What Happened to the Bennetts(102)

“We’ll find him, Dad. We’re going to find him.” Ethan nodded, leading with his chin. “I bet he’s in the Ghost Forest. He liked it there. Allison’s there. Remember we said we could feel her there?”

“Yes,” I answered, my heart sinking.

“What if Moonie could feel her too, and he wanted to be with her? I bet he misses her. Do you think he does?”

“I’m sure he does, but—”

“I think so too. He won’t forget her. He loves her. Like you said. You always have someone if you love them.”

“We’re going to find him. Don’t worry.” Ethan charged ahead, pushing his damp bangs from his face. “If he’s not in the Ghost Forest, he coulda gone home. You know, back to our real house, the one that burned down.”

Oh no. “Honey, that’s not possible.”

“Yes, it is, Dad. Dogs do that all the time. They go find their home, even if it’s far away. They know.”

I cringed, inwardly. “Our house was too far away. He doesn’t know the way and he couldn’t—”

“He knows a lot, Dad. He’s a smart dog. You didn’t think we’d get the cedar boxes, and we got them.”

“That’s true, but this is different.”

“Dogs have superior powers of smell, Dad. That’s their superpower, like yours is reading lips.” Ethan looked over with a grin, and I managed a smile, fresh out of superpowers. And compartments.

“I still don’t want you to keep your hopes—”

Ethan kept walking. “You know what’s my superpower, Dad?”

It struck me that we had never talked about his superpower. “No, what?”

“I never give up. Allison told me.” Ethan smiled. “We got in a fight and she said, ‘You never let it go,’ and later she said she was sorry and she said, ‘It’s good to never give up. It’s your superpower.’?”

My throat caught. “She was right.”

“She was.” Ethan picked up the pace. “We’ll find him in the Ghost Forest.”

“We’ll see,” I said, praying.



* * *



—

The Ghost Forest looked even more desolate in the daytime. The dead trees with their smooth white trunks and limbs looked like so many bones reaching into the sky, the fingers of a skeleton trying to pull heaven down. Or maybe it was my frame of mind. Despair and exhaustion swept over me, and I realized we weren’t going to find the dog.

“Moonie, Moonie!” Ethan kept calling, hoarse.

“Ethan, I think we should go back.”

“Not yet, Dad. You said not until dark.”

So we looked everywhere for the rest of the afternoon, getting bitten by horseflies and mosquitoes as we sloshed around in the brackish muck, our shirts clinging to our bodies and our sneakers tugged off our feet. The marshy water reeked, murky and black in large patches, even as it rushed out to the bay, obeying the laws of the moon.

Finally, the sun dipped behind the line of bare trees, and it was time to call it quits. I went to Ethan and gave him a hug. “Honey? Let’s go back, for now.”

“No, he can still be out here.” Ethan pulled away, looking up at me, his eyes filling with tears.

“He’ll be fine for the night.”

“Something could get him, snakes or eels or things like that.”

“Ethan,” I said firmly, “we’re going back now.”

“Can we come back tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course.”

“We have to come back every day until we find him. We’ll never give up. Okay, we can never give up?”

“We’ll see,” I told him, and Ethan seemed to collapse, his head dropping forward and his knobby shoulders slumping. I scooped him up and held him the way I used to when he was little. He started to cry, his light frame racked with sobs, and I hugged him tight, feeling his warm tears as he buried his face in my neck. He wrapped his legs around my waist, and I linked my hands under him, ignoring the ache in my ribs.

I carried him toward home, and in time he stopped crying, so I set him down. We trudged through the muck in miserable silence. The house came into view, its lights shining through the darkness. When we got closer to the backyard, I heard talking and laughter from the kitchen, carried on the night air.

We reached the backyard and were going through the gate when I noticed something on the street in front of the house.

I realized what it was, surprised.

I picked up the pace.





Chapter Seventy-Two



“Flossie!” I opened the back door to find my trucker friend in the kitchen with Lucinda and Dom, talking and laughing around a table dotted with wineglasses and plates of goat cheese, cherry preserves, and stone-ground crackers. Dozing on the floor were Manny, Moe, one-eyed Jack—and Moonie.

“Moonie!” Ethan bolted for the dog, and Moonie scooted barking into Ethan’s arms, licking his face.

“What’s going on?” My mouth dropped open. “Where did Moonie come from?”

“I found him.” Flossie rose, beaming in her pink top and jeans.

“My God, thank you!” I felt so happy I gave her a big hug. “How did you find him? When?”