THE DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING, David went in to work at the normal time. With the maid and nanny off for the weekend, Jacks had her girls to herself, and it felt like the world had been placed on hold just for them.
They were gathered at the kitchen counter, still bundled in pj’s at mid-morning, when the first call came. Stuffed from the enormous meal the night before, they had skipped breakfast in favor of hot cocoa and begun a game of Uno. Jacks was smiling when she heard the phone, and she let it go longer than she might have on another day, caught up in this small moment that had made her come close to forgetting. Watching them together, she could feel remnants of the contentment that had settled into her life, that had been her life before the letters started to come, and she didn’t want it to end.
It was nothing short of a miracle to Jacks that mothering these girls had become easy for her, that she had come to understand who they were, each so different, yet so wonderful in their own ways. She had worried from the first sonogram how she would raise normal, healthy girls, not knowing how to be one herself. But David had been there to reassure her, and he had been right, though it would be years before she would come to feel it. Somehow, some-way, she had managed to keep from her own children the internal angst that lingered within her, showing them only the parts of herself that were good and honest and loving. Now she wondered if any of those things would be left after waging this war to save them.
The phone was still ringing.
“Hold on . . . and no cheating!” Jacks said, finally moving toward the counter. “It’s probably Daddy—who wants to talk first?”
“Me!”
She heard Beth’s reply as she was picking up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Is this the home of David Halstead?” The voice was dark, and something in the intonation—something eerie—sent a chill through Jacks.
“Who’s calling?” she asked, glancing back at her girls, who had resumed the game. Her blood was picking up speed, her body knowing before she did that something was not right.
“Is this his wife?”
“We don’t take any solicitations over the phone, and we’re on the no-call list.” This is where she would normally hang up, satisfied that she had not been overly rude and at the same time facilitating a quick exit from the annoyance. But not this time. This time she needed to know.
“Is Mr. Halstead at home?”
“No. He’s not. You can try his office if you need to reach him.” She waited a second to see if the caller would ask for the office number, but he didn’t.
“Mrs. Halstead, your husband didn’t go to work today. I’ll try again later.”
The phone was pressed to her ear even after she heard the click from the other end. The breath left her body, as she heard the sound of her girls calling to her from across the room.
“Mom! Your turn!”
But she couldn’t move or speak or breathe.
“Uh!” Andrea shouted, frustrated by her mother’s distraction. She had one card left and was about to win the game. “I’m going for you!”
Hailey screamed in protest. “You can’t . . . you’ll see her cards!”
Jacks could hear the fight as it erupted, though the volume was muted by the pounding in her ears. She felt the air race back in, a gasp that made her take a step forward and jolted her into action.
“Just skip me and finish, okay? I have to call Daddy. It’s important.” Their complaining trailed off as she rushed out of the room and down the hall. Leaning against the stair rail in the foyer, she called David on his cell. It went to voice mail. She tried his office next. Got his assistant. Yes—he was there, had been there all morning.
Jacks felt her legs fold beneath her as she slid down to the floor. The relief was overwhelming. Still, there were questions.
Against the backdrop of the battle being waged in the kitchen, Jacks fought to make sense of what had just taken her from her morning with her children to the maze of lies and deception her husband had created and that she now had to decipher.
“Mom!” Hailey was screaming for her now, in that tone that she used only when she was at the end of her rope with her sisters.
“Coming . . . ,” she called out as she stood up and rushed back to the small catastrophe of the spoiled card game.
“Okay, what happened?” she asked, forcing herself to keep it together.
Standing beside her three children, she listened to their conflicting versions of events. Then she asked questions to sort out the truth from the untruth, being careful not to pass judgment, though her patience was in short supply. In the end, they decided to make a fire and get out the Christmas card envelopes. Jacks had purchased an embosser for the return addresses, which Hailey could do. Andrea and Beth could put on the stamps, and Jacks would begin to sign the cards. Girls were easy that way.
It was around three when the second call came. And this time, it was far too familiar.
“Hello, Jacks. Is your husband home yet?”
She held on longer than she should have, longer than she had promised herself she would as she’d gone through her day anticipating this very moment. Still, she stuck to the plan and hung up without saying a word. He called again at three thirty, then again at four, only those times she did nothing but listen to the ringing and watch the words UNIDENTIFIED CALLER spread across the caller ID panel. She fought to steady her nerves, which were already frayed from spending the day half in fear, half engaged with her kids. Thoughts raced through her mind. Should they leave? They could go to a movie, go shopping. Then she imagined sitting in a theater, just her and the three girls. Beth would have to use the bathroom, or want more popcorn. Was there ever an outing where one of them didn’t leave her sight for a small stretch of time? She had never given it any thought. They lived in Wilshire—one of the safest towns in the country. But now all of that had changed. The doors were locked, the alarm was on, the dog was in the house.
David came home at six thirty, weary but faking it well when his three little angels jockeyed into position to greet him. He leaned in and kissed his wife. They had dinner and put on a movie. Another fire, popcorn. Then the phone rang.