September, 1993
Linda had wanted to name her Hannah, but Stephen objected. "That sounds too biblical," he said. The one name they could both agree on was Hayley. Anyway, Hayley Herron was starting kindergarten that bright morning. She had spent the first five years of her daughter's life watching her, studying her, seeing if she would look like the little girl accompanying Lauren in the dream.
Instead, Hayley had blond hair like her mother and large, liquid eyes. Linda had spent the entire summer getting ready for this. She played with Hayley more, taking her to the park or the roller skating rink. Stephen would take them on drives to the country, either in Kentucky or Indiana. It all led to the procession of vehicles around the front entrance of the elementary school. "You're going to love going to school," she told her daughter, her voice cracking. "You'll get to meet other little girls and make friends."
Hayley calmly looked up at her. To Linda, sometimes she seemed like a much older spirit in a child's body, patiently enduring childhood until she could get to her twenties and thirties and all the good stuff. She sat like a perfect little angel on the car seat, her hands folded across her lap. "I know, mom. It's going to be fun." Hayley spoke in complete sentences shortly after her first birthday, which also mystified her mother.
Linda nudged the gas pedal to send the car ahead a few yards. Stephen had convinced her that they should get a Jeep. Until she saw them at the car dealer, she thought of jeeps as the open air, olive drab vehicles that carried soldiers. The Jeeps she and her husband looked at reminded her of the station wagons she saw when she was a little girl, only they were higher, with more headroom. With their room and cargo space, they were the perfect family car.
Much too quickly, Linda's car reached the front of the line. "This is it, pretty baby. Something you'll remember for the rest of your life." She unlatched the seat belt that had kept Hayley restrained in her seat. "Now come give me a hug. I need it."
Hayley lifted her small body and wrapped her arms tightly around Linda's neck. As she did, Linda began to sob and drip tears onto Hayley's arm. "I'll be home soon, mommy," she said, in her soft, sing-songey voice. "Don't be sad."
To distract herself, Linda ran a check for the umpteenth time. "Now you have your snack box, right? And your pencils?"