Page 103 of Worth the Fall
“I can’t find her anywhere. She’s not hiding under my desk. She’s not in the restrooms or the conference rooms or in the elves’ house or Santa’s. I don’t know where she is, Thomas. I’ve looked everywhere.”
“You lost her? How the hell did you lose her?” The questions came out far crueler than I had meant them, and she looked like I’d slapped her across the face as tears started spilling down her cheeks.
I ran to her and pulled her into my arms, holding tight as I breathed in the scent of her shampoo. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean it like that,” I said, pulling away so that she would look at me. “I’m sorry. Just breathe.”
“I know, but you’re right. It is my fault.” She tried to stop crying as she took three long, deep inhales.
“Tell me what happened,” I said, trying not to lose my ever-loving mind.
Clara loved to wander off or hide, even though I’d told her a hundred times not to. And now, my worst fear had come to life; she was missing.
“I took a phone call and wandered a little. When I came back, she was gone. I checked outside, but I didn’t see any footprints, but it’s also kind of windy, so they might have been covered up. I retraced our steps, but she’s not anywhere. You need to call for help, Thomas. I really don’t know where she is. And she’s not wearing her jacket or hat or gloves. They’re still in my office.”
“You think she went outside?” I asked, wondering why on earth my daughter would go out there when it was damn near freezing. Plus, she knew better than that. At least, I thought she did.
“I don’t know,” Brooklyn admitted, her pain palpable. “But the decorations do continue out there. Maybe she followed them?”
“Let’s go.” I reached for her hand and pulled her as we speed-walked through the resort. “Show me where you went.”
Brooklyn nodded before leading me through the decorations. We stopped along the way, poking around, yelling Clara’s name, but Brooklyn was right. She wasn’t in here.
“The candy canes go outside over there.” Brooklyn pointed toward a pair of glass double doors, and we ran toward them.
“You don’t have a jacket.” I rubbed her shoulders as we stopped in front of them.
“I don’t give a shit about a jacket right now, Thomas. We have to see if she’s out there.” Brooklyn sounded as frantic as I felt. She didn’t wait for me to say another word before she shoved the doors open and sprinted out of them.
“Fuck, it’s cold.” I shivered once the wind blew around me. “Clarabel!” I shouted as we followed a path that I would have thought was adorable a few minutes ago, but now, I currently hated it. It was enticing and cute and made you want to follow it all the way to wherever it led.
“Clara!” Brooklyn shouted as she ran, her nose already red from the cold. “The decorations stop here,” she said as we reached the end of the pathway and looked up at the overly lit trees everywhere.
It was supposed to be dreamlike. It was currently my nightmare.
“She’s not here,” Brooklyn said as she ran around, peeking behind the giant redwoods. “Maybe she went to see Patrick?”
I nodded. At least that made sense. Clara loved her uncle and that damn dog. Brooklyn started running toward where the barn was being built as I followed behind, shouting Clara’s name every two steps, but hearing nothing in response.
It was hard to hear anything over the sound of the wind. I was thankful that it wasn’t whipping the way that it could, but it was still blowing enough that it filled the air with a symphony of its own making. Gentle howling that made the trees bend and creak, the branches swaying.
When I spotted the wedding barn, all lit up in the distance, I felt a sliver of relief. There was no reason for it, but I still felt it nonetheless.
“Patrick!” I screamed his name and kept shouting it until he ran outside and met us at the door, his hat in his hand.
“What’s wrong?”
“Clara,” I said, out of breath, my heart racing so hard that I thought it might never stop. “Have you seen her? Did she come here?”
“Clara? No. Why?” He patted Jasper’s head, who was wagging his tail like this was some happy occasion.
“We can’t find her.” Brooklyn started crying again. “We don’t know where she is.”
“And you’re not going to, dressed like that,” Patrick chastised as he eyeballed the two of us. “Get in here and get a jacket. We’ll go look.”
Brooklyn turned to face me once we were inside the barn, which wasn’t entirely warm, but at least it stopped the wind from blowing. “We need to call the police, Thomas. We need all the help we can get. And it’s getting dark.”
My throat felt like it was closing in on itself. “You’re right,” I agreed, still in total disbelief. Nothing made sense.
A part of me had assumed that Brooklyn had just missed Clara somehow and that we’d find her when we went in search of her together. But she was right. Not asking for help was only wasting precious moments. And if my little girl was out there somewhere in the cold, it was a race against time.