White Picket Fences (24 page)

Tally started to walk away again. “A best friend would ask.”

He caught up with her. “I
am
asking.”

“You’re asking the wrong person.” Tally’s eyes were on her cousin. He had stopped far ahead at a row of gray knee-high markers. Matt grew quiet as they walked.

When they reached Chase, he pointed to the gravestone closest to him. “Matt, start here. Crouch down. Run your fingers across the name on the stone, slow, like you’re deciding if you really want to touch it. But don’t lean in. It has to be just your hands and your legs that we see. You can talk if you need to. I’m editing out the audio anyway.”

Matt tried to make eye contact with Chase, but when it didn’t happen, he squatted and reached for the headstone. “Like this?”

Chase knelt on the grass and held the camera at a side angle. “Do it again. Slower this time. And don’t get your head in the shot.”

“What do you want me to do?” Tally knelt beside her cousin.

Chase turned to face her. “Just stay close by me.” His eyes
lingered a second. Something lurked behind them. She nodded slowly.

Matt stretched out his arm again. “Like this?”

“Again. Slower. Cover the date she died with your fingers. It doesn’t match our story. Her birth date does.”

Matt inched his arm forward and slowly extended his fingers to the inscription on the stone:
Ingrid Friedman. Beloved daughter and sister. Born July 12, 1932.
Then he exhaled slowly, as if swallowing one question and preparing to ask something completely different. “How’s that?”

“That’s the shot. Now get up slowly and move past the next two headstones. Walk slowly. Stop, turn your feet, and look at the name on the third one.”

Matt obeyed.

“Now move on to the fourth one,” Chase said. “Hesitate before you crouch.”

Again, Matt obeyed.

“Now, slowly drop from a crouch to your knees, folding them under you. Drop your hands in front of you, like they’re useless. Slouch but don’t relax your neck or head. Good. Just stay that way.”

As if on cue, a gust of wind sent a swirl of toast-colored oak leaves tumbling around the headstone and Matt’s hands and knees.

“Don’t touch the leaves,” Chase commanded. “Just let them do whatever they want. You don’t care about the leaves.”

The breeze settled for a moment and then picked back up. A second later the dead leaves were gone from the shot as if they had never been there.

“Good. Okay, now stand up and slowly walk all the way down this row of gravestones. Don’t stop. Just keep walking all the way to the end. And don’t turn around. The farther away you get, the more of your body we’ll see. And we don’t want your face in the shot.”

Matt exhaled and stood. “Right.” He sounded resigned. He began to walk away.

Chase slowly stood as he trailed Matt’s retreating form. When Matt was five headstones away, Chase spoke. “What were you two talking about?” He sounded a little annoyed.

“What?” Tally had heard what he said. It just surprised her.

“What were you two talking about?”

“I… Nothing.”

“Nothing.” He didn’t believe her. That was obvious. She could tell by his tone he knew they’d been talking about him.

“He knows something’s bothering you, Chase.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him nothing.”

“What did you tell him?”

Tally tried to get Chase to look at her, but he kept his eyes trained on the LCD screen on his camera. “I told him I thought you had a lot on your mind and that if he was concerned about you, he should ask you himself. That’s what friends do.”

“You told him I had a lot on my mind?”

Tally huffed. “I said I
thought you
had a lot on your mind. He just cares about you, Chase. I think he’s a little hurt I know something about you that he doesn’t.”

Chase turned his head slightly and looked at her. “How does he know you know something? You said you told him nothing.”

“He guessed! Besides, I don’t see why you don’t just tell him. He’s your closest friend. It’s stupid how you hide this from everybody.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s my stupid business and no one else’s. I don’t have to tell anybody anything.” He swung his head back to face the little screen on his camera.

Tally studied him silently. A vein in his neck seemed to quiver just below the skin. “What did you find out today?” She spoke softly.

Chase was silent.

“You found out something today, didn’t you? You found an article on the Internet.”

Chase swallowed, wordless.

Far ahead of them Matt reached the end of the row of gravestones. He paused and slowly turned around. “That good enough?” he yelled.

“Turn back around! Stand with your hands at your side. Count to thirty and then you can walk back,” Chase called back.

“Chase?” Tally inclined her head toward her cousin.

Chase kept the camera trained on Matt’s unmoving body. “He likes you, you know.”

“You said you would tell me what you found out.”

“He’s only had one girlfriend. He comes across as the confident jock, but inside Matt’s as fragile as the rest of us.”

“What did you find out?”

He didn’t answer.

“Chase!” she responded in an intense whisper.

“Not enough.” His voice was heavy.

Tally blinked. “What do you mean, not enough?”

“I still can’t remember what happened between the time Keith chased me out of his room and when that other kid and I crawled through the smoke out of the master bedroom.”

“So you found an article or something?”

But Chase seemed not to have heard her.

“I have to find a way to get those minutes back,” he said, but not to her. “They’re right there in my head. When I close my eyes, I can tell I’m on the verge of seeing them. So close. They’re right there. Just out of reach.”

“Chase, what did you find out?”

He still seemed not to have heard her. “I need to go talk to Eliasz. He can see what isn’t there. I don’t know how he can, but he can. I want to know how he does it.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going back to the nursing home to talk to Eliasz.”

“I just don’t see why you have to know. What difference does it make?”

Chase turned his head slowly to look at her. He hesitated a second before answering her. “Because a baby died in that fire. Right in the room I was in. Her crib was just inches from the mat I was lying on. Her name was Alyssa. It’s her cries I keep hearing in my head.” He turned back to face the long row of stones and Matt, who was now turning around.

Tally sucked in her breath. “A baby?”

“That’s right. A baby.”

Matt started walking toward them. Chase flicked off the Record button.

“But, Chase,” Tally said, “don’t you think that’s why you can’t remember? Deep down you probably don’t want to.”

“I need those minutes.” Chase placed the cover on the lens and grabbed his camera bag.

Tally sighed quietly. It didn’t make any sense that Chase would want to remember the last tragic details of the fire. No sense at all. “Why? Why do you have to remember? Why do you want to remember what happened to that baby? You should be glad you can’t remember it.”

He pivoted quickly to face her. “Well, I’m not glad. And don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.”

“I just don’t get it. Why are you dwelling on this?”

Chase turned his head and eyed Matt, still several yards away. “Because I have this bad feeling it’s my fault.”

“What? What’s your fault?”

Chase turned his head toward her, but he did not look at her. He gazed at the hundreds of lost lives that stretched behind her like a prairie of grass and stone. “The fire.”

She froze. “What?”

Now his eyes zeroed in on hers, his voice a whisper. “What if it’s my fault that baby died? What if I can’t remember those minutes because it’s my fault? I held the lighter in my hands. I remember how it fascinated me. I remember going back into Keith’s room. Do you hear me? I remember going
back
into his room. What if that second time I did more than just hold the lighter? What if I was the one who started the fire?”

“But you didn’t…” Tally’s voice fell away.

“What if I did?”

She stared at Chase, unable to comment. She didn’t know what to say. What if he had started the fire?

A moment later Matt rejoined them. He looked from one to the other. “Are we done?”

Chase slowly looked away from Tally. “Almost.” He began to walk back to the car.

Her heart pounding, Tally rushed to keep up with him. She didn’t want Matt to ask what Chase had been telling her. She had no answer for him.

thirty

T
he Federal Express envelope leaned against the front door, creating a vibe of expectancy on the shaded porch. Delcey, sitting in the front seat as Amanda pulled into the driveway, was quick to notice it.

“Hey! There’s a FedEx envelope!” The girl dashed out of the vehicle before it came to a complete stop and before Amanda could tell her the envelope was most likely for Tally.

Amanda turned off the ignition, grabbed her book bag from the backseat, and stepped out into the waning five o’clock sunshine. She saw Delcey read the recipient’s name on the envelope.

“It’s for Tally.” Surprise and curious envy blanketed her daughter’s words. “It’s from Arizona.”

Amanda came around the car and walked up the wide steps to the porch. “It’s a letter for Tally from Uncle Bart.” She reached for the envelope, and Delcey handed it to her. Amanda slipped it under her arm as she fiddled with her key ring.

“Really?” Delcey said. “Is he coming home? No offense, but I’d like my room back.” The keys slipped from Amanda’s fingers, and Delcey reached down for them, huffing. “And when are we going to have our garage back? It’s stupid that you and Dad have to park your cars in the driveway and use the front door. No one else on our street does that.”

Delcey shoved the house key into the lock and turned it. An electronic chirping and the clicking of Sammy’s nails greeted them. Delcey crossed the threshold and punched a security code into the alarm system. The cocker spaniel danced around her feet as she passed through the entry and tossed the keys onto the granite counter of the open kitchen.

“You know I can’t answer either question, Delcey,” Amanda said as she followed her daughter inside. “I don’t know what Uncle Bart has written in this letter.”

“What if he says it’s going to be another month?” Delcey bent down to stroke Sammy’s golden head.

Amanda placed the envelope and her own book bag on the counter. “I told you I’d clean out the sewing room if I had to.” She stepped into the kitchen, opened a cupboard, and grabbed a bottle of Tylenol.

“Well, when will you know if you have to?”

“Delcey, please.”

“Please what?” The girl stood up straight.

Amanda took a glass from another cabinet and filled it with water from the dispenser on the outside of the refrigerator. “Let’s just wait and see what Bart says in the letter.” She tossed two capsules in her mouth and drank.

“What if he says it’s going to be another month?”

The water stung as it slid down her throat, too cold. She set the glass down with more force than she intended, and the sound of granite meeting glass made her wince. “You heard what I said.”

“Why don’t you try hearing what
I
say?” Her daughter headed for the stairs, and the dog trailed happily after her.

“What is so awful about sharing your room with Tally?” Amanda called after her.

“You
so
don’t get it,” Delcey muttered as she sprinted up the steps. “It’s my room. My private space.
Was
my private space.”

Her daughter disappeared into the upstairs hallway. “Well, we don’t always get what we want just because we want it!” Amanda said to no one. She heard Delcey’s bedroom door close.

Amanda picked up her glass and turned back toward the kitchen’s interior, placing the cup in the sink next to the breakfast dishes. For a moment, a tiny wedge of seconds, she envied Bart—not his life, but his ability to happily squander responsibility. She reached down and touched Neil’s fork, remembering the last words he’d said to her before he left for work that morning. She had just told him she didn’t want to make a mistake when it came to Chase.
“And you think I do?”
he’d asked. Without warmth.

She fingered the cold tines. Despite the curt tone, he was reminding her they shared a common hope. Neither one of them wanted to mess with Chase’s happiness. They both wanted to protect Chase from a past they knew too little about.

Wait a minute… That wasn’t quite right. Neil wanted more.

Neil didn’t just want to protect Chase from remembering too much about the fire; he wanted to protect himself too. He didn’t want to tangle with the notion that his son had caused Alyssa Tagg’s death.

It wasn’t just Chase’s happiness at stake. It was Neil’s too. And hers.

Neil didn’t want Chase to remember the fire. And he didn’t
want to know if Chase did. It was easier for him to pretend everything was fine.

Chase was fine.

Their marriage was fine.

It was all fine.

Amanda walked to the door that led to the garage and opened it. She breathed in the minty scent of pine and cedar and then stepped in, closing her eyes for a moment. The aroma let her believe for a second or two that she was somewhere besides a garage. She opened her eyes and took in the stretch of the concrete floor and automatic doors.

The place her car used to occupy was now a sea of boards of all shapes and sizes. Some leaning against the wall, some resting on the concrete, some leaning against sawhorses and utility tables. Odd-shaped remnants lay in an amber-hued pile like rocks at the beach. “A woodworker never throws anything away,” Neil had told her once.

A pile of wood curls and shavings lay on the floor under a silent table saw, marking the spot where Neil’s car used to be parked. Behind her, on long white shelves, cans of polish, stain, and mineral spirits sat in neat rows, their heady, danger-scented fluids hidden inside. Amanda turned back to the table closest to her, and her gaze fell on a shiny claw hammer. She reached for it and stroked its smooth handle, surprised at its weight in her hand.