47

As long as Lee’s car was still here, she had to be here too. But Violet had searched the whole house. Well, other than Chuck and Belinda’s bedroom, but Lee wasn’t in there for sure. A little while after Clay and Khloe left, the couple had emerged from the dining room, braced against each other, and sat on the couch. Silent except that every few minutes, Belinda still moaned softly, like a person in deep physical pain. Soon Chuck half carried her upstairs to bed, then disappeared into his study.

When the basement proved empty too, Violet went to the study, tapped on the door, and pushed it open.

He wasn’t here. The Bible sat on the floor beside the overstuffed chair, open to the book of Romans.

He must have gone up to check on Belinda. Violet took the winding stairs two at a time. Halfway to their door, she stopped. Belinda was crying again. Maybe Violet shouldn’t intrude.

She had to tell them where she was going, at least.

The tap on the door sounded too loud. Belinda’s tears floundered, quieted. The door opened to Chuck, stooped and crinkle-faced.

Violet spoke as fast as she could. “Lee’s not in the house and I’m going outside to look for her and I wanted to let you to know where I was.”

Violet looked past him into the room. Huddled under the covers, Belinda pushed up to one elbow. “L-Lee’s gone m-missing?”

“No, she’s probably just outside.” Violet backed away from the door. “I won’t bother you guys anymore. I’m sure I’ll find her.”

“Oh, Chuck. How could we forget Lee?” Belinda sat up and shoved the blankets aside.

“You stay here, Pearl.”

She pushed her hair back from her face and took a deep, shaking breath. “That girl’s hurting bad. Laying here feeling my own hurt don’t help no one right now.”

Downstairs, Chuck grabbed his shoes, and Belinda pushed her feet into a pair of ragged blue house slippers. The three of them marched out into the dark. The rain had stopped, but the grass squished under Violet’s tennis shoes. Good thing she’d brought these shoes and left the ballet flats and sandals at home.

She should probably try to stop thinking of her parents’ house as home. Or the Hansen house, for that matter. Or anywhere.

They circled the whole house and nearly missed Lee. On the far side of an overgrown spruce tree, Belinda had cultivated a garden of wildflowers, bordered in stone. The flowers spilled over the rocks and crowded each other, a blooming rainbow riot that left no space in the garden to walk. The porch light didn’t reach this far, but a floodlight was set up several feet away and aimed at an antique-looking sign on a post: The Vitales.

Lee sat in the grass, knees up, staring into the garden. She’d been here since before the rain stopped. Her hair clung to her head, and her T-shirt was saturated. The rain hadn’t brought the temperature down much, but she still had to be cold.

Belinda shuffled close and stood over her. “Lee, sugar, come inside. You’ll catch your death.”

Not even a flinch of response. Violet circled to face her. Lee’s eyes held no focus.

Violet perched on a stone seat, her back to the flowers. “Lee?”

She could have been a robot, shut off with the flip of a switch.

Belinda squatted to her eye level. “I know it hurts real bad right now. It’s—” A tiny sob broke through. “It’s hurting inside me too. I can’t hardly let myself believe it. But you can’t sit out here all night. You’ll get sick, and anyway, it won’t help the hurts. Come on inside, and I’ll make us some tea. You want something to eat, maybe?”

Lee hunched tighter over her knees.

Violet shifted her seat. The stones were making her backside sore. “Lee, should we leave you alone?”

No response.

“I’m not leaving you outside like this, sugar. You might as well come on into the house.”

Chuck stood apart, thumbs hooked in his belt loops, out of Lee’s sight. He shifted on his feet.

Violet rubbed her arms. Maybe Belinda was right to push. No matter what Lee wanted, she couldn’t stay out here all night.

“Please look at me, Lee,” Belinda whispered, and a tear dripped down her cheek.

Finally, the blank eyes blinked and focused. “You fail to grasp nonverbal communication.”

Hurt flashed into Belinda’s face. “What’s that mean?”

“Like, ‘if I ignore them, they’ll go away,’” Violet said. Lee’s gaze flickered to her and stayed there. Progress, maybe. “If you wanted to be by yourself, you could have driven off somewhere.”

“I did not wish to endanger other drivers. My concentration is somewhat lacking.” No inflection.

“Well, um, why don’t you come in? And you can drive home in the morning? It’s only a few hours until then, anyway.”

The weave of Lee’s fingers whitened. She was clenching her hands, but the way she folded them hid the tension. Unless you were close enough to see that her fingers had gone bloodless.

“That’s a good plan, Violet.” Belinda stood up with a tiny grunt and held her hand out to Lee. “What kind of tea do you like? I’ve got lemon and honey, too.”

Lee’s eyes sputtered like a wind-ravaged candle. Her hands spasmed tighter.

Belinda wasn’t doing this right. Violet breathed in deep and blurted the only thing she could think of.

“Lee, could I drive you home?”

The motionless, flat figure in front of Violet gave her no way to guess if this was a helpful idea or not. Except for those clenching hands. A bit of pink seeped back into her fingers.

“We don’t have to talk. If you want, I won’t talk at all, all night. Do you work in the morning?”

Lee blinked. “Yes.”

“Okay, well, I’m homeless anyway. If I need to hang out at your house until you get off work, I can. And then you can bring me back here for my car.”

Another blink. A breath that raised Lee’s frozen shoulders.

“Is that what you want, Lee?” Belinda’s voice wobbled. “To have Violet drive you home?”

Lee pulled her hands down to her lap. “Yes. Please.” Her eyes found Violet’s again. “Thank you.”

“Yup.” Violet sprang to her feet. “I’ll go grab my stuff.”