I Wish You Missed Me

by Bonnie Hearn Hill

  ‘If you’d asked me back there before we found the turnout, I don’t know what I would have said.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘We can’t leave Farley.’

  ‘Maybe he don’t want to be found.’

  ‘Maybe. But I don’t believe that and neither do you. And even if you’re right, I need him to tell me so before I even think about leaving here.’

  ‘What about John Paul?’ she asked. ‘We know enough to help him out now.’

  The distance had softened the anger Kit had felt just days before. ‘Maybe I’ll text him. Offer to work together.’

  Virgie pulled back onto the 101. ‘I hope Farley knows what a good friend you are to him.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Kit tried to think of a way to apologize for panicking on the road, but she knew that anything she said would be untrue. She couldn’t talk about the rest. Her body ached and all she wanted to do was collapse into bed and close her eyes. But she couldn’t do that, not yet. ‘We probably don’t have much time,’ she said.

  Virgie started to speak and then nodded. They both knew where they were going. ‘Probably not,’ she said. ‘We don’t know how long he’ll be gone.’

  Kit noticed that Virgie was speeding but didn’t say anything. After what they had just been through, this was easy. Soon they would be back at the barn, and they needed to get there as soon as possible. Jonas had actually used a gun to scare them away. If he found them in his barn, they could be in danger.

  Virgie parked down the road again. Although it was still thick with mud, the trees smelled clean and fresh and the muted sunlight in the cloudy sky warmed Kit’s face.

  ‘How are we getting in?’ she asked.

  ‘Same way we did at Farley’s.’ Virgie picked up the pace as they approached the barn and Kit followed.

  If Farley’s car were in there, it would all be worth it. Then she would call John Paul. Together, they would make Jonas tell them the truth.

  ‘At least the sun’s out.’ Virgie lifted her face to it. ‘I can still feel that cold in my bones, though.’

  So could Kit, only the chill running through her was fear.

  ‘You watch the road,’ Virgie said.

  Kit shook her head. ‘I’ll watch it from inside. Jonas could have booby traps and cameras in there for all we know.’

  ‘We still need one of us outside.’ Virgie trudged ahead. ‘I mean it. We’ve got to be smart and one of us needs to be out here. I’ll let you in as soon as I figure out what kind of alarms he has in the place.’

  ‘Just don’t take any chances.’

  ‘Every minute we waste is a chance we’re taking.’ She stopped, took Kit’s arm and steered her toward the drive. ‘You hide here, behind the gate to the garage. Door’s right there.’

  ‘I don’t like it,’ she said.

  ‘I won’t be a minute. Promise. Remember, this is what I do.’

  Virgie disappeared in the back and Kit fought her impulse to follow. This was what Virgie did – part of it anyway. And she was right that if something went wrong, or if Jonas came back, Kit needed to be outside the garage. Right now, though, all she wanted was to be inside that garage with Virgie. Farley’s car had to be there.

  ‘Come on.’ A door lock clicked. ‘Down this way.’

  She rushed to the side entrance, past the windows the heat had fogged before. They were clear now, covered by a shade.

  Virgie stood at the open side door. A burst of warm air came from the room.

  ‘What?’ Kit asked.

  Virgie shook her head and motioned her inside.

  Kit knew instantly that Farley’s car couldn’t be in there. In the dim light she saw the shapes. On two tables, mounted to the walls, everywhere, even on the ground, were the small and large curving objects, still yet somehow alive. Like dolls.

  She moved closer to the first table and realized what she saw. Not dolls. Guitars. Maybe fifteen, twenty.

  ‘So that’s why he controls the temperature in this place.’

  ‘Yeah. That’s why.’ Virgie motioned to a long table holding tools, plywood molds and threaded dowels. ‘Jonas ain’t hiding Farley’s car out here. He’s just storing guitars – hand-made, at that. Why would he care if we saw this?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ The fresh wood smell and the warmth of the room made no sense. ‘He was a music teacher. Why hide that he’s making musical instruments?’

  ‘Maybe there’s something in them.’ Virgie turned the one she was holding upside down and gave it a shake. ‘Drugs or something. Money. We’ve got to leave now, though. He could be right behind us.’

  Kit walked through the barn looking at them, smelling them, trying to make sense out of what she was seeing. ‘These things are works of art.’

  ‘Works of art or not,’ Virgie headed back toward the window and lifted it, ‘we’ve got to get out of here. You go first.’

  Kit hurried to join her and then turned around one last time. On the table beside her lay a perfect guitar still exuding the sharp, oily smell of varnish. She felt the pull of recognition and reached out for it.

  ‘Not now,’ Virgie said. ‘Come on. You want to get caught again?’

  Then Kit spotted the guitar strap – the bold, beaded red-and-black Navajo pattern. She reached for the strap and traced the letters with her fingers. Farley B. This was his strap, his guitar.

  ‘I said come on!’ Virgie motioned toward the window but then slammed it shut. ‘Someone just drove in. Hide.’

  Kit heard the sound of tires crunching over the driveway as she and Virgie crouched beneath the table.

  Kit reached up and pulled down the thin cloth as low as she could. At least it might hide them. If Jonas actually came in.

  From outside, his deep voice drifted in with a fresh, stinging breeze.

  Then came the muted tones of a woman speaking. Good. Maybe he and Megan would head inside his cabin and she and Virgie could get out of here.

  Instead, the door opened and a shaft of light fell across the floor.

  ‘So how are they coming?’ Even if Kit hadn’t recognized the low-pitched voice, she would have recognized Megan by her long, flax-colored skirt.

  ‘I’ve found some excellent wood. Red spruce and cedar. Look at this.’

  Her tan suede books moved nearer to their hiding place and Kit could smell her soft vanilla fragrance. Virgie gripped Kit’s arm and gave her a look that, even in the dark, said they couldn’t give up. Kit nodded and stared at Megan’s skirt, so close now that she could reach out and touch it.

  ‘Beautiful, Jonas,’ she said. ‘These are simply perfect.’

  ‘And this strap is for your guitar.’ He moved closer to her, closer to them.

  Don’t let them look down.

  ‘It’s stunning,’ she whispered. ‘The beads look almost alive.’

  He must have touched her because Megan jerked back from him and pressed her fingers against the table.

  Kit stared at the faded purple bruise on the back of Megan’s hand and tried to pull farther back against the cold wall.

  ‘I wasn’t trying to … I mean, when you are ready, we can talk. I’m not going to rush you.’

  In the silence that followed, Kit didn’t dare look at Virgie. Instead, she stared at Jonas’s canvas shoes, one of which inched closer to Megan.

  ‘I can’t,’ she finally said.

  ‘Because you love Will?’

  ‘If he knew we were here together I don’t know what he’d do. I need to get back there. If he checks, he’ll find out that I didn’t go with Priscilla today.’

  ‘Priscilla would never share anything with him.’

  ‘But they need him right now. We do. And he has ways of getting what he wants.’ Megan leaned against the table, and as she pressed her weight it inched across the floor against the wall.

  ‘From you maybe.’ His voice dropped. ‘I know you’re in a bad place right now. We all are. But once it’s over, just remember you can trust me.’

  ‘I know that
.’ She stepped on her toes and hugged him, and his hand moved to the small of her back.

  ‘I’ve got to get back now,’ she said.

  ‘One kiss.’

  ‘I’m serious, Jonas. I can’t.’

  The hands hesitated, and then moved up her arms. ‘Have a glass of wine with me before you go.’

  ‘He’d know. He knows everything.’

  ‘He just makes you think he does,’ Jonas said. ‘Come on. Let’s have some tea, and then I’ll drive you back to your truck.’

  She paused. ‘OK. One cup, but it will have to be fast.’

  ‘You can drink it in the car.’ He moved closer to her again and started toward the door.

  Finally, Kit thought. Maybe they would actually get out of here.

  ‘Where’s my guitar strap?’ Megan’s steps paused. ‘I didn’t drop it, did I?’ She lifted her skirt and crouched in front of them only a few feet away.

  Kit shoved herself harder into the wall.

  ‘It’s right here,’ Jonas said and she stood again, her hand dangling so close to Kit that she could almost touch her.

  ‘Thank you. Now I really do have to run. I can’t be gone this long again, not until … you know.’

  Their voices dimmed and disappeared. Kit and Virgie got out from their hiding place. Virgie placed a finger to her lips and Kit nodded. Then she looked back at the guitar, its Navajo strap dangling over the edge of the table. This was proof that Farley had been here. She reached out for it.

  ‘No,’ Virgie whispered. ‘He’ll know it’s gone. Come on, jump.’

  Kit closed her mind to what could be on the other side and climbed up and out the window into the hard-packed mud. Virgie followed and gently closed the open window. All Kit could think about was that beaded strap with Farley’s name on it. She and Virgie had found a bizarre factory of handmade guitars. They were hidden for a reason. If she could figure out why, she might find out what had happened to Farley.

  SIXTEEN

  The motel they found – the first one they spotted after leaving the barn – consisted of four units on each side in a field of pine trees and beer cans. From at least two of the other units the noise of the television blasted out news broadcasts and American Idol-type music.

  ‘I felt almost safer at Nickel’s.’ Virgie walked over to the only window and pulled down the blinds. They looked yellow in the dirty light of the room.

  ‘Most people who stay in this area are probably campers,’ Kit said. ‘It should be all right until we figure out what to do next.’

  ‘You got any ideas about that?’ Virgie sat on the ottoman across from her.

  ‘We have to find out about those guitars.’

  ‘Jonas ain’t exactly friendly. And it’s not as if he’s breaking the law.’ She paced the room, as if trying to find her way out of a cell with no doors.

  Kit felt the same way. None of this made any sense.

  ‘Why are there so many of them in his barn?’ she said. ‘Jonas must be selling them, but there’s nothing illegal about that.’

  ‘And what’s Farley doing with a guitar anyhow? I thought he broke his hand in a fistfight.’

  ‘That was a long time ago,’ Kit said. ‘He’s never stopped playing.’

  ‘Should have known.’ Virgie turned her back to the shaded window and crossed her arms over her chest. The hard expression in her eyes softened. ‘A musician makes music, no matter what. No matter how much it hurts him or anyone else.’

  Her words were both angry and something else – sad, maybe. ‘Are you speaking from experience?’ Kit asked.

  ‘Maybe.’ She shrugged and her mask of indifference returned. ‘So where’d he play around here?’

  ‘There was a place.’ Kit felt a chill. ‘A pub of some kind. I don’t think he ever mentioned the name.’

  Virgie pulled her vest from the back of a chair. ‘There can’t be that many.’

  Kit stood up from the sofa bed and then forced herself to stop. She was doing it again – possibly putting both of them in danger. ‘I do remember that Farley said the place could get pretty rough,’ she said.

  ‘It can’t be any worse than this.’ Virgie flashed a bitter grin and glanced around the room. ‘Let’s go.’

  Kit stopped her at the door. ‘You’ve already gone out of your way for me.’

  ‘You helped me out before.’ She opened the door and the scent of pine crept into the room.

  ‘Not like this.’ Kit didn’t move.

  ‘Helped me out plenty.’

  ‘That was just money,’ she said. ‘Driving me here was a huge favor but I never expected you to put yourself in danger for a guy you barely know.’

  ‘It’s not about him.’ Virgie stepped out into the darkness. ‘You told me not to head off on my own again so you can come along if you like. Either way, I’m going to find that pub.’

  ‘All right,’ Kit said and got into the car beside her. ‘But this is the last time.’

  ‘Hold on.’ Virgie turned to her in her seat. ‘That night last year when you and John Paul was leaving the shelter and you put that money in my hand, you changed what I was planning.’

  They had never discussed what happened and Kit wouldn’t have mentioned it if she didn’t have to. Now, she did.

  ‘I didn’t expect anything back. You must know that.’

  ‘I’m going to say it just one time.’ Virgie sighed and leveled her gaze on Kit. ‘Worse things than you know were coming down that night. I thought I was hitting up a stranger for change and then I saw it was you, and you took those bills out of your purse and shoved them in my hand. Something in me shifted then. That’s all.’

  Just like that, Kit was back there, on that broken sidewalk, trying to fix this woman’s life with what she had planned to donate to the shelter, knowing that money couldn’t fix anything for long even as she did so. She could feel the cold of that night, the uncertainty.

  ‘Virgie, I …’

  ‘I said that’s all.’

  They drove in silence while Kit tried to block her own emotions the way Virgie always did. Right now, they just needed to figure out where Farley was, and in order to do that, she couldn’t think about anything other than how to find the pub where he had played.

  Ten minutes from their motel they spotted a beer bar. Kit asked the female bartender where they could find some music and she replied, ‘The Gas Lamp. It’s the only place around with live entertainment.’

  Had she not given them exact instructions they would have needed a map to find the Gas Lamp. Once they did, Kit knew they were in the right place.

  ‘Look at that,’ Virgie said and pointed at a flickering light in front of the narrow, fog-shrouded structure.

  For the first time since they had started this trip, Kit felt in control of herself once more. She and Virgie headed inside and sat at the bar. In spite of the uncertain weather, the back door of the place, at the end of a short row of booths, stood open.

  The bartender, a balding man with long gray braids, waved and called out, ‘Just a sec.’ Then he handed two tall Bloody Marys to a couple across from him and made his way down to where Kit and Virgie sat.

  ‘Five-dollar cover charge, ladies.’

  ‘We’re not here for the entertainment,’ Kit said.

  ‘Five bucks just the same. Once the place fills up there’s no way for me to tell who paid and who didn’t.’

  They handed him the money and he reached down beside the cash register and picked up a rubber stamp from a pad. ‘This way you can come and go, if you like,’ he told them. ‘Music starts in a few minutes.’

  Kit lifted her hand and he pressed the stamp into it. As he turned his attention to Virgie, Kit stared down at the mark on her hand with a shiver. Odd-shaped and purple, it looked like a bruise. Megan had also been in this place.

  ‘What will it be, ladies?’

  ‘Beer’s fine,’ Kit said and forced herself to look away from the stamp mark.

  ‘And what about you?’ He smile
d at Virgie in a slow way, as if trying to guess her age.

  ‘Water,’ she said, her tone indifferent.

  ‘Don’t worry about that.’ He pointed at Kit’s hand and she knew he had caught her staring at it. ‘It fades fast.’

  ‘How fast?’

  ‘A day or two at most. Soap and water should do the trick.’

  He turned to the cooler and Kit whispered, ‘Megan’s been here, and recently. Her hand was stamped like this too.’

  The bartender brought back a draft beer and a tumbler of water with a straw in it. ‘I’m Mickey.’ He leaned against the bar and his skinny braids fell over his shoulder. ‘We have a new singer tonight. You ladies enjoy.’

  ‘What about Farley Black?’ Kit said.

  ‘Farley?’ He looked down at his pale, puffy hand and his immaculate fingernails and then back at her. ‘He was supposed to play tonight, Saturday too. But he canceled on me.’

  ‘Canceled how?’ Kit asked.

  ‘Didn’t show up.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Why does it matter?’

  ‘Because he’s disappeared.’

  ‘What are you talking about? I just saw him.’

  ‘When?’ Kit said.

  ‘A couple of nights ago when he played here.’

  ‘Friday?’

  A woman carrying a guitar entered through the rear, waved at Mickey and began setting up by the Bloody Mary-drinking couple.

  He returned her wave. ‘I’ve got to get back to work,’ he told Kit. ‘You might check with the guy who runs that Ananda school close by. His name’s Case.’

  ‘Jonas hasn’t seen him either.’ Kit didn’t add that he had denied Farley had been in the area at all.

  ‘Now, that’s weird.’ He leaned farther across the bar so close that Kit could see the clear blue of his eyes, younger than his wrinkled skin. ‘What’s he done?’

  ‘Nothing that I know of,’ Kit said. ‘He was traveling and, all of a sudden, we lost touch.’

  ‘You ever think he might not want to be found?’

  ‘Farley’s not like that.’

  ‘I never thought so either.’ He shook his head and squinted at her again. ‘I didn’t think too much about the first guy. But now, with you asking the same question, I don’t know.’