The Sleepwalker(47)

“No. But I feel bad.”

“This isn’t about that. No quid pro quo, I promise.”

“Do you think there’s any chance she’s still alive? Is it crazy to hope?”

“You’re talking to someone who spends her Sundays telling people to have faith…”

“I hear a but coming.”

“But I don’t think it’s likely. I’m sorry, Lianna.”

I looked at the stack I had made of my sister’s folded shirts. “So she’s in heaven,” I murmured.

“Yes. Absolutely. No buts there.”

“Even though we don’t really go to church.”

“Again: no quid pro quo.”

“I had an interdisciplinary course last year about heaven. Philosophy and religion. There were some versions of heaven where my mom would have been much happier than others.”

“Well, heaven on earth for her was always you and your sister. I hope you know that. Your mom once said you were the most good-natured little girl on the planet. It was after one of her miscarriages. She told me she felt guilty about wanting another baby so badly.”

I thought about this. My mother certainly knew Katherine, but I couldn’t recall the two of them ever speaking about anything of consequence. Had she actually reached out to the pastor? “My mom told you about the miscarriages?”

“Yes. A miscarriage isn’t a state secret,” she said. Her eyes went soft and she took one of my hands in both of hers. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. And one time I happened to be at the hospital visiting someone else and I saw your mom was there. She had four?”

“Five,” I corrected her. God, it was just so many, I thought. So very many.

“Anyway, she did talk to me about it. About them. She said she’d loved being a sister, and wanted you to have a sibling. And she really enjoyed being a mom. But I think she always wanted to be sure that you knew how much you were loved, too.”

“I never doubted it.”

“How many times did you save her life? Twice? Three times?”

“That’s how rumors get started. It was just the once—that night on the bridge. And maybe I just saved her from a broken leg.”

“Rumors are awful things,” said the minister, and she sounded a little exasperated. She released my hand and sat back on the barstool. Something about her tone caused me to tense.

“What rumors are out there about my mom?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what she was referring to, but I assumed the stories involved my mother’s sleepwalking.

“It’s all just gossip. It’s all meaningless.”

“Nothing that’s awful is meaningless. If something is awful, it has power. It doesn’t matter if it’s true. It still has power.”

Katherine folded her arms across her chest. “You are a very wise girl.”

“Curious, mostly.”

“You’ve probably heard this,” she began, her voice hesitant, “but some people think she was meeting someone the night she died.”

“Yup. I know there are rumors out there that she just ran off—you know, left Dad and Paige and me—which is crazy.”

“Those ones are crazy, I agree. Just think of how much she loved you and Paige. And while the idea she was meeting someone is unlikely, I can see why that one has legs. There’s no sin as much fun as adultery, is there?”

“Are there any names?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

I didn’t believe her. I had the distinct sense that either she was shielding me or was simply unwilling to gossip. “What about my dad?” I asked, trying a different tack.

“What about him?”

I shrugged, hoping it would make my question seem more casual. “Are there any rumors about him?”

She shook her head and dropped her gaze for a fleeting second. Then she looked up and sighed. “Fine. If you must know, there’s one story swirling around that your mother was with a woman from the college the night she disappeared. Supposedly, your father was having an affair and the woman just showed up at your house. Didn’t know your father was out of town. She knocked on the door in the middle of the night, and something happened.”

“God,” I mumbled, and then added quickly, “Sorry.” I had never considered that my mother might have been challenged by another woman. The other woman. I thought of the Elizabeth Bishop scholar with the clementine-colored hair. Sam. Samantha. I recalled the girl in the cosmonaut T-shirt on my father’s side of the desk. Did he flirt with students my age? Of course he did. But until I had watched those other girls make themselves at home in his office, I would have presumed an affair would have been with a woman closer to his age than mine. Perhaps I was wrong.

“It’s okay,” Katherine said, and she smiled. “But don’t believe it. It’s just a story.”

“I guess.”

“Your mother would be very, very proud of you. I hope you know that. She’d be very proud of all you’re doing for your dad and Paige.”

“She’d also be frustrated that I wasn’t back at school. She’d be feeling guilty about that.”

“Maybe.”

“So, why did my dad call you?”