When she was done, she dragged her bags out to the foyer and called for a taxi. Roxanne was at exercise class, and that gave her about half an hour. She sat at the kitchen island and tried to put her thoughts down in a note. To all of them. She told them how much she loved them all and how they were like family to her now, her only family, and always would be. But that she had to go back home.
“Lives here are not like where I come from” was all she said. The words were hard to get out. “There, they are not fully your own. I wish you all the love of God. You will always be in my heart. Each of you. Every day. You treated me with love and made me part of your life and for that it is I who can never repay you enough, not you me.”
She felt herself starting to cry.
Mercifully, she was saved by the sound of the cab honking outside. She brought her bags to the step and asked the driver to wait. Just a few moments more. She ran upstairs one last time, to the kids’ rooms, and placed a flower from the kitchen on each of their beds.
Where she was from it meant someone would always watch over you, no matter where in life you went.
As she finally went out the front door, carrying her bags to the taxi, she took a final look at the house that had given her a home for a second time.
Then she went down the stairs, wishing someone had put a flower on her pillow too.
Roxanne parked the Range Rover SUV in front of the three-car garage and went in through the kitchen. The bar method had been a real killer today. Jan was the instructor, and she always made her do things she didn’t think she could. Things no body was meant to do!
She had a crazy day ahead of her. There was the spring fund-raising lunch for the kids’ school, then a 2:00 P.M. meeting with a prospective new landscaper for the home owners’ association where they lived. She had a session planned with a trauma psychologist for the kids, so she had to pick them up herself; Harold said he would join. She had just put in a call to the school to check on how they were doing, and the principal said, while it was still early, so far everything seemed fine.
They’d been through hell, and Roxanne didn’t want to rush getting them back to normal.
“Lauritzia!” Roxanne called out as she came in, opening the fridge and grabbing a coconut water container. She took out her vitamins, magnesium pills, and fish oil. “Lauritzia, are you here?”
No answer. Maybe she was at the store. She took her iPad and sat down at the counter, thinking about her day.
That’s when she saw the note.
“Mr. and Mrs. B …”
As soon as she read the first sentence, which took her by surprise, her heart began to crumble.
“This is so difficult for me to write … , ” the letter began. “I have to go back home.”
Back home. Roxanne was dumbstruck. She was certain Lauritzia didn’t have any family there anymore. She had never completely spelled out the details, but she always said there was nothing for her back home anymore.
“You and your kids, you have been like a true family to me … You spoke of this after the terrible thing we witnessed the other day. But it is I who can never repay you, not …”
“Oh, no, no, no, Lauritzia …” Roxanne felt herself almost start to cry.
She didn’t know what could have caused Lauritzia to panic so. Obviously it was connected to what had happened at the mall. That had triggered something. She and Harold had noticed that Lauritzia hadn’t seemed herself since. But to leave like this. Out of nowhere. Without even saying good-bye. And to go where? Back home … back to a place where she had nothing. Running away as if she was in fear. Running from what? The kids would be brokenhearted.
The note made it seem as if she felt she had no options. But she did. She did have options.
Roxanne ran into Lauritzia’s room. The bed had been made, her textbooks piled neatly on the night table. How proud she had been the day she came back with them! The closet was cleaned out. Roxanne checked the bathroom. Empty. She sat sadly on the bed.
Oh, God, Lauritzia. Why?
It was clear she could only have left just a few minutes earlier. She had driven the kids to school. And the Ford Escape, the car she always used, was still in the driveway, so she must’ve called a cab.
Roxanne punched in the number, already sure where Lauritzia would head. She glanced at her watch. She knew she only had minutes.
“Riverside Cab.”
“Hi, this is Mrs. Bachman, at 230 Brookside. I think our nanny just left in one of your cars?”
“Yes, Mrs. Bachman.” The dispatcher paused, checking. “She should be just arriving at the station now.”
“Can you raise the driver? Can you tell him to tell her to wait for me? Tell her not to get on that train. I’ll be right there!”
She ran back into the kitchen and pulled off the Metro-North schedule that was pinned to the bulletin board. It was 9:32. The next train to New York was 9:45. Thirteen minutes. That didn’t give her much time.
Grabbing her bag, Roxanne jumped back into the Ranger Rover and backed out of the driveway. It was ten minutes to the station. If she didn’t get there, Lauritzia might well be gone, out of their lives forever.
She couldn’t let that happen. Not without letting her know, whatever it was, whatever had suddenly scared her, that she did have options.
She drove on Riverside, heading toward the station, and punched in Lauritzia’s cell on the Bluetooth.
No answer. She wasn’t picking up. Roxanne wasn’t surprised. The voice mail came on. “This is Lauritzia …”
“Lauritzia, this is Roxanne. Hon, I know you’re at the station. I’m headed there right now. I read your note. I know you feel you have to go, but whatever it is, I want you to wait for me. Just to talk, before you go. Will you wait for me, please! I’m on my way.”
She drove a little crazily, barely stopping at the signs on Riverside Avenue and Lake, then wound around the traffic circle into the station.
She drove up to the southbound tracks, just as a city-bound train was pulling in. She threw the car into park and ran up onto the platform. She looked in both directions, saw about a dozen people moving toward the opening doors. She didn’t see Lauritzia anywhere. Where the hell was she? Could she possibly have made it there ahead of time and gotten on a delayed, earlier train?
She threw her arms in the air and blew out a breath in dismay.
Then she saw her. At the far end of the platform, lugging her bags, just as the train came to a stop.
“Lauritzia!”
The nanny turned. There was something anxious and unhappy in her reaction, being spotted. Whatever it was, it wasn’t joy.
Roxanne sprinted down the platform, begging the doors not to close. “Lauritzia, please!”
Passengers got on. A conductor stepped out. “Nine forty-five to Grand Central! In or out, ma’am,” he said to Lauritzia.
She steadied her suitcases. Roxanne could see the conflicting emotions in her eyes. Hesitating …
Roxanne stopped about ten feet away. She just stood there. “Lauritzia, please … there’ll be another train. Please!”
The girl was tough as nails and 100 percent determined, but standing there, unsure what to do, she had the appearance of a frightened