“Jack doesn’t have time, honey,” Gia said from behind him. “Maybe next trip, okay?”

Vicky smiled and Jack noticed that a second tooth was starting to fill the gap left by her missing milk tooth.

“Okay. You coming back soon, Jack?”

“Real soon, Vicks.”

He hoisted her onto his hip and carried her to the front door, where he put her down and kissed her.

“See ya.” He glanced up at Gia. “You, too.”

She pulled Vicky back against the front of her jeans. “Yeah.”

As Jack went down the front steps, he thought the door slammed with unnecessary force.

12

Vicky pulled Gia to the window and together they watched Jack stroll out of sight.

“He’s going to find Aunt Grace, isn’t he?”

“He says he’s going to try.”

“He’ll do it.”

“Please don’t get your hopes up, honey,” she said, kneeling behind Vicky and enfolding her in her arms. “We may never find her.”

She felt Vicky stiffen and wished she hadn’t said it—wished she hadn’t thought it. Grace had to be alive and well.

“Jack’ll find her. Jack can do anything.”

“No, Vicky. He can’t. He really can’t.” Gia was torn between wanting Jack to fail, and wanting Grace returned to her home; between wanting to see Jack humbled in Vicky’s eyes, and the urge to protect her daughter from the pain of disillusionment.

“Why don’t you love him anymore, Mommy?”

The question took Gia by surprise. “Who said I ever did?”

“You did,” Vicky said, turning and facing her mother. Her guileless blue eyes looked straight into Gia’s. “Don’t you remember?”

“Well, maybe I did a little, but not anymore.” It’s true. I don’t love him anymore. Never did. Not really.

“Why not?”

“Sometimes things don’t work out.”

“Like with you and Daddy?”

“Ummm…” During the two and a half years she and Richard had been divorced, Gia had read every magazine article she could find on explaining the break-up of a marriage to a small child. There were all sorts of pat answers to give, answers that were satisfying when the father was still around for birthdays and holidays and weekends. But what to say to a child whose father had not only skipped town, but had left the continent before she was five? How to tell a child that her daddy doesn’t give a damn about her? Maybe Vicky knew. Maybe that’s why she was so infatuated with Jack, who never passed up an opportunity to give her a hug or slip her a little present, who talked to her and treated her like a real person.

“Do you love Carl?” Vicky said with a sour face. Apparently she had given up on an answer to her previous question and was trying a new one.

“No. We haven’t known each other that long.”

“He’s yucky.”

“He’s really very nice. You just have to get to know him.”

“Yucks. Mom. Yuck-o.”

Gia laughed and pulled on Vicky’s pigtails. Carl acted like any man unfamiliar with children. He was uncomfortable with Vicky; when he wasn’t stiff, he was condescending. He had been unable to break the ice, but he was trying.