she was held captive, she had felt that same sort of dependency, only on another family who was now in prison. Her parents’ money paid for everything. Her clothes, her phone, her car at college, even the pens and notebooks she bought for her classes. That was why she needed Harvard and a degree, so she could live on her own one day. Her father’s words frightened her. And if you do any of it freelance or decide to go into the production end of things, you’ll want those business skills.
Of course, if she ended up with Jesse, he would take care of her. She wondered how she might adjust to a different lifestyle then, and if it even mattered as long as they had each other.
Watching her footprints fill with water, she kept walking up the beach. There were jellyfish scattered across the sand, shiny and transparent. There were smooth rocks, some shells. She bent to pick one up and ran her thumb over the surface as she imagined what it would be like to work every day for a paycheck. It was what her parents lived for, what they loved the most, it seemed. Her mother rarely traveled, and her father left for Germany three times a year for business. They adored their careers as much as each other—and her too, supposedly. For the second time, she turned and looked back at the house. She thought she saw them watching her from the glass doors leading out to the deck. She looked away and threw the shell into the waves, back to its home.
VIII
July
T HE NAOMI’S HOPE FOUNDATION WAS something Naomi had to get used to. The first time her mother took her to the building downtown, she found it hard to look at the sign with her name on it. Weird. It was even weirder talking to parents and boyfriends and girlfriends and wives and children who had all lost hope of finding their loved ones again. Many of them, when they found out she was the Naomi Jensen, looked at her with confident expressions, as if she could single-handedly bring back the person they couldn’t find. She had been found and saved. She represented hope and grace and whatever else they needed to go on.
Today, as Naomi walked into the building with her mother, she braced herself for the pressure that came with comforting others on the brink of despair. Everyone who worked in the center was a volunteer. Some of them were private investigators gathering needed information. There were also financial advisors, sponsors who helped pay for continuing searches, and some were like her, victims who had a happy ending and were there for moral support. Mostly, she helped organize paperwork, which was what she hoped for today. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone.
“Thanks for coming today,” her mother said as Naomi walked beside her into the main lobby. “I always appreciate it.”
“No problem, Mom. I know what this means to you. I want to help.”
Naomi headed straight for the office once they were inside. She turned on the computer and looked at the calendar on the desk. There was nothing special coming up, and today seemed calm enough with few people in the lobby. She could see them through the blinds on the door’s window. There were two sets of parents she recognized from last summer. Her mother hugged each of them as she said hello. Both couples had lost older children in their teens—considered runaways, if she remembered correctly. She guessed everyone had thought she was a runaway at first. How easy it was to misjudge the facts.
She looked away from the window and pulled out a list of things that needed to be done on the computer. An hour later, her mother came in with an exhausted expression. She sat across the room on a tattered sofa next to a water cooler.
“Next week is training week for parents and schools. Do you think you can help out with that too?”
Naomi nodded. “Yeah, I don’t see why not.”
“Good, because I had four volunteers cancel on me.” She glanced at the door she had closed behind her, and then leaned forward and put her head in
Of course, if she ended up with Jesse, he would take care of her. She wondered how she might adjust to a different lifestyle then, and if it even mattered as long as they had each other.
Watching her footprints fill with water, she kept walking up the beach. There were jellyfish scattered across the sand, shiny and transparent. There were smooth rocks, some shells. She bent to pick one up and ran her thumb over the surface as she imagined what it would be like to work every day for a paycheck. It was what her parents lived for, what they loved the most, it seemed. Her mother rarely traveled, and her father left for Germany three times a year for business. They adored their careers as much as each other—and her too, supposedly. For the second time, she turned and looked back at the house. She thought she saw them watching her from the glass doors leading out to the deck. She looked away and threw the shell into the waves, back to its home.
VIII
July
T HE NAOMI’S HOPE FOUNDATION WAS something Naomi had to get used to. The first time her mother took her to the building downtown, she found it hard to look at the sign with her name on it. Weird. It was even weirder talking to parents and boyfriends and girlfriends and wives and children who had all lost hope of finding their loved ones again. Many of them, when they found out she was the Naomi Jensen, looked at her with confident expressions, as if she could single-handedly bring back the person they couldn’t find. She had been found and saved. She represented hope and grace and whatever else they needed to go on.
Today, as Naomi walked into the building with her mother, she braced herself for the pressure that came with comforting others on the brink of despair. Everyone who worked in the center was a volunteer. Some of them were private investigators gathering needed information. There were also financial advisors, sponsors who helped pay for continuing searches, and some were like her, victims who had a happy ending and were there for moral support. Mostly, she helped organize paperwork, which was what she hoped for today. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone.
“Thanks for coming today,” her mother said as Naomi walked beside her into the main lobby. “I always appreciate it.”
“No problem, Mom. I know what this means to you. I want to help.”
Naomi headed straight for the office once they were inside. She turned on the computer and looked at the calendar on the desk. There was nothing special coming up, and today seemed calm enough with few people in the lobby. She could see them through the blinds on the door’s window. There were two sets of parents she recognized from last summer. Her mother hugged each of them as she said hello. Both couples had lost older children in their teens—considered runaways, if she remembered correctly. She guessed everyone had thought she was a runaway at first. How easy it was to misjudge the facts.
She looked away from the window and pulled out a list of things that needed to be done on the computer. An hour later, her mother came in with an exhausted expression. She sat across the room on a tattered sofa next to a water cooler.
“Next week is training week for parents and schools. Do you think you can help out with that too?”
Naomi nodded. “Yeah, I don’t see why not.”
“Good, because I had four volunteers cancel on me.” She glanced at the door she had closed behind her, and then leaned forward and put her head in
Similar Books
