Page 31 of Shaped to Be Yours

“I know this isn’t an easy topic for you, Mrs. Bosco,” Whitmore said, “but given the connecting element of those woods, anything you can tell me about the day your husband disappeared would be helpful.”

I squeezed Mom’s hand as I glared at Whitmore. “There must be a record of her missing person’s report to the police.”

“And I have read it, but just like with your reports, Jason, I need to hear this from her.”

“It’s all right.” Mom reached over with her other hand to pat mine. She maintained that overlap of our hands as she spoke. “The truth is, I can’t say much. In many ways, it was a normalSaturday. I was in the house doing usual weekend chores. Bo was outside, doing gardening work, weeding, things like that. Jason was with him. He was always more of a Daddy’s boy. Any time I’d peek outside or crane my ears to listen for how they were doing, I’d hear Jason giggling or see Bo chasing Jason around with the hose.”

She snickered, reminiscent for a moment, before all traces of her smile fell.

“I was downstairs when I heard a roll of thunder. I went up to make sure Bo brought Jason inside. Playing in the rain was one thing but storms made me nervous. When I got to the sliding glass doors, I couldn’t see either of them outside anymore. The sky was getting dark very quickly. Ominous. The type that usually meant a weather advisory, which was correct, because as soon as I got down the steps, I heard the sirens go off. Then a shrill scream from Jason.

“I hadn’t spotted him because he was inside the line of trees on the deer path. He wasn’t quite a year old, but he’d been starting to walk. He was sitting there, right in the dirt, as it began to rain. I couldn’t see any sign of Bo. I wanted to go into the woods to look for him, but I couldn’t leave Jason alone, and I didn’t want to bring him with me with the storm coming. I had to go back inside and wait. But Bo never came back.” She sniffled and wiped at her face before any tears could start to fall.

My eyes felt hot too, and as soon as Mom put her hand back over mine, I put my other hand over hers, completing the stack. “I wish I could remember what happened, Mom.”

“You were so young, honey. Most people’s first memories are from two or three or later, not ten months.”

“I don’t care. I wish I remembered. I barely remember his face unless I look at pictures.”

Ricky’s hand slid onto my thigh under the table. I looked at him and it wasn’t until I saw his sweet smile and fond eyes that I realized tears were slipping down my cheeks too.

“Fuck, sorry.” I had to pull my hands from Mom’s to wipe at them. “I mean fudge! Sorry.”

Mom chuckled. Hearing that helped. It always helped if I could make her laugh.

Whitmore reached for Mom’s hands to replace mine, and itreallyannoyed me… how much I appreciated it.

“Thank you for recounting that for me,” he said. “Any detail, anything else that might come to you, could be of help.”

“You really think these recent disappearances could be related to what happened to my husband?” Mom asked.

“We don’t know, but we are looking into it, and if we discover anything concrete that might finally give you answers and peace of mind, I will share it with you.”

It annoyed me how much I appreciated that too.

Could we really, after all these years, find out what happened to Dad?

“I don’t know how many people believed me that he just vanished,” Mom said, “that something must have happened to him. But I know he wouldn’t have left, not like June, who’d talked about leaving her husband for years. Bo and I were happy. So happy. If you’d seen him with Jason that day, you’d never believe he could leave us.”

“I don’t doubt that’s true, Mrs. Bosco. Now, why don’t you take it easy for a few minutes, while the boys and I help clear some of this away.” Whitmore stood, bussing his plate and the serving dish with the risotto. The look he passed to me and Ricky made me certain the request wasn’t only for Mom’s sake.

We each grabbed our plates and something else from the table and followed Whitmore into the kitchen. After sorting the dishesand casting a quick glance back at Mom to see her seemingly in her own world, Whitmore turned to us with his voice hushed.

“Go ahead, Mr. Ruas. I’m sure there are things you learned today that you were planning on sharing with Mr. Bosco.”

“Back toMr. Bosco, is it?” I crossed my arms.

Irking Whitmore as much as he irked me helped a little. “Ricky,” he corrected, “go ahead and tellJasonwhat you were going to share with him.”

“You already know,” Ricky said. “Because of course you do. You’ve been in contact with Zinnia and Beck. Well, thanks for not telling Sandy about the portal.”

Whitmore nodded.

It hadn’t dawned on me that Whitmore would know everything the scientists did.

“Okay—”

“Wait,” I stopped Ricky and looked at Whitmore. “Just, um, seconding that thanks.”

---