Page 32 of Finding Layla

Of course she went with the crepes. That girl never passes up a chance to have strawberries. As I eat, I listen to the conversation flowing around me. It’s obvious that Layla gets a lot of love from the people who work for her family. Margaret and André both clearly look out for her.

After breakfast, I follow her out of the kitchen and down the hallway. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?” She’s not starting back to school until next week, so I imagine we’ll be hanging out here at the house most of the time.

“I’m behind on homework. I need to finish readingJane Eyre, and I have an anatomy exam to study for.”

Layla’s dedication to her schoolwork is admirable. But in the short time I’ve been here, I’ve seen a lot of studying and not a lot of play. “When was the last time you got out of the house?”

She frowns. “Not since before—you know.”

Yeah, I know. She can’t bring herself to say abduction, and I don’t blame her. When I think about what she went through, I see red. The idea that her bodyguard could have betrayed her is unthinkable.

“Since you don’t have classes today, why don’t we go out? I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay cooped up in the house. A little fresh air and sunshine works wonders.”

She shakes her head. “What if someone recognizes me and takes pictures that end up on the Internet? I can’t risk it.”

I understand her concerns, but there’s got to be something fun she can do without running into gawkers or photographers. Of course, with all the smartphones, everyone is a photographer these days. “If you could go anywhere, where would you want to go?”

She answers without hesitation. “To the beach. But the beaches on Lake Shore Drive are crowded this time of year. Everyone wants to enjoy the outdoors, and I don’t blame them. But I don’t feel comfortable around so many people.”

“I know a quiet beach north of downtown that’s far enough off the beaten path that you won’t run into many people. It’s hardly ever crowded.”

She looks hopeful. “Really?”

I nod. “Yeah. And if you wear a hat, no one will recognize you. We could walk along the beach and then maybe grab some lunch. There’s a great café in the area. How about it? You need to get out and have some fun.”

She looks tempted. “You sure it won’t be crowded?”

“We may come across a few people, but not many.”

“We can try it.”

As we head out the back door to the parking area, I dig the keys to my Challenger out of my pocket and unlock the front passenger door. She slides in and buckles her seatbelt while I walk around to the driver’s side.

It’s a nice summer morning, and the sun has warmed the interior of my car. Outside, there’s not a cloud in sight. It’s a perfect day to walk along the beach and soak up some sun.

I head for Lake Shore Drive, and then we go north, away from downtown.

“Where are we going?” Layla asks, watching the shoreline that runs parallel to the highway.

“There’s a public park ahead, not too far. It doesn’t get a lot of foot traffic, but it has a nice beach with a great view of the lake.”

When we arrive at our destination, I park in a small gravel lot beneath the shade of a large oak tree. Then I reach into the back seat and grab a Chicago Cubs baseball cap, which I set on Layla’s head. I tug the bill down low, practically covering her eyes. “There. No one will recognize you.”

She pulls down the visor in front of her so she can see her reflection in the mirror and smiles. Apparently, the cap meets with her approval.

We cross the parking lot and a small patch of grass to reach a paved walking trail that meanders along the edge of the lake, just a dozen yards from the edge of the water. The only sound we hear are birds chirping in the trees and the waves lapping against the sand as it ebbs in and out. The shoreline is littered with strands of green algae and pieces of driftwood. The only two people in sight are a middle-aged couple on their bikes heading north, away from us.

“See?” I say. “We have the whole place to ourselves.”

Layla looks around as if to make sure that’s the case. Then we start walking, heading north as well. The wide path meanders through some trees as it follows the edge of the lake. We hear the occasional shrill cry of gulls following boats as they chase after their next meals. Farther out on the lake, sailboats and motorboats cruise up and down the shoreline.

We walk for about twenty minutes along a paved path that runs along the shoreline, underneath a canopy of lush, green trees. We stop a minute at a small public ramp where people can put their boats in and out of the water. There are half a dozen cars in the parking lot, all empty.

We pause to watch two teens dressed in wetsuits play around on their jet skis. The girl shrieks when the boy runs circles around her, splashing her. Layla smiles wistfully as she watches them.

How many opportunities does Layla get to simply play and have fun? I’m starting to think not many. She’s almost a prisoner of her own notoriety.

We continue walking along the path, passing a young couple pushing two toddlers in a double stroller. Their exuberant Golden Retriever runs ahead of them, off leash, stopping to smell every tree and shrub along the trail.

---