Clara had been gone a week. I couldn't eat or sleep. I tore her room apart looking for any information. There was none to be found. The boys were somber too. Charlie was acting different. I couldn't pin point it. I began to wonder if he knew something, but I didn't think he would be so irresponsible not to tell me. Before he left for work one morning I stopped him on his way out, "Charlie. Wait a minute."

My face was swollen from constant crying. My hands shook.

"Mom. I should have told you. She made me promise. She said she'd call you. I would have told you, but she said to let her have a week."

I was both furious with him and also overtaken with relief. I started to cry. I knew she was alive. She was somewhere. I could accept her going off on her own for a little while, as Jeff said she was 18. And, she was angry at me. But, for Charlie to sit and watch me day after day calling everyone I could think of. Even going down to the record store and asking the manager to sit down with me and make a list of anyone he could think of. How many doors had I knocked on to inquire about her? How many phone calls?

I always tried to understand the children's behavior. To let them know I loved them and respected their motives for doing things, but this time I didn't care at all if I hurt Charlie's feelings. I was so angry with him. "How could you keep this from me?"

"She made me promise."

"Your sister's in trouble! You've seen her. You saw her the night of the party! I don't know why you would make that decision, Charlie. What's wrong with you? Give me her address so I can go over there and make sure she's all right."

He started to say something and stopped. Clearly I'd misunderstood what he had told me regarding Clara's whereabouts. I was so tired my mind was playing tricks on me, for a split second I thought it was Jeff standing in front of me not Charlie. The two resembled each other so much; they had the same build. And here Charlie was holding information over me, keeping me in pain just like his father always had.

"Jeff," I accidentally said. "I mean Charlie. Tell me the address or phone number."

"I don't have it."

"What do you mean you don't have it?"

I could see his expression change. I could see that he realized the gravity of keeping his sister's secret. I also realized that he was still a boy. He was only 17. I was treating him as if he were older. I drew similarities between him and his father because Charlie was self-possessed and assumed authority. He thought he was older, able to make adult decisions. But his decision was a mistake. I could see he realized it too.

"I don't have it. She said she was going to California."

The thick blanket of doom descended on me again. The relief I'd felt moments before was a complete ruse, the situation as even worse than I'd thought.

"California?"

He nodded. His eyes filled. "I'm sorry mom. I made a mistake. I didn't realize it until I just said it."

"Who did she go with?"

"She didn't say."

"For Christ sake Charlie what did she tell you!"

He bit his lip and looked down. He looked back up at me. He seemed so much like the little boy he once was, my instinct was to put my arms around him and kiss him on the cheek, tell him he'll be all right. "She said she wanted to find her grandmother."

"Her mother's mother?"

He nodded.

I thought of Margaret's letters to her mother, all marked "return to sender." I thought of how Margaret had written that her own mother had disowned her. Clara was the reason that Margaret had to marry Jeff. She was also the reason that Margaret never saw her parents again – as far as I knew.

"How did she get there? Bus?"

"I don't know," Charlie said softly. "She only talked to me for a few minutes the day she left. She told me what had been going on with you. About dad, and then her mother's death. She said she wanted to go to California and talk to her grandmother. She was very upset with you and dad. She asked me to wait at least a week to tell you so that you wouldn't come and stop her."

"OK." I shook my head. "I'm going to find her and bring her home."

'I'm so sorry." Charlie was looking down. I saw him wipe a tear. I could see how distraught he was.

I walked over to him and put my arms around him. I couldn't tell him at that moment that I forgave him. Of course I would at some pont. I loved him, but all I could feel was the heart wrenching fear over Clara being alone in California. She was not a worldly girl, she'd really been very sheltered up until the past year. I feared how her grandmother would treat her, even if she located her.

I pulled away from Charlie for a moment. "How did she know her grandmother was in California?" I asked him.

"I don't know."

I was crazy with worry. The only thing I could do was try to get Clara back. The boys had to take care of themselves; make their own meals, manage their own lives. I was glad that I wasn't teaching for the summer. I had planned all sorts of activities with my various groups, but they could do without me. I went back to the box and found one of the letter's that Margaret's mother had sent back. I wrote down her name on a notepad. "Mrs. Thomas Alder" and then her address in Petaluma California. I dialed information and asked for the number for Thomas Alder in Petaluma. The operator recited the telephone number to me. Again a wave of relief washed over me. I took a deep breath and let it out. I felt I knew her from all the letters Margaret had written to her. I feared that she would be as rejecting of Clara as she had been of her own daughter. I wondered if she'd ever reconciled in anyway with Margaret. It didn't seem so from the diary entries but maybe they had. I tried to imagine a mother rejecting her daughter like that. I couldn't. I dialed the number and waited while the phone rang. There were three extended sounds of the phone calling then a woman's voice answered.

"Hello, this is the Alder residence."

She didn't sound old. She sounded formal and stiff, but not elderly.

"Hello." The woman's voice.

I found my throat was so dry that it made my voice sound hoarse. "Hello, is this Mrs. Alder?"

"It is," her tone was pleasant.

"My name is Eve Lambert—"

"What can I do for you Mrs. Lambert?"

It seemed she knew exactly who I was and her tone was stern and cold.

"I'm looking for my daughter, Clara. I was told that she may have been to visit you."

"You're daughter?"

"Yes. I'm her adoptive mother."

"I see."

She didn't offer any more information, nor did she hang up. I realized that she must have gone to Margaret's funeral. I don't know why that thought occurred to me. But, she must have. Maybe that solidified her feelings of regret and grief. Maybe she hated Jeff and anyone associated with him.

"Has she been there?" I asked.

"She has."

I felt myself tremble. Tears came to my eyes. I didn't like how she responded. The tone, the callousness. I was afraid that she'd treated Clara badly. I feared the implications of that possibly.

"Do you know where I might find her?" I asked.

"Mrs. Lambert. Let me make one thing clear. You're family is no more welcome here than Margaret was. I don't know why I'm wasting my time on the telephone with you."

I wanted to reprimand her. I wanted to say something about the kind of person she was. The kind of mother who would let her daughter, her teenage daughter, suffer in the kind of hell Margaret had been in. "I just want to know where my daughter is."

"You're daughter," she repeated.

"Please." I pleaded. I started to cry. "Please tell me where Clara is."

"Mrs. Lambert I don't know where she is. She took a bus here and she wasn't here but a few minutes. She said her friend Diane was waiting for her outside. That's all I know."

I let out a deep breath. Diane. Clara was with Dianne. That was reassuring; Diane had been one of her old friends. I hadn't even though to call Diane's family because the girls had a falling out last year. I was sure it was the same Diane.

I hung up the phone without another word. I didn't owe that woman anything. As far as I was concerned she wasn't Clara's grandmother. She was cruel and bitter. Diane Ward. I closed my eyes. I wasn't religious but I prayed that it was the same Diane. It would be easy to track Clara down if it was. It was the strangest feeling to be so singularly focused. So much urgency. There were two other times when I'd felt my entire being engulfed by mortal imperative; the first time I held Charlie and the night Jeff tried to kill me. I ran into the kitchen and found my address book. I went back into the front room and sat down by the phone. I turned the page to "W". My hands were shaking terribly as I dialed the number. Gail Ward picked up immediately.

"Hello?"

"Gail? It's Eve Lambert. Clara's—"

"Eve. How are you? I think about you so often. I meant to call you when the girls were planning their trip. I don't know why I didn't. You know how it goes—"

I closed my eyes. I was crying. I'd been crying for so many days that it seemed like my permanent state. I was glad for Gail's loquaciousness; it gave me a moment to try and compose myself. It was no use. I sat on the chair and fiddled with the hem of my skirt.

"Any way—there I go not letting anyone get a word in edge wise. I'm glad you checked in with me."

"Gail." I said. Again my voice was hoarse and I knew I sounded distraught.

"What is it?" her voice became urgent as if I had bad news about the girls.

"I was wondering if you could give me the number where I can reach Clara?"

"What's happened Eve?"

"Clara's been very upset for the last few weeks." I started crying and couldn't compose myself.

"Eve. It's all right, dear. Try to calm down and tell me what's happened. Should I come over there? Do you need me to come over?"

"No." I took a deep breath and was able to speak. "Clara didn't tell me she was going to California. She has been very upset. I'm very worried about her. That's all. I'm sure she's fine. I just need to speak with her."

"Of course. Let me get the telephone number. They're staying with my niece, Marjorie Clements, in San Francisco. She's in college there. I'm surprised that Clara didn't tell you about the trip. They'd been planning it for months. I really should have called you. I don't know why I didn't. Of course we should have talked before they left."

"How did they get there?"

"They took the greyhound."

"How long were they planning on staying?"

"For the summer." My heart dropped. If Charlie hadn't known or hadn't told me I would have thought she were dead. Just the thought of Clara being dead made me feel faint.

"Let me get the number. I'm sure you want to speak with her as soon as possible."

After Gail gave me the phone number, as soon as I hung up the phone, I felt eerily calm. I realized I was angry with Clara. Of course she was upset. I could understand that but what she'd done was reckless and cruel. It wasn't like she was a child. She was eighteen. My mind was so fickle. I was overwrought with worry. The realization that Margaret was only 19 when she had Clara, that she was already pregnant by the time she was Clara's age, it gave me a frightened feeling. Maybe Clara had the same mental affliction as her mother. Maybe she really was in danger of hurting herself.

My hands were no longer shaking as I dialed the number. After a couple of rings a woman picked up. She sounded younger than I expected. "Hello, is this Marjorie." I heard music in the background. It sounded like the same kind of music Clara listened to. I didn't like it.

"Just a moment," the girl said. Even though the phone was muffled I heard her say, "turn it down." She returned to the phone. "This is Marjorie."

"Hello, this is Mrs. Lambert. I'm Clara's mother." I assumed a calm demeanor. "May I speak with her please?"

"Just a moment, Mrs. Lambert." The girl now sounded like a polite schoolmate of Clara's not a young woman living on her own in a big city.

I waited. I found I had no feeling at all. I was completely numb. I wouldn't be able to breath again until I heard my daughter's voice.

Finally there was the knocking sound of the phone being picked up .please. please. Let her answer.

"Mom?" Again tears fell, but I didn't want to overwhelm her. Let her know how worried I was.

"Clara. Darling. You had me worried out of my mind."

"How did you find me?" There was the coldness again. She hated me. I knew that every moment that passed just reaffirmed her blame. She held me responsible for her mother's death. She hated me.

"Clara. I wanted to know you were all right." I started to cry. "Why would you leave like that? I thought something had happened to you."

"Get yourself together mother."

Again the anger rose up in me. She had no right to treat me this way. Even if she was devastated by her memory. Even if I really were responsible for Margaret's death. I'd loved her and cared for her since I met her. No one else did. Jeff certainly wasn't around and her grandmother was cold hearted. Julia and Neil? Hardly.

"Clara. I know you're old enough to do what you want, but I need for you to call me every few days and let me know you're all right."

"Every few days," she protested. She sounded like she had when she was 16 and I'd given her a curfew. I expected her to say, "that's not fair!" but still comply.

"Why should I?" was her response.

"If you don't I'm coming there. It would be one thing if you let us know you were going. But, when you left, you told me you were going to hurt yourself."

"You're crazy," she said and hung up the phone.

After that I called Gail back and asked for Marjorie's address in San Francisco. I didn't know if I would go or not but I knew I needed it.

"Was everything all right?" she asked brightly. I remembered why, although I liked her well enough, I found her annoying. She was always so enthusiastic. How many bake sales had we worked together? How many coffees the morning after sleep overs? The girls had been inseparable.

"How did the girls start spending time together again?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I thought they had a falling out."

"Not that I knew of." Gail said. "Eve. Should I come over? You sound as if you're very upset."

"No. I'm all right."

"I really don't mean this the wrong way, but I know you have to handle these things by yourself."

"I'd never confided in her about my marriage or told her anything about Jeff, but it had been evident to all the children's parents that I was raising the children on my own. He never attended any function unless it was absolutely necessary. He attended graduations, maybe one or two school plays. He didn't go to any of Charlie's basketball or baseball games. He maybe went to three of Jeffery's over the years. Everyone knew what an absent father Jeff had been. Not that he cared about such provincial values. He didn't.

"No. Gail. That's nice of you."

"I know we never confided much, but really you can tell me anything. If there's anything I can do."

I started crying.

"Why don't I come over sweetheart?" she said. I wondered why I'd never become friends with Gail.

"Really. I'll call if I need you. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your kindness."

After I hung up the phone, I ran upstairs and got into bed. I cried until I fell asleep. I woke to Jeffery sitting on the side of the bed with his hand on my back. When I opened my eyes he leaned over and put his arm around me.

"I'm sorry for what I said mom." He whispered. It was dark by then and there was a dim light from the hallway.

I sat up and touched his cheek "what did you say, darling?"

"I asked you if it was your fault—about my mother."

"Oh sweetheart, come here." I put my arms around him and embraced him. "it's all right. I don't want you to worry." I pulled away and looked at him. His brown eyes were full of compassion. I touched his hair and smoothed it back. I took his hands. "I found her."

He smiled, but he still looked worried. "Where is she?"

"She's in California."

He raised his eyebrows. "Is she all right?"
I nodded, "I think so. I may go out there. I told her to call me, but she hung up."

"Why?"

"She's very angry with me."

He didn't say anything for a moment. "Can I get you something to eat? It's past dinner time."

I shook my head.

"Let me bring you a sandwich mom. Please."

"All right, sweetheart."

He got up and started to walk out of the room. He waited at the door, "I think you should go get her." He said before he left.

It had been three days since my conversation with Clara. It eased some of my worry to know she was safe for the time being. It would be two more days before Jeff was expected back from Hawaii. I thought maybe he would check his messages although I knew he wouldn't call me back. I had to try. I left several messages for him at home and work. Each time I tried to impress upon them how much of an emergency it was. Part of me felt like I was blowing it out of proportion as Jeff had said, but the other part of me knew that something bad was going to happen. I knew with the drugs and that kind of anger that it was a dangerous situation. I was so angry with her for keeping her life from me for so long. Diane had been involved in all of her terrible behavior? Diane? I'd always thought of Diane as so responsible. She always dressed conservatively and gave me the sweetest smile. May I carry the dishes in for you Mrs. Lambert? Thank you so much for dinner, it was just delicious. Little did I know this whole time she was a druggie. In her plaid skirts and little cardigan sweaters. To think at one time I'd joked with Gail how wonderful it would be if Diane and Charlie married. Of course it had been a joke, but the thought of it made my skin crawl. Or, I thought. Maybe it was Clara who was the druggie. She was starting to look like a little hippie. Wearing her braided leather headband over her forehead, brushing her hair out so it was frizzy. Her short skirts and boots, leather fringed coat. To think I'd paid for those bohemian clothes. I'd funded her irresponsible lifestyle.

I stopped this flood of thoughts. I realized those were the kind of ruminations I should have been sharing with a husband. I thought of Jeff in Hawaii. I shook my head. Wasn't he just as selfish? For a moment I considered calling Matt. It had only been a few months since we'd broken up. I'd banished him from my thoughts. We weren't right for each other and when he asked me to marry him, I ended things. But, maybe he would come over. Maybe he would help me, go to San Francisco and help me convince Clara to come home. I stared at the phone but knew that Clara wouldn't come back for Matt. I didn't even know if she'd like him all those years on and off again. I didn't involve him in our family that much. He just wanted too much.

Jeff was the one who should bring her back. She wanted him in the first place. If he had sought her out after I'd told him then I didn't think I'd be in this situation. I called his house again.

"Mrs. Lambert just as I told you yesterday, he isn't expected back until Friday."

"I'm trying to be cordial. I don't want to be rude or—please don't call me Mrs. Lambert. I am not Jeff's wife. Call me Eve."

"I'm sorry...Eve...I will give him the message. I know it's urgent."

Friday came and went. I knew Jeff was back in Chicago but he didn't call me back. I knew he had no way of knowing if his daughter was safe. Was he just carrying on with his life expecting me to fix everything? I was sure he was. I tried to carry on as usual. Joan checked in with me everyday. She said she would come with me. Although she'd never passed judgment and in all the time I'd known her --she helped me figure out my problems rather than giving me advice-- for the first time she told me what she thought I should do, "Eve. Let's go get her. I have a bad feeling."

I was trying to cut down on drinking but after dinner that Saturday night, I made myself a gin and tonic and sat down with the box of Margaret's things. I didn't think I could read any more of the diary or letters. Instead I removed a stack of photographs that I hadn't looked through. They were of Margaret, Clara and a newborn Jeffery. It sent a chill through me. They were dated 1948. It was just months before she would kill herself. I took a few gulps of my drink and lit a cigarette. I was frozen. I realized that was why I'd always thought of her as a ghost. She looked like she was dead. She was as thin as a skeleton. Her face was so pale compared to Clara's, it looked as though the life had washed out of her. Her arms were so thin. Instead of holding Jeffery she was sitting perfectly still, Clara was next to her, leaning against her mother. Clara was holding Jeffery in that way that toddlers hold a baby. Ordinarily, an adult would be scaffolding the toddler so as to be sure she held the baby securely. But, Margaret wasn't doing that at all. Clara was looking at Margaret, but Margaret was staring straight ahead as if a gun were pointed at her. No expression at all.

I flipped to the next picture. In it Jeff was holding the baby. He was holding Clara's hand. Margaret stood next to them; she appeared to be an apparition. They were full of life, not happy, but of this world. She was dead. I held my breath. I couldn't stop switching my focus from Jeff to Clara. The way Jeff held the baby, I remember him holding Charlie that way the few times we'd been together after I moved away from Sellwood. He was so nurturing. I was so mesmerized by what I felt as I looked at the picture. I felt like a detective uncovering a clue. It was a break in the case, but I had no idea what it meant. I jumped when I heard the phone ring. I looked at the time, it was 8:30. It must have been for one of the boys. I didn't even know if they were home. I rushed to the phone in the hallway and picked up.

"Mrs. Lambert?" it was Diane's voice. She sounded upset.

"Is this Diane?" I asked, "What is it? What's happened?"

She was crying. I felt myself grow faint. I'd been told so many times that someone I loved had been killed. I knew that was what she was going to say. In those few seconds an image of Clara, high on drugs jumping from a bridge. I imagined her body floating. It was horrible.

"Mrs. Lambert. Clara went away with some people."

"What are you talking about?"

"We were in the park a few days ago and there were was a group of people, kids my age. From a church or something. I don't know. I told them to leave, but there was one. A boy our age and he and Clara talked all afternoon. I thought that was the end of it, but he came to Marjorie's apartment and he—Clara was already packed. I told her to call you first, but she just pushed past me."

"Where did they go?"

"I don't know. Marjorie said there were groups like that here. That they tried to get kids to join. She told both of us not to talk to them."

I pressed my hand over my forehead as if I had a fever. I couldn't breath at all. "I'm coming tomorrow. I need to talk with you and get more information. I need to find Clara."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Lambert. I knew that Clara didn't tell you. She told me she was running away. She told me that –"
"It doesn't matter. Your mother gave me an address for Marjorie. Is it the same one?"

"Yes."

After I hung up, I picked up the phone and called Jeff's house again. This time Anna picked up. I explained that it was a serious emergency and I needed to speak with Jeff.

Anna's voice sounded frustrated. In the few times I'd spoken with her she'd never been anything but perfect. She looked perfect, she was the epitome of the perfect, well-bred wife. That time it was different, "Eve. We've tried to be patient with you. You're going to need to handle this yourself."

I felt fire rip through my veins. "Anna. Please don't speak to me like I'm a child—you're the child. Didn't anyone ever tell you that when you steal someone's husband, he still has a responsibility to his children?"

"You don't need to get angry with me, Eve."

"Please put Jeff on the phone."

"Wait just a moment. I'll see if he's available."

I hated them. What was I supposed to do? I realized that even Matt, an old boyfriend of mine, would be more likely to come save my daughter than her own father. But, Matt would be of no use, neither would Joan. I wouldn't be able to do it myself; she didn't want anything to do with me. Only Jeff could help me bring her home.

Anna returned to the call, "Eve. Just as I told you. He doesn't want to get involved."

I hung up the telephone. I knew exactly what I was going to do. I was going to drive to their apartment and make him speak with me. I grabbed my keys and rushed out to the car. It was only a ten-minute drive, but it those ten minutes the gravity of the situation descended on me. I realized that Clara was unsafe somewhere. These people in this religion or whatever it was could have taken her anywhere by now. I started crying again. I was no longer just crying, I was hysterical. I pulled in front of their apartment building. The valet came and opened my door. "Good evening." He said, in a friendly but rote manner. Then he looked at me.

"Miss are you all right?" Tears were streaming down my face.

I nodded. "I'm here to see Jeff Lambert. He lives on the top floor. It's an emergency."

"Would you like for us to call up for him to come down?"

"No. I'll go up."

My hands shook terribly as I pressed the button to the penthouse floor. Penthouse. There was nothing left inside of me but contempt. Even if he didn't come with me the next day, it was the end of everything. He and Anna both deserved my rage.

There was a long mirror on the inside of the elevator. When I caught sight of myself I couldn't believe how I looked. I resembled a Dickens' character, a beggar. That's what I was. When the elevator got to the top floor, I stepped out into a marble foyer. The building was almost identical to the place Jeff lived when we were first married; the place where Margaret had killed herself. I felt a stabbing pain in my stomach. I walked to the door and knocked. It was well after 9 by then. An older woman dressed in a maid's uniform complete with a white apron opened the door. I shook my head in disgust.

"May I help you?"

"I need to speak with Mr. Lambert."

"May I tell him who's here?" At that Anna stepped to the door.

"It's all right Eileen. I'll speak with her."

"Anna, I want to speak with Jeff. This has nothing to do with you."

"Eve. Why are you doing this?"

She reminded me of Julia. She was like Julia. The rest of it had been a pretense. Making herself a comparison to me. I was the mother of Jeff's children, she was the perfect aristocratic wife. She was what he wanted.

I felt like yelling at her, but when her eyes met mine I broke down again. I really was desperate like a beggar in a Dickens story. I started weeping and moved over to a plush velvet bench in the foyer and sat down. I put my head in my hands and began sobbing. Anna came over and sat next to me.

"I don't know what's wrong with me, Eve. I am sorry I spoke to you like that. Of course something's happened." She put her hand on my back and as ridiculous as it was I let her put her arm around me and as I cried, I leaned against her. A moment later I heard Jeff's voice. He didn't share Anna's empathy and compassion.

"Eve. What are you doing here?"

I looked up at him. I couldn't stop crying. I was having a nervous breakdown. I was shaking, completely hysterical I saw his expression change. "Anna show Eve inside." He said.

She led me into the house, her arm still around me. I didn't even notice the furnishings or anything else until I sat down. When I opened my eyes, I was in a modern looking living room with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. Jeff sat down on a chair across from me. He looked at me without saying anything. I could tell he was growing worried, maybe not about Clara at that point but at my state of mind. Anna sat next to me and took my hand. I looked down and wept.

She leaned down and spoke softly, "Eve. Let me fix you a drink." She turned to Jeff. "What can I get you?"

"Scotch."

"What would you like Eve?"

Jeff answered for me. "She'll have a scotch on the rocks."

When she left the room, Jeff sat down on the couch next to me. "Eve what the hell is going on?"

I grew calm, wiped my eyes then looked at him. "What were you doing in Hawaii? You knew Clara was having problems." I stared at him for a moment.

He seemed cavalier to me. "It was already planned. Anna and I go every year for our anniversary."

I didn't know what about his statement caused me to gasp. I stared at him. I put my hand over my mouth and despite my overwhelming distress over our daughter, a clarity descended on me. Every year for their anniversary. He'd been with Anna almost eight years. Every year. He had never taken me on any romantic trips. We weren't married nearly as long but after two years as husband and wife, he had started having affairs and hitting me. My eyes must have had a look of absolute shock. I stood up and ran out of the apartment. I could hear him call after me. I heard Anna say "what's going on?"

I made it to the elevator before he could come out and confront me. I slammed the button for the first floor. I had been in their apartment such a short time, the valet hadn't parked my car yet. I ran out to it and got in and drove frantically home. When I got inside my house, Jeffery was sitting in the living room. He was reading a book but I knew he was really waiting for me. It was such an unusual set up. Not that Jeffery didn't read, but never in that way. As soon as I entered the house, he stood up and came over to me.

"What's going on?" he asked.

I kept myself calm. "Everything's all right Jeffery. Really it is. I'm going to California tomorrow to bring Clara home.

"Is she all right?"

"Yes. She's fine." I knew I couldn't burden him or Charlie any more. I would just have to trust I could do this. That I could bring their sister back by myself. Jeffery and I both turned at the sound of a knock on the door. Of course it was Jeff, it didn't surprise me. This was his pattern; wait until I was completely desperate and then try and reign things back in so he could be in control.

Jeffery went to the door. He opened it and Jeff walked into the entryway. "How are you son?" he said to Jeff.

"I'm OK."

Jeff put his arms around Jeffery and embraced him. Jeffery returned the embrace. Jeff kissed him on top of the head. He released Jeffery and looked at me. I walked over and told Jeffery to let me talk with his father. Jeff started to walk into my house.

"No." I said.

Jeff stopped and waited.

"I don't want you to come inside. We can talk in the side yard," I walked out the door and he followed. The side yard was away from the neighbors' houses. There was just woods abutting my property.

"You don't want me in your house Eve?" he asked. He lit a cigarette and examined me.

"No." I had chills despite the warm temperature outside. I was trembling all over. "I'm going to handle this myself. I'm not going to bother you and your wife anymore. You can go home."

"You don't want me in your house because I took Anna on a vacation for our anniversary?"

I didn't say anything. I just shook my head.

"Is that it?"

"Jesus Jeff. Is that what you think I spend my time worrying about? I didn't think about you and your wife in eight years. Until you came over here two weeks ago."

He bit his lip, examined me then took a drag. "What's going on?"

"I'm handling it. Go back home to your wife."

"Eve. Clara's my daughter—tell me what's happened."

"She's your daughter? I challenge you to ask anyone in her life, who you are. They'd have no idea. You haven't been her father at all."

"Is that so?"

"If you hate my so much why did you ask me to marry you in the first place? Did you bring me here to take care of your children so you could marry some socialite girl and go on yearly trips to Hawaii? To live in a penthouse like a man with no obligations? A playboy?"

"I'm not going to dignify your attacks with a response."

I turned and started to walk back into the house. He took my arm and turned me back to him.

"Get your hands off of me right now!" I must have said it with such strength that he immediately released me. "Save your violence for your wife. Not me."

"God damn it, Eve. Stop playing games. Tell me what's wrong."

I stopped and felt myself calm down. He was right. It was about Clara. I could have that battle another time. I looked down. It was a humid night. Once I calmed down I could feel how moist my skin was. How my shirt seemed to stick to my skin. For a second the level of rage and then sudden calm reminded me of the night at the lake. The way Jeff and I looked at each other, standing just a few feet away, that reminded me of him in front of the car after the terror, a compassion returning to his face. I swallowed hard. I heard the sounds of the woods behind me, the earthy smell rose up as did the scent of pine needles.

"I'm flying to San Francisco in the morning. I wanted you to help me find Clara. That's why I came to your house."

"What is she doing in San Francisco?"

"That's why I've been calling you."

He nodded, "I'm sorry I didn't call you back."

I wanted to ask him why he wouldn't return my call. I just wanted to understand if there was a rational explanation. I would think any man would have at least found a way to get information about his child, even if he wanted nothing to do with his ex-wife.

"Who is she with? Did she run away or is it just a trip?"

"She hates me." I started to cry. He reached for me but I pulled away and wiped my eyes. I regained my composure. Just then I heard a car door. I knew it was Charlie coming home from a date. I heard the front door shut as he entered the house. A moment later, I heard the door again. I was sure Jeffery had told him I was outside with Jeff. Charlie's shadow appeared in the dark before I saw him. He walked over to us.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Jeff looked at him. "Charlie. It's about time you get it into your head that you're not in charge here."

Charlie seemed to shrink a little under Jeff's authority. I started to say something but then Charlie looked at me, "Mom?"

I nodded. "Dad and I need to talk. It's important."

"Don't refer to him as my father. Just call him Jeff. He's not my father."

Jeff walked towards him and I felt a fear take over. Jeff stood in front of him and waited a moment. "Watch it, son."

"Jeff. Leave him alone." I said.

Charlie didn't flinch. "I don't have to listen to you. Don't threaten me. I know what you're capable of. You're not fooling me--"

"Charlie— go inside now." I demanded.

"Mom, I'm in the front room. Call me if you need me." He sneered at Jeff and walked back into the house.

We didn't speak for a moment. "Everything's out of control here" Jeff finally said.

I looked up at him, why had I always felt admonished by him? I was just too tired. It was true. The moment Jeff walked into our house two weeks before a cyclone of destruction was unleashed. Once I'd had sex with him, a verminous wrath touched down in my life. I put my hands over my eyes and started to cry again. I took a few deep breaths. I felt as though the moment I'd given into my temptation for Jeff –ever since that day 20 years ago in my garden-- I'd ruined the rest of my life. Everything, all the bad events, one after another, were the consequence of that sin. It was my punishment.

"I'm going to California." I said.

"Where's Clara? For Christ sake, Eve. Tell me what in the hell is going on. We'll work out the details of your blame later."

"Stop it! You don't speak to anyone else this way, stop doing it with me. Believe me I get it. I understand that you hate me. That maybe you don't know even why, but you loath me."

"I'm sorry. I don't--"

"She's in California. She went with Diane Ward. Diane's mother knew but—when I finally was able to reach Diane in San Francisco she said she was sorry. That she knew Clara had run away. They'd been planning it for months."

"Who's Diane Ward?"

I shot a sharp glance at him. I knew I was glaring at him. "She's been Clara's best friend since sixth grade! Are you telling me you don't know who she is?"

"What did this girl tell you?"

"I was able to speak with Clara." I stopped again. I shook my head. Forced the pain back down, "she really hates me. That's why I came to you. If things were like always believe me I wouldn't have begged you for help. You're the last person I would turn to. I just--I don't think she'll come back with me. She won't. I can't get her to come back by myself."

"Why do you think she hates you?"

I thought of the letters and the diaries. I didn't blame Clara at all. I knew I'd never be able to shake Margaret's description of me standing outside of the community center. It was just as she'd written I remembered that red gingham dress. I remembered that morning. I had been standing on the steps at the community house, surrounded by my friends. For one brief instant I'd met her eyes. I didn't turn away. Instead I waited for her to look back down. I knew exactly who she was. I remembered that I'd had a flash of guilt seeing her sitting there all alone with their baby daughter, but it had evaporated instantly. I had felt that I was better than her. That was the single point in time when it became my fault. Even more than Jeff, I had killed her. She had written the truth; I was so happy because I was in love with her husband. I had just made love to him that morning. I remembered the events of that morning clearly, after we made love I had remained in bed, naked, as he adjusted the sheets around me; I was exalted as he studied and sketched my body. My desire had been insatiable and it hadn't waned one bit when I had laid eyes on his young wife just a few hours after.

I bit my lip and looked up at Jeff. I started to leave. This time he held my arm but not forcefully. He shook his head and watched me.

"What do you want me to do, he asked?"

I knew that I had to suppress my shame and anger. I needed him. She would come back for him. "She's with some group. She left Diane and went with some boy who was part of a group. Diane seemed to think it was bad; that Clara was in trouble."

"What kind of group?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. Some kind of church or religion." I looked around. "No." I realized. "I guess its some kind of cult."

"I'm going with you tomorrow." He said. I felt myself freeze and all the emotions leave me. I was completely numb. His voice softened. "Go to sleep, Eve. I'll pick you up in the morning."