The Night Parade(24)

“Get in.” He squeezed the sweaty nape of her neck, though gently. “Please, baby. Get in the car. Get in the car.”

She turned and looked up at him. Beneath the brim of her ball cap, a faint crease formed between her eyebrows. Catching her breath, she said, “You’re a liar.”

“Honey . . .”

“You lied to me.”

“Ellie,” he said. He attempted to turn her around and shove her through the open door.

“No.” She pulled away from him.

“It’s not safe.” He looked back at the diner. The waitress was watching them through the glass now.

“You’re a liar!” she screamed at him . . . and then collapsed to the ground.

He dropped quickly to his knees and raised her head with a thumb beneath her chin. The pain on her face wounded him, but he refused to look away. Instead, he embraced her, squeezed her tight. She tensed up within his arms . . . but then sobbed against him as her whole body went limp.

“Shhh,” he said. “It’s okay. But we need to get in the car now. We need to get out of here, Ellie. Do you understand? It’s important we get out of here right now.” He kissed the hot, damp side of her face, and repeated the question in her ear: “Do you understand?”

She withdrew from his arms and slouched against the side of the car.

The waitress was still watching them from behind the diner’s plate-glass windows.

David said, “If you don’t get in the car, Ellie, I’m going to smash those bird eggs. Do you understand me?”

“No,” she sobbed. Then she hugged him again. He hugged her back with one arm, not taking his gaze from the waitress in the window.

Someone is going to call the police. This must look too f*cked up not to call the police.

“I want to know what’s going on,” she cried.

Briefly, David closed his eyes. “Okay. I’ll tell you. I’ll explain it all. Just get in the car first so we can get out of here and get someplace safe. We need to get someplace safe first, Ellie. And then I’ll tell you.”

In the end, he wasn’t sure how long they remained like that, kneeling in the gravel parking lot of the 1950s-style diner, the waitress watching them through the wall of plate-glass windows, but by the time they ultimately climbed into the car and drove away, it seemed like an eternity had passed. His only hope was that the scene they had inadvertently caused had kept the waitress’s eyes off the television broadcast.





13


Sixteen months earlier


David poked his head into Ellie’s bedroom. Kathy and Ellie were propped up against a mountain of pillows, Ellie’s head in Kathy’s lap. David leaned against the door frame and watched them both in silence. After a time, Kathy looked up, found his eyes on her, and smiled wearily at him. She mouthed the words “Is she asleep?” to him, because she couldn’t see their daughter’s face. David nodded.

Without waking her, Kathy maneuvered Ellie’s head off her lap. She pulled the sheet up over the girl, kissed the side of her head, then joined David out in the hallway.

“How is she?” he asked.

“As good as she can be,” Kathy said. “Better than most, I would suspect.”

“She’s always been tough.”

“She has,” Kathy agreed. “She didn’t even want to talk about it. Do you think that’s bad?”

“Bad?”

“Like, should we be concerned?”

“I don’t know.”

Kathy began to cry, quietly and with a hand covering her mouth.

It was something she did so rarely that it was unexpected, and he stood there staring at her for several seconds before drawing her into an embrace. They hugged each other in the dark hallway for a time. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest.

“I think she should talk to a therapist,” Kathy said once she dried her eyes on his chest and separated herself from him. “A counselor or whatever.”

“If you think that’s best.”

“I’m just worried what she saw . . . what’s been going on . . . I don’t like that she’s not talking about it.”

“It just happened today, Kath. Let’s talk about it with her tomorrow. Maybe she’ll be ready tomorrow.”

Kathy nodded, swiping a thumb under one eye.

David reached out and quietly closed Ellie’s bedroom door. Then he nodded his head in the direction of the living room, where the TV was on with the volume turned low. Kathy followed him, her bare feet shushing along the floor. David suddenly felt exhausted, like he could shut his eyes and not open them for a month.

“I need a drink,” Kathy said, going through the living room and into the kitchen. “You want one?”

“All right,” he said, easing down onto the sofa. Anything to soothe his nerves. He glanced at the TV but had no interest in whatever was on.

Kathy returned with two glasses of white wine. She handed one to him.

“Come here,” he said, patting the cushion beside him.

Kathy sat. She took a sip of her wine, made a smacking sound with her lips, then leaned her head against David’s shoulder.

“How much did she actually see?” he asked after a while.

“I’m not exactly sure. Her teacher said she was right there when it happened.”