“Amy, are you hungry yet?” her mother called from the back porch.
“Not really.”
“When do you want to have dinner?”
“Whenever you want.”
Julianne came down the path to join her at the water’s edge. For a moment they just stood side by side, not speaking, listening to the leaves rustle in the trees.
“We should pull out the canoe tomorrow,” Julianne said. “First thing in the morning, before the motorboats show up, let’s get out on the water.”
“Okay.”
Her mother looked at her. “Are you scared, sweetheart?”
“Aren’t you?”
Julianne peered out at the lake. “We’ve gone through worse. We can get through this too. For now, let’s take it one day at a time.” She turned back to the house. “I’ll finish unpacking, then let’s open a bottle of wine.”
“Are you sure we should?”
“I think we could both use a glass right now.”
* * *
—
It was almost nine that evening when they finally sat down to eat dinner. The meal was uncharacteristic of Julianne, who prided herself on her cooking and usually spared no effort in the kitchen. Tonight it was spaghetti with marinara sauce straight out of a jar, and a salad dressed only with olive oil and salt. An indication that Julianne was more preoccupied than she admitted. The motorboats had finally quieted for the day, and except for the ghostly cry of a loon, the night had gone still. They were both still rattled by the turn of events and they ate in silence, sipping sparingly from their wineglasses. This cabin might be their safe place, but the gathering darkness made them both nervous again and they could not help listening for any warning sounds. The snap of a twig, the rattle of a bush.
The ringing cell phone was such a shock, Amy tipped over her glass and cabernet splashed onto the table. Heart pounding, she tossed down a napkin to mop it up as Julianne answered the phone.
“Yes, we’re fine here. Everything’s fine.”
Amy shot her mother a questioning look and Julianne mouthed the word Daddy. Of course he must be feeling guilty that he wasn’t there with them, but Julianne insisted he should go to the hospital as scheduled. Someone needed to be in the house and make it obvious it was occupied so the stalker would assume that Amy was still there. That was the best way to keep their daughter safe, Julianne told him: Divert the stalker’s attention away from Amy.
“Yes, I’ve called Detective Rizzoli,” Julianne said. “She’s not happy we’re here, but at least she knows where we are. She’s been in touch with the Douglas Police Department, so they know the situation. There’s no need to worry, Mike. Really.”
She was using her Mommy’s in charge voice, which Amy knew so well, a voice that worked on Daddy too. He might be a doctor, accustomed to giving orders in the ICU, but at home he was happy to defer to his wife because she really was on top of things, whether it was the checkbook or the kitchen.
When at last Julianne hung up, she looked frazzled from all the expended effort to calm her husband, and she gave Amy a weary smile. “He wishes he were here.”
“Is he still coming on Saturday?”
“Yes. He’ll leave straight from the hospital.”
“Tell him to bring a few more bottles of wine.”
Julianne laughed. “Poor you. Stuck out here in the middle of nowhere with just your boring parents.”
“Boring is good. Right now, it’s what we both need.” Amy carried the plates to the sink and turned to look at her mother, who sat staring off into the distance, her fingers drumming the table. Julianne never admitted when she was afraid. She never admitted to anything that might rattle her daughter, but Amy didn’t need to be told. She could see it in those fingers, relentlessly tapping out a Morse code of fear.
Julianne stood up. “I’m going out to check the car again. I can’t find my flip-flops anywhere, and I know I packed them.”
“Maybe on the floor of the back seat?”
“Or the trunk. They might be under all those grocery sacks.” Julianne grabbed a flashlight out of the kitchen drawer and stepped outside, the screen door squealing shut behind her. Amy listened to her mother’s footsteps thumping down the porch stairs, and from the window she saw Julianne’s silhouette moving through the trees, toward the driveway.
Amy went back to the sink and tackled the dirty dishes from dinner. Neither one of them had eaten very much tonight, and she scraped congealed spaghetti into the trash, washed and dried the dishes, and set them back in the cabinet.