A local woman missing- Mary Kubica

morning that this deal was nearly a sure thing. I should have made
his favorite dinner. I should have called the sitter and made
reservations for Josh and me at the steakhouse in town. Instead, I’m
making a rather prosaic baked chicken recipe that feels suddenly
inadequate for Josh’s good news. “I’m just so happy for you,” I say.
“Happy for us,” says Josh, still grinning.
“We’ll have some champagne with dinner,” I say.
“Sounds perfect.”
He excuses himself to go upstairs and change.
While waiting for the chicken to bake, I run a bath. Delilah goes
first. She’s in a mood. “Stupid Lily Morris,” she says, pouting. “I hate
her.” Delilah plops herself down into the warm water. She does it with
such ferocity the water splashes outside the tub.
“What did she do?” I ask.
“She’s trying to steal my friend. She’s a thief, Mommy. A friend
thief.”
“Oh, honey,” I say, my heart breaking for her. I wish I could tell her
that in five, in ten years from now, none of this will matter. That when
she’s sixteen, she won’t even remember this little disappointment.
But I don’t want to trivialize her pain. Words like that are of little
comfort to a sad six-year-old. “I’m sorry she upset you. Friendships
can be hard.” I ask, “Do you think you could all be friends?”
“Lily Morris doesn’t like me,” she complains.
“She doesn’t know you, that’s all. She’d love you if she got to know
you. How could she not?” I ask, smiling at her. “Maybe we could
invite both Piper and Lily over for a playdate,” I say. I tell her that we
could make cookies, do a craft. I don’t know when we’d find the time
to do that. But Delilah likes that idea. It settles her. It gives her
something to look forward to. We’ll find the time. We’ll make the time.
Leo is up next. With Leo naked in the tub, I see the bruise on his
bottom. It’s about the size of a baseball.
“What happened?” I gasp. I run a finger over it and he winces. It
hurts to touch. The bruise is red. It’s fresh. The area around it is
swollen. It hasn’t had a chance to turn purple. This bruise happened
today.
“Did you bump into something?” I ask Leo. He stares in reply. He
says nothing. Either he doesn’t know, or he won’t say. “Do you