Hester leaned away from him. “Other than Mom,” she repeated. “Wow.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Other than Mom.” Hester shook her head. “Low blow, Matthew.”
He lowered his head.
“Don’t pull that passive-aggressive nonsense on your old grandma. It doesn’t play with me, do you understand?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I live and work in Manhattan,” she continued. “You and your mom live in Westville. I came out as often as I could.”
“I know.”
“Low blow,” she repeated.
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just…” Matthew looked her in the eyes and they were so like David’s that she almost winced. “I don’t want you to attack him, okay?”
Hester looked out the window. “Fair enough.”
“I’m worried, that’s all. He’s off in a foreign country and—”
“Wilde came back months ago,” Hester said.
“How do you know?”
“He was in touch. I got someone to take care of that metal tube he calls home while he was gone.”
“Wait. So he’s back in the woods?”
“I assume so.”
“But you haven’t spoken to him?”
“Not since he’s been back. But before last year, I hadn’t spoken to Wilde in six years. That’s how it is with me and him.”
Matthew nodded. “Now I’m really worried.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t home six months ago. I’m home now. I’ve been home a week.”
Hester saw where he was going with this. When Wilde lived in the mountain forest behind their home, he would watch over Matthew and Laila, mostly from a hidden perch in the hills, sometimes sitting in the backyard by himself in the dark, and sometimes—at least for a brief period—from Laila’s bed.
“If he’s back in the country and okay,” Matthew continued, “he would have said hello to us.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Not for sure,” Matthew agreed.
“And he’s had a rough go of it.”
“How so?”
Hester wondered how much to tell him and then figured what’s the harm. “He found his birth father.”
Matthew’s eyes widened. “Whoa.”
“Yes.”
“Where was he? What happened?”
“I don’t really know, and if I did, it wouldn’t be my place to tell you. But I don’t think it went well. Wilde came home, threw away the disposable phone I was using to reach him, and I haven’t heard from him since.”
Tim veered onto Route 17 North. For three decades, Hester had made this commute to and from Manhattan. She and Ira had been happy here. They had managed the balance of career and family as well as any couple she knew. When the boys moved out, Hester and Ira sold the Westville house and bought a place in Manhattan. This had been Hester and Ira’s long-term plan: Work hard, do your best by your kids, spend your “golden years” in the city with your spouse. Alas. Not to be. Hester may like the expression “Man plans, God laughs,” but an offshoot translation—“If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans”—seemed more apropos in her case.
“Nana?”
“Yes?”
“How did you reach Wilde last time?”
“You mean, when you asked me to find Naomi?”
Matthew nodded.
Hester let out a long breath and considered her options. “Is your mother home?”
Matthew checked the clock on his phone. “Probably. Why?”
“I’m going to drop you off. If it’s okay with her, I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Why wouldn’t it be okay with her?”
“Maybe she has plans,” Hester said. “You know me. I’m not one for prying.”
Matthew burst out laughing.
“Nobody likes a wise mouth, Matthew.”
“You’re a wise mouth,” he countered.
“Exactly.”
Matthew smiled at her. The smile cleaved Hester’s heart in two. “Where are you going after you drop me off?”
“To see if I can find Wilde.”
“Why can’t I come?”
“Let’s do it my way for now.”
Matthew was not thrilled with that reply, but his grandmother’s tone made it clear that resistance would be futile. They headed off the classic New Jersey highway near a bunch of car dealerships, and two minutes later, it was like they’d entered another world. Tim made a right, then a left, then two more rights. Hester knew the route too well. The beautifully bloated log cabin was carved into the foothills of the Ramapo Mountains section of the Appalachians.