True Places(48)

She asked Ash, How big are these woods anyway?

Instead of Ash’s voice, which was completely different from any voice or any sound, Iris heard her name, a shout coming from behind her, far behind. She held her breath and listened.

Again, her name. It was Suzanne. And there was terror in the sound.

Dread descended on her like a sudden downpour. She put a finger to her mouth and bit the nail.

Ash! I don’t want to go.

He didn’t answer.

Ash!

All the joy she had felt leaked out of her, and she banged her fists on her thighs in frustration. Her eyes welled with tears. “I don’t want to go,” she said out loud, and laid her cheek against the rough bark of the tree.

She stood there a moment more, then ran back the way she had come, feeling the weight in her legs and the pull in her heart with each stride. What had been untethered flight became effort, tied to the earth. She heard Suzanne whimpering. Iris pushed aside the branches of a small sumac and saw Suzanne, crouched, her jaw muscles tensed, her hands gripping her knees, white knuckled.

Iris squatted beside her. “What’s wrong?”

Suzanne’s shoulders trembled like the haunches of a rabbit caught in the open. Iris thought to lay a hand on her back, but she had never touched Suzanne and didn’t know if it was the right thing to do, considering her state. Suzanne lifted her head. Her face was gray. She pitched forward onto her hands and vomited. Suzanne retched again and again until there was nothing left. Iris breathed more easily; in her experience, vomiting was restorative. If only she had some mountain mint to give Suzanne. She would feel better right away.

Suzanne wiped her mouth on her sleeve and pushed herself to her feet.

“What’s wrong?” Iris said.

Suzanne’s eyes were wet and red. “It’s just something that happens. Not often.”

Iris nodded but didn’t understand at all.

Suzanne smoothed her hair, licked her lips, and adjusted her jacket. She was pulling herself together now. Her body and her mind were sewing up the hole that had been ripped open. She spoke softly. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Okay.”

“Not even Whit.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not asking you to lie.”

Iris nodded, unsure what sort of lie the not telling might become. It was one of the most confusing things about living with the Blakemores, all the things people didn’t say or only half said. She tried to remember if her family had been like that, when they were all together. It was so long ago, she wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t think of anything they would have to lie about. She and Ash would try to duck out of chores now and again, say they’d checked a trapline or a nest when they hadn’t, but they didn’t do it often. If they did, they all might starve.

Suzanne said, “Let’s go back,” and started off.

“It’s this way.” Iris pointed northeast.

Suzanne fell in behind Iris, who made sure to go slowly until they emerged from the woods and rejoined the trail.

The air around Suzanne was heavy with thoughts. Finally, she said, “You ran off.”

It was a statement, a question, and a complaint.

Iris shrugged. It was the easiest thing to do when she had done something wrong or wasn’t sure.

“I came back.”

They returned along the trail to the car without talking. As they drove out of the park, back into the noisy, busy world, Suzanne said, “What was it like being alone all that time?”

“What do you mean?” Iris was stalling, not sure if Ash counted. He counted to Iris, more than anything, but if she was learning anything in living with the Blakemores, it was that the things that mattered to Iris didn’t matter to them.

“Were you lonely?”

“Sometimes. I got used to it.”

“That makes sense. People can get used to just about anything.”

Iris doubted that was true. People put up with things, but that wasn’t the same as being used to them. Maybe Suzanne was talking about herself.

Suzanne said, “When you were lonely, did you ever think about leaving the woods?”

“Not really.”

“Not even when you were cold and hungry?”

“When I was cold and hungry, I wanted to be warm and full. That’s different.”

Suzanne was quiet a moment. “I’ve never been hungry. Not the way you were.”

“How would you know?”

She sighed. “I guess I wouldn’t. Just like I don’t know what it’s like to be alone. Not really.”

Iris turned to look out the window. They were on the street where the Blakemores lived, just like that. One minute she was running through the woods with Ash, her hopeful mind convincing her she was free somehow, and the next she was being locked back in her cage.

What Suzanne didn’t understand and what Iris didn’t think she could explain was that being alone was different for her. She hadn’t wanted to be found, not that anyone had been looking for her. No one knew she existed, not one single person in the whole world except her and Ash. She wasn’t alone. She was free.





CHAPTER 22

Whit came through the door at six thirty and found Suzanne bustling around the kitchen at a frenetic pace, collecting dishes from various surfaces and ferrying them to the dishwasher. She answered his greeting with a quick “Hi!” and grazed his cheek with a kiss on her way back from the pantry. She paused to gather papers from the counter and straighten them.