Chapter Twenty-Four
Bree
Nathan's hand slipped off my thigh as we pulled into Ginger Road Park. Like the gas station clerk said, we couldn't miss it. The park was packed with small children, and we were not the only ones who had thought a picnic sounded nice.
I tugged down the hem of my sundress and heaved a disappointed sigh. "You'd think a park would have more trees and privacy."
Nathan's mind was far from our heated moment in the car. His eyes roved over the park, hoping for anything that looked familiar.
"I have no idea if I've ever been here before." His shoulders slumped as he turned off the car.
"Well, you can't get a good view of the park from in here." I cranked open the passenger side door. "It's gotta be more than luck that we found this place. See?"
Nathan dragged himself out the car and contemplated the large sign that read, Ginger Road Park. "I thought I would recognize it," he said.
I flinched as he slammed the car door. A few curious faces turned to us. The families unloading their mini-vans didn't think there was anything odd about a couple entering the park, but Nathan's frustrated demeanor stuck out.
I caught his hand and interlaced our fingers. "It's a pretty place," I said.
Nathan started us down the park path like a man on a mission. We could have blended in except for the fact that Nathan was clearly not there to enjoy the park. He marched between the few old trees, his eyes searching.
"Why here?" he asked.
I tried to smile and make it look like we were just on a walk, but the mothers at the park were frowning in our direction. "What are you looking for?" I asked Nathan.
"Anything. Any clue why this is the place she mentioned in that postcard," Nathan said. "Or a clue about who she is?"
"Maggie?" I asked. Nathan avoided the use of her name as if it pained him.
"Yeah. Maggie," Nathan said, gruffly. He marched us over to the large play structure. "Do you even see any kids her age here?"
"Nathan, you have to try to act natural. Maybe we should go back to the car and get a blanket. Picnic, remember?" I tugged him back onto the park path.
"Let's keep going. There's gotta be something around here that will jog my memory," Nathan said.
We were definitely not blending in as Nathan took us at a fast pace around the entire park. The furrow in his forehead was deep and menacing, and people started to notice we were just wandering around.
"I really think we should sit down or at least slow down." I pulled Nathan to a stop under a shady tree. "Just take a breath and think it through. The doctor said you wouldn't remember anything if you pushed too hard."
Nathan bristled but put an arm around my waist. I gave him a light kiss on the cheek and finally coaxed a tight smile from him. The parents who had been glancing over nervously finally relaxed and turned back to their playing children. Now we just looked like a couple who’d had a fight and needed some fresh air to get over it.
Then Nathan pulled the photograph out of his back pocket and said, "The least we can do is ask around if anyone's seen her."
"What if they have? They'll wonder who we are and why we have a photograph of her," I said.
Nathan nodded. "Okay. We'll tell people we found her backpack and the picture was in there. We just want to return her stuff. That's innocent enough, isn't it?"
I looked at Nathan's fierce expression and plucked the photograph from his fingers. "How about you just try to look more like a good Samaritan and less like a storm cloud? I'll do the talking."
His eyes darted to the photograph in my hand and for a minute I worried Nathan was about to snatch it back. Frustration had left little creases at the corner of his mouth and even when he smiled he looked rough. The loss of memory was wearing on him, and his disappointment was palpable.
"Excuse me." I moved away from Nathan and toward the closest mother. "Do you happen to know this girl?"
The woman glanced down at the photograph, back at me, and then looked over my shoulder at Nathan. "No. Why?"
"We found her backpack and want to return her stuff," I said.
The white lie worked and the woman's brow smoothed out. "Sorry. I don't recognize her, but one of the playgroup mothers might."
I headed over to the knot of women with Nathan trailing behind me. The looks they gave him were mixed: mistrust as well as plain female appreciation. Despite his glowering expression, Nathan was still a very good-looking man.
"Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if anyone knows this little girl. We found her backpack and want to give it back," I said.
A tall redhead slipped off her sunglasses. She gave Nathan a long, appraising look, then turned a cool expression on me. "The kids in our playgroup are not school age. Maybe you should try the parents at the big play structure."
"Yeah, thanks," I said. I turned back to Nathan and purposefully wrapped my arm through his. I whispered, "I don't think this is working. People are getting suspicious."
"What else are we going to do?" Nathan asked.
He was right. This was our only lead and we had to try. I loosened my grip on his arm and approached a pair of fathers.
They gave up their conversation about football when I called out, "Hi, sorry, can I ask you something quick?"
They both looked disappointed when I told them about the backpack and showed them the photograph.
"Wait," the shorter man said. "I don't know her but I recognize that."
I squinted at the detail he pointed out. The little girl had a small badge on her jacket. "What is it?" I asked.
"It's the insignia of the charter school. The one just outside of town." He waved in the general direction of south. "Don't remember the name of it."
"Norman Academy," the taller man said. "We thought about sending Jack there but they don't have a football team."
Nathan was patting his pockets and pulling the fathers' attention. "Sorry," he said. "Do you have something I could write on?"
"Piece of gum?" the shorter man offered me.
"I've got a golf pencil," the taller man said.
I took the piece of gum and gave Nathan the wrapper. "Thanks. We're just trying to return her backpack," I said.
The men nodded but their eyes were on Nathan. He smoothed out the gum wrapper on his thigh and carefully wrote down the name of the charter school. It would have been fine if he hadn't been muttering to himself.
"Ginger Road Park, Norman Academy, Maggie," Nathan repeated.
He gave the taller man back his golf pencil and then looked at me. Nathan was clearly expecting me to smooth over his rough manners like I had at the gas station, but I was frozen.
"You from out of town?" the shorter man asked Nathan. "Where'd you say you found the girl's backpack?"
"We're just passing through. Thanks for this." Nathan waved the gum wrapper at the men and then noticed that I couldn't take my eyes off it. He caught my arm and guided me back onto the park path. "Now who's the one acting suspiciously?"
I slipped free of his grasp and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. The pair of fathers were still watching us, and I could see the playgroup mothers glancing over now and again. Nathan caught my hand and tried to tug me toward the parking lot.
I couldn't move my feet. All I could do was raise up the photograph and turn it over slowly. I didn't want to see it, but it was there, plain to see. The little girl's name was scrawled across the back of the photograph in distinctive writing.
The slanted letters and looping matched what Nathan had scribbled on the gum wrapper. He was the one who had written Maggie's name on the photograph.
"Bree, we've got to get going. I think the parents are ready to get out the pitchforks if we don't start acting normal soon," Nathan said.
"Don't you see it?" I asked him.
"What?" Nathan snatched the photograph out of my hand and squinted at the little girl. "Now I see the insignia badge. It's a solid lead."
I reached out a shaky hand and turned the photograph over. "Look at the handwriting."
Nathan frowned. "What am I missing?"
I caught his hand and raised up the gum wrapper, then put the two scraps side by side. "Look at the handwriting, Nathan. You wrote it. Her name."
The color drained from Nathan's face. "How did I not see it earlier? How did I know her name? Why would I do that? Why would I have a photograph of a girl named Maggie?"
I grabbed his arm and spun us toward the parking lot. Parents were definitely starting to pay close attention to our erratic behavior, and we needed to get on the road again as soon as possible.
"Maybe you got the postcard first and then the photograph and then you found out her name. Maybe someone asked you to help," I said.
Nathan got into the car and rested his forehead against the steering wheel. "Maybe I was trying to help," he echoed.
"You still are," I reminded him. "You're doing the right thing."
Nathan sat up and gave me a long, grateful look. Then he started the car and got back on the highway.