The Realm of Last Chances (33 page)

On the other hand, why should it matter? Whatever Cal knew would not be acted on again. It had led to the drowning of an old car that was already headed for the junk heap. She would never tell a soul what had taken place in the dark at Penny Hill Park, and idle speculation, if it existed, would fade over time. Unless she granted herself access to her memories, it would be as if the last few months had never happened.

“My life away from school is just fine,” she said.

Provost Bedard stood up and straightened her jacket. “Then we both have plenty to be grateful for,” she said.

That evening she left work early, taking the bus to Andover and climbing aboard the 5:25 for the first time since September. Another snowstorm was bearing down on them, but Cal would be waiting for her at the Cedar Park station tonight and every night from now until she retired or one of them died and left the other alone.

As the train passed southward through Wilmington, North Reading and Wakefield, she remembered playing with Patty Connulty on the banks of the Susquehanna, how her Airedale George loved fetching a slobber-soaked Frisbee. She recalled the day Mrs. Connulty scraped ice off her windshield while tears froze on her cheeks, and the evening her father held her aloft and told her there were people in this world who hated family bliss, as well as how her mother clutched her robe with one hand, the phone with the other, preparing to let it all go.
She saw Philip sitting on a bench in an Ole Miss hoodie, Cal holding a dying oriole in his hand, Matt standing at the bottom of the basement stairs, looking up at her while water lapped at his boots. Surrendering to these memories, she leaned against the window and closed her eyes, her mind rich with images that burned like embers.

As always, Ewa and Lena Yarbrough and Antonina Parris-Yarbrough made the writing much easier with their love and advice. My debt to them is immeasurable. I’m also grateful to my friends and colleagues at Emerson College, especially Maria Flook, Pablo Medina, Pamela Painter, Ladette Randolph, John Skoyles, John Trimbur and Jerald Walker. Sloan Harris remains the best agent any writer could ever have, and I am grateful to him and Kristyn Keene for their continued support. Thanks also to Ruthie Reisner at Knopf and to Wyatt Prunty and the rest of my colleagues at the Sewanee Writers’ Conference. Lastly, very special thanks to Gary Fisketjon, my friend and editor, who continues to amaze me even after all these years.

Born in Indianola, Mississippi, Steve Yarbrough is the author of five previous novels and three collections of stories. A PEN/Faulkner finalist, he has received the Mississippi Authors Award, the California Book Award, the Richard Wright Award, and another prize from the Mississippi Institute of Arts and Letters. He teaches at Emerson College and lives with his wife in Stoneham, Massachusetts.

Other titles available by Steve Yarbrough in eBook format
The End of California
• 978-0-307-38660-1
Prisoners of War
• 978-0-307-42732-8
Safe from the Neighbors
• 978-0-307-59327-6
Visible Spirits
• 978-0-307-43006-9

Visit:
www.steveyarbrough.net

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