And I had my own anger to deal with. On a day when I faced yet more painful family traumas, I had to deal with the girl’s lies and outright hostilities.
* * *
—
EVANGELINE AND I TALKED LATER THAT NIGHT, not about her troubling statements—which I chose for the moment to ignore—but about logistics. She rejected my offer to find somewhere else for her to stay, pointing out that she’d survived on her own in far more challenging situations. Besides, she said, someone needed to take care of Rufus.
I agreed to let her stay alone if I could line up a responsible adult nearby. It needed to be a woman in the neighborhood, someone Evangeline could run to in case of emergency. There was old Janice Wilson, the neighborhood gossip, but I couldn’t bear Evangeline becoming the subject of malicious rumors. A couple of houses were rented by people I hadn’t gotten to know, leaving only Sharon Franklin at the end of the block and Lorrie next door. Sharon was a lovely woman, but she worked full time at the paper mill, and had three small children and a mother in hospice care. I couldn’t imagine adding to her burden.
The next evening, I kept putting off the request. Everything about it felt wrong. I had never called Lorrie to discuss the possibility that she might have a grandchild on the way. A couple of weeks back, I’d asked Evangeline if people knew she was pregnant.
“Gawd no!” she said. “That’s the last thing I need. You haven’t told anyone, have you?”
I assured her I hadn’t. “But at some point, won’t you—”
“That point is like months away. Winter is coming. I’ll be able to hide it for a long time. I may miscarry, right? That could happen.”
Did she want that? I couldn’t tell.
“Let me decide when I tell people, okay?”
I nodded. She stared at me fiercely, until I said, “Of course. It’s not my place.”
“That’s right,” she said. “It’s not your place.”
And even if Evangeline had granted permission, Lorrie had been avoiding me. Whenever she saw me at our mailboxes, she’d spin and retreat inside—behavior I found both offensive and thoughtful.
* * *
—
I MADE IT OVER TO LORRIE’S HOUSE around nine that night. The front doorbell was broken, and I went around back. She jumped when she saw my face at the kitchen door, and I was sorry to have scared her. Textbooks and notes covered the table, and the usual dark circles around her eyes were a deep purple now.
She opened the door, glanced back at the general disorder and the dishes in the sink, and said with obvious unease, “Isaac, come in.” She set about clearing the table, though I told her not to bother.
“Sorry everything’s such a mess. I have a microbiology test tomorrow. Oh my Lord, it stinks in here, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all.” Though of course it did. Nothing unsalvageable, no worse than cooked broccoli or a few days of food waste.
She offered me a cup of tea, which I declined. “I won’t keep you. It’s just that something’s come up, and I’m wondering if you could do me a favor.”
“Anything.”
She spoke with sincerity, almost urgency, and I understood that her avoidance of me had been for my benefit, not hers. I wondered if this urgency might be guilt, if she had seen me standing in the trees last September. But she couldn’t have, not with the dark and the fire twisting between us.
“I’m here to ask a favor for Evangeline.”
I realized too late that I didn’t know how much she knew. Nells was still in middle school. Without a link to the high school, Lorrie might not know that the girl was staying with me. As for a possible connection to the boys, that was less likely still.
“I have to fly to Pennsylvania. A family matter. I’ll probably be gone a week, maybe a little longer. There’s this girl who’s been staying with me . . .” I hesitated, wondering how to explain.
Lorrie looked at me curiously. “I know about Evangeline, Isaac. People talk.”
Strangely, coming from Lorrie, there was relief in that. “That so?”
She smiled. “That’s so.”
“Good. Good,” I said, collecting myself, trying to shake an unexpected shyness. “Evangeline’s remarkably self-sufficient, but in her condition . . .” I stopped, fearing I’d said too much.
“Is she sick?” Lorrie asked, a genuine concern there.
“Not sick exactly.”
She waited for more. When she realized, she said, “Ah. She’s pregnant.” Her tone was without judgment or alarm. I was glad. Evangeline had no need of that.
“It isn’t my place. I shouldn’t have said.”
“You didn’t say. But even if you had, you’d have been right in it. She needs an adult around who knows. There can be complications.”
We agreed Lorrie would stop by every couple of days to check on Evangeline, maybe bring her a green salad now and then as I was uncertain of her nutritional discipline in my absence.
When I stood to leave, Lorrie said, “Just wondering . . . when was it that Evangeline showed up?”
“A month or so ago, mid-October, I think.”
“And before? Where was she before?”
I hesitated. She sensed my discomfort. “No, it’s okay. Don’t worry. I’ll check in on her. In fact, if she’s scared by herself in that big old house, she can stay with us.” A thoughtful offer in my view, but she seemed suddenly aghast, mumbled, “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
She must have realized the only room available would be Jonah’s. I rushed to reassure her. “Or you and Nells could stay in my room. It’s a queen-size bed. There’s also a cot in the laundry room.”
“Well,” she said, straightening and looking directly at me with that stern dignity of hers. “If she needs us. We’ll see.”
* * *
—
ON THE WAY HOME, I went out the back gate, cutting through our joint easement. It was an odd decision. Though it was the shortest route, the wooded area had no clear path and was particularly treacherous at night. That evening, the trees cast shadowy figures that danced in and out of my vision. Halfway through, I stopped and stood very still, sensing someone near. Then I saw it, hidden in the shadows not four feet from me—a squat presence, solid and alive, a man or boy crouching there. Fear battered my chest, but I sucked in a breath and lunged toward him with a roar.
Nothing. Not even a flinch. But then, the presence wasn’t a man or a boy, wasn’t a creature of any type. It was a rusted barrel, the one that had shot late-night flames the week Daniel was missing.
I had struggled hard to forget that barrel in the past month. But that night, I made a decision, powered on my cell’s flashlight, and edged up to its dark lip. Terror gripped me again, as if the creature I’d first imagined were inside the drum ready to spring. It took me a minute to work up the courage to peek. Another to decipher what I saw.
Of course, I had known all along what was there.
Ashes. Nothing but ashes on a cold November night.
34
Evangeline didn’t mind being alone in the house. Which, she’d admit, was a little weird given the forbidden upper level and pictures of a murdered boy tracking her every move. But then Rufus was there, trotting at her side, lying at her feet.