“I hear you. Hey, Dad’s birthday—what do you want me to bring over?”
“The girls and your appetite.”
“What, we’re going to eat my kids?”
That pulled a chuckle from me. Kel could always make me laugh. “Make a salad or something. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“Sounds great. Sorry I couldn’t help.”
“No worries. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“No offense, but you were the only reason I was ever in trouble.”
“What I’m here for.”
“Big brother, good example, so responsible, blah blah blah.”
“Goodbye, sis.”
I hung up on her retort.
My agent loved the new book. Fantastic. Inspired. Creepy. So readable. And the ending, nailed it! The praise would’ve sent me over the moon a few weeks back. Now it barely made a blip on the radar. My career belonged to another life. Something before all this when the world made sense and people didn’t die or disappear in the night.
Before I fell in love.
This stupid caring. This idiotic feeling. This self-absorbed yearning making you do foolish things, making you go on wild-goose chases and nearly get yourself killed in the middle of the woods.
All for those quiet moments of looking into the eyes of someone who understands you. Who you share secrets with. Who you trust.
I sighed and knew, given the chance, I’d do it all over again.
I wrote back to my agent saying great, wonderful, glad she liked it. What was she thinking for time frame on revisions? What publishing houses might be interested? All immaterial motions to maintain the semblance of normality. Mission control, everything is go for launch.
The rest of the afternoon whittled away an hour at a time. Check the news here, do some dishes there, prep a little dinner for Dad and me. Try not to think of where she is. Where the boys are or if they’re afraid. Try not to worry you won’t be smart enough to find them, to save them. Don’t think about that.
Then the sun was settling into the horizon and the whole sky was on fire.
Dad and I sat in his backyard watching the light fade, talking a little but mostly just being quiet. I didn’t know if anything had changed now that the affair was out in the open. I knew he didn’t actually suspect me of murder or anything like that, but I wondered if there was a part of him that was disappointed. Maybe he’d felt the same way hearing Sharon and I were divorcing or that the last couple of books hadn’t sold as well as my earlier titles.
Or maybe he was just worried about his son and the mess he was in.
After he was settled in for the night, I went home. The very last of the light caressed the church’s steeple, making it glow. Glory on high and all that.
Around nine, as I was trying to consider heading to bed, a knock came at the door. When I opened it, Kel stood there bathed in the porch light, holding a bottle of wine in one hand.
“You’re lucky I love you,” she said.
14
“There’s this one lady at work who runs the history of every cute guy who comes through the door,” Kel said, kicking off her shoes in the entry. “Where are your wineglasses?”
“What? Corner cabinet, top shelf.”
“I’m too short. You get those, I’ll open this,” she said, digging through my silverware drawer until she found a corkscrew. As I retrieved the glasses, she kept talking. “I started thinking about that after you called. Yvonne, she’s divorced and always on the hunt for Mr. Right, or Mr. Right Now, as she puts it. I don’t know how many guys she’s looked up to make sure they aren’t creepers or have any outstanding warrants and whatnot. So I thought if she does it constantly for selfish reasons and never gets caught, I can do it this once. What’s the big deal?” Kel smiled and handed me a glass. “Cheers.”
We clinked and went into the living room to sit next to the big windows. The street was empty outside, lampposts exhaling yellow breath into fog clouding the neighborhood. It could’ve been the end of the world out there, lifeless and quiet and gray.
“You didn’t have to do it,” I said.
“I know. The best things aren’t done out of need.”
“I’m stealing that.”
“Go ahead.”
“So what did you find about our friend down the street?”
Kel shook her head as she swallowed a large sip of merlot. “Nope. No more cloak-and-dagger. Yesterday I’m gophering after info from Seth, and today I’m risking my career for you—”