Hannah Gersen - Home Field

Outside the air felt especially cold on her damp face. The campus was empty of people, the trees bare of leaves. The children who had stood outside the window were gone, headed off to wherever they went on the last day. It was so quiet that she could hear the flags flapping and the little metal rivet banging against the flagpole.

“Stephanie! You’re awake! I was just coming to get you.” Her father was running toward her. He was coming from the mess hall. “They’ve seen him. Someone saw him!”

“Where?” Stephanie hurried to meet him. “When?”

“He was at a gas station — a Sheetz. About an hour ago. The guy working behind the counter saw his photo on TV.”

“Robbie was on TV?”

“He was on the morning news.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s not that late, honey. Not even nine.”

“I don’t understand, why did he go to a gas station?”

“He was hungry.” Her father smiled. “He bought powdered doughnuts.”

“That has to be Robbie! Where is he now?”

“We don’t know. But it wasn’t that long ago that he was at that store. We’ll find him.” Her father kissed her forehead. “Come on, let’s go get your brother.”

What seemed easy was difficult. The police had assumed Robbie was walking along Route 35, because that’s where the Sheetz was, but he wasn’t — or he was, but he somehow eluded notice. It was as if he didn’t want to be found. Either that or something terrible had happened. He had hitchhiked and it had gone wrong. Or he’d stepped into oncoming traffic. Or he’d been bitten by a dog or hit by a combine or he had slipped, somehow, and fallen into a ditch. Or, or — what? What else? Dean tried not to let his mind go there, but it was hard when his house was full of worried family, and when the phone kept ringing with reporters, teachers, colleagues, and even two different lawyers who wanted Dean to know that their services were available should he choose to take legal action against the school system. Unbelievable. Dean felt assaulted by the world, with all its logistics, its pettiness, its demands and complications. He should have stayed up at the Outdoor School, up on the mountain, where it was nature and memories and waiting.

The kitchen phone rang again. “Goddammit!” Dean said.

“I’ll get it, Dad,” Stephanie said. She gave Joelle an apologetic look, but Joelle kept her eyes on the ham-and-cheese sandwiches she was preparing.

“I got it,” Dean said. “Hello?” he barked into the phone. “Unless you’re calling to say you’ve found my son, I really don’t have time to talk. Okay?”

“Dean, it’s Laura.”

“Oh, God. Hi.” He glanced at Stephanie, who he knew was watching him, and gave her a vague nod before taking the phone into the living room. Not that he could be alone there. Jenny, Megan, and Bryan were sitting on the floor, playing Parcheesi while they waited for lunch.

“Sorry,” Laura said. “I know you need to keep the line open.”

“No, no, I’m sorry. I’m glad you called.”

“I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“You should, believe me. You wouldn’t believe the scum that have been calling — reporters and lawyers. All the bottom-feeders.”

“So there’s no news of him yet?”

“Somebody saw him in a gas station around eight, and that’s the last we’ve heard of him.”

“You’re sure it was him?”

“He was wearing the right clothes. It sounded like him.”

“Well, look, how far could he get, right?” Laura said. Her voice was even, but Dean could tell she was scared. “He won’t do anything stupid.”

“I don’t know,” Dean said. It was such a relief to talk to her. “Even the smartest kid is a little bit stupid.”

“Even if he did do something dumb, even if he hitchhiked, what are the chances—”

“I don’t know, I can’t think about that. I really can’t.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“You warned me,” he said. “I should have listened to you.”

“It’s nobody’s fault.”

“No, it isn’t. But people only say that when they wish it was somebody’s fault.”

“I’m not trying to blame you.”

“I know you’re not.” Dean looked up at the ceiling, trying to get a feeling of privacy in his house full of people.

“Can you think of a place he might want to go?” Laura asked. “He usually goes somewhere specific when he leaves school. Has he mentioned any place in particular?”

“He hasn’t been talking to me much,” Dean said. “Not that I noticed.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. Now is not the time.”

“Laura, I need to change.” It felt good to say her name. He didn’t care who overheard.

“You need to find Robbie. That’s all you need to do.”

“I mean it. Nicole is gone. That’s the truth. If Robbie comes home—”

“Don’t say if; are you crazy? Of course he’s coming home.”

“I hate just sitting here, waiting.”

“Is there anything I can do to help? Could I bring over some lunch?”

“Joelle’s making lunch.” Dean glanced at the kids. Megan was stretching, her legs in hurdler’s position. Tomorrow was Regionals. He hadn’t forgotten, but its importance had faded.

“Actually, there is something I need to do, but I might not be able to,” Dean said. “The girls have a meet tomorrow. It’s a big one. I’m supposed to be there.” He glanced at Megan, who was openly listening. “Do you think you could go in my place? You would be a chaperone, you could leave all the meet logistics to Philips. I mean, if we don’t find—”

“Of course,” Laura interrupted. “Of course.”

“You don’t actually have to do that much,” he said. “You just let the girls run.”

AUNT JOELLE STARTED talking about dinner while she was cleaning up the dishes from lunch. Stephanie stood next to her, drying plates. Meal planning was clearly her aunt’s way of getting control of the situation, but Stephanie couldn’t think of a better subject of conversation. She stacked the plates and put them away. Uncle Ed came into the kitchen.

“I’m headed home, hon,” he said. “Page me if you hear anything, okay? I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

“Okay, bye, sweetie.” Aunt Joelle gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Where’s he going?” Stephanie asked.

Aunt Joelle gave her a look like she was playing dumb. “He has to do the milking in a couple hours.”

“Oh, right.” Stephanie glanced at the clock. It was barely two. The afternoon was dragging. “I guess it gets dark early.”

There was nothing else to clean in the kitchen. Stephanie went upstairs to use the bathroom and to wash her face. She should have taken a shower as soon as she got home, but she kept putting it off, afraid of missing out on news.

What she really needed was a nap. She went into her bedroom and lay down on her quilt. She could tell her brothers had been using her room. Her television, her father’s old black-and-white, was in a slightly different position, still perched on the windowsill but now closer to the bed. There were candy wrappers and an empty water glass on her bedside table.

“Stephanie?”

It was Bryan in her doorway.

“Hey, Bry. Come sit.” Stephanie sat up and arranged pillows against the headboard for both of them. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s on the phone with someone. I don’t know what about.”

Stephanie considered picking up the extension on her bedside table but decided against it. She was starting to feel hopeless. It had been six hours since anyone had heard news of Robbie. She kept trying to be rational, reminding herself that child abduction and kidnappings were extremely rare, that Robbie was sensible, that the police were good at their job, but it was getting harder and harder as the day went on. And yet she couldn’t really go to the other side, she couldn’t imagine the worst.