Chapter 26: Missing

Cassandra stood in the middle of the nursery, her head nodded briefly, bobbing down and then snapping up as motion woke her.  She yawned and started pacing again.  Junior slowly sucked at his bottle and at four months old he was quite heavy.  His weight strained against her arm and she felt the familiar burning in her muscle as she struggled to adjust without jostling him fully awake.  If that happened the two of them would not be going back to sleep any time soon.
"Shhhhhhh shhhh shhhhhhhh," she whispered softly as she swayed; waiting for him to finish the bottle and desperately wanting to sit down.
Though there was a recliner in the room, Cassandra dare not use it for fear that she would fall too deep into sleep only to wake up and find that she had smothered her baby.  Cassandra thought sitting against the dresser with a knob in her back would do the trick to stay awake but even then she was so exhausted she nodded off with the baby in her arms.  Tears poured from her eyes, streaking her cheeks in silent despair.  For four months Cassandra was the only one to wake up for him.  The sleep deprivation was taking its toll.
The tears slowed but the defeat set in.
A single phone call changed her life, "Mr. Lothario has not been to the office in three days..."  A whole conversation and that was the only line she could remember and every night those words replayed in her head.  Recalling the subsequent conversations imbued her pain with anger.  Her gratitude with the authorities was short lived once they began to insinuate that Don wasn't missing and that she would hear from him when he was ready to call.
The tears fell again as Cassandra's thoughts wandered to the phone call from the police department earlier in the day.  Her sole ally was Detective William Fangmann and even now he was giving up, his drawl echoing in her mind, "I'm sorry Missus Lothario.  Your husband has been missin' for two months with no leads indicatin' foul play.  His personal effects were not in the apartment.  The department'll keep the missin' persons report on file but we can't justify spendin' any more manpower on this case."
Cassandra let out a sigh before whispering lullabies to her baby.  Begging the detective to keep looking had fallen on deaf ears.  All that was left was forlornly wishing that she could go back and make Don stay instead of returning to Bridgeport for his final months of work.

~~~~~~~~~~

The end of the pregnancy had been as normal as any pregnancy.  Cassandra was at the pinnacle of a perfect third trimester and it seemed her only trouble came from everyday, mundane happenings of family life.  Sheldon was twelve and running the neighborhood with his friends from scouts.  Betsy preferred the indoors, especially if she was painting.  And, as all children do, they had a natural aversion to chores. Regardless of having a maid, Cassandra ensured the both of them had responsibilities at home.  It was her responsibility that she not raise spoiled brats.  The Goths may have money, but they were still everyday people; not Altos, not Landgraabs.  That was Cassandra's theory anyway.  Thus, there were arguments, stalling, and whining about something as simple as doing dishes.  The dull ache in her back intensified as she followed Betsy around; prodding her to do dishes while holding the paintbrushes hostage until the job was done.  Cassandra anxiously awaited Don's return home so she could have relief from the daily combat with their kids.

The day was anything but calm when they expected Don home.  Cassandra had to repeat herself several times throughout the day.  She suspected the walls would wash dishes by the tenth time she snapped the order to deaf children.
Sheldon and Betsy erupted in a whirlwind of excitement the moment Don's car was spotted in the distance.  Cassandra smiled as they tore through the house like dervishes to be the first to greet him in the driveway.  She barely received a peck of a kiss before their children demanded his attention in a million directions at once.  Dinner was a flurry of food and of stories of everything that had happened since the last time Don had talked to the kids.  Bedtime went more smoothly than it had in months with Don home to help.  Cassandra was thankful for that much.  Tucking in two active children was nearly impossible with almost nine pounds of baby belly in the way.  Once the children were tucked into bed and sleeping, Cassandra eagerly stole her own time with her husband.
Don treated his wife to a back and foot rub as they settled into bed.  He could hardly believe how much Cassandra's belly had grown since the last time he had seen her.  Don tried not to let his worry show, but he called every day in while away to touch base about Cassandra and the pregnancy.  Returning home lifted a heavy weight and  Don was going to remain home until their baby was born.  He needed to be there to ensure they were both healthy and safe.  As they settled into bed for sleep Don absentmindedly rubbed his hand over his wife's belly and felt their son kick at him and he smiled at the feeling of the life growing in her belly.

Don spent an entire weekend preparing the nursery.  He discovered it was easier for Cassandra to relax if he wasn't asking how she felt every half hour.  Don hustled the kids off to the bus in anticipation of revealing the newly renovated nursery to Cassandra.  He lead his wife with his hands over her eyes careful to watch that she didn't trip on anything.  Lifting his hands Don proudly showed off the new paint and wallpaper and furniture.
"What do you think?" he wondered out loud.
"Don, this is perfect!" Cassandra was amazed, especially since listening to him put the crib together was amusing to say the least.
Don knelt down close to Cassandra's belly, "You hear that little guy?  Mommy thinks this room is perfect, just like you."  Still rubbing her belly Don looked up to her eyes, "What are we going to name him?"
"I have an idea, but I want to wait until he is born to make sure it will fit.  What about you?"
"I haven't had much time to think with my head in the business for the last couple of months.  We could just do something traditional.  John or Nathan or Andrew.  Unless you want a family name."
"Well, I was thinking of a family name but I really just have this feeling to wait until we see him and then we will know."

~~~~~~~~~~

Bella was still working full-time at the bistro with no plans to retire.  After reaching the pinnacle of her career much later than planned, she was in no way going to give up prestige so soon.  Mortimer and Bella had invested in the restaurant years ago, but since she ran the place as if she owned it actually owning it was the next logical step in her dream career.  Mortimer planned on consulting with Don about the prospect, though Mortimer found Don had little time for personal business while doting on Cassandra.  Mortimer figured it would be better to wait until they settled with the new baby and then bring up the idea of the family becoming restaurateurs.
Cassandra went into labor on one of the evenings Bella oversaw the management of her kitchen so they quickly called her home.  Cassandra was going to spend a good amount of the early labor at home with Don and Bella's help.
Seeing his daughter in labor convinced Mortimer that it was a fine day to head to the park and get Sheldon and Betsy out of the house.  He sighed with relief as he shifted the car into 'park' and Sheldon and Betsy tore out of the back seat before he could cut the engine.  They skipped ahead and selected a picnic spot; tossing their stuff aside and running off to their favorite areas; Sheldon to the fishing pond and Betsy to the swings.  Mortimer lit the grill while his grandchildren played and barbecued some hot dogs for lunch.

He watched as Sheldon reeled in his catches and Betsy breezed through the air.  His thoughts drifted as he watched the first of what he imagined would be many grandchildren with the pride only a grandparent knew; he was blessed to see the future of his family in their innocent and inquisitive childhoods as they discovered their own worlds.
Mortimer gave pause as he watched Betsy swing higher and higher.  As she reached the top of the arc he could see the chain slacken and snap as she swung back.  His brow furrowed as he considered calling out to not swing so high.  Mortimer knew she wasn't in any real danger of getting hurt but, nonetheless, felt relief when the hot dogs were ready and he had an excuse to call her away from the swings.

After their picnic lunch, Sheldon headed to a friend's house where Cassandra had arranged for him to spend a couple of days. Mortimer stayed with Betsy at the park until the sun began set.  The girl was a constant ball of kinetic energy and a reminder that Mortimer was indeed an old man.  She had kept him busy for most of the day and had talked Mortimer back onto the swings one more time before they left.  He gave her a couple of strong pushes.
Between giggles Betsy called out, "Grandpa!  You can't get as high as me!"
"You think your grandpa is too old, do you?" Mortimer retorted as she swung toward him.  Mortimer gave her another push and then sat himself in the swing next to her.  He took a couple of steps back to give a little momentum to start.  A couple of back and forths later Mortimer began to feel the contents of his stomach sloshing around and slowed himself.  It was definitely much easier to swing as child he remembered.
"Come on Supergirl, your dad is going to start to wonder where we are and send the entire police force out looking for us," Mortimer declared.  Betsy skidded to a halt and flung herself from the swing in a dramatic fashion.  Hand in hand they headed for the car so he could drop her off at Darrel's house and head back to his own home to see if the party had moved on to the hospital.

~~~~~~~~~~

Don watched nervously as Cassandra paced around the nursery.  She stopped for a moment and just as he opened his mouth to suggest she sit to rest he saw her eyes focus on nothing in particular.  A groan, primal, originated somewhere within his wife and surfaced through her clenched teeth.  She inhaled deeply through her nose and let out her breath in short, shallow pants.
"Honey, I think it is time to get you to the hospital."
"Don! I swear by our almighty goddess, you suggest the hospital one more time..."  Her sentence was cut short.  Another deep breath followed by the short.
"I just think it will be safer for you to go... there."  He chose his words carefully.
"I'm comfortable here.  I agreed to the hospital, later, to make you feel better."  Cassandra bite her bottom lip.  Arguing with Don broke her concentration and she couldn't control her reaction to the next contraction that took hold.  In its passing she could taste the bitter, metallic taste of blood.  Don handed her a wet cloth for her lip and moved behind her.
"Are you having pain in your back?" he asked, remembering random information from the book she had him read.  She nodded in affirmation and Don began using a few massage techniques he was taught in one prenatal class he managed to be in town for.   Cassandra returned to her deep breathing.
The waves of contractions increased, hitting at a quicker pace and with more intensity.
"Cassandra?"
"No!  When I can't talk, that's when we go....urggggggh"  Her eyes watered.  She could hardly breath through the pain anymore, but it was still only pain and no pressure.  With another deep breath she struggled to regain her composure.  If she could remain in control long enough, then Don would have to agree to a home birth because there would be no time to get to the hospital.  A storage bin containing everything she needed was secretly stashed, she just needed to get through the hard part and continue talking.  Don called her attention and motioned for her to take a deep breath.
"There we go.  A deep breath in Sweetie.  And, hee hee hee."  Cassandra focused on her husband's lips as he coached her through the breathing exercises.  She wrapped her arms protectively over her belly as the next contraction grew.  She suppressed a moan as best she could, but there was pressure with this one.  Cassandra slightly grinned; she was into the final stage and still at home.  She was fairly sure that Don and her mother would wrestle her into the car if they knew her plans to birth at home.  After several more strong and almost unbearable contractions she felt a slight, bursting pop within her pelvis.
"Oh! My water..."  Don helplessly handed her a glass of water and if looks could kill, then he would have dropped dead on the spot; his corpse on display as a warning to other men helping their wives through labor.
"No, you idiot..."  Don waited for her to finish.  "Don... I... my..."
"I'm going to have your mother get the car."

Cassandra didn't remember much about the car ride to the hospital.  There was screaming.  She remembered that much.  She was also fairly certain that she threatened her husband's life if he had dared to stop for the red light at the upcoming intersection.  During the fits of panicked screaming and crying Cassandra wondered why she was too stubborn to go the hospital and get the nice drugs.  As the contractions came fast and harder all she could was dream of the drugs... the drugs she wasn't going to get.  The despair fostered conflicting urges of dying and committing homicide at the same time.  What she did not feel was empowered; those liars in those baby forums had said childbirth was the most empowering experience a woman would ever have.  They were going to get a piece of her mind when someone brought her laptop up to the hospital.
The hospital was a welcome site as Don pulled up to the entrance for valet parking.  Nurses began to surround Cassandra.  No sooner than sitting in the wheelchair, the IV was hooked up fetal heartbeat monitor wrapped around her middle before she got to the bed. As Cassandra suspected, too late for drugs.  The OB-GYN on call insisted that she was much too close to delivering the baby.  Cassandra bemoaned her lack of planning.  Instead of getting a beautiful and heart-warming photo of baby and mom (when all was said done), Cassandra knew she was going to look like she just completed a triathlon through a desert, after which she was dragged through a mud pit and ripped apart by a werewolf.  Sweat, blood, hair matted to her face, mascara streaking down her cheeks; it wasn't pretty.  That was the image she held on to as she felt the fire tear through her.
The foggy repression of the unimaginable pain of the final push lifted as Cassandra held their newly born son in her arms.  Don gladly watched the pain and misery slowly relax from her face.  She smiled the brightest he had ever seen as she stared into their son's eyes.  Don sat on the bed, kissed her forehead, and wrapped his arms around them both.
"Thank you, Beautiful," he whispered to his wife.  Cassandra delivered his baby and lived.  They were both alive and, according to the doctor, completely healthy.  They sat in silence listening to the soft sounds of their son's breathing.  They relished in their happiness and eventually Don felt Cassandra's head fall against his chest, her body relaxed as she drifted off to sleep.  He gently positioned her onto her pillows and placed the baby in his cradle.  He could only imagine how exhausted she must be after an ordeal like that.  Don felt the sting of guilt knowing he would have to be away during the toughest moments of bringing a new baby home.
As she drifted deeper into sleep, Cassandra felt Don smooth a strand of hair out of her face.
"I hate to leave you so soon my beautiful Cassandra," he whispered.  "I'm just a phone call away.  Take care of Junior and I'll see all of you in a couple weeks.  You are wonderful. I love you."
Those were the last words he said to her.  In her sleep she had wanted to call out for him to stay.  She was sure she said the words aloud but the door clicked shut.  He didn't stay.  He said good-bye and left for Bridgeport so she couldn't beg him to stay.  Then he went missing.

~~~~~~~~~~

Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months.  Still there was nothing.  The phone call sent Cassandra reeling and once the reality set in her world came screeching to a stop.  Yet, life was going forward without her.  She was waiting for Don and wanted everything to be the same as before he left.  The children were growing, the baby was bigger.  Cassandra had to go back to work but she wasn't half the businesswoman she used to be.  Her family helped in any way they could and gave her space for her grief.

Her family, it seemed, could get on without Don and she despised them for it.  Cassandra nearly lost her mind when she caught wind that her mother was planning an engagement party for Alexander and his fiance Caitlin.  She declined to attend and in the months leading to the wedding Bella decided it would be easier for all involved to do the wedding planning at Alexander's house.
"Caitlin is not home this evening?"  Bella asked.
"No, she mentioned something about a gem and went to the beach, I think."
"Well that's okay.  I just stopped by to give the two of you my pastry chef's portfolio."  Alexander took the binder and set it on a stack of papers that hadn't looked like they had been touched in months. "So you two can get some ideas for your cake," Bella grumbled, gesturing to the portfolio.  "We can schedule a tasting in a couple of weeks.  I'll just touch base with your unit secretary for your surgery schedule."
Bella noticed Alexander was quickly losing interest in the topic of wedding cake.  She would never roll her eyes at her son, but she was dumbfounded by his lack of interest.  The cake was every groom's favorite part of the whole wedding headache.  Bella thought it best to just change the subject altogether.
"How is your sister and Cyrique?"
"They are fine.  Jada has been busy and Cyrique has been busy.  Here and there."
"Tell her to call me or her father.  She can't be too busy for that.  I know it is hard to stop by the manor these days but we still want to hear from you two."  Bella glanced down at her watch while Alexander's attention fell elsewhere.  The conversation was all but over. "I need to get back," Bella sighed to herself.  "Cassandra is working late and I need to help your father with your niece and nephews."
"Sure thing Mom."  Alexander was already headed into the back of the house towards his telescope and Bella let herself out.

The next morning the manor was still with the absence of children laughing and Cassandra's pacing.  Bella let out a sigh, shifting in her arm chair as she crossed her ankles.  She was watching a cooking show. The name was irrelevant as the shows became increasingly the same.  They lacked substance and creativity but it was something to do as her grand-baby napped in his crib.  Mortimer and Bella abandoned their retirement plans to move to a smaller beach house.  Bella smiled over to Mortimer as they heard the sound of Junior's movements coming from the baby monitor.  Mortimer rose from his chair leaving Bella to her cooking shows.  Bella rose from the chair and made her way to the window.  The Manor was on the highest hill, almost the furthest place away from the sea, but she could still smell the salty spray in the air.  Bella desperately wanted her beach house but in her opinion Cassandra was in no shape to be left alone in the manor as a single mother.  It was Bella's own mother's intuition; she watched her daughter put on a facade of normalcy every single day, but Bella could see her pain and hatred bubble to the surface when Cassandra thought she was alone and Bella couldn't abandon her daughter to the vast emptiness one can feel in Goth Manor.

Junior had a good set of lungs on him.  Mortimer was much too slow to get to the crib before Junior's cries filled the hall.  Mortimer shuffled into the room and switch the monitor off before picking up his grandson.  Mortimer came face to face with his grandson.
"You are blessing in disguise, even if your mama doesn't see it yet.  She'll get there.  One day everything will snap back into place for her and you and your brother and sister will be there and you'll be the family you deserve."  He lifted Junior in the air and bounced him around.  Bringing him close, Mortimer whispered as they snuggled, "I am sorry you won't know your daddy Little Guy."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Look, Damon, you are not obligated to stay here," Cassandra lectured.  "Mom and Dad aren't even obligated to stay here but I can't convince them to have a retirement."
"Cass..."
"Look, I appreciate the help.  But, I'm fine; really."
"I know that.  It's just that you changed once Don went missing."
"That's what people do when someone they love go missing!  I'm more upset about everyone micromanaging me than I am about Don, and that's saying something," she sighed.  "I know you mean well, but you should go out and make a name for yourself in the culinary world.  Get a girlfriend... or five in your case.  Move out and be young!"
"That was kind of the plan," Damon admitted, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"See! Now there is the baby brother I know and love," Cassandra laughed.  She wrapped her arms around Damon and squeezed as hard as she could. "Don't try to fix me," Cassandra whispered. "It's bad enough coming from mom and dad."
Cassandra let go and gave him the best smile she could.
Damon held up his hands, "I give!  Now I'm sure my nephew is waiting on his over-emotional mother so he can stuff his face with the cake his favorite uncle made."
"Oh, is that so?  I'll make sure to switch it out with the cake I bought from the store so no one get food poisoning."
"Ouch! Sis, right to the heart!"  Damon playfully pushed her into the kitchen where everyone was waiting.

Sheldon shuffled from one foot to the other while he waited for the family to squeeze into space.  His mom and grandma pulled out their cameras, shouting at him to wait until they were ready.  Everyone sang a hearty rendition of 'Happy Birthday' and just before he blew at the flames Betsy called out for him to make a wish.  He wanted to tell her wishes were for babies.  No amount of wishing would give him want he wants.  Sheldon rolled his eyes and paused a minute to act like he was thinking about a wish while he really thought of getting back to his game.  He drew in a breath, and at the last second threw out a thought to the universe, I wish my dad would come back home...

After the little family party settled down Cassandra put Junior down for the night.  She allowed Sheldon and Betsy a sleepover in the living room.  She reminded Sheldon not to watch scary things while Betsy was awake but Cassandra was pretty sure it felt on deaf ears since Sheldon's eyes were glazed over and glued to the screen where he was playing the latest first-person shooter he got for his birthday.
Cassandra made her way to her bedroom; stopping to check in and say goodnight to her parents on the way.  As she entered the bedroom she walked right over to the bed, threw the covers back, and planned to crawl right in fully clothed.  She hesitated and crossed over to her dresser instead.  Cassandra changed into some shorts and a t-shirt, grabbed her iPod, and blasted some Screamo into her head to drown out the loneliness.  Cassandra pushed herself until she couldn't make herself move anymore.
 

Cassandra rounded the bed and flopped on top of the covers of Don's spot.  Tears flooded her eyes.  There is NO way Don would miss his son's birthday, she thought bitterly.  If he had just left, then he would have been back for this.  That police department is incompetent!  Cassandra sobbed into her pillow.  Something had happened to Don but she didn't know what or, even, why.  And, nobody wanted to believe that.  It was easier to write him off as if he left of his own volition and pity her for believing that an outside force ripped her family apart.  Cassandra's sobs slowed to silently weeping as she drifted off to sleep, vowing to email Detective Fangmann in the morning.