“Next summer, you and I will be sitting there with a couple beers,” Peter said, “those windows thrown open, watching boats out on the lake. You’ll be grumbling about how you wished you could still water-ski.” Peter snorted. “Like you ever could.”
Isaac laughed, and Peter caught Evangeline’s eye. “Is it good?”
“What?” Evangeline said.
“The almond croissant. I’ve never tried one.”
Again she felt he was making a point, though she couldn’t quite sort this one out.
She shoved back, the chair screeching, and Isaac’s head popped up. “Something wrong?”
She took the last bite of croissant and picked up her plate. “Nope. Just think I’ll take Rufus for a walk, if that’s all right.”
Isaac seemed confused. She’d never offered to do that before. “Of course. Rufus loves walks. Bring some bags with you. You’re supposed to scoop.”
He saw her face and said, “I know, I know. All the other animals are pooping out there, but do it, all right?”
She was about to leave when Peter said to her, “Come on now, it couldn’t have been all that bad.”
Evangeline whirled toward him, fixed him with a stare. “What? What, exactly, wasn’t so bad?” If he was going to speak code to her, she would make him say it.
“The almond croissant you just polished off. I take it, it wasn’t so bad.”
* * *
—
THE FALL AIR SMELLED OF PINE AND WOODSTOVES. Rabbits darted into bushes, and squirrels leaped across branches. A jackhammer rattle raised her eyes to a pileated woodpecker working away with its bright red crown. Rufus, too, seemed livelier, his head lifting to scent the air, his walk nearly a prance.
They turned down a narrow path, and Evangeline noticed all the tunnels burrowed into the foliage: pathways for rats and voles and the small hopping birds she often saw, bigger ones for raccoons and possums, the occasional fox, and larger ones still for coyotes and bobcats and maybe the cougar that was rumored to stalk the area. Everywhere there was evidence of deer, fresh tracks where their hooves churned the mossy earth down steep embankments, across grassy fields.
Thinking of so many animals busy with their lives, all trying to eat while not being eaten, soothed her heart. She’d been one of them not long back. But she’d found her way out of the woods, into a house with food and a warm bed. At least for a while. Unless someone came along and screwed it up for her.
She wondered what Peter knew, when he had seen her with Jonah. She’d always assumed she was invisible. There was a loneliness in that, but a security too. Having been observed unaware made her a little nauseous, like discovering she’d been fondled in her sleep. And these thoughts filled those tunnels with eyes that watched her every move. She pivoted and retraced her path through the woods.
Back on the road, she veered down a new street on impulse. A few minutes later, her body jerked to a stop. She scanned the area, wondering why. She was blocks from home. Then she saw it, the small green house with yellow shutters. It was here. Here. This very spot where she had last glimpsed Jonah.
* * *
—
AFTER THEY’D RELEASED THE FROG, Evangeline spent one more evening with Jonah, a night so weighted with feeling, she had sworn off him. But she broke this promise to herself the very next day, returning to the park in hopes of seeing him again. She went the next night too, and the night after that, but he never showed.
When she saw the headline that Daniel was missing, she breathed a sigh of relief. Jonah must be out searching with the rest of the town. She didn’t worry about Daniel. He would show up. Terrible things didn’t happen to the Daniels of the world. But on the sixth day, with no sign of Jonah, she decided to start a search of her own. It was a bright Saturday morning and she planned to start at Daniel’s place. The boys had said they were neighbors. She assumed within a few blocks. If she could locate that big old house, she might spot Jonah’s truck somewhere near.
Finding a Victorian hidden on a couple of acres proved more challenging than she’d have guessed. The streets went off at odd angles, and dozens of vacant lots mimicked his. It was nearly noon before she spotted the long gravel drive and the chimneys peeking through branches. From there, she traced each block, crisscrossing the area several times.
An hour later, she’d seen nothing of Jonah. She was blocks from Daniel’s house, tired and thirsty and thinking of going to the park, when the old navy truck turned the corner, heading toward her. She shouted and waved, but it stopped three houses back.
She started jogging and was nearly to Jonah’s open window when their eyes met. If he’d rammed her, she wouldn’t have felt more overcome. She’d never seen eyes like that, desperate with grief and terror and love. He mouthed something. Two words repeated. Then he gunned the engine, tearing past her, gravel spraying against her bare calves.
She spun around, thinking something had spooked him. But the road and patchy yards and windows were empty. In fact, the way she remembered it, the noonday neighborhood was eerily still, not even a distant mower or a child at play. She trotted in the direction Jonah had disappeared, holding that moment in her mind, repeating it, embedding it intact, already a memory as distant and crystalline as the abandoned single-wide on that silvery July evening.
What passed between her and Jonah in that last moment was so layered and difficult, so full of everything that had happened in their lives and might happen in the future, it could not be dissected. Evangeline knew she would carry that look until she died—the loneliness and communion of it, both absolute, as if she and Jonah had met in a place where they understood that true meeting was not possible. It made no sense, but she thought some things were like that; they hold their meaning only when viewed in fleeting glances. Picked apart, the truest thing in the world becomes a lie. Or nothing at all.
* * *
—
SHE TURNED NOW, studied the small houses up and down the street. One of them must have been Jonah’s. His mother and sister had to be near.
29
The mudroom door still vibrated from Evangeline’s slamming when Peter turned to me. “Is it just me, or did she seem angry?”
“A little,” I said.
“About the forms?”
“Maybe, but she knows we got that worked out.”
He pushed back. “Ah, then it must be all those hormones.”
My hand jerked, slopping coffee on the table.
He grimaced as if in apology. “I know, I know. We’re not supposed to say things like that anymore. But you know perfectly well I say the same damned thing about the boys. They’re all nuts at this age. We were too.”
I let out a breath. “Can you stay for another cup?”
“Would love to, but it’s my turn to take Zoe to gymnastics. Did I tell you her coach said she’s never seen a three-year-old with balance like hers?”
* * *
—
THE PETER-EVANGELINE DYNAMIC was hardly the only mystery those days. The parentage of Evangeline’s baby appeared to be a secret even from her. Given the contents of her pack, I couldn’t ignore the possibility that the baby was Jonah’s. I believed Lorrie deserved to know, but I hadn’t seen her since Jonah’s funeral and had no idea how to approach her on the topic.