16

Dear Reader,

Bonfires are a popular activity here in Michigan pretty much year-round. Even summer nights get cool enough that the heat from a fire actually feels good. Instead of standing around in someone’s overdecorated living room with a fancy cocktail, we prefer to be outside, watching the sun leave a fiery path in the sky as it plummets toward the earth, and warming our hands in front of the blaze from someone’s fire pit.

Bill and I spent many evenings cuddled together in front of the roaring flames. Believe me, it’s more romantic than going out to dinner at a fancy restaurant . . . tucked into a sleeping bag watching the sparks light up the sky . . .

Shelby stopped typing suddenly. A montage of images and sensations went through her mind: cuddling together with Bill, his hands warm on her body . . . passionate kisses hotter than any fire—what had she been thinking, letting Amelia go to this bonfire?

There was nothing she could do about it now. Showing up at the Quinns’ would embarrass Amelia—she knew it would be a long time before Amelia forgave her if she did that. Besides, she was probably being ridiculous.

Shelby decided she needed to take her mind off the endless loop it was on, and making Bert’s cake was the perfect way to do it. She measured flour, sugar, and baking powder. She grated carrots. She stirred and stirred until the batter was silken and smooth.

She was pouring it into cake pans when the front door opened so abruptly, it ricocheted off the wall and slammed shut again.

Shelby put down her spatula, wiped her hands on her apron, and hurried toward the foyer.

Amelia threw herself into Shelby’s arms. Her face was streaked with tears, and bits of leaves and twigs were caught in her hair.

Shelby held her tight, rocking back and forth and murmuring there, there like she used to when Amelia was a baby.

Finally, Amelia’s sobs abated until all that was left was a case of the hiccoughs.

She looked up at Shelby with red-rimmed eyes and swiped a hand across her nose, which had started to run.

“You have to come. We don’t know what to do. It’s horrible.”

“Where’s Mrs. Quinn? Who drove you home?” Shelby was confused.

“Chip. He’s waiting outside. I said you would know what to do.”

Dear Reader, that’s very flattering but I’m too alarmed at the moment to appreciate it.

Amelia began tugging on Shelby’s sleeve.

“Wait. Where are we going?”

“To the field behind Zeke Barnstable’s farm.”

“What were you doing there?”

Amelia just shook her head and tugged harder on Shelby’s arm.

“Chip is waiting.”

“I don’t know who Chip is, but I can assure you, we’re not riding with him. We’ll take my car.”

Shelby was startled when Amelia didn’t argue.

“I have to get Billy. I don’t want to leave him here alone.”

“No!” Amelia said. “You can’t take Billy there. Can’t he stay home by himself this once?”

Shelby stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Billy,” she yelled. “I have to go out for a minute. Will you be okay?”

Billy’s blond head popped over the bannister. “Sure, Mom. I told you, I’m old enough to stay by myself. Everyone does it.”

Shelby rather reluctantly followed Amelia out to the car. Her hands were shaking as she inserted the key in the ignition. She had no idea what had happened or what she was going to find. Surely if there had been an accident of some sort, the kids would have had the smarts to call 9-1-1.

A light drizzle had started falling and Shelby switched on the windshield wipers. She usually found their rhythmic whoosh, whoosh across the window soothing, but not tonight.

She followed the pinpricks of red that were the taillights of Chip’s car through the falling dusk.

“Who is Chip?” Shelby asked.

“Some boy.”

“I gathered that. Do you know him from school?”

“Yes. He’s a junior.”

Shelby opened her mouth to say something but snapped it shut. This wasn’t the right time to discuss it. Amelia was clearly in distress and didn’t need to hear a lecture.

The rain picked up in intensity as they neared Zeke’s farm. Shelby switched the windshield wipers to a higher speed and turned on the rear-window defogger. The windows were steaming up, and with the interior of the car darkened, she felt claustrophobic.

“You still haven’t told me what you were doing at Zeke’s farm,” Shelby said, her fingers tense on the steering wheel.

“The Quinns wouldn’t let us have a bonfire. Mrs. Quinn had a migraine and Mr. Quinn said we would be too noisy, and besides, the smoke would bother her.”

“You said Viola’s mother was picking you up from our house. I’m guessing she didn’t.”

Amelia shook her head and her hair swished back and forth against the back of the seat.

So Chip must have driven her, Shelby thought. No point in worrying about it now—they’d obviously made it safely.

Dear Reader, have you ever taken too big a bite of something and then couldn’t swallow it? That’s how I feel right now.

Shelby glanced at Amelia out of the corner of her eye and saw that she was biting her nails—something she had stopped doing two years ago.

Chip’s car turned onto the dirt road that ran past Zeke’s farm and Shelby followed him. The road was rutted and she had to take it slowly. As the needle on the speedometer dropped, her heart rate sped up. She couldn’t imagine what she was going to find. And Amelia was still unable to tell her.

They passed Zeke’s plain white farmhouse. The front porch listed to the right, and the siding was weathered and badly in need of painting. One of the upper windows was crisscrossed with tape meant to mend a long, jagged crack.

“Where are we going?” Shelby asked as Chip continued down the road.

Amelia pointed out the window. “To those trees behind the cornfield.”

The dirt road ended at the edge of the small group of trees. Shelby came to a stop behind Chip’s car and got out. It was still raining—although not heavily—and she wished she’d thought to bring her slicker with her. She glanced at Amelia in her sodden T-shirt and shorts—she must have been freezing.

Chip went ahead of them, cracking twigs underfoot and rustling the leaves that had already started to dry and turn color. Shelby and Amelia followed behind.

Shelby was surprised when Amelia grabbed her hand and held it like she used to when she was a little girl.

Chip pushed aside a sinewy branch that was in their path, and it whipped back, slapping Amelia in the face.

She let out a cry, and her hand flew to her face.

“Are you okay?” Shelby asked in hushed tones. She didn’t know why she was whispering.

By now they had reached the center of the cluster of trees. A cloud floated in front of the moon and the shadows created by the trees intensified the darkness. Shelby felt the ground with her feet and held an arm out in front of her as she walked, much like a blind person might negotiate unfamiliar terrain.

They were in a small clearing. Two girls and a boy were huddled together on a rotting log. They were soaked through from the rain, their faces ashen. A girl with long hair plastered to the back of her wet T-shirt jumped up when Shelby and Amelia approached.

“You won’t tell, will you, Mrs. McDonald?” she said. Her teeth were chattering.

Shelby recognized her from one of Amelia’s birthday parties. Hannah, she thought her name was. She was a pretty girl, but right now her face was creased with concern, and she looked frightened out of her mind.

“What’s going on? What’s happened?” Shelby looked at the white, frightened faces that surrounded her. “Someone needs to tell me what is going on,” she said with a heavy feeling of dread.

The boy jumped to his feet. He was wearing a sports jersey with the number twenty-five on it and sagging jeans with holes in the knees.

“It’s like this. Chip and I began digging a pit for our bonfire.” He jerked his head toward where Hannah and the other girl were standing close together, holding on to each other. “Hannah and Lauren started collecting rocks so we could circle them around the pit.”

He stifled what sounded to Shelby like a sob, and then lifted his chin and swiped a shaking hand across his eyes.

“Then we found it.”

“Found what?” Shelby asked.

“Come and see for yourself,” the boy said, gesturing toward the rough circle dug into the ground.

Shelby edged closer. She was bracing herself for what she would find in the hole. A dead animal of some sort, maybe? She peered into the shallow pit. Even in the near dark she could tell what it was. And it wasn’t an animal.

She put a hand over her mouth and staggered backward.