How could a person just vanish into thin air?
Leanne shoved past a gaggle of sunburned teenagers, weaving through canvas tents and clumps of muddy concertgoers, heart hammering like the kick drum echoing from the stage. She was wetter than a river, her hair plastered to her scalp, her sensible sandals ruined, and her patience stretched thin as the straps of her bra.
But she knew what she’d seen. A silver-streaked bun bobbing through the crowd, a face she’d never forget, and at her side? A naked rat dog with a gem-studded leather collar.
Roxy. Dressed like a rocker poodle.
That was her mother.
Only now, she was gone.
Leanne reached a looped-off section behind one of the bigger tents, guarded by two wiry young men who looked like they’d walked off the Beatles album cover. One had a handlebar mustache and the other wore mirrored sunglasses and had an easy, relaxed smile despite the rain.
“Excuse me.” Leanne wiped rain off her brow and squared her shoulders. “I think my mother’s back there. Mind if I take a peek?”
The men exchanged a look, then burst out laughing like she’d just delivered the best punch line of the night.
“That’s a new one,” said Mustache, elbowing his buddy. “Usually it’s a girlfriend, or ‘I left my tambourine back there,’ not Mom.”
“I’m serious.” Leanne’s voice was clipped, the same tone she used when she’d wanted Nora to clean her bedroom. “She’s with the band.”
“Wait a sec…” said Sunglasses, his smirk widening. “You talkin’ about Mama Lightning?”
Leanne shuffled back a step. Mama Lightning? As if this situation couldn’t get any weirder, they’d been yanking her chain, pretending her request was silly. “Yes. My mother.”
“You don’t look much like her.” Sunglasses gave her a once-over that made her want to snatch off his shades and make him say it to her face.
The observation landed like a stone in her chest. No one had ever told her that before. Most people said she looked just like Eleanor. The same nose, the same eyes. Now, this stranger was telling her she didn’t even resemble her own mother?
She straightened her spine, fisted her hands to keep them from trembling with frustration, and said evenly, “I take after my father.” Then, ignoring their snickers, she added, “Look, I’ve driven all over this country looking for my mother. I’ve put more miles on my car than it had to start with, and I’m sopping wet out here. I’ve been to California, Denver, and now Atlanta, following rumors about an elderly woman who I have confirmed is most definitely my mother, who abandoned her life to go on tour with a band. The least you can do is let me walk into this tent and see my mother and her jazzy dog.”
“Sorry, no can do,” said the guard, barely glancing back, scratchingthe stubble along his jaw. “Band’s about to go on. They’d kill us if we interrupted. You got one thing right, though—Roxy is jazzy.”
Leanne’s ears perked up. Her mother was about to walk onstage?
Without another word, Leanne spun on her heel, her borrowed bell-bottoms clinging to her rain-lashed legs as she sprinted back into the crowd. The grass squished beneath her feet, and muddy water splashed up her calves, but she didn’t care. Not even a little.
She spotted Nora and Joe near a cluster of overturned trash cans and teenagers passing around a soggy joint. They were shouting her name like she’d been missing for days, not minutes.
“Mom!” Nora cried, her brows knit in worry and a fair dose of righteous teenage sass. “You can’t just disappear like that. I thought you turned into Grandma and floated off into the rain.”
“I’m sorry,” Leanne said, breathless. She meant it. Really, truly meant it. “I—I just… I saw her.”
Nora narrowed her eyes, but the storm was already melting off her face. She’d clearly been scared. Leanne could see it in the way she clenched her jaw.
For a second, Leanne was thrown backward to when she’d walked into her mother’s empty house weeks ago, the silence curling around her like a ghost. The disarray as if she’d only just missed her. That telltale scent of her mother’s rosewater perfume had faded into the stale air.
She remembered the way her heart had clenched. The fear that maybe, this time, she really had lost her for good.
Even when they fought, even when they misunderstood each other on a cellular level, Eleanor had always been there. Playing guitar on the porch. Making breakfast while humming old jazz tunes. Saying something outrageous just to get a reaction.
But one day…that house would be sold. That chair would sitempty. That phone would ring and ring and ring—and there’d be no answer on the other end.
Leanne pressed a hand to her mouth, the weight of it all crashing over her with the same ferocity as the Georgia rain. Tears mixed with the drops streaked down her cheeks, indistinguishable but real.
And then—
She heard it.
