Before her medical problems, I wouldn’t have thought twice about Ann going out for a little while on her own. But given her current condition, and knowing that if the pager suddenly rings and she isn’t close to home, she could miss out altogether on a transplant, I need to be extrakeen on always knowing her whereabouts.
When Cade guesses that Ann might have walked to town to “see that boy at the candy shop,” Bree zings him with her best scowl. “You better not have told her!”
“Told who what?” I ask.
Cade seems to be covering for Ann, but he is more than happy to rat out Bree. “Bree took me with her so she could meet Tanner. Without Ann knowing.”
In moments like this, placing my hands on my hips and frowning is almost instinctual. “Bree Grace Bennett, why on earth would you go behind your sister’s back like that?”
“Uh-oh,” warns Cade. “Full name.”
For a second or two, Bree has that deer-in-the-headlights look, then she throws her hands up in the air. “You’re missing the point here! Ann snuck out of the house to do ‘something unpredictable’! So don’t turn this around on me.” As soon as she says it, she realizes she may have said too much.
“What do you mean ‘to do something unpredictable’? Is there something you aren’t telling me too?”
“Maybe?” she whispers.
“Spit it out, Bree.”
In the next thirty seconds, Bree quickly explains how Ann “paid” her fifty points in the Winner’s Game to keep her secret that she was heading off to fulfill her summer bucket list.
“Fifty?” asks Cade dejectedly. “Oh man, I only got twenty for keeping my mouth shut.”
Once I’m clear on the details about Ann, I circle back to the point about Tanner. “Now explain to me why you went to meet this boy without your sister.”
In response, she throws her hands up in the air again, like I’m nuts for even asking. “Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about? Ann snuck out of the house to do ‘something unpredictable’! For all we know she could be hitchhiking down to Hollywood, or stealing a car and going for a joyride. Heck, have you even checked to see if the Walrus is still in the driveway?”
“‘Unpredictable’ for Ann does not mean stealing a car.”
Bree doesn’t back down. “True, but what about her heart? She could be out there right now dying, while we’re in here worried about some dumb boy? C’mon, Mom, we should go look for her!”
It’s so hard being mad at one child when I’m worried about the other. I drop my hands from my hips. “You’re right, we should go find her. But I expect a full explanation later, young lady.”
It only takes a minute to reach the candy shop by car. I hop out and rush inside, leaving the Walrus idling. “She’s not there,” I tell the kids when I return a minute later. “Neither is Tanner, but the man behind the counter says he left with ‘a young lady’ hours ago.”
Bree is next to me on the front seat. “Was it Ann?”
“I assume so.” As I’m pulling out into the street, I add, “Oh, that girl is in so much trouble.”
“Why?” asks Cade from the backseat. “She didn’t do nothing wrong.”
“‘Anything wrong,’ Cade, and she most certainly did. Since when is it OK to sneak out of the house?”
“Maybe she didn’t sneak. Maybe she just walked right out.”
“Well, she didn’t ask permission. And she obviously knew it was wrong, or she wouldn’t have asked you to cover for her.”
“Am I gonna have to ask permission to go for a walk when I’m seventeen?”
“If you have a serious heart condition and you’re going to pal around alone with a girl, most definitely.” I can feel myself growing increasingly irritable with every word.
“I just don’t think she’s done anything wrong.”
“Cade William Bennett! Stop arguing with me!”
“Uh-oh,” remarks Bree. “Full name.”
“I’m just saying…,” he mumbles.
“Zip it, young man.”
Just to be sure Ann isn’t nearby, I drive slowly along the little strip mall, checking every window to see if she’s there. At the next intersection, we turn a corner and start individually checking every store that looks promising. After we’ve canvassed the area thoroughly, we turn around and take side streets slowly back to the house, hoping every face along the way is Ann’s.
None of them are.
When we make it home thirty minutes later, there are two figures—a boy and a girl—sitting on the front step of the porch, deep in conversation.