How (Not) to Fall in Love(35)

J.J. shook his head sadly. “Can’t do it, Marilyn.”

“He’s coming back,” Mom whispered. “He has a plan. He must. He wouldn’t let everything fall apart. Not after all these years. Harvest is his life.”

“Where is he, Marilyn?” J.J. pushed.

“I told you I don’t know. He never calls. He ignores his emails. I don’t have any way to reach him.” Her voice quivered.

“What about the postcards he was sending?” J.J.’s voice had turned cold.

Goose bumps prickled my skin. Mom had told J.J. about those?

I didn’t know how much I could believe J.J., but he and Mom needed to know what I’d discovered about the clonehenges. If there was a hope of finding Dad, if we could figure it out, maybe the board would change their mind, or at least give us more time. I had to say something.

“I might know where he is.” My voice echoed in the quiet kitchen.

“Darcy.” Mom’s voice held a warning.

J.J. took a step toward me. “If you know where he is, you have to tell me.”

This wasn’t the old J.J., the one I’d known forever. This J.J. was threatening, angry, and full of desperation. I wanted to back away from him, but I held my ground. “I’m not sure. But I think I might know what he’s doing.”

Mom closed her eyes and shook her head. “Don’t listen to her, J.J. She’s grasping at straws.”

“No I’m not.” I met J.J.’s hard stare. “I think he’s on a quest. He’s traveling the country looking at Stonehenge replicas.”

J.J.’s mouth opened in surprise. “He’s what?”

Mom had risen from the chair to open a bottle of wine while I spoke. She poured two glasses and handed one to J.J., who took a long drink.

“Darcy, have you talked to your dad?” J.J. asked. “Do you know for sure that’s what he’s doing?”

“No. You’re the only one he’s talking to. Isn’t he telling you what he’s doing? Where he’s going?”

J.J.’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. “No. He only lets me know he’s okay. I can’t get him to tell me anything else. He doesn’t even have his cell anymore, or doesn’t turn it on. He calls me from random places on the road.”

“But you’re his best friend,” I said, not quite believing him. “At least he’s calling you. Can’t you tell him what’s happening with the house? I know he’d come home if he knew.” My pitch rose as I fought back tears. “You must know something, J.J.”

He flinched like I’d hit a nerve, and a ripple of suspicion went through me. I darted a glance at Mom, wondering if she’d seen what I had, but she was refilling her damn wineglass.

I didn’t know what was going on with him, but J.J. was our only link to Dad. Maybe if I showed him my map, he’d tell us more. “I have his postcards. I’m plotting them on a map. Do you want to see it?”

J.J. looked at Mom, who shook her head again. I bit the inside of my lip in frustration. Why didn’t anyone believe me?

“I don’t know.” J.J. hesitated. “That sounds…desperate. Like you’re searching for a method to his madness.”

“He’s not crazy.” Even as I said it, fear tingled my scalp.

J.J. sighed. “I’ll look at your map, if it’ll make you happy.”

I frowned. “Don’t patronize me, J.J. Just forget it if you don’t believe me.”

He glanced at Mom, who said nothing as she drank more wine.

“Would it change things,” I asked, hating the way desperation weakened my voice, “if you could tell the board that we can find him? Could we keep our house?”

J.J. rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know, Darcy. It would take a miracle at this point.”

“Just look at it. Please.” I turned and headed for the staircase, willing them to follow me as readily as Toby did. I was almost to my bedroom door before I finally heard their steps on the stairs.

“Here goes nothing,” I whispered to Toby.

The map hung on the wall over my desk, covered in red stars and post-it notes. I’d traced a black dotted line showing his travels so far. The line made a loopy infinity symbol across the bottom right quadrant of the map, running south then east, then north, then west and dipping down south again.

J.J. and Mom stared at the map. He stepped closer to read my post-its, which listed the date of each card’s postmark He turned toward me. “Is there a Stonehenge route he’s following? Like in those ‘roadside attraction’ books? Why would he go to these places?”

I looked at my feet. That was the burning question, wasn’t it? And I couldn’t answer it.

“Darcy?” Mom prompted me.

They didn’t believe me. When I looked up all I saw was pity for the poor deluded girl trying to find a clue in random patterns. I turned away from Mom’s doubt and J.J.’s condescension. “Forget it. You think it’s wishful thinking. Childish. Desperate.” Mom put a hand on my shoulder but I shrugged it off. “Just go,” I whispered. “Please. Just leave me alone.”

They left my bedroom quietly, but Toby stayed. I collapsed next to him on the floor and buried my face in his fur. Maybe they were right. Maybe I was desperate. Delusional. Following a fantasy.