“I grew up with my mother having a different last name than me. She was a fiercely independent woman who didn’t marry until she was well into her thirties, and by then, she made up her mind she wasn’t going to take any man’s last name. I never understood why, but it gave her some sort of sense of pride to hang onto her name. I remember her loving to correct people when they called her Mrs. Bevins. Her spine would straighten up, and she would get this very pitying look on her face, then tell them she was Ms. Foster. I found it ridiculous, and I know it hurt my father’s feelings. Not necessarily that she chose to keep her name, though he didn’t like that, but that she would be so adamant and forceful about correcting people. Like it was somehow offensive to her to be linked to him that way. The whole thing embarrassed me so much. Her correcting people. People wondering why we didn’t have the same name. The judgement. The questioning stares. I had kids at school ask me if my father was really my father, or if my mother was my stepmother, then not be able to wrap their heads around it when I told them no.”
She takes a sip of her water and clears her throat.
“So, when it was time for me to get married, I knew that’s not what I was going to do. None of that nonsense for me. I was going to take his name, and we would be a family. A real cohesive unit. There wasn’t a single second when I wondered what would happen if we got divorced. That didn’t even cross my mind. Then when it happened, I had to make a decision. Either I would fully sever the connection I had with Brad by taking my maiden name back, or I would save my daughter the discomfort and possible humiliation of having a mother with a different last name. It wasn’t a hard choice. I’m not a Mrs. anymore, but I still have his name. I can’t excise him fully from my life and pretend it never happened. The name is mine now. It’s not property to be divided up and given back to him. He didn’t gift it to me, and I’m not going to cut it away like I’m slinking back to life before him. I changed when I married him, and I can’t go back. Just forward.”
The morning has slipped to afternoon by the time we leave Ms. Brooks’ house and continue on to our next interview. I recorded much of what she had to say on my phone, and I upload it to a secure cloud folder so we can review it later.
Our next stop is a street with rows of duplexes and a park on the corner. Children scramble around the park equipment, oblivious in their play. But adults, parents, and grandparents who before might have let them out by themselves now hover around the edge of the playground, like they’ve created a defense perimeter. Their eyes are on their children, and their minds are on high alert. A block down, there’s a woman sitting on the porch of a duplex, her gaze locked on the park, not with watchful care, but with hopeful anticipation.
Chapter Twenty-One
Voice Memo:
Kendra Donahue – Caleb’s mother
Emma: Tell me about Caleb, Mrs. Donahue.
Kendra: Kendra. I’m nobody’s Mrs.
Emma: Kendra.
Kendra: Caleb is a good boy. Always has been. He’s never gotten caught up in any of the stuff going around kids these days. He just wants to have fun. I might wish he would study a little harder sometimes, but his grades have never gotten too bad, so I don’t push him about it. He’s only going to be young once, you know? Just one time to be a boy before he has to figure out how to be a man. I don’t want him learning those lessons too soon. So, I let him be. All he wants is to play and spend time with his family.
Emma: Is that what he was doing the day he was last seen?
Kendra: Yes. He’d made a new friend at school just a couple of months before the year ended. Caleb loves people. He’s always smiling at everyone he passes by on the street and won’t ever let anyone sit out. He just wants everyone to have fun and be happy. He knew of this boy for a while, and they were friendly enough, the way most kids are friendly to each other when they’re in the same room. But they were assigned a project in class and had to work together for it. That got them closer, and soon, he was always talking about him. He wanted to have a sleepover at his house. I’m not one to let my children do sleepovers much unless it’s family, but since it was summertime, I thought it would be fine. He was going to be away a lot before the new school year started, so I thought he’d like to spend time with his friend before then.
Emma: Who is the friend?
Kendra: Ellis Robins.
Emma: Robins? The pastor’s son?
Kendra: Yes. I figured that meant he was in good hands. Pastor wouldn’t let them get into any trouble.
Emma: You said he’d be spending a lot of the summer away?
Kendra: We’ve got a big family. Half the duplexes on this road are family. I have to keep working in the summer, and I don’t want my kid alone all day. They go on trips and spend time with their aunts, uncles, and cousins. They’ll see their father. It’s good for them.
Emma: Is that what you thought happened? He left the sleepover at the Robins’ house, and when he didn’t come home that night, you figured he was with family?
Kendra: I’m a good mother, Ms. Griffin.
Emma: Emma. I’m not questioning that.
Kendra: Do you have children, Emma?
Emma: No.
Kendra: Then you can’t understand what it’s like to have your only purpose be getting them through this world. Before you have them, it’s all about you, and things don’t seem so big or like they matter so much. But then everything changes, and you are carrying these children on your back, never wanting their feet to touch the ground, facing down fire, and seeing evil where you never saw it before. You want to do anything to protect them. You’d draw them in and keep them right beside you every minute if you could, just so nothing happens to them. But you can’t. They have to live. So, you let them. You do what you can to trust other people. You’re forced to let them go. I have always wanted my son to know his father and be close with him. I want him to have a family that is always there for him and that is so strong and so full of love he doesn’t have to try to find validation anywhere else. So, when his father wants to spend time with him, that’s where he is. When his uncles and aunts and cousins go on trips and say there’s room for him, he’s there. I don’t make him call home because I want him to live in his moment, and I trust the people he’s with. He’s as much at home when he’s with my sister or his father or my brother as he is when he’s right here with me. I thought I was doing right by my son, Emma. And it will always be on my head that I put him down.
* * *
Voice Memo:
Janet and Paul Francis – Eva’s grandparents
Janet: Have you heard anything?
Sam: No. Nothing. I’m sorry.
Pauclass="underline" It’s better that way.
Janet: How could you say that?
Pauclass="underline" If he hasn’t heard anything, it means they haven’t found her. Not like Alice.
Emma: Is it alright if I ask you a few questions about Eva?
Janet: Of course. I just can’t believe you’re here. So many years no one heard one word from you, then I look out the window and you’re right there. Back across the street like you never left.