Barbara Taylor Sissel - Safe Keeping

“If you don’t do it, Liss, I will,” Tucker said. “You can’t whip up on us both.”

She dipped her glance; she didn’t want them to see that she was afraid.

* * *

Their mother wasn’t more than a silhouette, a dark sketch under the porch light, when they pulled up in front of the house. Still, it seemed to Lissa that she could feel the worry rising off her in waves, or maybe she was conditioned to expect it from long experience. She wondered how many hours her mother had logged on the porch, looking up and down the street for Tucker, consumed with anxiety for him, praying for any sign. Lissa had done time on the porch, too. Hard scary time. She could name the day it started, the first time Tucker disappeared. It had been the week after they were to have celebrated his fourth birthday.

Dad hired a circus clown for the occasion. He bought a movie camera. Unable to sit still, Lissa’s mother dropped her at a friend’s house to play. Lissa ended up spending the night there, and the following day when her mother picked her up, she wasn’t the same. Nothing was. She tried to explain it, how Daddy’s mind broke from all the terrible things he went through during the war, and somehow this made him lock Tucker in a closet. She said she needed Lissa to be very brave, because Daddy was gone for a while to the hospital, and Tucker was still so badly frightened, he wasn’t talking. Lissa remembered her own panic. She remembered Tucker’s hollow stare and the grim set of her mother’s mouth.

She remembered the day a week after her father left when she walked out onto the front porch, hunting for Tucker, anxious about him and her parents, her dad’s absence, her mother’s and Tucker’s terrible quiet. She expected to see her little brother playing in the yard, but instead, she saw the front gate hanging open, idly squeaking on its hinges, and beyond it, nothing.

A white aching space.

As if along with Tucker the whole world had vanished. The police were called in, and they found him just after nightfall, after everyone was good and scared, none the worse for his adventure, in a ravine nearly a mile from their house. The story he told was that he’d been trying to catch a dog, a little puppy. He said he followed it because it looked so sad and lost, and he wanted to bring it home and take care of it.

Lissa remembered Tucker hiding from their dad on his return from the hospital weeks later. Even though he was calmer and seemed to keep a better grip on his temper, it took Tucker a long time to warm up to him again. Thinking back now, Lissa didn’t remember the movie camera ever making it out of the box. It was probably packed away somewhere along with Momma’s habit of humming and Dad’s laughter, which was rare even then.

She didn’t know exactly, because even as a child she’d been reluctant to ask, to talk about her dad’s absence at all. She had always thought there was more to it; she still did.

Evan took her hand, and they followed Tucker up the sidewalk.

Their mother came to the top of the steps. Tucker joined her, and she took hold of him, bending her forehead to his chest. She wasn’t crying, but she was close to it, and Lissa was glad when Tucker slipped his arms around her.

“Come on, Ma. It’s nothing,” he said. “It’s over.”

“Are you sure?” She tilted her gaze to look at him.

“They wanted to ask me some questions, that’s all.”

“You didn’t know her, then? Jessica Sweet? You told the police you didn’t?”

Lissa’s heart sank. She ought to have warned her mother, but there hadn’t been time, and truthfully she hadn’t wanted to. “Mom? I think he’s going to need a lawyer.”

“No, I told you—”

“You talked to the police without an attorney, Tucker. They know you had a relationship with Jessica. Nothing’s over. When they find her killer, then it will be over.”

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