Nothing to See Here (39)

“Can I give you the message,” he asked, “or are you going to keep asking questions?”

“What does she want?” I finally replied.

“She would like to see you, tonight, at eleven p.m.,” he said, and I could hear it in his voice, how miserable this was for him.

“Oh,” I said. “I can’t leave the kids, though, right?” I asked.

“I’m going to watch the children while you’re meeting with Mrs. Roberts,” he replied.

“You?” I said, almost laughing. “If they wake up and find you in the house instead of me, they will burn it to the ground.”

“Do they ever wake up at night?” he asked.

“Well, no,” I answered, perhaps realizing this for the first time, “they don’t. They sleep like rocks.”

“Okay, then,” he said.

“Don’t snoop around my stuff,” I told him, and he didn’t respond.

“Where do I go?” I asked.

“She’ll meet you at the front door of the mansion,” he said.

“What do I wear?” I asked. “Are we doing something?” I was starting to feel a little dizzy, not sure what to do. I wasn’t sure that I could go back into that house again without passing out.

Carl took a deep, steadying breath. He was trying not to yell at me. “Just normal clothes,” he said, and then hung up the phone.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to tell the kids what I was up to. I felt like if they were going out while I was asleep, and Carl was on the sofa downstairs, I’d want to know. But I needed something for myself after so many hours with the children wrapped around me, the constant pressure. Madison was a secret, and I was going to keep it from them.

And it wasn’t that hard to disentangle myself from them once they’d fallen asleep. I had been keeping children’s hours since they’d arrived, finding it too much trouble to get out of bed. Once, actually, I think I fell asleep before they did.

I put on some cool jeans and a T-shirt, sneakers. I had to look good enough that if Madison wanted to see some alternative band in Nashville, I wouldn’t have to come back to change, to tell Carl what we were up to.

At 10:55, Carl was at the door, holding a Sports Illustrated and a book of crossword puzzles.

“Hey, Carl,” I said, smiling. “They’re asleep.”

“Have fun,” he said, brushing past me. I wondered if he was jealous, if Senator Roberts ever played poker with him, let him drink some of his expensive scotch.

I walked under the stars, strolling across the manicured lawn, and then around to the front porch, where Madison was sitting in a rocking chair, waiting for me. She was wearing a huge T-shirt that came down past her knees and a pair of tights, no shoes. She had a bucket of iced-down beers, some chips and salsa. “Hey,” she said, once I stood next to her.

“Hey,” I replied.

“Sorry for the secrecy,” she said.

“It’s okay,” I told her, and then I tried to think about what the secret was. Did the senator not know we were meeting? What was going on, exactly? “I mean, it’s been a weird few days.”

“Super weird,” she said, nodding. “But . . . but you’re okay?”

I nodded. “I’m okay,” I said, though I liked being asked. No one had asked yet, and I realized how much I’d needed it.

“Thank you, Lillian,” she finally said.

“You’re welcome,” I told her, and then I sat in the rocking chair next to her. She handed me one of the beers, and I drank it in a few gulps, not even trying to pace myself. I didn’t know how much time I had before I’d have to go back to the kids. I was going to take what I could get.

Madison took a beer and sipped it slowly, staring out into the darkness. “They caught on fire,” she said.

“They did,” I answered.

“It was something to see,” she admitted. “It was . . . well, it was so scary.”

“It doesn’t hurt them,” I said, just as I realized that Madison wasn’t worried about the kids.

“I mean, I knew that’s what they did, of course,” she continued. I realized this was what she needed me for. Someone to tell her that what she saw was real. “But I wasn’t prepared for how . . . bright, I guess? How bright it was.”

“It’s intense,” I admitted.

“And have they caught on fire since?” she asked.

“Nope,” I lied. I didn’t hesitate. “No fire. Not even a spark.”

“Well . . . that’s good,” she replied. “That’s what we hoped. I knew you could do it.”

“How did you know?” I asked.

“I just knew,” she said. “I just knew that if anyone could do it, it would be you.”

In the years since high school, sometimes Madison would invite me to come visit her, to reunite, but in my next letter, I’d talk about everything but the invitation, hoping it would just drop. And it always would. Madison never tried too hard. And I had always wanted to say yes, but I couldn’t bring myself to go to her. Because I worried that if I went, just once, and it didn’t work out, if she realized that I wasn’t who she thought I was, I’d never hear from her again. If I stayed where I was and she stayed where she was, we’d still have the year at Iron Mountain, when things had been perfect for a little while. And now here I was, sitting close to her, the world so silent that it was like no one else existed.