by Jodi Picoult
I would have given anything then to tear her away from that TV. Give her a sedative, a stiff drink, I don�t know what. Maybe I could just hold her. But seeing her like that knotted up my gut. I had to do something. And I couldn�t very well just kneel down next to her, with her goddamned husband larger than life, swollen in technicolor. So I chickened out. I left; said I had something to do in the field. Instead, I�m taking a walk through the woods that border the orchard.
The mosquitoes are awful this time of year, and the land is swampy. Part of the woods has become a makeshift dump, even for neighboring farmers. There�s an old enamel bathtub and a few dead washing machines at a certain point on the trail. But it�s quiet, so quiet you can hear your mind snapping as it jumps from one idea to another.
I walk for quite a distance, because I come to the foundation of a house that must have burned to the ground. It�s a small ring of stones with a crumbling fireplace at one end. My father used to say it dated to the 1700s.
When Hadley and me were kids we�d come out here a lot. When we were about nine, we made this our secret clubhouse, and we lugged beams and old boards from the barn all the way here, trying to hammer together some kind of enclosure. We had a password: Yaz, after our favorite player on the Red Sox. We�d meet every day at sunset, just so we could hear our mothers hollering from different edges of the woods, calling us to supper.
I�ve been hanging around with Hadley since we were seven. That�s eighteen years. That�s longer than Rebecca�s even been alive. Under any other circumstance, I�d stand behind him. He�s my best friend. He knows what he�s doing; he wouldn�t take a fifteen-year-old on a joy ride. But I know as sure as I know the boundaries of my orchard, what is happening to me now comes once in a lifetime. I can�t stand to see Jane upset, and for selfish reasons: it hurts me to see her like that.
By the time I get back to the Big House, I�ve missed dinner. Joley�s doing the dishes; he tells me Jane�s upstairs. �Where�s Hadley? I�ve got to talk to him.�
�I think he went out on the back porch with Rebecca. Why?�
But I don�t have time to answer him. I stroll out the back door, immediately feeling that I have interrupted something. Rebecca and Hadley are on the swinging bench, and when the door creaks open they fly to opposite ends. �Hey,� I say, noncommittally. �You busy?�
They shake their heads. Rebecca�s making me uncomfortable. I can feel her stare burning into the collar of my shirt. I pull at it, trying to let in some air. �What�s up?� Hadley says. He�s bolder now. He�s got his arm around Rebecca, on the back of the bench.
�I kind of need to talk to you.� I turn to Rebecca. �Alone.� I open the screen door. �I�ll just wait in here.� I walk inside and let the door slam behind me. Hadley asks how long this is going to take. �I was figuring we�d go grab a beer, if that�s okay with you.�
I hear Rebecca say, �Do you have to?� but I can�t tell what Hadley says in return. He walks into the house, that wide smile on his face, and slaps me on the back. �Let�s roll. You paying?�
We go to Adam�s Rib, a restaurant with a big bar section frequented mostly by motorcycle gangs. We don�t go there much, but I don�t want to have this conversation in a place I go to often, so that every time I walk in the door in the future I�ll have a memory of the time I let down my best friend. Hadley and I take a table near the door, one that is really a Pac-Man game dotted with two napkins and an ashtray. A waitress with very high teased red hair asks us what we�re drinking. �Glenfiddich,� I say. �Two.�
Hadley lifts his eyebrows. �You getting married or having a baby or something? What�s the occasion?�
I lean my elbows on the table. �I got to ask you something. What�s going on between you and Rebecca?�
Hadley grins. �What�s going on between you and Jane?�
�Come on,� I say, �that�s not the question here.�
�Sam, I don�t mess in your business; you don�t mess in mine.� The drinks come, and Hadley lifts his glass and toasts me. �Cheers.�
�She�s really young. You�ve got Jane all upset.�
Hadley scowls. �Rebecca�s got a more grown-up head on her shoulders-than either one of us. I wouldn�t fuck around with a kid, Sam, if I didn�t think it was right.�
I take a long, deep drink of the whiskey. It burns the back of my throat, which makes me think the words may come easier. �I wouldn�t fuck around, either, if I didn�t know it was right.� I swirl the liquid in the glass. �I think you�d better go away for a little while.�
Hadley stares at me �What are you talking about?�
�I�m saying I think you should take a vacation. Get away from the orchard. Go visit your mom,� I say. �She hasn�t seen you since Christmas.�
�You�re doing this because of her fucking mother.�
�I�m doing it because of me. And you. I�m doing what I think is right.�
�She told you to do it, didn�t she? She�s making you do this. You�ve known me all your life. You�ve known her for five days. I can�t believe you�re doing this.�
�Leave Jane out of this,� I say, floundering. �This is between you and me.�
�Like hell it is. Jesus!� He kicks the table again, and then takes a deep breath and eases himself into his chair. �Okay,� he says. �I want to know one thing. I want to know why nobody asked me or Rebecca what we think. I want to know why the whole goddamned world is voting on our future, everyone but us.�
�It�s not for long. A week, maybe two. I just want to give Jane a little time to herself. You don�t know her, Hadley. She�s not just some rich bitch. She�s had a really rough life.�
�Yeah, well, you don�t know Rebecca,� Hadley says. �Do you know what it�s like when I�m with her? She believes in me more than my own folks ever did. Shit, I�ve told her things I�ve never even told you. No matter what I�m doing or where I am, she�s in my head.�
Hadley flattens his palms against the game table. �Have you ever even talked to her, Sam? She�s lived through a plane crash. She takes better care of her mother than the other way around. She knows about you two, that�s for sure. You think Jane�s had a rough life? You should see the trip she�s laid on her own kid.�
Hadley drains his glass, and then reaches for mine. �So if you want to know, Am I in love with her, the answer�s yes. If you want to know, Am I going to take care of her, I will. No one else seems to be doing a bangup job of it.� When Hadley looks at me, there�s a purpose in his eyes I�ve never seen before. �Don�t think about what I�m doing to Rebecca, Sam. Think about what Jane�s doing to her.�
�Look,� I say. �I need you to do this for me. I�ll make it up to you. I swear it.�
Hadley swallows hard and blinks. He�s looking for more to drink, but there�s nothing left between us. �Yeah, right.�
�Hadley-�
He holds his hands up to stop me. �I don�t want your explanations. I don�t want to hear about it at all, okay? And I want my back pay.� I nod. �You listen to me, Sam. You�d better work this out good. Because you�re making me leave behind someone I care about a lot. I�m going to come after her, sooner or later, no matter how long you keep me away. I�ll find her. Tell Jane that, straight from my lips. I�m going to be with Rebecca no matter what.�
For what seems like minutes, we sit facing each other, absolutely silent. Finally I break the tension. �You�ll go in the morning.�
�Fuck that,� Hadley says, snorting. �I�m out of here tonight.�
We leave just after that. We ride home in the pickup and I swear I notice every bump and grit in the road. I notice the way both of our bodies bounce up and down at the same time. It�s gravity; we both weigh about the same. We pull into the driveway, and most of the lights downstairs in the house have been turned off.
Neither Hadley nor I make a motion to get out of the truck. The crickets slide the bows of their wings back and forth. �Who gets to tell her?� Hadley asks.
�Rebecca? You do. You should tell her.� Hadley looks at me, waiting for me to say more. �Go ahead. Go on up there. Stay as long as you want. I won�t tell Jane.�
He opens the truck door, and it buzzes the way it does when the seat b
elts are off. The inside light goes on, so I know he sees me lean my head against the steering wheel. I don�t feel like getting out of the car just yet. �She�s not a kid, Sam,� Hadley says quietly. �I�m not like that.� When he shuts the door, it makes a jointed, neat sound.
64 O LIVER
God bless America. My heart goes out to every sympathetic, kindhearted man and woman who has called the Provincetown Center for Coastal Studies since hearing my broadcast on the shores of Gloucester. The switchboard operator patches them into the tiny closet where Windy has installed a telephone for me, for privacy. I am told that Jane has been spotted at an Exxon station on the Mass. Pike. A man remembers Rebecca�s face in his convenience store in Maynard. And last, but certainly not least, a young fellow who works at an ice cream stand in Stow calls in. He asks if I am the whale guy. He has seen my wife and my child. �Came in here with a local man who runs an apple farm.� Victory.
�Do you know his name?� I ask, pressing him for more details. What was he wearing? How many people in his party? What type of car did he drive?
�Hey, that�s it!� the young man says. �A blue pickup, really nice new truck, which is how come I noticed. And it said Hansen�s on the door.�
Hansen. Hansen. Hansen. None of the mailboxes on this road have that name; doesn�t the man have any relatives in the town? Anything to appease my gnawing excitement? I have already plotted what I will do. It is barely five in the morning, and even a farm will still be asleep. So I will jimmy the lock and creep inside, and try to find Jane�s bedroom. It should be easy; she sleeps with the door ajar because she is claustrophobic. And then I will sit on the edge of the bed, and touch her hair. I have forgotten its texture. I�ll wait until she stirs and then I�ll kiss her. Oh, will I kiss her.
Hansen�s. I slam the brakes, sending the Lincoln spinning. I have always preferred big cars, but they fishtail at times like this. I right myself, and pull into the long, winding driveway. If I drive the entire way, they might hear me. So I park midway on the rutted gravel and walk to the large white house.
The porch creaks beneath me. I try the door-open-does anyone in the country lock their doors? Inside, I have to feel my way in the dark, but I do not mind. This is a good sign: no one is awake.
I became very good at cracking doors just a hair when Rebecca was a baby. If she heard the slightest sound, she�d wake and begin to cry, and God knows it was difficult enough to get her to sleep through the night. It�s all in the wrist.
The farthest door on the right yields an empty room decorated with antiques and patchwork quilts. Jane�s purse is in here, which leads me to deduce that this is indeed her room and she is probably sleeping with Rebecca out of fear or discomfort or loneliness. My heart is pounding when I open the next door, expecting to find my wife and my child together. But it is just Joley, snoring loud enough to blast granite.
When I open the next bedroom door, it too is empty, but the sheets are messed on the bed. Strewn around the room are Rebecca�s clothes-I recognize her GUARD suit, the one she was wearing the day she left. A half-full glass of juice sits at the bedside, as if the room was left in a hurry. As if the occupant is coming right back. This worries me; I don�t want her to see me before I have a chance to see and speak to Jane. So I duck into the hallway, and make my way to the last door.
It falls open without a sound. Jane is in the bed, curled onto her side. She is not wearing anything. She is smiling in her sleep. She is in the arms of another man.
I stagger forward, creating a loud noise that coincides with the crash of the door against the wall. They both jump up, blinking. Jane sees me first. �Oliver,� she gasps.
I lunge for him, hauling him out of the bed. Jane is screaming for me to stop. I think she is probably crying. �Get the fuck away from her!� I shout, throwing the man onto the floor. I don�t even know who he is. I�m ready to kill him, and I don�t even known his name.
I kick him in the gut and in the balls and send him reeling backwards. Jane jumps out of bed, wailing, naked, and throws herself across him. I have poison running through my veins. I want blood.
She cradles his head in her lap. �I�m all right,� he says to her. �I�m okay now.� He tries to get to his feet, to come after me.
�Come on,� I say, beckoning. �I�ll kill you. I mean it, I�ll kill you.� Suddenly Jane is in between us, and she throws herself into my arms, and it is so remarkably distracting that I lose my sense of purpose. She has wrapped herself in a sheet. She is so soft.
�Don�t do this,� she pleads. �For me. Don�t do this, please.�
�Let�s get Rebecca. We�re leaving.�
Jane will not make eye contact with me. �No.�
�We�re leaving, Jane,� I say authoritatively.
She stands directly between us, her hands knotted into fists, her eyes pressed shut. �No!�
And this is when Joley chooses to enter the room. �What the hell is going on?� He sees me, he takes note of Jane and this other asshole, leaning on the bedpost for support. �Sam, what happened?�
�Sam Hansen? You�re the one who�s been screwing my wife?� It all balls up inside my throat then, my shoulders. I grab for Sam�s neck. I can break it in one swift move. I know human anatomy.
Joley pushes Jane out of the way. He grabs me by the collar of my shirt and wraps his arms around mine so that I am pinned. I struggle but he is too strong for me, and eventually I relax. �Where�s Rebecca? I want to see Rebecca.�
�She�s next door,� Jane says.
�There�s no one next door.�
�Of course there is,� Joley says. �Where should she go at five in the morning?�
Jane�s hands start to tremble, and she turns to Sam. Sam. �I told Hadley to leave,� he says. �I told him last night. She must have found out. She must have gone after him.�
Jane nods very slowly, and then she bursts into tears. �She knows it was me. She knows I told you.�
Joley, for once in his goddamned life the voice of reason, walks towards Sam and practically shouts in his face. �Do you know where his mom lives now?�
�I know the town. It won�t be hard to find.�
�I can�t believe this,� I say. �I travel across the country to find my child has run away and my wife is in another man�s bed.� Sam and Joley continue to talk about some area of New Hampshire. I come closer to Jane and I take her hand. �I had so much to tell you,� I say sadly. Her cheeks are red and swollen with the tracks of tears.
�Oliver,� she whispers, hoarse. �I can�t lose her. I can�t lose her.� She looks up at me. �I�m so sorry. I didn�t want to hurt you.�
I know they are watching, from across the room. I know they are watching and that is what makes it even sweeter. This has not been easy. I came across an entire continent to tell this woman I am in love with her. I came to tell her my life is nothing unless she�s by my side. And I�m not about to throw that away, in spite of it all. I know how to forgive, now. I know how to forget, I imagine, too. It is up to me to put my family back together. I squeeze Jane gently. Then I close my eyes, and press my lips against hers. Her mouth is quivering. But she is kissing me back. This much I know: she is kissing me back.
65 J OLEY
When Oliver hugs Jane like that, Sam stirs next to me. I brace my arm, so he doesn�t step forward and do anything stupid. He takes three slow measured breaths that rock his whole frame. Then he pushes past me. �Let�s go,� he says.
We�ve decided that since we know where Hadley�s gone, we have a good chance of finding Rebecca there. If we get a start this early, we�ll be there by lunch time. �I�m going with you,� Oliver says. He lets go of Jane and she sags against the post of the bed. I think she might pass out, from the looks of things.
�Oliver.� You have to feel bad for the guy. This isn�t what he expected to find in Massachusetts, after all. �It won�t do you any good to come with us. Someone has to stay here with Jane, anyway.�
�This is not a question. I am telling you: I�m going with you to New Hampshire.�
Sam takes a step forward. I can see Oliver�s f
ace change as he drinks in the tone of Sam�s voice. �You know where Hadley�s mom lives. You two go. I�ll wait here in case she comes home.�
�Like hell you will,� Oliver says. It�s about to come to blows again, so I step in between them. �I�m not leaving you here with my wife.�
�You can�t go by yourself,� Sam says. �Half the roads there aren�t marked.�
Oliver leans toward Sam. �I can find places that are totally unmarked, you asshole. I do it for a living.�
�This isn�t the ocean.�
Jane puts her hand on Oliver�s arm. �He�s right, Oliver. You can�t go up there alone.�
�Okay,� Oliver says, pacing. He wheels around and points to Sam. �You. You go with me. Joley stays here with Jane.�
�What a goddamned pleasure,� Sam mutters.
�What did you say?� Oliver grabs the collar of his shirt, but Sam, now awake and probably ten times stronger than Oliver, shoves him with such force Oliver crashes into the door.
�I said it would be my pleasure.� Sam walks over to Jane, who is crying again. He leans his forehead against hers, and puts his hand on her shoulder. He whispers something only she can hear, and she starts to smile a little.
�We can check the grounds but I don�t think we�ll find her. We�ll take my truck,� Sam says, and Oliver shakes his head.
�We�ll take my car,� Oliver says.
After we hear the car drive away, Jane sinks down to the floor and pulls her knees up to her chest. �You win, Joley. You were right.�
�Nobody�s won anything. They�re going to find her.�
Jane shakes her head. �I should have said something to her. I should have told her about Sam, and above all else I should have tried to understand what was going on with Hadley.� She pulls herself upright, and walks into Rebecca�s empty room.
I hear all the air rush out of her, like she�s been punched hard. She touches Rebecca�s bathing suit, her hairbrush. �The room smells like her, doesn�t it?�
She picks up Rebecca�s bra. �We bought this in North Dakota,� she says, smiling. �She was so excited because it had a cup size.� She winds the bra around her waist, snapping the elastic. �I have been so selfish.�
�You didn�t know this would happen.� I sit next to her on Rebecca�s bed.
�If she�s hurt,� Jane says. �I�ll die. I�ll never be able to forgive myself. If she�s hurt, it will kill me.�
Jane lies down on the bed. I rub her back. �She�s fine. She�s going to be fine.�
�You don�t know that,� Jane says. �You don�t understand how I feel. I�m her mother . I�m supposed to protect her. I should be with her now. I should be with her.� Jane rolls over and stares at the ceiling. There is a water mark that has spread in the shape of a lamb, and another in the form of a zinnia. She sits up. �Drive after them. I want to be there when they find her.�
