EIGHT
Joshua Thane
Josh walked up to Grace’s motor home shortly after seven p.m. The evening light was rapidly fading, but he didn’t need the flashlight in his pocket yet. He found folding chairs set out, a decent fire going in the ring. Evie and Ann were there. Grace was sitting in the chair nearest the motor home, her feet stretched out in front of her, a brown bottle dangling from her fingers. Root beer, he was relieved to see.
“Grace.”
She tipped her head his direction. “That would indeed be me.”
He narrowed his eyes at her tone as much as her words, scanned the bottles on the ground under her chair, realized she must have started with a beer before Ann and Evie arrived to shift that choice to something else. Such a slight woman, with not much of a meal today . . . she’d be feeling it. Given he’d watched her tense up as they walked around that house, knew her memories were running dark, he wasn’t entirely surprised. He’d had an inkling the day would end badly, and he could sympathize with her reaching for some way to forget. He’d hoped Ann and Evie would be the answer, but it looked as though they were simply cushioning Grace’s tumble. He so wanted to help with the pain she was in, yet he didn’t know how. “Come watch a movie with me, Grace, share some popcorn.”
“I’m good here. Join us, Josh.”
“I’m thinking you maybe need some dinner too.”
“Marshmallows are around here somewhere.”
He hunkered down beside her to be at eye level, smiled. “Maybe not so much the puffed sugar,” he replied gently. “How about chicken pasta, with garlic bread?”
Ann, sitting in a folding chair across from Grace, watched them, drinking from a tall insulated cup what likely was coffee. Evie was resting on a blanket on the ground beside the fire, her feet up on a log, staring at the stars beginning to appear. Whatever the ladies had been talking about, Grace still had traces of tears. Grace’s friends are doing what only they can do, crawl inside the pain with her . . . as much as she will let them.
“Which movie?” Grace said.
“I’ve got a few dozen of them on the shelf—you’ll find something you like.”
“Are you feeling sorry for me?”
Grace didn’t know Ann had told him about her childhood, so it would take some careful stepping around the question, but this one seemed easy enough. “Yeah.”
“That at least makes you an honest man.” She tried to tap his chest with her finger and mostly sloshed root beer on him.
He rescued the bottle, mostly full, and set it on the ground with the empties. One beer, he saw in the line of bottles, little food, and a lot of tears added up to a miserable night. “Up, honey. You’ve been thinking enough, I’m thinking.”
She half laughed, half hiccupped, and pushed herself out of the chair. Josh settled his jacket over hers, added crushing fatigue to his guess about what was going on. “The change of scenery will do you good, Grace,” he said as he led her toward his truck. Ann tipped her cup his direction in thanks.
Coming back to Carin, Grace had taken a long step off the edge at the deep end of the pool, Josh thought while helping her into the vehicle.
“You shouldn’t feel that sorry for me, Josh. I could have told you back then.” She was leaning her head back against the seat as he climbed in the driver’s seat, and he knew she said more than she realized.
“Somehow I don’t think you had it in you at the time,” he said gently. “And sorry isn’t exactly the word I would use.”
He noticed she’d started crying again but put his attention on the road ahead rather than comment. He finally said, “You like chocolate ice cream? I might have some tucked away in the freezer.”
“Sure.”
She’d cry, eat a bowl of ice cream, watch a movie, probably cry some more. It would be an evening he wouldn’t likely forget, but it struck him as what she most needed. The stress of being here had to be monumental for her.
“We’ll watch a movie, have supper, then ice cream for dessert, and you’ll stop thinking quite so hard. I can hear your mind whirling all the way over here, Grace.”
She gave him a weak smile. “What am I thinking?”
“In a minute you’re going to be thinking about red rabbits, because I’m going to tell you a story you won’t be able to resist—about pink elephants and red rabbits and a great big green circus tent.”
Her reply was a bit wobbly when she said, “Really? What happens?”
“The circus comes to town,” he began, “and the pink elephants escape by pulling the green circus tent right over on top of them.”
“Chased by red rabbits, no, blue rabbits. That’s a better story.”
“Blue rabbits, there’s an image. Then what?”
She sighed. “I don’t know.” She wiped a hand across her eyes. “It’s been a bad, very bad, no good day,” she muttered, trying to quote a children’s book title. “And I’ve got a headache.”
“I just bet you do,” he said in sympathy, his hand reaching over to hers. “How about telling me of a day that was the opposite of this one. A very good, extraordinary day.”
“My Angel made me breakfast for my birthday.”
The way she smiled satisfied him that whatever she was thinking about was a good memory. He hoped it wasn’t a guy she was calling her angel. “What did you have?”
“A blueberry bagel with cream cheese, orange juice, strawberries, and some more blueberries.” Grace sighed. “A nice breakfast.”
“You want breakfast stuff tonight for our meal?”
“Sugared cereal? Like Cocoa Puffs?”
“Hmm, I’ve got oatmeal.”
She made a face, and he laughed. “You still prefer your oatmeal in oatmeal cookies, I expect.”
“I remember your mother made the best cookies,” she said wistfully.
“She does. We’re invited over there for dinner tomorrow night. She loves company, and I bet she’ll fix us a batch of oatmeal cookies if I told her you requested it. You could take some back to the camper with you.”
“That sounds nice. I have good memories of your mom.”
“We Thanes don’t mind sharing her.”
They arrived at his home, and he came around to help her from the truck. They followed a ribbon of solar lights up to the front door. Steam rose on the lake in the cool evening. He stopped to show her. “I bet you don’t see views like this in Chicago.” The water shimmered and caught the moon rising just over the trees.
“Oh, Josh, it’s beautiful,” she murmured. “Like a picture painted just for me.”
“Maybe it is, Grace,” he said quietly. “It’s easy to imagine our Father saying, ‘I think my daughter Grace should see something truly lovely this evening,’ and arranging that specifically with you in mind.” He didn’t know if she thought much about God anymore. That would be another layer of sadness if her childhood had robbed her of that too.
She didn’t respond except to whisper, “Thank you.”
She took a couple of steps back down the path to where the view of the lake was more expansive, and he followed a step behind her. It was a peaceful night, still and beautiful, the sounds in the moonlight beginning to chorus, an owl calling close by.
Josh wondered if Grace would agree to a visitor once she was back in Chicago. He wasn’t about to let her disappear from his life for another dozen years. Not now that he knew what she was dealing with. If ever a woman needed a safe friend, he thought, it’s this one. He would be that, one way or another. He’d nudge his way back into her life and figure out what he could do to help. Christmas was coming, a reason to visit.
Back when she was a kid, had she ever risked telling anyone what was happening? Ann had said no when he asked her, but he wondered if Grace might have tried but hadn’t been believed. The implications of that possibility cut like a sharp blade through him.
She’ll be getting cold. Josh went over and caught her hand. “Come on, Grace.” He led her up onto the porch, opened the door, and helped her inside.
“Josh?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you like kids?”
“Love them,” he replied promptly as he hung up the jacket she’d worn.
“Truly?”
“What? I can’t be good with kids and like the outdoors?”
“Then why aren’t you married, raising a family?”
His ability to follow her train of thought wasn’t improving. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he quipped, one eyebrow raised over a grin.
She gave him a look he didn’t need to interpret.
“Okay, so that was the quick answer-in-the-moment. My brother, Will, probably gets there first with Karen, has a bunch of grandkids for Mom and Dad to enjoy. But I figure Gabriel and I are going to get there eventually. I like kids. I like tossing a ball around, putting worms on hooks, being lifeguard when they splash around in the lake.”
“So you’d settle down?”
“It’s no doubt in the realm of possibility that I might grow up that much someday. Not that I’m in any rush.”
She smiled. “Now that sounds more like you.”
“I’m the youngest. I’ve got time to consider matters. But I do like kids. They get to have most of the fun in life.”
“You sound like you mean it.”
“I do. This house is designed so I can build on another section when I need the room for a family.” That was true enough—he actually did plan the design around the idea of having a wife and kids one day, though he’d kept that to himself.
“Where are your dogs?” she wondered, looking around.
He could handle that turn in the conversation. “Probably sleeping in the living room on their sofa. We have a deal—they get one piece of furniture in the house, and I don’t complain about how they laze around on it, sometimes with their feet in the air.”
Grace laughed—shaky, but it was a laugh.
“Through there.” He gestured toward the living room. Sure enough, the dogs were there and stirred themselves enough to check out who it was, then went back to resting their heads on their paws. Grace went over and stroked their backs.
The people couch was still neatly arranged with pillows and his mother’s comforter. “Make yourself at home, Grace. There are photos on the walls and movies on the shelf, so feel free to browse while I find us some food.”
“I’m not much for eating right now, Josh.”
“You can have something simple with me then—take a few bites to be polite. Go wander. I’ve got some pictures of the lake you’ll enjoy.”
He deliberately left her on her own and headed into the kitchen. He started coffee, reflected a moment, and heated water for tea in case that would sound better to her. She needed to eat, so something that would tempt her lack of an appetite.
He opened cabinets and considered options, opened the refrigerator, and finally settled on fixings for a simple meal. He listened to Grace moving around the living room, recognized the sound of the floorboards as she walked over to the shelves where he had family photos displayed, movies and books stacked. He heard the fireplace doors swing open. Good. She needed the warmth. He’d left it banked, but it should kick back to a good blaze when he tossed on another log.
When he walked into the living room carrying a tray, Grace was curled up on the couch with a movie cued up to the opening credits, a book in her lap. He recognized one from the library, a retrospective on bridges and how they were engineered. “What did you settle on for a movie?” he asked as he put the tray on the coffee table.
“American Sniper.”
“A guy movie? A war movie?”
“It’s a lot like Will’s experience, isn’t it?”
“He refuses to watch it with me, though he’s got a copy of the film. From the little he’s said, I think his experience was more IEDs and exploding mortar rounds than sniper fire, though I’ve seen that thousand-yard stare at times when he’s lost in a memory. Why this one?”
“Maybe a reminder my days aren’t so bad now. No one’s shooting at me.”
“I suppose it’s all relative.” He handed her two aspirin and a cup of tea. “Take these if you haven’t already had something for the headache.”
“I haven’t.” She swallowed the aspirin, sipped the tea. She looked with mild interest at the tray he set on the table. “What are we having?”
“Chicken salad with grapes and pecans, orange slices, and some kind of white soft cheese on crackers. The cashews are if you don’t like the other choices. If you give this a try, I’ll fix popcorn for the movie.”
“Sounds like a bribe to me.” But she picked up a plate, served herself a small helping of the salad.
He added two logs to the fire, stoked it back to life. He dimmed the lights for the movie and to better enjoy the fireplace. He dropped a box of tissues on the table in case she needed them and took a seat beside her. “That headache is killing you,” he mentioned kindly, looking into her face.
She rubbed her forehead. “Yeah. I hope the aspirin kicks in soon.”
“What were you talking with Ann about that made you cry?”
She shook her head. Okay. Not going there tonight. He considered her movie choice. “You sure you wouldn’t want something else, like maybe Captain America in a merely fictional war?”
“Nope, this one.”
“Okay, let’s start the movie,” he said, picking up his plate. “It’s going to be the oddest date I’ve ever had.”
She picked up the remote. “It’s not a date.”
He took a bite of the chicken salad, then said, “I invited you over, and you came. You’re drinking my tea, eating my food, and hogging the most comfortable pillows on the couch. What else is needed?”
“A date doesn’t feel sorry for me.”
“Good point.” He snagged one of the few pillows she wasn’t using, propped his feet on the table. He caught her glance. “We’ll try this again tomorrow night. Maybe I won’t be feeling sorry for you then.”
She smiled slightly. “Okay.”
“Mom swears my chicken salad is as good as hers.”
“You made it?”
“I’m a surprisingly good cook, and not just for things that are headed to my grill.”
He smiled when she went back for another helping a few minutes later. He’d get popcorn in her tonight, maybe a piece of pie. She needed the carbs.
She was silently crying again. Josh leaned over to pull the box of tissues closer to her reach, leaned his head back against the couch cushion. She had so much to be sad about, and the tears surfaced whenever she gave herself a moment to think. It was probably as good a movie to cry through as any. War was depressing, and his brother had volunteered for six years. Josh could appreciate Will’s sacrifice while accepting his own choice not to volunteer. He himself didn’t carry around such bad memories, something he was grateful for. He’d lived a mostly stress-free life, and he didn’t apologize for it. But he could appreciate the fact others didn’t get that luxury. Grace, most of all . . .
When he realized Grace wasn’t going to stop crying, he reached for her hand, held it lightly in case it made her at all uncomfortable. But she left it there. He could provide food, hold her hand, and think up enough “non-dates” that she might eventually get through an evening without crying. And if his heart didn’t break sometime during the process, that would be a good thing too. He was close to thinking he’d rather take a bullet than watch her in pain like this.
“Josh?”
He tipped his head her way. “Yeah?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I don’t know.”
“You are a strangely honest man.”
“One of my many quirky and likable characteristics.”
“Seriously, Josh. Thank you.”
He tightened his hand around hers. “I am glad to have you back here, Grace, no matter the circumstances. Never doubt that.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
He turned back to the movie so she wouldn’t see his own tears. She had such sad eyes. She had been the best part of his childhood, yet what he’d had was a mirage of the truth, and his heart ached tonight at the realization.
Evie waited until Josh and Grace had disappeared down the road, until the truck’s engine was a faint echo and the night insects were humming again, before she said, “Ann, I’m so sorry about your day. Even sorrier it was Grace’s too. If that woman doesn’t splinter into pieces in the next few weeks, I’ll be stunned.”
“I’m afraid I see the same thing. I’ll call her doctor tomorrow, get Rachel down here for the weekend.”
It was getting colder, but the fire was throwing out enough heat to make it tolerable. “You ever have a more difficult time than today?” Evie asked, curious.
“The day the nation’s VP was nearly killed would be right up there. But this one rips my insides more.”
“Is she ever going to be okay?”
“Eventually,” Ann replied, leaning forward to toss another log onto the fire. “She’s got friends around her who won’t let it be otherwise. I’ve known several survivors—Ruth Bazoni, Shannon Bliss are two. It will be even harder for Grace, though, because it was a family member.”
“Yeah.” Evie sighed. “Some days I hate being a cop, and yet at the same time I’m grateful I can stop guys like this when we can find them.”
“Key point being ‘when we can find them.’ We mostly find their victims first . . . and too often only the victim.”
“You should call Paul.”
“He’s on his way—he’ll be at the airport in about an hour. Our state attorney general needed some of his time, so Paul flew south with him. They’ll drop him off at the airport here, then fly the AG on to Springfield.”
“Good.”
“Our original plans were to fly down together Friday and spend the weekend here, so he’s just moved it forward a few days. And you’re right—I do need him.”
Evie turned to better see Ann. “You like being married, don’t you?”
Ann considered the question for a moment. Evie sat up, arms across her knees. Ann finally answered, “I wouldn’t trade it for not being married.”
Evie found that response revealing. Ann had been single into her forties. Evie still had a few more years before she’d be at that point. She didn’t feel the emotions, the burden, of this case like Ann did, but Evie knew if she stayed in the job long enough, there were going to be situations that would be just as personal for her. There would be days she, too, needed someone to lean on. She just wasn’t sure if Rob Turney was that guy.
She lay back on the blanket, propped her feet up on the log again. It had been a truly miserable day. Guys like Grace’s uncle corrupted an entire community. This would echo through the town for years. People would wonder who else the man might have hurt. Evie was glad she wouldn’t be living in Carin. Leaks about the case would happen, bits would be put together, and the truth would filter out. If it was proved that Kevin Arnett had abducted and killed the Dayton girl, speculations about Grace would naturally surface as a result. How would Gabriel handle those questions? Evie thought her job was hard, but his was brutal by comparison.
Not for the first time, Evie thought about why she’d prefer to marry someone other than a cop. Two cops, both with days like this, there wouldn’t be any room to breathe. She needed someone who didn’t carry these kinds of troubles home with him. “Ann?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell me to stop thinking.”
Ann chuckled. “You could say the same to me. It’s a night for it.”
Evie went back to studying the stars. Spread out above her, they filled the night sky. She considered praying, but what was there to say? God, I don’t know what to do with my future? She’d been having that conversation with Him for the last four years. A few decisions on the edges had been made, but nothing seemed like a certain direction.
She knew God was simply letting her have time to think, to decide what it was she really wanted. That was the pleasure of being His daughter. Within wide boundaries, she could choose the path, and God would be fine with her decision.
“You’re still thinking too hard,” Ann commented, looking over with a smile.
“Ever been so uncertain about something that you ended up not deciding at all?” Evie asked.
Ann didn’t say anything for a long beat. “I’m fine with the future looking like today. That’s a decision of its own.”
Evie looked over at Ann. “I don’t want things to change.”
Ann shrugged. “That’s a decision. Don’t knock it. Oftentimes it’s the right one too.”
“Why would I want things to change?” Evie agreed.
“It doesn’t eliminate answering the questions, since change keeps coming whether you want it to or not. But if there isn’t a reason for a change, why do it? I lived a lot of years content with life, perfectly fine with having the future look like the present.”
“And then . . . ?”
“Paul showed up. It’s not easy, that transition to being married. It can be a disconcerting shift in day-to-day life, but it becomes an ‘at home’ place of its own, if it’s a wisely chosen marriage.”
“Better than single?”
Ann was quiet again, then said, “Not better than single, just different. It has its own dynamics. I wouldn’t change being married to be single again because Paul is in the equation. But put any generic guy in the picture, I’d probably be happier being single than married. Paul is the reason this marriage is a success. I got very lucky—very blessed—with the guy who chose me.”
“You didn’t go looking for him?”
Ann smiled. “I gave him every reason I could come up with for us not to be more than friends, and he saw something appealing enough in what the marriage could be that he kept pursuing it. It came down to trusting that he was right, and saying yes even though I knew there was risk involved. It felt like stepping off a cliff when I made it, but I don’t regret the decision. Never will.”
“I wouldn’t have figured there was a struggle,” Evie said. “Not looking at you today.”
“Some days God smiles at you, and Paul was one of those blessings that just showed up when I wasn’t looking for it. God is nice that way.”
Evie was pretty sure Rob was not her Paul. The man had a lot going for him, but it didn’t feel at all like Ann’s experience—not that she was trying for the same journey, but she liked the outcome Ann had found. She’d like, in her own way, to end up with at least something like that one day.
Yeah, she was thinking too hard. She went back to counting stars and wondering if they might be God’s brushstrokes tonight to keep her occupied.
Gabriel Thane
Restless, Gabriel drove out to the campground just after eight p.m. and found Ann and Evie sitting by the fire. He looked at the dark motor home behind them. “Grace already turned in for the night?”
“Josh talked her into going his way for popcorn and a movie,” Evie said.
Gabriel got himself a cold soda and took one of the extra chairs. “I hope it’s a good distraction, helps her sleep tonight.”
“She needs to get far away from Carin County,” Ann remarked. “When she leaves, when this is done, thankfully she won’t be coming back—won’t again be facing all the memories lumped together like this.”
“Josh will be saying goodbye a second time.” Gabe sighed, shook his head. “It’ll be as hard on him as it was back then, probably harder.” He stretched out his legs, looked over at Evie, smiled at the sight she made on the blanket, feet crossed at the ankles and propped on a log. “Nice camping spot. Great view of the stars tonight.”
“Come out to see Grace about anything in particular?” Evie asked.
“Mom would like her to come over for dinner tomorrow. Figured I would invite her, if Josh hasn’t already.”
“That’s very kind of your mom,” Ann said. “Evie, maybe you could stay here until Grace is back, tend the fire, make sure she’s okay? I can take the convertible to pick up Paul—and I’m putting the top up. Maybe Gabe can bring you back to your place?”
“Sure,” he put in, “no problem.”
“I’m not planning to move for a while,” Evie said, tossing the car keys from her pocket across to Ann. “I’m still counting stars. I hate to leave a job unfinished. Tell your husband I’d like his pancakes for breakfast,” Evie requested. “I’m partial to his cooking over yours or mine.”
“A wise choice,” Ann agreed as she stood. “Gabriel, you and I need to talk soon about Will and Karen.”
He looked her direction, blinked, sighed again. “Don’t take this wrong, but I’d actually forgotten about them. Text me when you’re turning in. I’ll call you when I get home if I haven’t heard anything from you before then.”
“That works.”
Gabriel followed her over to the yellow rental to help with the top. He watched her car lights fade, settled back into his chair, listened to the night sounds and finished his soda, enjoying the peace of the moment.
“You don’t need to stay, Gabriel,” Evie said. “I’m sure Josh could run me home when he brings Grace back. Wander up to your brother’s place, say hello to Grace. Josh might be in dire need of help if she’s crying again.”
“Josh can handle Grace. The best thing for her would be just that kind of open, honest grief.” He reached for a long stick and stirred the fire. “He made her a Valentine’s Day card, back when he was in the sixth grade. That’s what I remember most about Josh and Grace, that sweet crush he had on her. Made me proud to be his brother, even if I did give him some minor grief about having a girlfriend. I mostly wished I had one too.”
She smiled. “Childhood days are the innocent ones. We don’t see the evil lurking around us.” She studied him across the firelight. “You okay, Gabriel?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been better.”
“I bet your dad is having an equally hard night.”
“He’s got Mom. She won’t let the grief overpower him. He didn’t know any of this, but it doesn’t lessen the pain of it now.”
“Your father would have stepped in front of a train for that little girl—both Ashley and Grace. He would have dealt with this hard and fast, if he’d known.”
Gabriel nodded and watched the fire. He was grateful that nothing else was needed of him tonight. He felt at his limit.
“Grace couldn’t talk about it.” Evie looked over at him. “You know that, don’t you, more than just the theory of it? She couldn’t talk about it or she would have. He’d destroyed her world, her sense of self, so completely that telling someone wasn’t possible. She was only six years old. She buried it in order to keep breathing, simply to survive.”
“I know it, Evie.” He blew out a breath, put the empty soda can on the ground. “My head knows it, but my emotions can’t yet accept the fact.” He looked over at her. “You have any secrets buried this deep?” he asked idly. “No need to answer that—simply curious.”
She lifted the bottle she held, moved it out to arm’s length, using it to block stars to make it easier to count a line of them. “I killed my brother.” She said it so softly, he almost didn’t hear her.
He felt like he’d been hit by a fastball. “You . . . ?”
“I was seven. I gave him my toy plane to play with because I didn’t want him to play with my dolls, undo their ribbons, mess up their hair. He ate one of the wheels and choked to death. Our babysitter from that night committed suicide six months later.”
“Oh, Evie, I am so sorry. I—I can’t . . .” But he couldn’t finish.
She tipped the bottle back and forth. “I slit my wrist a year later. It was too painful for me to do the job properly, so here I am.”
“Talk about the wrong question to have asked. Have you . . . ?” There wasn’t any good way to word the question. “You’ve been able to deal with it?”
“I don’t know. My brother’s name was Sam. I called him Sammy. Some days it’s tolerable, realizing he’s not here, and other days it just aches. They tell you it gets better with time, but mostly it just is. ‘Accidents happen’ doesn’t change the fact he’s not here. And I caused it.”
“How are your parents?”
“Terrified I will die on them too. They abhor the fact I became a cop. They think I have a death wish.”
“Do you?”
In the dim firelight he saw her shrug. “I don’t know. That a deep enough secret for you, Gabriel?”
“Feeling guilty about something so catastrophic is pretty normal.”
“I know.”
“Have you told Rob about Sammy?”
“He knows I once had a brother, but no.”
“Why not?”
“He hasn’t asked about my secrets.”
“You’re not going to marry him, are you?” He punched a stick into the fire to have something to do. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be prying on that topic. Ann’s concerned.”
“I know she is.” Evie set down the root-beer bottle. “I do fine not answering when I think someone is prying, Gabriel.” She was silent for a while. “I don’t know. Rob has his flaws. He can be arrogant, and blind to it. He can be overly impressed by people who have money. But he can also be generous to a fault. He remembers names of the janitors, he likes my jokes for the most part, and he puts up with my crazy work schedule with good humor.”
She sat up, wrapped her arms around her knees. “I like the fact he doesn’t have the details of a single crime to discuss while we’re having a meal together. It’s nice not dating a cop. He’s got generations of solid family behind him, no divorces, a confidence about himself, he’s sincere about religion, even if he’s—how should I put it?—more showy about it than I am. And he’s good to me. There would be much worse husbands to have.” She smiled at her own list. “But I’m not sure I want to quit being a cop for the sake of peace with my mother-in-law. His parents think marrying a cop is a bit too downscale for them—you know, blue collar. I don’t think they’d ever met a cop before Rob brought me to their brownstone on Chicago’s Lake Shore Drive.”
Gabriel smiled at the way she said it. “Do you love him?”
“Hmm . . . I can say I like him. And for now, that’s been enough.”
“Is he going to propose, you think?”
She thought about it. “He probably will,” she guessed. “He likes to present something as a fait accompli, let others adjust to the idea it’s been decided, rather than let things develop outside his control. He won’t ask as much as presume it’s a yes, until he’s certain what I will say. He’s big into knowing the outcome, saving face. Then he’ll want to have that elaborate engagement party, public wedding, make it a big social event.”
“Do you want to be married?”
She shrugged. “Some days I do. Like this one—the last thing I want is to be alone, churning through the memories of this day. But being married means big changes, probably kids. I’m not much on making changes.” She stirred the fire. “Tit for tat, Gabriel. You have something you consider a deep secret?”
He thought about how to answer, finally said, “I was engaged once.”
She turned her head on her folded arms to better see him. “Really?”
“Really. Didn’t tell my folks. Eventually told my brothers.”
“I’m thinking I might not want to know this story.”
“Your choice.”
She considered it, then said, “Tell me.”
“Elizabeth Sara Doevelly, a literature major, born in Paris, raised in London. I met her in Chicago when she was a graduate student at the same college as me.”
“Why the secret, Gabriel?”
“Her parents were divorced, her father a diplomat. He gave his blessing to us marrying, but asked for my word that we would tell her mother first before we told my parents. We made arrangements to fly to London to meet her mom.
“We wanted ceremonies in both America and England”—he gestured with a hand—“wanted to hang the marriage certificates side by side. So we got on the flight to tell her mom, were planning a garden ceremony at her parents’ home for that weekend. After a honeymoon in Europe, we’d come back to the States and tell my folks, have a church wedding here in Carin with family and friends. I know that sounds over the top, but we were young, Elizabeth was very creative, and it solved a stack of problems for how to honor her father’s request. My parents liked her, they were going to approve of our getting married, so it was a logistics kind of thing. Elizabeth was close to her mother, and it was a big deal for her to have a wedding in London.”
“What happened?” Evie asked when he stopped.
“Our taxicab in London got hit by a truck. Two doctors in a restaurant nearby came running. There was nothing that could be done. She was gone nearly instantly.” He had thought he could tell it without the pain, but he was startled at how it washed over him once more.
“That’s an awful way to lose someone you love, and so close to her becoming your wife,” Evie whispered.
His sigh was long. “Yeah, not good. I didn’t tell my family we were engaged and that close to being married—they already knew how important Elizabeth was to me. It would have added another layer to their grief for me, and I didn’t think either they or I could carry that. I came back, focused on being a good cop, became sheriff of Carin County.”
“Is that why you’ve never married?”
He honestly didn’t know. He tried his own shrug. “I am marriage-minded. I like the thought of it. But practicalities have pushed it to the background. I like my work. I don’t mind the hours, though some disruptions can begin to irritate. I want to have what I have now, plus something more, and it’s not a simple thing to figure out.”
“Paul and Ann are interesting to watch together,” Evie said thoughtfully. “She still travels a lot, more than you realize at first. But their marriage works. Works well, I would say. There’s no sense of distance in their relationship when you see them together.”
Gabriel smiled. “Nothing happens in Ann’s life that she doesn’t tell Paul. That’s part of it.”
“The other part?” Evie asked, sounding curious.
“Paul has created a safe place for her in his world. She can still be herself inside the marriage. She’s understood and welcomed for who she is; he went into the marriage having figured that out before he asked her to marry him. He was smart that way.”
“He does that all very, very well—accepting, customizing, loving Ann as Ann.”
“Envious, Evie?”
She sighed. “Green with it.”
Gabriel chuckled. “Yeah. I can relate.”
It was eleven p.m. before Grace and Josh returned. Evie went inside with Grace to make sure she was settled in the motor home for the night, Gabriel quietly suggesting she stay until Grace had fallen asleep. He needed a few minutes of conversation with his brother.
“Josh, you want to talk?” Gabriel asked.
“About which part of this horrific day?”
He nodded toward the road. “Let’s walk for a while.”
Josh shoved his hands into his pockets and matched his stride to his brother’s. “She cried much of the evening. The whole thing is killing her.”
“She needed to do this, Josh, or she wouldn’t have come.”
“Yeah. Got that.” Josh sighed. “What’s a guy suppose to do? Nearly as long as I knew her, this was going on. I didn’t have a clue. To care about someone, yet not catch on . . .”
“We were kids, Josh. I have to keep telling myself that.”
“So was she.”
“Her tears are probably the best thing that could happen.”
Josh shook his head. “You didn’t see Grace out in those woods this morning, staring at the lake, wondering if a car could be driven over one of those bluffs and not be seen again. There’s an anger in Grace that feels . . . well, feels almost physical, and it’s an emotion she has nowhere to direct for some closure. It’s eating her alive. And this afternoon, just walking that land around the house, she’s stretched beyond anything I can imagine with those memories. She can put on an appearance that she’s okay, but she’s dying inside.”
“She’s talking with a doctor, with Ann. She’s come back here. She’s dealing with it, Josh.”
“Not very well. I should insist that she not be part of the search. I can tell her I can do it better, faster without her there. Which is true.”
“Do that if you need to,” Gabriel agreed, “but it doesn’t help the inevitable, Josh. If you find an answer—or don’t—regarding her parents, she’ll have to face it then. Same with any information about the Dayton girl. Grace will have to find a way to come to terms with all of it. We can help, but ultimately it’s her journey, one step at a time.”
Josh blew out a breath. “There’s no way I’ll find her parents after twenty-five years—not unless we trip over the car itself, which isn’t entirely out of the question. Otherwise it’s finding where the ground has shifted, the graves have worked back toward the surface as trees fall and roots push up the ground. Only under the very best of conditions will the dogs trigger on remains that old.”
“You’ll do what can be done, and that’s what Grace needs. Even if we can’t find the remains, I think we talk to her about a small funeral service for her parents, one that she’ll remember and will provide some closure. She was two when the first memorial service was held,” Gabriel said, “I think she needs another fixed day to say, ‘Goodbye, I’ll see you in heaven.’”
“That would help,” Josh agreed. “Dad said he’d be out at the farm tomorrow morning, take up a shovel for a while. I think he wants to see the place again now that he knows the truth. I’ll ask him to take a walk through the house and barns once Grace and I are working the pastureland where she can’t see him.”
“Good. Anything you need from me, Josh?”
“Prayer for good weather. I don’t want to have to stop until we’re done.”
“Let’s do that now.” Gabriel put an arm across Josh’s shoulders, asked God for a reasonably good day tomorrow, especially for Grace.
“Amen,” Josh echoed.
Gabriel turned to the motor home as Josh headed back to his truck. They would get through this as a family. But it was going to get heavier as it went on.
He smothered the fire in the ring, collected the bottles to recycle, folded up the blanket Evie had used, and stored the chairs. Evie stepped out just as Gabriel finished scanning the area with a flashlight to confirm all was secure for the night.
“She’s asleep. I waited a bit to be sure, prayed for her and for the rest of us.”
“Josh and I prayed too before he left. There are so many questions, so much grief and anger that’s being dug up along with this search, Evie. It’s hard to know exactly what to ask the Almighty to do.”
“I know,” Evie said. “It’s a good thing our prayers don’t require instructions for God—He knows what each one of us needs.”
Gabriel smiled. “Probably better than we can put them into words anyway.” He helped Evie settle in his truck for the ride to her place, circled around to climb in himself, hoping the truck’s engine wouldn’t disturb Grace for more than a brief moment. “Why don’t you tip that seat back and close your eyes, Evie? You’ve earned a few minutes of quiet.”
“You don’t need to offer twice. I’m exhausted.” She did as he suggested, and if she didn’t doze, she at least rested. Gabriel caught glimpses of her face in the lights of occasional passing cars. She was turning off her mind, getting some needed shut-eye. If only he could do the same when he got home.
As they drove up to the house, Gabriel saw the convertible in the driveway, a few lights on in the house. Ann and Paul had returned from the airport. He pulled into the drive, and Evie pushed the seat upright, waved him off walking her to the door. He waited until she stepped inside, then pulled out.
Gabriel figured his letter to God tonight would be a short one. He’d already composed it: God, please heal a lot of broken hearts. GT. Grace, Ann, Josh, himself, his parents, the Dayton girl’s parents—the list of people still in pain tonight, even after many years, was long. And don’t forget Evie. She’s carried an unimaginable burden for an awfully long time.
Gabriel didn’t have a text from Ann that she was calling it a night, so he made a call as he drove through the sleeping town. “Ann,” he said when she picked up, “I’ve mentally jarred myself from thinking ‘Josh and Grace’ to thinking about ‘Will and Karen.’ I can’t say I’m at my best at the moment, but let’s talk, if now is okay with you.”
“Now’s fine. Karen said we could tell Will the story about Tom Lander and the trial.”
“I was hoping she’d agree. When do you want to do it?”
“Time doesn’t help this, Gabe. Josh finds something out at the farm, the media shows up in town, we can’t risk Karen being caught on film in the background of a reporter’s statement. Let’s get the conversation over with. Wednesday morning?”
“You mean like tomorrow, which starts in about ten minutes?”
“I’m thinking we go see Will first thing. But we begin with what’s going on with Grace. You, Josh, and your father knowing what’s coming, Will not being in the loop isn’t going to work.”
“Dad already had a word with him about Grace. We’ll go talk with him about Karen. I’ll pick you up at the house at seven—if that’s not too early.”
“Paul will be flipping pancakes by then. Eat with us.”
“Works for me. We’ll tell Will about this guy Karen is trying to shake, make sure Will stays level-headed, doesn’t take off to Chicago to get a look at him. One crisis at a time is enough right now.”
“Let’s hope.”
Gabriel smiled at Ann’s tone. “Something has to break our way one of these days, Ann. You okay?”
“Better, now that Paul’s around asking me the same question. I’ll see you in a few hours, Gabriel.”
“Done.” He put his phone away. Ann had been smart to get married. He would prefer not to be going home to an empty house tonight. God, do you have a marriage in my future? Because tonight the idea rather appeals.