Melissa Foster: Chasing Amanda

“Ma’am, you have no idea what your name is?” he asked, trying to determine if she was being a smartass or truly did not know her identity. Sal leaned toward her from across the table where he had positioned himself. “I…I know my first name, but I was never really told my last name,” she admitted. Sal glanced at Mike, who had settled himself into the chair just to her right. “Okay,” he said, “that’s a start. What is your first name?”

“It’s…” Her hands shook, her heart slammed against her chest, and tears tumbled down her cheeks. She tried to speak, but could not remember the last time she’d cried so hard—when her mummy had died? Was that it? She had been taught not to cry. The lump in her throat felt foreign to her. “My first name is…” she took a deep breath, which was interrupted by first one sob, then another. She tried again, “My first name is...Kate. My mummy called me Kate.”

The two men sat back in their chairs. Sal wiped his hand down his face.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned,” Sergeant Moeler said.

The sweet smell of hazelnut and cream wafted into Molly’s room, gently rousing her from a sound slumber. The evening before had taken a toll on her body which ached in places she didn’t know were possible, bruises and cuts served as painful reminders of her struggle. Although she awoke with an overwhelming sense of relief, it was not a peaceful feeling. Something uncomfortable lingered, as if she’d forgotten something on a shopping list. She wrote it off to stress, and, listening to the faint sounds of ESPN from Cole’s atrociously-loud television, Molly swung her legs off of the bed and opened the curtains. The morning sun was high in the sky.

Molly joined Cole at the kitchen table, where he immediately commended her on assisting with the search, and asked if she wanted to talk about it. Molly looked at him crosswise. Talking about it was the last thing she wanted to do. The thought of the search taking over any more of their time together worried her. She knew she had lingering duties and wanted to avoid the conflict they might cause. “What’s on today’s agenda?” he asked. “Let’s see…nothing…nothing…and more nothing,” she laughed. “Uh-huh, right,” Cole rolled his eyes. “Now, what’s really on the agenda?”

Molly braced herself and decided to get the admission over with. “Okay, so I know I have to deal with it all today, go to the station, stop by and see Edie, visit Rodney—my God, Rodney,” she sighed loudly, frazzled, “and I need to call Erik, but I don’t want to talk about it. I need a break.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “We need a break.”

“We don’t have to talk about it. I just thought you might have wanted to. I’ve already spoken to Erik, so that’s one less thing on your list.” He leaned closer to her and placed his hands on her cheeks. He gazed into her eyes, and in a warm, protective voice, said, “You’ll never have to face anything alone again. I’m going with you.”

Pastor Lett knelt before the altar, feeling like a hypocrite. She preached to the community about faithfulness, sins, and righteousness—and yet, she kept such dark secrets, secrets of necessity, but secrets just the same. She closed her eyes and prayed, “Lord, please hear me out. I probably don’t deserve any favors, certainly not from You, anyway, but I need one here. You sent me a sign, a sign that I was doing the right thing by carrying on the wishes of those who trust me, but I cannot reconcile it in my mind any longer. I can no longer see the correctness of it, the use for it. Times have changed, people have changed. I need another sign. I can’t believe I am being so greedy,” she shook her head, as if disgusted with herself. “I can no longer live with myself. I just don’t know how to go on, knowing how the kid is living, up there on the knoll, alone. What on this good Earth could be so awful to have to keep him hidden away like that any longer?”

She froze when a gentle hand touched her shoulder. She shielded her face, hiding her tears, and turned around cautiously. She was met with the solemn faces of Newton and Hannah. She stood and reached out to them. A sign .

Kate was thoroughly exhausted, physically, mentally, but most of all, emotionally. She felt as if her heart—and her soul—were being violently ripped apart. She thought back to that morning’s revelation.

She had been sitting in the remote room with the large mirror, facing the friendly police officer.

“Ma’am, do you think your last name might be Plummer?” he had asked.

The name had sent a chill down Kate’s spine, as memories of an older woman and man leapt into her mind from some deeply-hidden recess where they had been stored long ago. She let her face fall into her hands and tried desperately to will away the tears that welled in her eyes. She’d fought the memories for so many years! She did not want to live through them again.

“Kate?” Officer Rozutto had attempted to soothe her. He had reached over and touched her arm. “Kate, do you think your last name might be Plummer?”

The sound of the name again had sent a shudder down her spine. She could feel the blood pulsing through her veins, her heart beating in her neck. From behind her hands and through her sobs, she said, “I don’t know. I don’t know.” The sobs choked her. She took several deep breaths, still hiding her face in her hands, unable to face the officers, the two men who had taken Tracey from her, the two men who had exposed the memories that she’d pushed away for so long in an effort to survive, memories that she’d locked away and refused to revisit, the pain was too great, the longing too harsh. She feared what they’d do about her crying. She knew she should not be weak. She’d been taught not to be weak. She took a deep breath, and slowly lowered her hands until her fingertips rested just below her eyes, her mouth barely visible. She tried to stop the flow of tears, but no matter how much she tried to stop them, they streamed relentlessly, just like the memories. No matter how much she fought them now, pushed them away, she also wanted to spit them out. They were eating away at her, like the toxins.

Kate stared at him for a long time, until it became uncomfortable, and he looked down. Her voice, barely a whisper, said, “It…might be.” “Kate?” Sergeant Moeler said softly, bringing her back from her thoughts. She could feel his eyes on her, but she was drowning in sorrow, in memories that she’d buried long ago. Officer Rozutto asked again how she had come to live in the tunnels and where the person who brought her there was.

“My mum…my mother, she died of the toxins. I don’t want to die from them.” She began to move her hands in an agitated fashion, remembering the promise she had made to her mother, and knowing that now she could no longer keep it. “You have to save Tracey,” she pleaded with them. “My mother told me to save her, and I did, but now she might die anyway!” Her voice escalated, fear of the toxins loomed in her mind. She grabbed Officer Rozutto’s arm urgently, “Please, you have to find Tracey. We need to save her.” She breathed heavily, looking around the room—but for what? Tracey? An exit? She didn’t know.

“Kate, it’s okay. I think you’ve learned some things that maybe aren’t so true. Tracey is going to be fine. She is not going to get sick, I promise you that.”

Kate was confused, worried about Tracey. She closed her eyes and silently prayed, asking God to watch over Tracey.

“Kate, if you are Kate Plummer, you have a mother and father who will be thrilled to see you,” Sergeant Moeler looked at Kate as though he doubted her word.

Kate folded her hands in and out of her lap nervously.