Levi’s that had been snug and sexy hung on her hips like a punk’s.
Once she had loved food, loved cooking and serving; and even
cleaning up had never been the grind for her that it was for some.
But the kitchen had become no more than a room she walked
through on the way in or out of the house. She had stopped making
coffee and instead drank hot water from the tap or drove twelve
blocks to Bella Luna, where the barista comped her cappuccinos
and avoided her eyes.
She turned the key in the ignition and backed the big SUV
around the tail end of the church sextant’s rusty old Beetle and out
onto the street.
She would take a nap; a nap was always a worthy option, since at night she rarely slept more than three or four hours. David was just
as bad. Closed within their individual cells of fear and guilt, they
were awake at four A.M. in their own silent corners of the house.
Dana had begun to knit during the dark hours. She knit stockingstitch rectangles in shades of lime and pink. The rectangles were all
sizes and done on several different pairs of needles. Whatever
suited her from night to night, and of no practical use at all except
to occupy her hands. She did not know what David did in his wakefulness. Played solitaire perhaps or went on-line.
Despite his sleeplessness he bounded out of bed at five-thirty,
ran four times around the park with Moby at his heels, and left for
the office before seven. Sometimes he slept in the living room and
she did not hear him leave, showered, shaved, and dressed in one of
his beautiful suits. She knew he was eager to escape the house. Lexy
said he filled up his life with work so there would be no room to
think about Bailey. Dana believed he loved Bailey less than she did.
It would take more than a job to make Dana forget their daughter.
At a stop sign she let the car idle longer than necessary as she
watched a pair of girls in Arcadia School uniforms. They crossed
the street, ignoring the 4Runner, and ambled up the sidewalk with
their heads together, laughing.
She wished they had been taken instead of Bailey.
She turned onto Miranda Street, looking ahead to her house,
fourth from the corner. There was someone sitting on the front
steps.
n hour later Dana barged into Dr. Wren’s office with Bailey in
_ ….her arms.
The receptionist stood up, looking alarmed. “You can’t come in
without an appointment. If you have an emergency you need to see
the doctor on call.”
“It’s not an emergency. It’s a miracle!” Dana cried as she pushed
through the door to the inner office.
Before the receptionist could do anything, Dr. Wren’s nurse appeared around the corner, saw Bailey, and screamed. Dana began to
laugh and then to cry as the office staff converged at the front desk,
all of them either laughing or crying, all of them wanting to hug
Dana and Bailey. Dr. Wren invited Bailey into an examining room
immediately, where he checked her for external signs of abuse or injury, weighed her, and found that she had actually gained a pound
during her absence.
“As far as I can tell,” he said in his quiet, gentle voice, “Bailey is
in fine condition.” He grinned at her. “Roses in her cheeks.”
“Thank God,” Dana said and hugged Bailey tighter.
“There is one thing, of course. It’s difficult …” The thoughtful
lines between his eyebrows deepened. “Would you like me to do an
internal exam?”
“No,” Dana said quickly. She would be able to tell if her daughter had been sexually abused.
“If you change your mind-“
“I won’t.”
“Well, let me know if I can be of help.” Dr. Wren walked them
out to the waiting room. At the door, he kissed Bailey’s forehead.
“Welcome home, little angel.”
She had seemed perfectly healthy, but she had changed. She was
subdued and watchful.
Little silent angel.
When the media learned of Bailey’s return the public outpouring
of love overwhelmed Dana and David. Cards and
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