed to be holding back her emotions as if she didn't want anyone to see her this way, and that somehow made it worse. Though she didn't know what Denise would do, Judy acted on motherly impulse and moved closer, pausing briefly beside the bed before finally sitting. Denise didn't seem to notice. Judy watched her in silence.
What was I thinking? That I could help? What on earth can I do? Maybe I shouldn't have come. . . . She doesn't need me here. If she asks me to go again, I'll go. . . .
Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice so low that Judy could barely hear it.
"But what if they don't?"
Judy reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "They will."
Denise drew a long, uneven breath, as if trying to draw strength from some hidden reserve. She slowly turned her head and faced Judy with red, swollen eyes. "I don't even know if they're still looking for him. . . ."
Up close, Judy flashed upon the resemblance between Denise and her mother-or rather, how her mother used to look. They could have been sisters, and she wondered why she hadn't made the connection at the library. But that thought was quickly replaced as Denise's words sank in. Unsure if she had heard correctly, Judy furrowed her brow.
"What do you mean? Do you mean to say that no one's kept you informed of what's happening out there?"
Even though Denise was looking at her, she seemed very far away, lost in a kind of listless daze.
"I haven't heard a thing since I was put in the ambulance."
"Nothing?" she finally cried, shocked that they had neglected to keep her informed.
Denise shook her head.
At once Judy glanced around for the phone and stood up, her confidence rising with the knowledge that there was something she could do. This must have been the reason she'd felt the urge to come. Not telling the mother? Completely unacceptable. Not only that, but . . . cruel. Inadvertent, to be sure, but cruel nonetheless.
Judy sat in the chair beside the small table in the corner of the room and picked up the handset. After dialing quickly, she reached the police department in
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