The Great Escapee Series

Chapter 7

Seven

"Bea?" Katty cried. She raced up the trailer house steps. Tripping on weeds growing through the stair treads, she fell hard, slammed her shoulder against the door and landed spread-eagle on the deck.

Rocking back and forth in pain, she held her shoulder. Her toe was bleeding—the foot with no sock. Her mouth spewed what her heart and body felt.

She pulled herself up with the doorknob, only to have it fall off in her hand. She fell back on the deck and stared at the doorknob, then at the door.

Then at the knob.

Chin crumpled. Tears gushed.

"F-n doorknob. F-n day. F-n life."

She heaved the doorknob.

Glass shattered.

She sat up, shoved the glass aside and kicked the door open. It slammed against the wall inside.

She crawled in. "Bea? Beatrice! Where are you?"

Silence.

"Oh, God. Baby Bea?"

Katty struggled to her feet, leaned on the kitchen counter and visually searched the room. The harvest gold kitchen opened to the living room, divided by a dining room of sorts. Only it wasn't used as a dining room. More like a toy room, library, shop, trash bin, storage closet. Reality: kitchen, living room, dining room were all one room—trailer house style.

"Bea?"

Katty slid down the hall against buckled paneling and searched the first bedroom—under and around boxes cluttering the floor. She stumbled, landing on a stack of magazines, creating a small landslide.

No Bea.

Next room. Bea's

Katty barged in. "Bea. I'm home, sweety. Baby Bea. Mommy's here."

Sugar, sugar, sugar.

The bed hadn't been slept in.

She ripped the blankets from the bed, toys from corners, checked under the desk. She slammed the closet door open and swished her hand back and forth among the clothes and toys.

No Bea.

On into the bathroom. Empty. Her heart pumped faster. She tore the shower curtain from the bar above the tub. Shoved at the bottles on the counter, some toppled onto the floor. Nothing. Nothing except a doll's hairbrush on the counter beside the sink. Bea's doll brush.

Katty grabbed it and ran to her bedroom.

"Bea! Where are you? Mommy's here, Baby," she sobbed.

She tore the bed apart, stripped the covers off. Pillows flew. The bedspread slid onto the floor, toppling the bedside lamp with it.

She searched her closet. Slid closet doors back and forth, knocking one off the track.

Finally she heard a hiccup from the corner. She dragged the rocking chair away from the wall and there was her skinny daughter, hair matted against her head. She fit perfectly under the rocker.

"Bea. Why are you hiding?" Katty dragged her out and picked her up.

Bea was trembling, her face wet. A sob escaped her lips. Her brown eyes were swollen and terrified.

"Mommy?" Bea's hoarse voice whispered. "Mommy?"

"You scared me, Bea. I couldn't find you. I looked everywhere and I couldn't find you."

Bea collapsed into Katty's arms. "Mommy. Mommy. Where were you? It got dark and you didn't come back." She sobbed. "You left me alone. Me and Dolly."

Katty crumbled. "I'm so sorry, Bea," she said. "Mommy forgot what time it was and ... I'm sorry, Baby. I'll never do it again. I promise."

Morning sun shone through the window curtain. Bea played quietly, brushing Dolly's hair with the hairbrush, softly singing a melody from her heart.

She sat next to Mommy on the bed, wanting to talk to her, but knowing from the way Mommy was stretched out that if she woke her, she'd get yelled at. Or worse. She'd seen Mommy this way before. Sometimes Mommy became that other Mommy.

Bea's tummy rumbled, but she tried to not think about it. She combed Dolly's hair, then her own. Then Dolly's.

Rumble, rumble.

She glanced at sleeping Mommy, then slowly, carefully slipped off the bed and shuffled backwards toward the kitchen, never taking her eyes off Mommy's face. She knew the places on the frayed, carpeted floor that creaked. It became a dance down the dark hall as she lightly hopped and skipped from one safe spot to the next.

She pushed a chair over to the counter, scraping it along the thin linoleum and caught it in a hole. Quickly, she tip-toed to see if the noise woke Mommy.

Whew.

On the counter next to the bread, Bea found her favorite snack—peanut butter. Careful with the knife, she drew it across the bread. She pinched off a corner that was green and threw it away, smothering the rest in more peanut butter. The green didn't look right, but peanut butter made it better.

Bea sang songs to herself and Dolly as she snacked. Sweet little melodies. Softly. Bite the bread. Hum the song. Lick the peanut butter. La-la-la.

Bea looked at Dolly, who had lost interest in the food. Dolly leaned against the cupboard and slowly slid onto the floor. Bea sat her upright and dropped a cracker in Dolly's lap.

"You need to eat your supper, so you can play and grow big and strong," Bea whispered. She patted Dolly on the head and stared at her for a long time. "I promise I won't leave you alone again, Dolly. Ever. Ever."