Page 88 of The Cost of Forgetting You

“He was waiting until you took off safely.”

I burst through the glass doors, and he’s here all right, tires squealing as he pulls right alongside the curb and leaps from the driver’s side.

“We’re coming, Roberta.” I say it like the wind has been knocked out of me. And then it has, because Truett sweeps me into his arms and crushes me against his chest.

“I’ll call with any news,” she says. Her voice sounds so far away. I feel like I’m in a tunnel. All I see is Truett’s face right in front of me. Everything else is black.

Somewhere in the corner of my mind, a bitter part of me wants to tell my mom, This is an actual emergency.

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Truett sees it. Sees everything about me. He scoops the bag from my grasp and tosses it into the back seat of the truck, and then he offers me his hand to guide me up. By the time I remember to reach for my seat belt, he’s already there, buckling me in.

“I don’t know how to get my luggage,” I murmur.

“I’ll call the airline once your dad is safe. Get it shipped to the house.” He closes the door and rushes to the other side. Before I know it, we’re out of the airport and racing past rows of tall palm trees toward the interstate. Toward my dad.

“He’s missing.” The words are on the other side of that tunnel. So far away. It’s still only me and Truett and the dark path between us. “Dad is missing.”

“We’re going to find him.”

“Why the fuck did I leave my keys where he could get them?” I’m gasping, but the oxygen isn’t helping. The world feels even farther away, my panic looming closer. “What if he’s hurt? He could’ve crashed again.”

“Delilah, listen to me.” Truett’s hand retrieves mine from my lap. Our fingers weave together, and he squeezes once. Twice. Three times. I squeeze back. It’s weak but it’s there, and his relief is an exhale that fills the car with the scent of Big Red gum. “We are going to find him. Henry is going to be fine. He probably went to the store or the post office. Maybe even the school. We’ll find him.”

I bite my lip. Tears blur my vision. The interstate is a swath of gray before us. “How could I be so stupid?”

“You aren’t stupid,” he says through gritted teeth. Like he doesn’t believe it either. And who could blame him?

I gasp, ripping my hand from his as I clamor for my phone in the mess of my belongings Truett tossed in the back.

“What are you doing?”

“I have to call my mom.”

He nods. In my periphery I notice his chin wobble, and it breaks something in me. He’s scared, too. He’s disappointed in me, too.

She doesn’t answer, and after three calls, I decide the next best thing is to let Debbie know what’s going on so hopefully she can get ahold of Mom if I’m busy looking for Dad.

Where on earth would he go?

“Hello?”

“Debbie, hi, it’s Delilah.” I sit up like that’ll help anything, and Truett lifts an eyebrow. I put her on speakerphone, mostly so I don’t have to relay all of this to Truett when it’s over. “I can’t get ahold of Mom. Can you let her know I had to miss my flight? Dad is…” I can’t bring myself to say it to her. It feels too imminent, too real. “Something happened and I have to go back home and help. I won’t make it in time for the surgery.”

“Delilah, baby, what surgery? What’s going on?”

“For Mom’s ankle.”

Debbie snorts. “For her sprained ankle? That woman is so dramatic. She’s my best friend, so I can say that. But good Lord.”

Truett’s hand finds mine again, and this time I’m certain it’s meant to be an anchor. Because I’m cut off, adrift, and it’s the only thing that keeps me from being carried away.

“What do you mean, sprained ankle?”

“Has she not called you since we got the X-ray results? They couldn’t find a break, thank God. Just a bad sprain. She’ll be all right so long as she keeps it wrapped and elevated for a bit.” Debbie tuts like it’s just another day in the life of knowing Kimberly Ridgefield. And I suppose it is. “Now what’s going on with your daddy?”

“I have to go, Debbie.” All the life goes out of me. All the fight. I sag against the seat and draw a reluctant breath. “Just tell Mom I’m not coming, would you?”

“I’ll tell her,” she drawls. “Hope everything works out with Henry!”

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