True Places(93)

She turned to Iris. “Any of this seem familiar?”

“The windmill does, like I said.” Iris gestured broadly. “I don’t know about the rest. It’s just a house.”

“Maybe. But I think it’s lovely.”

They strolled the property for a while longer. Iris announced she was hungry, so they returned to the car and drove the twisty route back to Buchanan. At the Good Times Cafe, they both ordered bacon cheeseburgers and fries. Anticipating how many missed calls and texts would be waiting, Suzanne had put off turning on her phone until after she and Iris had finished eating and were walking back to the car. Across the street was a small park with a playground and a gazebo.

“Do you mind if we go over there while I check my messages?”

Suzanne led the way to a picnic table and turned on her phone, bracing herself. Thirty-one texts and eleven missed calls. Guilt inched along her spine. She scrolled through the calls first. Half were not from family, Boosters business and the like. Why they hadn’t simply given up on her was anyone’s guess. She was relieved to find no calls from Whit or the kids in the last day or so, suggesting nothing catastrophic had happened.

A reminder appeared on the screen. Reid’s SAT tutor appointment was at three on Wednesday, today. Suzanne touched the text icon and began forwarding the information to him before she realized what she was doing. Her first contact with him in three days shouldn’t be a reminder. She would talk to him when she knew what to say, and if he missed the appointment, so what?

She scanned the list of texts. A few from Whit and Reid, more from Brynn. One from Tinsley. Reading their names on her phone screen was so utterly banal and yet, now, it was anything but. Whatever they were telling her or asking her for was just an invitation to get immersed again in the entanglements from which she had run. She recognized she couldn’t hide forever, but even after three days she felt so much more grounded, more like someone she wanted to be and could respect. It wasn’t a sea change. She hadn’t had an epiphany. She had found some space, quiet, and solitude—and hadn’t come unglued. It was a start, and she wasn’t at all sure she was ready to give it up.

Two young mothers were pushing their toddlers in the swings. Suzanne couldn’t hear their conversation, but the tone was relaxed and casual. One of the children, a girl, giggled. She sounded exactly as Brynn had. Suzanne felt a tug in her stomach, a longing, but recognized it for what it was: a reflexive reaction. Of course she loved her daughter, and her son. Of course she wanted the best for them. But she also wanted something for herself, something significant. In the meantime, they had their father, her parents, and each other. They would survive.

She shifted her attention to Iris, who was watching the swing set, too. Her posture was a sculpture of despair, and she had dark circles under her eyes.

“Iris? I’m thinking we could go back to Lexington, maybe stay there a night or two, visit the library again.”

“Aren’t you going to call the police about my father?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Do you want me to do it now?”

Iris shook her head. “There’s no hurry.”

“I know you have mixed feelings about him.” Suzanne reached for her hand. “That might not change once you know more.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Her voice had an angry edge.

“But you can’t know how you’re going to feel until you know what happened.”

The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “He was alive while I was alone in the woods. That’s what happened.”

Suzanne pulled her close. What Iris said was true, but what Suzanne didn’t say was that parents have less control than they think, that what they try to do for their children is sometimes not enough, not nearly. Whatever Iris’s father’s reasons turned out to be, Suzanne wouldn’t judge him yet. Sometimes leaving was the best solution, even if the main result was realizing you could come back.

They passed the forty-five-minute drive to Lexington in silence and checked into the same hotel they had stayed in Sunday night. They showered and changed, then spent the rest of the afternoon at the library. Suzanne spent most of her time on the computer while Iris perused the stacks. She seemed more relaxed among the books, probably because she could satisfy her curiosity without social pressure. The next morning Suzanne suggested a walk along the Maury because rain was predicted for the afternoon, when they would return to the library. Suzanne kept her phone off the entire time and resisted the temptation to check her email. It was a hard habit to break. She repeatedly pulled her phone out of her bag only to stuff it back in again.

Suzanne awoke Friday morning to the sound of rain hammering the hotel’s metal roof. Iris lay awake in the other bed, looking out at the water-filled sky. The girl turned to her, waiting for Suzanne to shape her day.

“Good morning, Iris.”

“Are we going to the library again?”

“Not today.” She hadn’t realized until she spoke that she had made a decision. “Today we’re going home.”

“Okay.” Iris swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Is it okay if I take a shower?”

“Go ahead.”

Suzanne picked up her phone from the bedside table. Seven thirty. She folded the pillow behind her head, swept over to the messaging screen, and opened Whit’s thread.