The Summer We Lost Alice (22 page)

Maybe this whole trip was a mistake. Why should it matter to him what went on in
Meddersville? The whole town could sink into the earth and it wouldn't affect his life in L.A. one iota. Cat didn't want his help. Aunt Flo, despite her phone call, probably wouldn't be thrilled to see him showing up in person, either. Then there was Sheriff Sammy Morse Jr., who was ready to run him out of town on a rail if he so much as smiled crooked.

Heather stepped forward, smiled, and extended her hand.

"I'm Heather."

Reluctantly, Matt took her hand and gave it a quick shake.

"You shouldn't be in here. This isn't your room."

"Are you sure?" Heather said.

Matt turned away without another word. He withdrew to the bathroom and shut the door.

"So, the boy hates me, too. And he doesn't even know me," Ethan said.

"I guess your family got the long-simmering anger gene."

"Maybe Brittany's the normal one."

They glanced toward the kids' bedroom door and she was there, standing in the doorway like a sleepwalker, a stuffed donkey in her arms, staring at them with an expression so blank as to be unreadable. At least she didn't exude Cat and Matt's hostility, but her gaze was unsettling, a little too wide-eyed. She seemed insubstantial, like dust in a sunbeam, as if you could scatter her atoms with a breath.

Heather worried that the little girl was frightened to discover strangers outside her bedroom. She tried to think of what to say, something friendly and reassuring. She looked over at Ethan only to find him similarly tongue-tied. She had to say something.

"Hello," she said.

"If you see Barbie," Brittany said, "don't let her eat your brain."

Heather decided to take the comment at face value.

"Okay," she said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Brittany whispered.

They were distracted by the flushing of the toilet. Matt emerged from the bathroom
. He shot them a baleful glare before tromping downstairs. When they turned back around, the little girl was gone. She had probably stepped into the bedroom in a very ordinary manner, but the effect was magical.

Waking slowly the next morning, Ethan would wonder if he had dreamed her.

* * *

Sammy watched from the patrol car as Ethan emerged from Cat's house. Ethan popped the trunk of the rental car and pulled out a pair of bags.
So, they've been invited to stay,
Sammy thought. Sammy kept his eyes on Ethan as he walked back to the open door and went in. He continued watching until the last light in the house went out.

ETHAN'S EYES were still grainy and his hair appeared to have been combed with an eggbeater. Cat had moved Matt back up to his bedroom and put Ethan and Heather on the sleeper/sofa. Ethan had slept fitfully. Heather hadn't seemed to truly nod off until the wee hours. She was sleeping soundly, now, so he tried not to wake her as he slid out of bed.

Ethan wasn't normally an early riser, but it was Monday morning and Cat had to get the kids off to school and
herself off to work. This would be his only chance to see them until late afternoon. He especially wanted to see the little girl again, if only to verify that he hadn't hallucinated her. Cat told him that Flo would rise later, when the hubbub had died down. He sipped his coffee. Cat set out cereal bowls and mixed up orange juice from a can of concentrate.

"Do you remember Boo?" Ethan said.

Cat said, "Sure. Big pain in the butt."

"Did he ever show back up after that night?"

"Nope." She turned to give Ethan an accusing stare. "You were the last person to see him alive. He pulled his vanishing act for the last time that night you were with him."

"So you never found his body?"

"As far as I know, no one ever looked."

"The sheriff didn't look?"

"Why would he?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ethan said. "Three kids disappear. A dog holds the only clue. Dog disappears. I'd think somebody might look for him, that's all."

Cat crossed her arms and held Ethan in a silent stare. "Based on what, Ethan? Some crazy kid's story? None of which held up, by the way, to the slightest scrutiny?"

Ethan swallowed. He stared into the coffee cup as if peering into mystical waters.

"It was a lead. They could've followed it up."

Cat sighed. Despite herself, she felt a twinge of sympathy for the disheveled man sitting at her table drinking coffee and second-guessing the past. He was apparently human after all, and at this hour, she couldn't discern a speck of Hollywood on him. She pulled up a chair.

"Ethan, look," she said, "it was a long time ago. You were a kid, kind of a weird one. You think you saw something, but you saw it through a child's eyes. You can't trust those memories."

Ethan gave a short laugh.

"You know, to this day," he said, "I'd swear Uncle Billy pulled off his thumb."

"It was a trick," Cat said.

"Of course. I even know how it's done. See?" He cupped his hands and lifted his thumb just as Uncle Billy had done. "But still, that's not how I remember it. In my memory, Uncle Billy actually pulled off his thumb. Any trick's real if you fall for it."

"You should know. You want more coffee?"

"Half a cup."

Cat filled his cup to the brim and gave herself the same. She put two slices of white bread in the toaster oven. They drank coffee and orange juice and avoided each other's eyes.

"How come you've never gotten married?" Cat said. She wasn't sure if she was being polite or snoopy or just plain mean. She didn't really care. Anything was better than dwelling on their shared past.

"I have intimacy issues. Nothing seems to stick."

"Intimacy issues?"

"That's California-speak. Basically, it means I'm a jerk."

"You're in a big club," Cat said.

"Cat, can I ask you three questions? You know, kind of cut to the chase, so to speak?"

She shrugged.

"Do you think I'm a rotten human being?" Ethan said.

"Maybe."

"You think I'd harm the kids?"

"You wouldn't be in this house if I did."

"No, I suppose not."

Time went by. Cat gave him a look.

"And?" she said.

Ethan took a breath.

"Do you really blame me for Alice's death?"

The toaster oven dinged. A drop of water plinked from the coffee maker into the pot. Sound of footfalls on the stairway, the kids coming down to breakfast. Cat felt pressure building behind her eyes.
Why did he have to dredge up all of this old crap, all of this old guilt?
She shook her head.

"I know whose fault it was," she said
. She got up from the table, chair grating on the floor. She plucked the toast out of the toaster oven and stared at it as if looking at the corpse of a close personal friend.

"Ah, Christ."

"Burned?" Ethan asked.

"No. I forgot to set out the butter. It'll be hard as a rock."

Cat felt a tightening in her chest. The kids, Ethan, the past, the butter. It was all too damned much.

* * *

Cat and the children had gone by the time Heather rose. Ethan still nursed his coffee at the kitchen table. Heather walked in wearing cotton pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. She was rumpled and heavy-lidded, yet it seemed to Ethan that she lit up the room. The feeling made him shiver. One other person had had that effect on him, long ago.

Ethan asked if she'd like a cup of coffee
. Heather nodded. She sat down at the table and put her head in her hands like a drunk nursing a hangover.

"I had the weirdest dreams," she said.

"About what?"

"I can't say.
Weird, disjointed stuff. A lot of running. Toward something, away from something. I don't know."

Two cups of coffee and some toast revived her. She asked Ethan to tell her more about Aunt Flo. He told her what he'd gathered over the years from other family members.

Flo was the elder of the two daughters. They had been raised by their father, who was left a widower at a young age. Life wasn't easy growing up, especially for Flo who bore the burden of caring for her younger sister. Ethan's mother passed of ovarian cancer several years after the summer of Alice's disappearance. Ethan's father died while Ethan was in college. Uncle Billy, Flo's husband, had passed away five years ago. His funeral was the best-attended in the history of Meddersville.

After Alice's disappearance, the family had seemed only too eager for Ethan to go back home. Only Flo had voiced the opinion that his visit should not be cut short by the tragedy.

"I couldn't understand why," he said. "She didn't seem to like me much. Why was she clinging to me now?"

"You were her connection to Alice, the last person to see her alive."

"Maybe. It was strange, though. She and Uncle Billy were an odd couple. He was so warm and friendly, and she was ... hard. Alice's death did something to her—I told you about that. When Uncle Billy passed, it was like her last grain of passion was used up.

"Cat says there's nothing much keeping her going except some kind of stubborn determination."

"So," Heather said, "I shouldn't expect a hearty Midwestern welcome."

Ethan shook his head.

"What's she going to think when she sees two strangers sitting in her kitchen?"

"Cat had a word with her before she left. She's expecting us, anyway."

He put his finger to his lips when he heard Flo's footsteps in the hallway. Heather ran her fingers through his hair and gave it a shake. She sat up straight.

Ethan stood when Flo entered the kitchen. He did his best to smile.

"Hello, Aunt Flo," he said.

She studied him from the doorway, like a snake deciding whether to strike or flee. He was taller than her now, which felt bizarre.

"It
is
you, isn't it?" she said.

Ethan nodded. She stood there taking him in with her eyes, not smiling, not angry, not anything. Then she stepped forward, closed the distance between them in a moment, and wrapped him in her arms. She squeezed him with all the strength she could muster.

She pulled back, still gripping his arms, and looked at him through eyes wet with gratitude.

"Thank God you've come," she said.

ETHAN, FLO, and Heather walked down the sidewalk under red maples and golden-yellow elms. Flo held onto Ethan like a prom date. Heather walked on Flo's other side, half a step behind, taking in sights and sounds and smells that were simultaneously novel and oddly familiar. The street held echoes of images in Heather's mind, but it wasn't a perfect match. Of course, Alice would have known this street twenty-five years ago.

"I was surprised that I got through," Flo said to Ethan. "I didn't want you to know it was me."

"I didn't at first. As soon as I realized who it was, the explosion went off in my nose."

"I'm so sorry it had that effect on you. When I saw what happened
... I didn't mean to ruin your show, Ethan. But tell me, did you ever try to reach Alice?"

"Aunt Flo, believe me. What I do is just a gimmick, like the fortune teller at the carnival. It's a show, no more real than a sitcom."

"But what if you do have a gift? Some of the things you say, you couldn't possibly know them! Or is it all rigged?"

"Mainly, it's simple tricks. People want to believe. They tell me what I need to know."

"He's in denial," Heather said. "He tries to be all pococurante about it, but—"

"
Poco what?"

"Sorry.
Word of the day. But it's a doozy, right? It means indifferent. Like you and your gift."

"My only gift is a gift for
bullsh—" He stopped himself. "A gift of gab. I have the gift of gab."

"I think you were right the first time," Flo said. "But really, Ethan, do you even believe in life after death?"

"Not really, no."

"Then I feel sorry for you. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't believe there was something more. I couldn't go on. Not for myself, but
... for Alice."

Heather opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it. If she was, in some way, Alice reincarnated, if this woman's daughter did somehow live on inside her, then
Flo would see it. The mother would recognize the child. She hoped Cat hadn't mentioned the reincarnation thing. Ethan would accuse her of biasing the result.

They walked to the end of the block.

"Do you want to turn back?" Ethan said. Flo shook her head. They rounded the corner.

"We never found her, you know," Flo said. "It's like some nightmare that doesn't end. No matter how hard you tell yourself
it's over, it isn't. It hurts every day. If only I could get some ... what do they call it these days?"