Kevin O'Brien - One Last Scream

He really had to hold his tongue when Ina came out with lulus like that. Ina was beautiful, funny, and intelligent, but as Ina’s sister, Jenna, often said, “Ina’s only really happy when it’s all about Ina.”

George had already known that about her. But he’d been in love. He used to feel so lucky. He was just a history professor with a modest income and, somehow, he’d landed this gorgeous woman who had so much class and style. Plus, she and her sister were loaded. The money part never really mattered to him. But Ina could have easily paired off with some hotshot millionaire who played polo and drove a Porsche. George hadn’t even owned a car when he’d met her, and his idea of a terrific time was sitting on the beach, gobbling up a new biography of FDR. And yet he was the one she wanted.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d always been afraid she would get bored with him. And now that she had, it broke his heart.

Just recently, he’d started imagining his life without her. He thought about a divorce-after fourteen years together. She would get the house, of course. They’d bought it with her money-a four-bedroom split-level in West Seattle. She’d gone nuts decorating it. He wouldn’t miss it. He’d do just fine in an apartment somewhere near the University District, so he could be close to school. But the place would need at least two bedrooms for when Jody and Steffie visited. Visits with his kids, allotted time with them; the notion made him sick.

He wanted to keep the marriage going for the kids. Yet Ina wasn’t exactly the most nurturing mother around; at least, it seemed that way lately. All of Ina’s shortcomings had become glaringly obvious once he knew about her and Mark. He studied the way she treated Jody and Stephanie, and noticed when she ignored them, or was curt with them, or when she had them fetching things because she was too lazy to get off her ass. “Jody, honey, get me my purse…”).

Then again, maybe he was just hypercritical of Ina because somewhere along the line, while wrestling with all his hurt, confusion and anger, he’d fallen out of love with her.

He had to be fair. She wasn’t a bad mother. And he was in no position to criticize Ina’s parenting skills right now. At least Ina had never lost one of the children while shopping.

It had happened so quickly. George had gotten a saleswoman in Pottery Barn to help him, and together they’d found the stupid eight-inch pillars in fig. She’d been ringing up his sale when Jody had come up to the counter and squinted at his father. “Where’s Steffie?” Jody had asked, scouting out the general vicinity. “Didn’t she come back to you, Dad? She said she was gonna…”

“But I left her with you,” George had murmured.

She’d been missing for almost twenty minutes now. In his jacket pocket, George felt her inhaler. Stephanie had asthma. What if she was having an attack right now?

He couldn’t get past the awful feeling that he’d never see his daughter again. God, please, if I can find Stephanie, I’ll work things out with Ina. I’ll do whatever she wants. I’ll even go see that stupid Dr. Racine with her. Just please bring Steffie back to me.

Jody had been peeking into different shops on the shopping mall’s main level. Now he hurried back to George at the concierge desk. Shaking his head, Jody looked so forlorn. “Dad, I’m sorry,” he said, his lip quivering. “It’s all my fault-”

George mussed his son’s unruly, brown hair. “It’s all right, Jody. We’ll find her.”

He asked the concierge to make the announcement again. Then he put down his shopping bags and turned to Jody. “You stay here and keep your eyes peeled,” he said. “I’ll start on the top floor and work my way down. Have the woman call my cell if Steffie shows up. Okay, sport?”

Jody nodded. George kissed his forehead, then hurried toward the escalator. “Stephanie! Steffie?” he called, loudly. People stopped to stare at him, several of them scowling. He didn’t care. He brushed past shoppers on the escalator, saying, “Excuse me,” over and over again. He yelled out Stephanie’s name a few more times. He kept looking around as he moved from each shopping level, stepping off one escalator and starting up a new one.

As George reached the top floor, where the restaurants and movie theaters were, he felt his cell phone vibrating. He stopped in his tracks. He quickly snatched the phone out of his jacket pocket, then switched it on. “Yes, hello?” he asked anxiously.

“Uncle George?”

“Amelia?” he asked.

“Yeah, hi, listen,” she said. “Has Aunt Ina called you from the cabin today?”

Flustered, he shook his head. “Not yet,” he said into the phone. “She’s supposed to call from that diner near the cabin when they go to breakfast. I’m sorry, Amelia, but I-”

“Uncle George, it’s past noon. She should have called by now-”

“Amelia, honey, I’m sorry, but I’m in the middle of something. I need to call you back.”

“No! Don’t hang up, please! Uncle George, something happened at the Lake Wenatchee house, something horrible.”

He stood by the entrance of a fifties diner with the cell phone to one ear and a finger in the other to block out all the noise. “What are you talking about?” he asked, trying not to sound impatient.

“Remember how when Collin died, I knew before everyone else? Remember that premonition I had? Well, this is the same thing. I feel it. I know something happened at the cabin. You probably think I’m crazy. But I’m scared, Uncle George. My gut instinct tells me they’re all dead-Mom, Dad, and Ina. I hope to God I’m wrong-”

“Amelia, I’m sorry, but I’m in the middle of something right now. It’s an emergency. Let me call you back-”

“This is an emergency too, Uncle George! I’m serious-”

“Honey, I’m going to hang up, okay? I–I’ll call you back just as soon as I can, all right?” Wincing, George clicked off the line. He felt awful hanging up on her, but he just didn’t have time for Amelia’s dramatics right now.

He hadn’t even gotten the cell phone back into his pocket when it vibrated again. “Oh, Jesus, please, Amelia, leave me alone,” he muttered. He clicked on the phone, and sighed. “Yes?”

“Mr. McMillan, this is Jennifer, the concierge. Your daughter’s okay. She hadn’t wandered too far. She heard the last announcement, and came right to us. She’s here at the desk, waiting for you….”

“Oh, thank God,” he whispered. “Thank you, Jennifer. Thank you very much.”

Fifteen minutes later, he was walking with the children toward the Pine Street lot where he’d parked the car. George gripped Stephanie’s little hand. He felt as if he’d just dodged a bullet. He’d thanked the concierge, stopped by Pottery Barn to tell the saleswoman all was well, and he’d assured Jody that he wasn’t mad at him for letting Stephanie wander off. But he still had some unfinished business.

He needed to call back Amelia, and he didn’t want to. She’d been babbling on about some premonition she’d had that her parents and Ina were all dead.

“Okay, watch your fingers and feet, pumpkin,” he said, helping Stephanie into the backseat. He shut the car door and made sure she was locked in. While Jody climbed into the front passenger side, George stashed the Old Navy and Pottery Barn bags in the trunk. He closed it, and then glanced at his wristwatch: 12:35.

Ina definitely should have phoned by now.

He checked his cell to see if he might have missed a call. There were no messages. The only call had been the one from Amelia.

Pulling at her leash, the eleven-year-old collie led the way. Abby knew exactly where her owner was headed. She had that sixth sense some dogs had. When they came to a split in the forest’s crude path, Abby sniffed at the ground and quickly veered onto the trail that went along the lake’s edge-toward the Faradays’ house.