A local woman missing- Mary Kubica

One by one people get in their cars. They pull away, dispersing in
different directions. Bea and I turn and move slowly down the
sidewalk. We’re quiet, each processing what’s happening. The idea
of something bad having happened to Meredith and Delilah is
unfathomable. I won’t let my mind go there, no matter how much it
keeps drifting. I have to stay positive, for Josh’s sake. For Bea’s
sake. For mine. As we walk, Bea slips her hand into mine. It feels
good, having something to hold on to.
We make our way to the first home. I knock and, when Roger
Thames answers, I ask if he’s seen Meredith. Roger is limping. He
threw his back out working on his car, he tells us. That was last
week, and he’s hardly left the sofa since. He hasn’t seen Meredith.
“What’s the matter with her?” he asks abruptly.
Bea says, “If you see her, can you just let Josh or us know?” I’ve
never liked Roger much.
We turn and make our way back down the walkway and to the
sidewalk, moving on.
“Could she just be at a birth?” asks Gwen, the woman who lives
on the opposite side of Meredith and Josh. Gwen is a widower. For
three years now, her husband has been dead. Lou Gehrig’s disease.
I didn’t know him well, but I remember that he went quickly. To me it
seemed like I’d no sooner heard the news than I read the obituary in
the paper.
I tell Gwen no, that we don’t think Meredith is at a birth because of
the fact that Delilah is also missing. “Little Delilah?” she gasps, her
hand going to her mouth.
“I’m afraid so,” Bea says. Delilah is high-spirited. She’s full of life.
Everyone adores her.
“Delilah colors pictures for me on my sidewalk with chalk. I find
bouquets of dandelions on my front porch from her. Last year, when I
broke my hip, she carried my mail to the door every day. She’s a
darling girl.” Her voice cracks as she says it. “I’m afraid I haven’t
seen Delilah or her mother for a couple of days. The weather,” she
tells us, “has kept me inside.”
I say, “The weather has kept many people inside, I fear.” Because
of the relentless rain, everyone has been cooped up for days, blind
to what’s happening on our streets.