“He’s Mr. Cole,” Marisa said. “And it’s ‘May I.’ Manners, Kit.”
Jared gave her a look, one that said, Come on, Mar, gimme a break. She rolled her eyes in agreement.
“Jared’s fine,” Jared said. “May I call you Kit?”
“Everyone does,” Kit said. “Either way.”
“We really should be going,” Marisa said, glancing at the wall clock. Like the telephone, it was more utilitarian than attractive, with large, clearly defined numbers.
“Where you guys going?” Sarah said. “Somewhere special?”
Jared turned to Marisa. “Yeah. Somewhere special.”
~ 18
“To old times … and new times,” Jared said as the main course arrived.
Marisa clinked her glass with his and returned his toast with a smile.
They had driven into Bozeman and had made it just in time for their reservation at Valentino’s, an upscale Italian restaurant. They had a cozy table for two, dimly lit with three candles. Jared had ordered their finest wine.
“This is wonderful,” Marisa said. “Thank you for this.” She looked about, glancing at the classical Italian art that adorned the walls. “We always wanted to come here, remember?”
“I know,” he said, chuckling. “We could never afford it! And honestly, it’s still overpriced. But way cheap compared to New York.”
“What was it like?”
“New York? God, it’s only been a little while since I left, but it’s like a fog in my mind. But seriously, it’s a big monster of a place. A maze of everything. It’s all going a mile a minute, and you can never find your way out. That’s a little over the top, I know, but for me, that’s what it felt like. I could never fit in.”
“I can’t even imagine it,” Marisa said. “Still, I’d like to see it someday.”
“Maybe you will,” he said hopefully.
“Jared,” she said, and stopped.
“What is it?”
She gazed at another couple sitting in a booth along the wall. They were staring into each other’s eyes. “The flowers … Valentino’s … it’s going a little fast, you know?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment. “You’re right.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. I just don’t want to move too fast … or too far.”
He nodded. “I understand. Of course. I guess I need to work on my subtlety.”
“Don’t try so hard. You never had to,” she said. “And stop that.”
He was tapping his finger on the table. He didn’t even know.
“Jared. You’ve got to calm down. We’re here. I’m here.”
He drew his hand back, flexing his fingers as he did.
“You still get it?” she said tenderly. “The prickling?”
He rubbed his numb hands together. They felt as if they had fallen asleep. The candlelight deepened the shadows along the scars on his pallid skin. His face, which had also grown pale after the lightning struck him, seemed to fade in the golden light.
“I know you’ve told me a hundred times,” she said. “But I can never remember what it’s called. Para-something or other.”
“Parasthesia. And yeah, it’s still a bitch.” He chuckled.
“How about sleep?”
“I’m a writer. We don’t sleep, remember? Even when we do, our brains are riding the rails to Crazyville.”
“Zany brainy,” she said. “You still have bad dreams?”
“Sometimes,” he said, after some length.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s okay. It’s not like I can stop it.” He sipped his wine. “You know, bad dreams aren’t always a bad thing. Insanity came out of a nightmare.”
“Jeez,” she said, cringing. “You dreamt that?”
“Only the insanity parts,” he joked. “The rest I made up.”
“Speaking of which, I’ve been thinking about your new book. Mostly about the Phantom.”
“And?”
“Well,” she said, “when you told me what it was about, there was something missing.”
“Such as?”
“The Phantom.”
“What about him? Assuming it’s a he, of course. It could be an alien.” He winked.
“You were holding something back,” she said. “I can always tell.”
He regarded her with a look that said, You got me.
“Spill it,” she said, excitedly. “It’s driving me crazy. I mean, if it’s going to spoil the ending, I understand.”
“No, no,” he said. “It’s nothing like that.”
“Jared?”
“Do you remember the last time the Phantom struck?”
She considered. Shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe three or four years ago.”
“Six,” he said. “The year after I left. Until now.”
“What?”
“Do you know Jack Henneman?”
“He died years ago,” she said. “Tractor accident.”
“No, no. His son. Jack Jr.” He told her of the mutilation.
“My God,” she said. “Do you think it’s really the Phantom? Do you think he’s back?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. My gut is telling me that it must be. But my brain is telling me that I’m nuts.”
She shivered. “God, I remember those killings growing up. They were horrible. Your dad refused to talk about it.”
“We should eat before we lose our appetites,” he said, and she agreed.
~
They finished their three-course meal, and though the waiter tempted them with mouth-watering desserts, they settled for tea. After driving back to Torch Falls, Jared took them downtown and pulled up across the street from the theater. The entrance was covered with scaffolding wrapped in opaque plastic, the sidewalk littered with bricks and mortar. Despite the twilight, they could see dried blood in the street.
“Why are we stopping here?” Marisa said. “I really didn’t need to see this.”
“I’m sorry,” Jared said. “But I told your sitter we were going somewhere special.” He nodded toward her side window, to the steps of the Eight-Ball.
She smiled.
“Two scoops of Chocolate Almond Fudge,” he said. “Zany brainy didn’t forget.”
~ 19
Ice cream secured, Jared drove to the park, three streets from Marisa’s home. Out in the evening chill, he wrapped his jacket around her, and they sat on a cedar bench overlooking a pond. A stone fountain glowed, illuminated by soft blue lights from below.
“Are you warm enough?” he said.
“Yes, thank you. But you must be cold.”
“I’m fine.” He licked his ice cream. “So how long have you worked at the library?”
“Four years. But I still work some nights at Shelby’s. And yes, Julie Jacobs still works there.”
“Julie Jacobs … I don’t think I remember her.”
She swatted him playfully. “Oh, yeah, right. You always had a thing for her. Hell, I’d do her.”
He shook his head and worked his dessert.
“Jared,” she said softly, and paused.
He was mid-lick. “Something wrong?”
“You’ve been meaning to ask.”
He nodded knowingly. “Was it that obvious?”
“At the house it was. You hid it well over dinner, though.”
“And?”
“He just turned seven,” she told him. “But he’s not yours.”
Jared said nothing. His expression said it all.
“Breathe,” she told him.
Again, his expression said it all.
“It’s no one you know,” she said. “Just a guy. It didn’t last.”
“Marisa?”
“Okay,” she said, submitting. “When you left, I was hurting. More than you know. I went on some dates. A few guys, no big deal. At least, that’s what I thought.”
“So the guy took off when he
found out you were pregnant.”
“He doesn’t know,” she said. “I broke it off when the stick flashed that little plus sign.”
Jared paused. “I know it’s none of my business. But does he live in town?”
“That was another thing,” she said. “He was moving to southern California. I sure as hell wasn’t going there. Earthquakes? No thanks.”
“What about support? Why are you doing this on your own?”
“I’m not helpless, Jared. Pardon the expression, but the guy isn’t exactly prime Montana beef. He wouldn’t have made a good father. And it wasn’t like I knew him very long. I wasn’t going to tie him down because of my mistake.”
Jared nodded. “You always had a good head on your shoulders. Your son’s a lucky child.”
“Thank you. That means a lot. But given his struggles, I might just be the luckiest part of his life. He’s epileptic.”
“That’s gotta be rough,” he said. “For both of you. Was he born with it?”
“It struck him when he was four. Just like that. One day you’re playing catch with your little boy, and the next day he can’t focus on the ball. It’s amazing how quickly things can change.”
“Has he … that is, does he have seizures?”
“Not as often as he used to, thank God. Sometimes, they’d come in spurts. He’d go for months without one, then bam—maybe two or three in a week. Even the same day. His last one was almost a year ago. He can be very sensitive to bright lights. Flickering. His eyesight started failing within months. Dr. Vogel has no idea why his eyes look the way they do. He figures it’s some kind of side-effect of the epilepsy.”
Jared remembered her asking Kit if he’d taken his pills. “He’s on medication?”
“Carbatrol, twice a day,” she said. “It’s the only thing that keeps the seizures in check. It can make him drowsy, though. Sometimes a little dizzy.”
He looked at her warmly. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
“Why do you say that?”
“He’s polite. Respectful. That’s on his mom.”
“Thank you.”
“And clearly he takes after you. He’s got his mother’s smarts.”
Marisa smiled. “He reads everything. I mean, with his condition he can’t watch TV or play video games anyway. Even if he could, I wouldn’t have them. No zany brainies in our house.”
Jared was just finishing the last of his ice cream, and laughed at her joke. Some of his dessert slipped from his lips. “Thanks,” he said, still chuckling.
“Here,” she said. She leaned over and wiped the mess from his chin with her napkin. She dabbed his lower lip, and when she looked into his eyes, seemed to hesitate. Seemed to linger.
“Got it all?” he asked.
“Yes … that’s … that’s better.”
Jared nodded.
Marisa shivered. “Oooh. It’s chilly.”
“We’d better get you home,” he said, and they headed out. Standing on her stoop, he wondered if he should kiss her goodnight.
“I had a wonderful time,” she said.
“Me, too.” He paused. “Hey … would you like to have a picnic tomorrow at the park?”
“I would. I can ask Sarah, but it’s pretty short notice.”
“No, no,” he said. “The three of us. I think your son would enjoy it, too.”
She brightened. “He would. Thank you.”
“Great. I’ll take care of everything. Around noon?”
“Noon works.” She looked at him warmly.
“Uh … I guess I should be going,” he said.
She kissed him. It was short and sweet, more courteous than tender, but after seven years, her lips felt warm and alive. He felt alive.
“Noon,” she said, and slipped inside.
~ 20
Jared woke refreshed on Sunday morning. Sleep had been dreamless for the first time in a long time, as long as he could remember, and he rose with a spark in his heart. He skipped breakfast, showered and shaved, and found he couldn’t focus on his research. It was impossible to get Marisa out of his mind. Not that he wanted to.
He showed up at her house just past noon. It was warm and sunny with a slight breeze. When she asked him in, she looked vibrant in her white top and blue-jean shorts. She was slipping on her sandals when she asked her son if he’d taken his meds.
“Yeah, Mom,” Kit said. “You already asked me.”
“Good to go, then? Not dizzy from the pills?”
“Good to go.” He turned to Jared. “This is my first picnic.”
“Well,” Jared said. “I’ve got a surprise.”
“What is it?” Kit said.
Marisa gave Jared a cheerful look that said, What did you do?
“You’ll see,” he said, and winked.
~
At the park, Jared parked on the side of Raleigh Avenue and unloaded the cooler from the back of the Land Rover. Marisa led him through the arboretum and found a picture-perfect spot near the Boone River, the narrowest leg that wound through the middle of town. She laid out the checkered table cloth she’d brought, placing it over a picnic table that sat apart from the others. A pair of ancient Rocky Mountain junipers provided welcome shade. They had the picnic area all to themselves, and from what Jared could tell, the rest of the park was empty. It was a welcome change from the bustle of the city.
Kit could barely contain himself. His gauzy eyes seemed to grow behind his middle lenses. “What’s the surprise?”
“Kit,” Marisa said. “That’s not polite.”
Jared chuckled. He gave Marisa a goofy grin.
“What?” she said.
“Oh, nothing. Just reminds me of a girl I once knew. You know, the one who would always beg to open a present on Christmas Eve.”
“That’s funny,” she said. “From what I remember, that girl came by it honestly. Wasn’t it you who started her on that?”
They shared a smile, and Jared excused himself to return to the Land Rover. He came back a minute later holding a kite. It had a couple of tiny tears on one edge of the canvas sail, but still looked perfectly ready for flight.
“Cool!” Kit said.
“Oh my god,” Marisa said. “You kept it?”
“I didn’t have the heart to throw it out,” Jared said. He set it down on the table.
Kit examined it closely. “It looks really old. Does it still work?”
“I guess we’ll see,” Jared said. “My father built this. Your Mom and I used to fly it. Right over there.” He pointed to the open field just beyond the picnic area.
“You did, Mom? You flew this with Jared?”
“I did,” Marisa said.
“When you were kids?”
“Not exactly.”
Kit seemed to ponder. “Did you used to be his girlfriend?”
“I did,” Marisa admitted, after a moment. “A long time ago.”
Jared found himself okay with it. He knew she hadn’t mentioned him and understood why. Kit didn’t need yet another variable in trying to guess who his father was.
Marisa mouthed “I’m sorry” when Kit wasn’t looking.
Jared waved her off reassuringly. He clapped his hands together. “Well. We can fly it now, or fly it later. Who votes for now?” He shot his arm up.
Kit shot up his arm. Marisa did the same.
~ 21
In the field, Jared set the kite down carefully. He unfolded the spars, revealing a hand-painted dragon across the thin canvas sail. He laid out the tail and had Kit hold the frame in place while he let out some nylon string from the spool. He looked up. The clouds were moving at a good pace, the wind just right.
“Cool dragon,” Kit said. “Your dad made this?”
“Sure did,” Jared said. “He was pretty good with his hands.”
About ten yards away, Marisa sat on top of the picnic table, her feet on the seat. “Do you remember that painting he did of the eagle, Jared?”
“Still have it.”
/> “He was so talented,” she said. “And your mom could knit anything. Me? I can barely make a sandwich without screwing it up.”
He laughed. “Me, neither. That’s why I write. I have an editor to clean up after me.”
Jared directed Kit. “Can you hold the kite up over your head?”
Kit did as he was asked. The kite was much wider than he was tall, the tail just as long, and he struggled to steady it. Jared could see a grin as big as the boy’s face behind the keel flap near the bottom.
“That’s great,” Jared said. “Can you spread it wider? As wide as you can go.”
Kit spread the kite.
Jared backed up as he let out more string. “Okay, Kit. Now, try to hold the kite as high as you can. That’s it. When I say so, give it a push toward the sky, okay?”
“Okay.”
Jared waited for the wind to pick up, and when it did, he gave the word. Kit released the kite with a shove, and it took off. It looped out of control and threatened to crash, but Jared guided it out of danger. It rose quickly and soared. A few minutes later, he had it hovering high in the sky.
“Your turn,” he said, and offered the spool to Kit.
“Cool!” Kit took it in his hands, and Jared stood behind him, imparting his kite-flying wisdom over the next ten minutes. Kit proved to be a quick study, and Jared patted him on the back.
“Great job, Kit. Fantastic. Now, I’m gonna be right over there with your mom. Have fun.”
Jared joined Marisa at the table, sitting beside her. “He’s doing great.”
She put her hand on his knee and stroked it. “Thank you for this, Jared. Look at that smile.” Kit was beaming.
They spent the next twenty minutes relaxing, taking in the breeze. As Jared was about to offer Marisa some lemonade from the cooler, a gust spun the kite toward the ground.
Kit did his best to keep the kite airborne, but it swirled in loops and started to nosedive. “Jared!”
“It’s all right! Just let out some string!” Jared shouted back.
Kit fumbled with the spool. Instead of granting more string, he started rolling it back. The kite dove faster and struck the ground like a bullet.
“I’m sorry!” he said. “I’m so sorry, Jared!”
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