Where the Forest Meets the Stars(54)

“So you thought that was the code to meet at this grave marker?”
“Of course.”
“It all sounds too childish. Are you sure their affair wasn’t concocted by your overactive twelve-year-old mind?”
“I staked them out.”
“How?”
“I set up my tent in the woods down in the ravine. By then, the cabin and tree house were too tame for me.”
“You snuck out of the tent and came here?”
“I didn’t have to sneak. My parents let me roam these properties as much as I wanted.” He shined his light on a pile of boulders nearby. “Those rocks were probably dug from the foundation when they built the church. That’s where I staked them out.” He walked over to the boulders, and Jo followed. “You see what a good view I had?”
“I see. Tell me what happened. The suspense is killing me.”
“I arrived here shortly after sunset and waited. I’d brought water and snacks and a book of crossword puzzles because I knew I’d have trouble staying awake.”
“Crossword puzzles while you were staking out your mother’s affair?”
“My dad and I loved crosswords. I was a major nerd.”
“Tell me what happened!”
“At five minutes to midnight, I saw a flashlight coming from the direction of my cabin. It was my mother. She was carrying a blanket and wearing a flowered dress I’d always liked.”
“Oh god.”
“She spread the blanket on Hope’s grave and looked toward the Kinney property. About five minutes later, another light approached from the Kinney side of the forest. My mother put her light on the ground so it reflected off the white cross. George Kinney came into view holding an old kerosene lantern. He put down his lantern and they kissed.”
“Gabe, I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t hear. He stared at the white cross. “My mother said, Hope’s ghost has missed us as she opened his pants, and old George showed about as much emotion as I’d ever seen in him.”
“What did you do?”
“What could I do? I was stuck. One move and they’d hear me crunching leaves and twigs. All I could do was watch.” He looked at the cross again. “I learned a lot about sex that night. They did pretty much everything you can do.”
Jo held his hand. “Let’s go.”
“You haven’t heard the best part,” he said in a sarcastic tone that didn’t sound like him. “Afterward they talked. At first they didn’t say anything that interesting. But then George said, Did you know Gabe and I sampled the creek again? His appetite for the natural world is insatiable. My mother said, The apple doesn’t fall far, does it? I’m so happy you can spend time with your son. ”
Jo tried to hold him, but his body was wooden. He wouldn’t take his eyes off the cross. She tried to turn his face away with her hand. He wouldn’t move. “Turns out everyone knew,” he said. “I have his face. That’s why I grew the beard, so I wouldn’t have to see him in the fucking mirror every day. I haven’t seen my face since I could grow a full beard—since I was sixteen.”
“Your father knew?”
“He had to. Their affair was obvious. I’d figured it out at age twelve even though I knew nothing about things like that. And like I said, I’m a replica of George. The only person who probably didn’t know was Lynne, George’s wife. She wasn’t the brightest person, and I think that’s part of the reason George went for my mother. Katherine is smart but very devious. Lacey is a lot like her.”
“Lacey knows?”
Finally, he looked at her. “Of course. That’s why she hates me. She has our father’s face—the heavy chin and nose—and I got George’s even features. That night I figured out why she’d tortured me since I was a baby.”
“I’m sure it’s about more than looks.”
“It is. I’m evidence of Katherine and Arthur’s failures. Lacey revered her father, and she hated that he remained friends with George, even when he was screwing his wife. It was painful to see what a pitiful creature Arthur was.”
“Have you ever talked to her about any of this?”
“Tonight is the first time I’ve told anyone.”
“You didn’t tell your psychologist when you had your breakdown?”
“Why would I?”
“To help you come to terms with it. Before you knew George was your father, you liked him. He and your mother never meant for you to see what you did.”
“But I did see! Do you know when it was finally over I vomited? I didn’t get out of bed for two full days. They couldn’t figure out why I didn’t have a fever.”
“So that’s when it started.”
“What?”
“Using your bed to shut out the world when something upset you.”
He stared at her, his eyes “like thunder,” as Ursa said.
“Maybe it all has to do with that night,” she said.
“Right, and you never had cancer. You cut off your breasts just to make yourself miserable.”
“Gabe!”
“You see how it feels?” He walked away.
“I’m not saying you don’t have depression,” she said to his back. “I was talking about the cause. Depression can come from genetics, environment, or both.”
He kept walking.
“I don’t believe this! You’re doing it again. Is that why you brought me here and told me this story—so you’d have another reason to push me away?”