French Braid(18)

Alice rose and went to the icebox to check the crisper drawer. “Well,” she said, “we do have lettuce, but no more tomatoes. I guess we need to buy some.”

This wasn’t a made-up errand; she really should have planned her side dishes better. But now that she thought about it, she was just as glad to be done with swimming. “Let me get out of my suit,” she told David, “and we’ll drive to town.”

“Okay!”

So she went to change clothes in her room, and then she took her purse from her bureau drawer and her father’s car keys from the mantel, and they left.

The greenery along the road had a freshly washed look after yesterday’s rain. A lot of vacationers were out riding bicycles, and she drove extra carefully to avoid them.

“I miss my bicycle,” David told her.

“Well, you’ll be home tomorrow.”

“And I miss Cap and I miss Jimmy next door and I miss my lamp with the covered wagon on it.”

“You’ll see them soon enough.”

She glanced sideways at him. He was sitting in the front seat next to her, his face turned toward his window so the nape of his neck was exposed. It looked spindly and sad, somehow.

In town, the sidewalks were almost empty. It was the last day for lots of people, no doubt. Alice was able to park directly in front of Robinson’s. And inside the store, they found they were the only customers. Alice led the way to the produce section, where she let David choose two tomatoes. No more than that, she instructed him; they were killingly expensive. “Highway robbery!” she whispered. (A pet phrase of their father’s.)

David asked, “Do we have enough money?”

“Yes, I believe we can swing it.”

This felt like a whole different place, now that she had David with her. When the severe-looking cashier saw him, she brightened and picked up a jar of lollipops. “Take two,” she urged him. David had never liked hard candies—he said they made his teeth feel furry—but he selected a red lollipop and a green one. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said. Alice had no idea how he’d known to add the “ma’am.” It wasn’t something that children were taught in their part of Baltimore.

In the car heading back to the cabin, he asked, “Do I like avocado pears?”

“You love them,” she said.

“When did I have one?”

“Well…I don’t know,” she said. “But I’m pretty sure you will love them, because you’re an adventurous kind of person.”

He let his head tip back against the back of his seat, and he looked over at her and smiled.

When they reached the cabin, they found Trent’s Chevy parked out front, all its windows open. “Hmm,” Alice said. “So much for the gazebo.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

They got out of the car and went inside, but there was no sign of Trent and Lily. They must have gone down to the lake. Alice set her Robinson’s bag on the kitchen counter. “Here,” David told her, and he handed her his lollipops, which she stowed in the cupboard among the cans and jars for whoever stayed here next. Then she took her purse to her bedroom.

Except her bedroom door was shut, and when she turned the knob, it wouldn’t open. She shoved her shoulder against it. She turned the knob again. Nothing happened.

From inside she heard movement—a scurrying sound, a murmur. She tried the knob once more and this time it was grabbed from inside and twisted violently, and the door fell open and Trent walked out, tucking his shirt into his khakis.

Alice drew back a few steps. Trent crossed the living room. “Hi, kid,” he told David.

“Hi,” David said.

Trent walked out the front door, letting the screen door slap shut behind him.

Alice tossed a glance into the bedroom—Lily sitting on the very edge of her bed, buttoning her blouse, not looking in her direction. Then she spun around and strode after Trent. She arrived on the porch just as he was getting into his car, and she reached him before he could close the driver’s-side door. “Stop,” she told him.

He stopped.

“You will leave this place and not come back,” she said. “You will never see Lily again. My uncle is a policeman, and my family will have him arrest you if we ever catch you anywhere near her.”

Too late, she realized she should have said “judge.” Her uncle was a judge. Judges had more power. But Trent looked ruffled anyhow. He said, “Fine! I’m leaving!” Then he slammed his door shut and started the engine quicker than she would have thought possible, and the car lurched backward and then forward and swerved out onto the road.

Alice went back into the cabin. She was shaking. Her bedroom door was closed again, but she didn’t try to open it. Instead she returned to the kitchen. She set her purse on the table.

“We forgot to buy salad dressing,” David told her.

“We can make our own,” Alice said.

Her voice was thin and quavery, but she didn’t think David noticed.



* * *



—

The marinated pork chops turned out beautifully. Even Robin agreed. He’d drawn the corners of his mouth down when he first saw them—damp and inky-looking, strewn with stray bits of spices—but they emerged from the grill a nice crusty brown, and when he took his first bite he said, “Well…”