Secluded Cabin Sleeps Six(43)

Down in the foyer, Miss Gail fixed his tie, tried to pretend she wasn’t crying. She was dressed in a blue shift, had her wild red hair tamed into a bun.

“I’m proud of you, son,” she whispered, putting a warm, plump hand to his cheek. “Not everyone could do what you have done.”

“I couldn’t have done any of it without you,” he said.

She waved him off, a flush coming to her cheeks. She moved toward the door and held it open. “Let’s go get that diploma.”

He waited a second, looked at her, the open door. He felt a flood of emotion, which he tamped down.

“Someday, I’m going to pay you back.” It was all he could think to say.

She shook her head, eyes brimming. “You’ve already done that. A thousand times over. Just by being you.”

Outside, the gray morning had turned brilliant.

By the time they got to the school the sky was a bright blue, sun shining. There were balloons tied to the outdoor stage, a big banner congratulating the graduates. Cars pulled up, parents and students, lots of smiles, shrieks of joy, tears. The air was electric with excitement, anticipation of the future.

He was only watching for one person; his heart leapt like it did every time she moved into his line of sight. Piper. A periwinkle dress that clung to her waist and flared around her legs, hair swept up, a blush gloss on her lips. She was more woman than girl now. But he knew her knees were scuffed beneath that pretty dress from her weekend soccer tournament.

“You look very handsome, Henry,” said Piper’s mother, Gretchen. She put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re so, so proud of you.”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

Piper’s father, Paul, hung back a bit, aloof and bespectacled, slim. He’d never really warmed to Henry, though he was always cordial.

“Congratulations, Henry,” he said. “MIT is a good fit for a mind like yours.”

They shook hands. A mind like his. It seemed like a strange thing to say, but the other man was smiling, an arm around his daughter. Piper slipped away from her father to embrace Henry, and Henry locked eyes with the older man for just a moment. Finally, Piper’s father looked away with a resigned nod.



* * *



Piper sat next to Henry with the rest of the graduates, took his hand in hers and they laced fingers listening to the principal’s address about the road ahead, and learning to love change, and leading with your heart.

“Maybe you’re not such a loser after all,” she said quietly.

“You either.”

It wasn’t until he’d received his diploma and was posing for pictures with Piper and their friends, that he saw Detective West hanging back by the edge of the football field.

West checked in with Henry every few months, letting him know that even though the case was cold, West was still digging, still looking for answers. Henry didn’t want to tell him that he had let Alice go, that he’d had to in order to move on. He’d had to accept that he might never know who his father was, who had killed Alice, who she had really been, even, in fact who he was.

Miss Gail and Detective West, through some herculean effort had managed to get him his own social security card. He remembered Miss Gail losing her temper at City Hall. “Well, I know he doesn’t have a birth certificate, but he does exist! He’s right here.”

He used that social security number to get his driver’s license. They were never able to find his actual birth certificate, though. Searching for answers was a black hole he’d almost let swallow him. When he saw West pulling up to the curb, or waiting for him after football practice, or like now, lingering on the edge of this graduation, he didn’t feel hope, or even curiosity. It was cold dread.

Miss Gail was chatting with Piper’s parents, and Henry walked over to see the old cop, something pressing into the middle of his chest.

“Big day,” said West as Henry approached. “Good job, kid. You could have easily taken other, darker roads.”

“I had help.” He glanced back at Piper’s parents and Miss Gail.

“Sure,” he said. “But it was all you. Don’t forget that.”

Henry nodded. It was true that there was something inside him, a kind of iron will to just keep going, to do right, not to collapse into fear or sadness. Maybe he got it from Alice, her stoicism, how she always seemed to move forward, never back.

The wind picked up, blowing at the older man’s jacket, flipping it open to reveal his big belly pressing against his button-down shirt, straining against the constraint of his belt. Overhead the clouds started moving fast. A hawk circled, looking for its kill.

“Did you come to watch graduation?” he asked, hoping that was it.

“Not just.”

West hesitated a moment, then pulled an envelope from his lapel pocket. He looked down at the long white slip for a moment, holding it tight with both hands against the wind.

“I have a lead on your mother. Not on who killed her. But on her identity.”

Joyful voices carried on the wind. Henry looked back at Piper and her parents, Miss Gail, the gathering of his and Piper’s friends. Summer lay before them, a sun-kissed Florida promise. He had a good job at the local yacht club, thanks to Piper’s mom. He and Piper would help with the kids’ summer camp, work as lifeguards. There would be sailing on the Hobie Cat and lazy days at the beach, parties. Then in the fall, Henry would go to MIT. Piper, who’d managed to turn herself into a star student as well as a star athlete in high school, was going to NYU. It would be hard to be apart, but they’d make it work. They’d lost their virginity to each other, and he belonged to her. Her laughter, the turn of her soft neck, the pink of her lips, the smile in her eyes. There wouldn’t be anyone else. Ever.