"Yes. I thought I'd go for two weeks maybe. Ten days? You know how long she's been trying to get pregnanta"

"If she's trying to get pregnant, maybe you're the last thing she needs, if you pardon me for saying so." Who was pitching tonight? G.o.d, no, not him. They have not won once since he's been on the mound. Jared's whole outlook soured when he realized who was going to be taking the ball for the Yankees this evening. When was the game starting?

"Jared, Che is pregnant. Remember? She is about to have her baby."

"Oh, yeah. Maybe. It's not a bad idea." He glanced at his watch.

"Really? I can go?"

It was 7:30 already! He missed the first pitch. Swallowing the last of his coffee, Jared snapped shut the paper and got up from the table. "Sure, why not? Where did you say?"

"Manila, Jared," Larissa said, exhaustion in her voice.

He was halfway to the television in the den when he stopped walking. "Manila?" He took a step back to her. "Manila, as in the Philippines?"

"That is where Che lives."

Jared rubbed his eyes. "Is that what you've been talking about? Going to Manila?"

"You just said it was fine."

"Lar, I wasn't paying attention! Are you out of your mind? And when were you thinking of doing this?"

"Now, Jared. She is having her baby."

"I'm happy she's having a baby. But you've got three babies of your own. Look, it's not that I don't want you to go visit your friend. But she's your friend. You've got a family here. How in the world do you think we're going to manage for two weeks? Even if I bring home take-out every night. How is Emily going to get to her lessons, and Michelangelo to his karate and Little League, and Asher to his playoffs? And aren't you putting on a play that opens next Thursday? I'm serious, Larissa. I don't think you've thought this through."

"I have." Her palms were on the table. She wasn't looking at him.

"No, I don't think you have. If you did, you wouldn't be asking. I mean, just think about it logically, and the answer will be so clear." He glanced at his watch again: 7:40. d.a.m.n. He probably missed the entire first inning.

"It's just for a couple of weeks, Jared," said Larissa. "It's not forever."

"Lar, they can't do without you for five minutes!"

"Maybe we can hire someone to come in after school."

"What, for two weeks hire someone? Where do you get someone to just come in for two weeks to live your life?"

"Aren't there some temporary childcare agencies? There is one that's called Parenting Plus. I heard it's very good. Empty Nest is another. Sort of an ironic name, but it comes highly recommended."

"Highly recommended by who?" Without waiting for her answer, shaking his head, Jared took one slow step toward Larissa, one eager step toward the den. "Please. Get this nonsense out of your head. It's the end of the school year. Emily has two recitals, Michelangelo has a concert. Asher is going with Dylan to New York for the Summer League pitcher tryouts. Emily wants a party. We're having two hundred people here for the Fourth of July. Oh, and by the way, lest you forgot, sixty people here in five days on Memorial Monday. Asher wants ten of his friends to sleep over this Sat.u.r.day night. This is the worst time to go." That's it. Punt it. Like football. "Tell you what. Let's talk about it again in the fall."

"But Jared, in the fall there are birthdays and Halloween and the holidays, Thanksgiving, Christmas." Larissa lowered her head.

"That's true." Punt missed. Shame.

"There's never a good time to go."

He said nothing, widening his eyes, conveying to her that perhaps she had answered her own question. But she wasn't looking at him.

"I really would like to go," she said quietly.

"I know, Lar. And I really want to go hiking in Alaska. After college and before we got married I was an English-speaking tour guide in the Himalayas. I'd like to do that again. I'd like to live in Rome," Jared called out, leaving the dining room, his back to the questions, to the conversation, eye on the remotes, speeding up. "There will be time enough for all that again, when the kids are in college. We'll both go then. I promise. Nowa"

5.

Before you Go

The world was here in which the heart was lost, given away, surrendered to another human being. Was that not the world in which she wanted to live? Was this not the essence of her whole brief minute on earth? Find love, hold on to it with both hands. Love is all you need.

Love is the answer. The right answer.

Well, okay then. Love was the answer.

Follow your heart, your heart's desire.

Going is easier when you're prepared. Research your options. Remove your contact lenses in case suntan lotion gets in your eyes. Bring your gla.s.ses.

Dress for comfort. Clothes you can slip on and off easily are a must. Loose, dark-colored clothing that won't show stains is best. Natural fibers are preferable. Cotton. Linen. Silk.

Eat, but not too much. You don't want to be famished, but you don't want to be bloated either. Fresh fruit. Perhaps a cup of coffee. Some cheese.

Travel lightly, and carry a small bag. Bringing less is best.

And the most important thinga Leave all your valuables behind.

PART III.

"EVERYTHING MUST GO"

To abandon: To give up absolutely; to forsake entirely; to renounce utterly; to relinquish all connection with or concern for; to desert, as a person to whom one owes allegiance or fidelity; to quit; to surrender.

Chapter One.

1.

And Now for Something Completely Different.

Monty Python's And Now for Something Completely Different played on cable. "This is a frightened city. Over these streets, over these houses hangs a pall of fear." Jared turned the movie to a more manageable mute while he sat on the couch flipping the phone from hand to hand and watching the gangs of old ladies mug forty-eight-year-old men. He had put Michelangelo to bed, holding it together long enough to say good night to his children. "Where is Mommy?" said Michelangelo on this unprecedented Friday night. Jared had no answers.

He didn't know what to think. Had her cars not been in the driveway and garage, he would have thought car accident. But the vehicles stood glumly motionless, their engines cold. Had there been a note left to the effect of, I went to visit my mother, or I went to spend the weekend at Lillypond, he would havea"well, he would have known. Could she have gone to stay with Che? Noa"her pa.s.sport was in the house, in the red manila folder where they kept all their important doc.u.ments. Their marriage certificate. The children's birth records. Social Security cards. Pa.s.sports. Hers was there, next to his, acquired when they planned to fly to Paris for their fifteenth wedding anniversary but cancelled at the last minute because Asher got viral pneumonia. In two weeks, on June 15, it was going to be their nineteenth.

At eleven at night Jared called Ezra and Maggie.

"Maggie," he said. "Sorry to call you so late. Buta"

They came right over. In the quiet house the three of them sat in his kitchen while Ezra made gin and tonics and Maggie made tea. "Margaret! No one is going to drink tea with gin and tonics. Stop it!"

"I'm making it for me, okay?"

They sat around the granite island and stared at each other dumbly.

"What could've happened?" said Maggie. "Maybe she got into an accident?"

"Something must have happened," said a stumbling, nodding Jared.

"Where's her purse?"

"By the front door. And no, nothing's missing, as far as I can tell. Her wallet, her car keys, her credit cards. Her makeup. Her script of Saint Joan. Headphones."

"Driver's license?" Maggie asked.

"Yes."

Ezra leafed through Saint Joan to see if there was anything out of the ordinary highlighted, marked. Jared made an irritated gesture with his hands, a defensive wrestling stance with palms flat, sweeping away pointless details off the table. "Ezra, please. Maybe she left a note and we missed it?"

They looked. They searched the downstairs.

"Maybe she was run over by a car. Maybe she went for her const.i.tutional and was knocked down near Summit," Jared said.

All three went pale as they studied each other. "Knocked down?" mouthed Maggie.

"Well, what else could it be?" Jared didn't want to tell them he'd already called Overlook Hospital, which was only a half-mile away, and was told that no white female without ID had been admitted to ER on Friday. So if she was knocked down, it couldn't have been close to home.

"I think we have no choice," Ezra said finally. "We have to call the police. I mean, we can't ignore the obvious: it's nearly midnight, and she's not home."

"And hasn't been home all day."

"Well, we don't know. Who picked up Michelangelo from school?"

"He had a playdate with Tara's kids. She picked him up."

Ezra and Maggie mutely stared at each other. "So she didn't show up for rehearsal," said Ezra, "and arranged for Michelangelo to be picked up from school?"

"What are you saying?" said Jared. "How are those two things related?"

"Call the police," said Maggie.

Jared dialed 911 but turned his back to his friends in case he lost his composure. He was perilously close to losing it anyway. To sit, to talk, to chat about this had a surreal quality to it, numbing like a Lidocaine needle piercing through his muscular lack of understanding.

"Sir," the female operator voice said, "state your emergency."

Briefly flummoxed, he recovered to say, "My wife is missing. Has gone missing."

"How long has your wife been missing, sir?"

"Uh"a"he couldn't think straight, couldn't do the math. Did he talk to her today? No. They hadn't spoken. What time was it now? Midnight?a""Fourteen hours? Fifteen?"

"We do not file a missing persons report until forty-eight hours have pa.s.sed. If your wife has not returned, please call back then."

"Forty-eight hours?" Jared was horrified. Forty-eight! What if she was. .h.i.t by a car? No, no. "No, I can't wait that long. The childrena"

"Are the children missing also?"

"No, butacan you send a squad car to my house? Detectives, maybe? I really need toa"

"Your address, please."

And in less than ten minutes, two plainclothes officers were at his front door flashing badges. Detectives Finney and Cobb. They were in suits and both middle-aged; Cobb was younger and stockier, his dull eyes apathetic. Finney, broad and soft around the middle, looked like he drank. It was a Friday night, they acted as if they'd been expecting the worst, had seen the worst. What was the worst? Jared wondered as he led them down the back hallway past the washer and dryer and into his kitchen.

He offered them a drink they declined, and then the five of them stood in the dimly lit kitchen, with cream glazed wooden cabinets and soft yellow lights, gla.s.s doors, carafes and tumblers, under-the-counter lighting, black granite counter tops, everything organized and gleaming. Jared told them what he knew, which was little, and they said little as they listened. But the first thing Cobb asked was: "When did you last see your wife?"

"This morning."

"The children saw her, too?"

"Yes. Like every morning. We got ready for our day."

"Who takes the children to school?"