felt as if she was missing out on something. Felt as if there was something missing from herself. There was a big, wide world out there, brimming with all sorts of sights and experiences, and she wanted to be a part of it. There were just so many things to do out there. And she wouldnât feel satisfied until sheâd done every last one of them. Then, maybe, she wouldnât feel that strange emptiness inside herself that sheâd felt for most of her life.
âMom, thatâs my job,â she said gently. âAnd Iâm perfectly well trained for what I was supposed to be doing. They wouldnât have assigned me to the counterterrorist task force if they hadnât thought I could handle it. More importantly, I know I can handle things like that. You donât have to worry about me.â
âIâm your mother,â Leslie said unnecessarily. âItâs my job to worry about you. I worry about all of you. Itâs what mothers do.â
And it was especially what mothers did when theyâd lost a child, Bridget thought. She shouldnât be so hard on her mom, she told herself. Leslie, more than most mothers, knew how endangered a child could become, even in the most benign circumstances. Robbie had been snatched from the front yard of his best friend Danny Crosbyâs house, while Dannyâs mother Sheila was inside. And Leslie had never forgiven Sheila for allowing her son to be stolen.
Of course, even before Robbieâs kidnapping, there had been little love lost between Leslie and Sheila. Leslie had never made it a secret that sheâd considered the other woman to be a shallow, greedy, materialistic social climber, everything Leslie was not. Her midwestern upbringing had given her solid values, and sheâd never aspired to an affluent lifestyle or marriage to a dynamic corporate leader. Ultimately, sheâd welcomed the opportunity, though, because being the wife of a wealthy businessman had enabled Leslie to stay home with her son, to whom she became utterly devoted the second he was born. Sheila, however, had been neglectful when it came to her own children, had often left them in the care of others when she could have been spending time with them herself. Sheâd preferred spending her husbandâs money and lunching with her girlfriends instead. Her mother, Bridget knew, had never been able to understand that.
And, truth be told, her mother had felt sorry for Sheila, at least back thenâthat had never been a secret, either. Leslie had always said she thought Sheilaâs behavior must have stemmed from her unhappiness, trapped in a life that held no purpose for her, no direction. Jack Crosby, rumor had held, hadnât been an easy man to livewith, and Bridget knew for a fact that the man had enjoyed numerous affairs quite openly before he and Sheila divorced. That had to have taken a toll on her.
But Sheila had been unfaithful to Jack, too, something else Bridget knew for a fact, and that behavior had dropped her in Leslieâs estimation even more. Bridget even recalled her mother saying that, on the day Robbie was taken from the Crosbysâ front yard, Sheila had been talking to one of her lovers on the phone, too distracted to keep an eye on the boys playing in the yard. Robbie had been easy pickings for the kidnapper, thanks to Sheilaâs neglect. And Leslie had never forgiven her for that.
So all in all, Bridget knew she shouldnât come down hard on her mother for being overly protective and overly concerned about her. Being worried for Bridgetâs welfare and safety was, after all, just another way her mother showed how much she loved her.
So instead of feeling irritated, Bridget smiled and covered one of her motherâs hands with her own. âYou donât need to worry about me,â she said. âI promise Iâll be fine.â Translation, she thought, I promise I wonât be snatched away from you the way
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