December 2001
Oh, Casey, I’m so excited. Auntie Tati is coming for a visit! Your daddy hates that you call her Auntie, but I couldn’t care less. Daddy doesn’t like a lot of things.
He finally got his way and I went to work part-time at the commissary. It’s boring and doesn’t pay very well, but I only have to put you in daycare two days a week. You like Miss Paula, which makes me feel a little better about leaving you there with her. And you really like playing with the other kids, which makes me feel worse. I kind of wish you only wanted to play with me.
I guess that’s pretty selfish, and lately I’m feeling more and more like life as a military wife is not enough. I see the wives of lifers caught up in their snobbish cliques. They stick up their noses at girls like me, knowing some of us married soldiers under the misguided assumption that we’d be well cared for, living on the government dole. As if. But even those women still glued to their soldiers who are close to retirement don’t look all that satisfied to me.
I’m not going to labor my life away for minimum wage and decent benefits care of Uncle Sam. What I want is college and a chance at a decent career. Tati always said I should be a lawyer because I’m so good at arguing, but I don’t think I’d like that very much. What I really want to be is a sports announcer. Not too many women do that job, but I think it would be a blast.
Your grandpa, my daddy, introduced me to sports, not that your grandma put up with it. My mother (who you’ll never, ever meet) got all sucked into this cultish church called Scientology. She said it was a religion, but I know better than that. God doesn’t play a role in the theater of L. Ron Hubbard, and neither do football, baseball, or basketball.
Mom was a strict disciple, and her staunch adherence to weirdness is what drove my father out of the house. He was already into the bottle, something she wouldn’t put up with. But after he left, his daily alcohol consumption increased steadily until it reached overdose levels. So you’ll never know your grandfather, either. I’m sorry about that.
I wish I’d known him better, but he left when I was ten, and I only got to see him a few times afterward. I had to sneak out to do it, in fact. Mom said he was an enemy of the church. He told me that’s because he knew about some of their creepier rituals, and they don’t like that information getting around. Personally, I never believed any of that garbage, mostly because the friends I kept called me on it. It won’t touch you.
I ran just as hard as I could as soon as I could. And I did everything I could to make the church—and Mom—not want anything to do with me. I turned myself into a regular party girl.
I met your daddy in a bar in downtown Austin. Me and my fake ID. I guess you could say I trapped him into marrying me, though when I told him I was pregnant with you, he didn’t complain or haul buns in the opposite direction. He did what most decent Texas boys would do and asked me to be Mrs. Jason Baxter.
My mother? Oh, she threw a fit. (Like I cared.) Threatened to disown me. (That was the point.) The only glitch was convincing her to sign off on the marriage license. I pointed out that she no longer had to worry about me. (I’m sure that was a relief.) Oh, and if she didn’t go along with my game plan, I, too, was privy to information she might not want me to share publicly. (She didn’t.)
I totally got my way. Too bad your daddy turned out to be an even bigger player than I was.
December 2001
Casey, Casey, Casey, what fun we’ve had with Auntie Tati! Christmas is coming, and even though it’s a little subdued this year because of the Towers and all, you and me and Tatiana are celebrating our time together. Oh, and Tati brought us a very special gift—a sweet little golden retriever puppy. You named her Boo, and when you called her the very first time, she came running to you.
Your daddy got all pissed off, of course. He hates dirt and disorder, and he’s sure the pup will chew the furniture and leave hair all over and soak the carpet with pee. But I’m going to keep her. Some things are worth fighting to hold on to. We’ll give her bones to gnaw and vacuum the hair and take her outside to do her business. After only two days, she’s almost housebroken already, like she wants to make us happy.
Between Boo, Tati, and you, this is the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time. I wish it could be the four of us together, somewhere—anywhere—besides North Carolina. It’s not the state I hate. It’s the call to war, and it’s coming soon, though it’s supposed to be all hush-hush. Ha. Like you can be immersed in army life and not understand the focus on deployment.
You don’t know this, but your daddy’s a whole lot older than I am. I didn’t want to marry a total grunt. I set my sights on a soldier who’d been in ten years or more, and Daddy joined up at twenty. He’d already been to the Middle East for Operations Desert Storm and Desert Shield, so when I met him, his rank was E-5. I know that means nothing to you, but to me it meant a decent monthly paycheck, at least if you figured in benefits and base housing. I never thought about another war, and it’s almost here.
But Santa is coming soon, so we’ve put up a tree. We can’t afford lots of ornaments, so I bought a few and made a whole lot more. Who knew your mommy was crafty? Tatiana knew, that’s who. It’s not like you care that popcorn strings circle the tabletop pine instead of tinsel. You love the little twinkling lights, and seeing you smile at them makes everything else worthwhile.
Right now you and Boo are napping together on a big quilt spread across the floor. Both of you are snoring, and that makes Tati laugh. I love the way she laughs. It reminds me of times we spent together when we were still in high school. I dropped out so I could escape my mom, but Tatiana stayed, and now she’s at the University of Texas in Austin. She wants to be a teacher.
Tati says I can get my GED and go to college, too, that she’ll help me figure it out. We’re going to make a secret plan because your daddy wouldn’t support me in this. He’s happy with me making minimum wage at the commissary.
But here’s the thing, my beautiful angel. That’s not good enough. Not for me, and definitely not for you. I don’t have to give you the universe, but I want to share the world with you. One day we’ll travel to Paris together, and to Rome, and Japan and Argentina, or wherever you have the hankering to see. (One day I’ll quit using words like hankering. There’s still too much Texas in me.)
Allow me to revise. One day you and I will travel wherever your heart desires. (Yes, much better, if a little cliché.) Until then, I’m making plans, and our dear auntie Tati is coaching me. It might sound like I’m being selfish, but everything I’m striving for revolves around you. Okay, we can include Boo, too.
Funny, but I’ve never owned a dog, though I always wanted to. One time I begged my mom to let me keep a stray who found me on the playground. She took it to the pound, which pretty much sums up the way Mom felt about suffering creatures, despite claiming to be a caring Christian. (In case you’re wondering, Scientology has nothing to do with God.)
But we’ll take extra-good care of Boo to make up for that, and I don’t give a darn what your daddy says. Next to you and Tati, that little pup means everything to me. I wish every person in the world had a beautiful child, a lovable dog, and a stellar best friend to love. That would be the merriest Christmas ever.
December 2001
What has he done? Where have you gone? How could he do this? To you? To me? Maybe he’ll change his mind. Bring you back. How can I find you? Why would he take you away from me? I’m your mommy. You’re my baby. He’s ripped me in two.
I was doing just what he asked, working cash registers at the commissary, when your daddy picked you up from daycare. Told Miss Paula he was taking you to visit your grandparents. He loaded you in the car and drove away without saying a word. He took my puppy, too.
I went by Miss Paula’s after work, like I always do, but you weren’t there. I didn’t know about any trip. I got scared and hurried home. But you weren’t here, either. The house was empty, Casey. No Jason. No Boo. No you. Just a note on the dres
ser where your clothes used to be, bragging that I’d never see you again. I gave a copy to the investigators, but I’ll put the original here in your book, where it will be safe.
See, your daddy was supposed to deploy to Afghanistan in a week. For such a big, tough guy, he was freaking out, even though as a mechanic he probably wouldn’t have gone anywhere near the front lines. I think his whole excuse for running off was nothing but a lie, no matter how close to truth some of it might have been.
Oh, Casey. Where are you? You’ve been missing for two days now, and nobody cares except Tati and me. I’ve called everyone, pounded on doors—military police, Jason’s commanding officer, off-base cops, even the FBI. No one will help. The problem, they say, is he’s your father. Like it or not, he has the right to take you away from me, at least until I can see a judge about custodial rights. By then, who knows where you’ll be? Oh, Casey. My baby.
Your daddy’s in big trouble when they catch him. He’s AWOL now. More than twenty-four hours without reporting for duty makes him absent without leave. For some totally messed-up reason, the fact that he kidnapped you doesn’t matter as much to the base authorities as his hitting the road without permission. The longer he’s gone, the worse it gets. After thirty days, he’s an official deserter.
Oh God, why didn’t I leave sooner? Tatiana and I planned for me to move in with her once your daddy deployed. He must’ve guessed that part after he found your auntie Tati and me in what some people might call a compromising situation. It was only a kiss, I swear. Nothing dirty. Nothing ugly. I just needed to feel loved. Not like furniture, the way Jason makes me feel.
I’ve been in love with Tati since I was twelve, but no way could I ever do anything about it when I was living at home. Then after I met your daddy, I believed I could hide that seed of me, bury it so deep it could never sprout again, never take root and grow. But if love is real, you can’t bury it, Casey. You can’t. I tried to explain that to your daddy, and swore that no matter what I’d stay married to him, stay true to him, but he knew those were lies.
I just wanted to make a home filled with happiness for you. Joy. We would never have experienced it living with your daddy. And now what will I do? I can’t stay here very long, but what if he changes his mind, brings you back, turns himself in? I have to be here.
I can’t work. What little brain I have left thinks only of you. I can’t eat. If I try, it churns in my stomach, comes right back up. I can’t sleep. If I do, I dream of you, and when I wake up to an empty house, I tumble down into a deep, dark pit.
I sit by the phone, hoping for news, holding the baby blanket that’s perfumed with you. A few of your toys are scattered across the floor. I leave them there, hints of you. Sometimes I swear I can hear you in the other room. But I know it’s just a ghost, laughing inside my head.
Oh, Casey. Where are you? Are you afraid without your mommy? Tell Daddy to bring you home.
March 2002
You’ve been gone almost three months now. It seems like longer! It seems like forever! Everything is different. Everything is crazy. Everything is lonely, even though I’m living with Auntie Tati in Texas. I still can’t believe you’re gone. Still can’t believe your daddy could just drive away with you, disappear without a trace.
Well, not exactly without a trace. Detective Morella located your daddy’s Chevy. He tracked down the license plate when the guy Jason sold it to changed the title. That was in Virginia. Maybe that’s where you are. The man remembered you and Boo, so guess that means you’re safe. At least I have that to hold on to. He said your daddy had his eye on a different car and sold the Chevy cheap for cash.
Detective Morella is with the Cumberland County Sheriff’s Department. I had to go off-base to find help, and even there the law’s complicated because your daddy and I are still married, and so there was no custody order in place. I filed for an emergency order and was granted temporary custody until things can get settled. That means you belong to me. All I have to do is find you!
Good thing your daddy was stupid and left that note. It’s evidence that he planned to conceal you. That’s how the law reads in North Carolina—with or without custody, it’s kidnapping if the parent who takes a child out of state tries to keep her hidden from the other parent.
Now your daddy’s not just AWOL. He’s a deserter. That happens at thirty days of unauthorized absence. So the federal database has his name. If he gets stopped for a traffic ticket or has anything to do with the police, they’ll know to arrest him. That’s my biggest hope of getting you back quickly. But it’s three months already. Actually, ninety-six days, emptied of you, each lonelier than the last.
I didn’t want to leave North Carolina, in case your daddy changed his mind, but his paychecks stopped right away, and they wouldn’t let me stay in base housing. At first they even believed I might have been part of his plan to disappear. Like I’d send my baby off to God knows where with a man who is obviously crazy. He must be crazy.
Tatiana came and helped me pack everything and put it in a U-Haul truck. The Christmas tree was still up. I left it there, decorated. Those ornaments would only remind me of how temporary happiness can be, and of the weight of sadness. Some days I can barely find the strength to drag myself out of bed in the morning. But I know I have to so when you come home I can be the best mommy ever for you.
I’m taking classes to get my GED. I thought about going back to high school and doing credit recovery to earn an actual diploma, but one trip to the campus made me realize I’m not a kid anymore, and that goes way beyond being twenty. Besides, I hated school when I was sixteen. Pep rallies and proms? What are those to me?
Tati says college is different from high school, and I hope she’s right. But even if I hate it there, too, I’m determined to get my degree. For you, yes, but also so I’ll never have to rely on another person to make my way in the world. I want to be independent, at least financially. I need to be able to take care of myself. And you.
It’s weird being in Texas. I thought I’d never come back to this place. At least my mother’s gone—moved out to California, and that gives me a small sense of relief. I couldn’t stand running into her, and having to admit how wrong I was about your daddy. She warned me he was no good. But even she couldn’t see he was evil.
A couple days after I arrived, I drove out to your grandparents’ ranch, the one your daddy said he was taking you to. They swore they hadn’t seen him. Hadn’t heard a word. But my visit put them on edge, I could tell. I think they were lying. I gave them my number, begged them to call if he contacted them. They promised they would. I think maybe they’re scared of him.
I have a place to live, and someone who loves me. I love Tati, too. But without you, everything’s gray. You were the light in every one of my days. Sometimes I see other mommies get mad and yell at their kids. I want to tell them to stop and think about how empty their life would be if something bad happened to their babies. What if their angels flew away?
April 2004
Please forgive me for not keeping up with your journal. You’re not a baby anymore. It’s been more than three years since you vanished. That makes you six. What do you look like? Is your hair still the color of a bright copper penny? Does someone put it up in a ponytail, like I used to once in a while? I hope it isn’t cut short. When I dream of you, I see it down in soft waves around your giggling face.
I do still dream of you, my Casey. And you are mine. It took months of work and too much money, labored for and borrowed, but I won custody of you and legally divorced your father. There are ways to do that without actually serving papers on the person who disappeared from your life. It was complicated and time-consuming, but it’s done.
Every once in a while Jason calls, just to taunt me. He doesn’t use his own phone, if he even has one. Because he’s now in violation of court orders, I can involve law enforcement. The few times they’ve managed to trace his calls, the phones he made them from came back as stolen. Big surprise. And t
hey’ve been from different parts of the country.
Which makes me wonder. You should be in kindergarten. But did he even let you start school? I worry about that because school would be one way to find you, so he might not enroll you. But you have to go, you must. You are such a bright little girl. Are you reading? Do you love books? Can you use a computer?
I finally learned. I had to for school. Tati and I moved to Phoenix a year ago. She transferred to Arizona State University, and I’ll start there next year. Right now, I’m on track to get my associate of arts degree in communications at the end of the current semester. I’ve still got my eye on a career as a sportscaster, and it’s my plan to get my bachelor’s in communications at ASU. That won’t assure my dream job, but at the very least, it will help me find work in a related field.
Meanwhile, I’ve got a marketing position at a local TV station. It isn’t on-air, but it does allow me access to the newsroom, where I’m making friends. I’m targeting the assignment editors, one of whom might one day allow me a shot at reporting, or maybe even doing live broadcasting from a Cardinals or Diamondbacks game. I’ve let them know I’m interested if there’s ever an opening, and as a station employee, I’ve got an “in.”
One thing I’m discovering is the value of relationships, both professional and personal. Sometimes I go out after work with people from the station, most of whose company I do enjoy, although a few are fueled by superegos. You have to massage their overinflated self-esteems, though, because they are the ones with the most power to either help or hinder your own goals. A few know about you, Casey, and I’ve asked them to alert me if a news story relating to Jason happens across their desk.
On the personal side, Auntie Tati and I are more than just friends now. We’re partners. It took some time for me to accept the idea of commitment again. Your father (not going to call him your daddy anymore) totally destroyed my trust supply, which was never very big anyway. Tati had to work really hard to rebuild it, and thank God for her patience. Accepting love is hard, but she’s taught me how worthwhile it is.