ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With thanks to:* David and Kate, for everything, always.
* The Kleban Foundation for giving me two years to write.
* Paulette Haupt, commissioner and producer of Alice Unwrapped, the musical that inspired Alice Bliss; Jenny Giering, composer for Alice Unwrapped for the magic of her music and for making Alice sing.
* Rachel Kadish, Ann Ziergiebel, Angela Marvin, Jane Potter, Lillian Hsu, Kim Garcia, Liza Rutherford, and Lynn Barclay, my first readers.
* Melanie Kroupa, for seeing the potential.
* Carol Green for giving me space to write, and so much more, in Truro.
* Beth Hartley for information and insights about teens and grief.
* Molly Ziergiebel for information and insights about running.
* My agent, Stephanie Cabot, as well as Sarah Burnes and the entire staff at The Gernert Company.
* My editor, Pamela Dorman, and also her assistant editor, Julie Miesionczek.
* The team at Viking Penguin, with special thanks to Hal Fessenden.
Do you want to come inside? Ellie asks.
No, thank you. Please call your mother.
Twenty minutes later Angie pulls all the way into the driveway and comes in through the kitchen door, the way they always do. As she stoops down to give Ellie a hug, Alice can see that her hands are shaking.
I just wanted a moment with my girls, she says, as she pulls Alice to her side.
Theres that soft knock again.
Angie stands and walks to the front door. The girls are hesitating behind her. She reaches out and opens the door.
Mrs. Bliss? Mrs. Angie Bliss?
Yes.
Sergeant Walker Ames. May I come in?
Missing. They have almost no information other than that Matt Bliss is officially MIA.
Heres what they do know, or what the army will tell them, or what they have sanitized to put in the official letter, which is delivered by Sergeant Ames and the very bulky, very bald, and nearly tongue-tied army chaplain McMurphy.
Matt had been patrolling Falluja for six days with his thirteen-man infantry squad. On the day in question, Matts unit rushed the roof of the tallest building in the northern end of the city. With a nineteenyear-old named Travis Boyd in the lead, the soldiers ran up the buildings four flights of stairs. When they stepped out onto the roof, the enemy opened fire. Matt ran past Travis Boyd to the far side of the building where he was shot and wounded. Within seconds, everyone else on the roof was wounded.
In the letter to the family they quote Travis Boyd: We tried to get to Matt. I could see he was still alive. But the insurgents dragged him away with them. Boyd was hit with shrapnel and suffered a concussion, earning a Purple Heart.
They do not know where Matt is being held or why. Sergeant Ames is talking about hope, telling them of other cases where missing soldiers have been found, or rescued. He advises them to be patient, not to watch the news, to go about their daily life as usual.
The army chaplain is doing considerably less talking. He does manage to ask them to call him, any time of the day or night. He hands Angie his card. Ellie wants one, too.
Girls, I want you to go to your room.
But, Mom Alice says.
Alice, take your sister upstairs, please.
Alice turns to Sergeant Ames.
Did you say he was on a roof?
Yes.
He was ambushed and wounded on a roof?
Yes.
Alice, Id like you to go upstairs now please, Angie says.
The girls go, reluctantly. Alice sits on the upstairs landing to listen as best she can with Ellie sobbing in their bedroom.
Angie asks to speak to Sergeant Ames alone. McMurphy heaves himself out of Matts favorite chair and leaves the house, shutting the door very quietly behind him.
The army recovers her own, maam.
Dead or alive?
We always work toward the best possible outcome.
She looks at him.
Believe me. We are on top of this. We will be the first to know if there is any intelligence.
Are you actively searching for him?
Im afraid thats classified.
Is that really all you can tell me?
Steps are being taken.
When will we know more?
It is my duty to keep the family informed, maam.
Do you have any idea why they would take Matt like that?
It happens occasionally.
But why?
Maam
Im thinking the worst here, Sergeant. Some real information would help.
Intelligence is usually the motive for any capture.
Angie takes a deep breath.
And how often do you recover soldiers alive?
I dont have an exact number, maam.
I dont believe you.
Its a small number.
Is it zero?
No, maam.
Are you going to make me guess, Sergeant?
Less than twenty percent.
Thank you.
Angie looks out the window at the weak April sunshine shading into evening.
Is he likely to be tortured?
Theres no reason to give up hope.
You didnt answer my question.
Reports vary widely.
The careful management of information, or lack of information, is making Angie furious.
My husband has been woundedwe dont know how gravelyand dragged away by insurgents. He is presumably without medical care.
Hes strong, hes fit; hes well trained.
Do we have any idea how badly wounded he was? Or where he was wounded? Can you contact Travis Boyd with our questions?
I will make every effort to do so, maam.
My name is Angie. Please call me Angie.
We are instructed to
Every time you call me maam I feel like a widow.
Yes, maam.
Sergeant Ames with his raw haircut and bad skin ducks his head, embarrassed.
Is there anyone I can call to find out more? Is there anything I can do for my husband?
You have my number. And the number for the chaplain.
Can I talk to a soldier who was there with him?
Ill look into that.
Where is Travis Boyd now?
Hes at the army hospital in Landstuhl, Germany.
Will he recover?
Yes, maam, he will.
Id like to speak to him.
Ill do my best.
When, Sergeant? How soon can I speak to him?
Ill make it my priority, maam.... May I make a suggestion?
Yes.
Go to work. Go to school. Go to church. Continue with your daily lives.
Im not sure...
Sitting in your house for days or weeks can be demoralizing. Call your family. Call your priest or your pastor.
Are you telling me to pray, Sergeant?
I dont know what your beliefs are, but most people find it a solace. We can also connect you with another family who has gone through this.
Thank you.
Shall I contact someone then?
I dont know. Not yet. I dont know...
With your permission, Ill call on you tomorrow.
Yes. All right.
Now that he is at the door Angie finds she doesnt want him to go. She doesnt want the next minute and the next to begin.
Hope is a powerful thing, maam.
Thank you, Sergeant.
Angie stands at the door watching Sergeant Ames as he walks down the driveway and gets into his army-issue Ford sedan. McMurphy is slumped low in the passenger seat, waiting. She notices that Ames is painfully thin and too pale and that he walks with a limp. What has he survived, she wonders? What have we put this boy through? What does he do to prepare himself to bring this news to grieving families? Is this kind of duty something you choose or something you are assigned to? How in the world does he bear it?
