I Wish You Missed Me

by Bonnie Hearn Hill

  ‘I’m going to fill up the gas tank for the trip back.’ She zipped up her vest and took a final swallow from her coffee.

  ‘Thanks.’ Kit watched her leave and then stared at the dead flowers on the counter.

  Wearing an apron as soft and pale pink as her skin, Priscilla cleared her throat and motioned to a kettle on the stove.

  ‘Onion soup.’ She hugged Kit so hard that several strands of pale blonde hair fell down from her ponytail. ‘I’m glad we got to know you.’

  ‘Me too. And I’m sorry about Jonas, sorry you had to go through any of this.’

  ‘We allowed the wrong person in but we’re determined we won’t judge the next one more harshly because of it.’ She brushed back the hair from her eyes. ‘We will probably have to move on, but we will continue to live as we believe.’

  The sound of classical guitar music came from the sun room and Kit felt a chill.

  ‘I understand,’ she said. ‘You have my word that I will never tell anyone about your camp.’ They hugged again, quickly this time, and Priscilla walked back toward the sun room.

  ‘Got to get the kids involved in an activity.’ She motioned toward the source of the music. ‘I don’t want Farley to hear that, and frankly, I can’t bear to hear it right now either.’

  Too late. Farley stood in the doorway, head bowed, and Kit knew he was mourning Jonas.

  Priscilla disappeared into the back and the music stopped as suddenly as it had started.

  Kit went to the stove, ladled some soup into a bowl for him and poured a cup of tea for herself.

  Farley had put on a wool shirt that fit him loosely over his T-shirt. Pale stubble covered his face but his cheeks had a little more color in them. He was going to be all right. He sat down across from her and lifted a spoon to his lips.

  ‘Lucky to be alive,’ he said and patted his hair. ‘I must look like hell.’

  ‘I’ve never seen you look better.’

  Sitting in the warmth of the kitchen, with John Paul’s dried lavender on the counter, all she wanted was to be sure that Farley was well enough to return, not just physically but mentally. She knew both sides of that now and she wanted to help him.

  ‘How does it taste?’ she asked.

  ‘Fine.’ He sighed and pushed the bowl away. ‘Strike that. It’s delicious, but we can do better than this conversation we’re having.’

  ‘Such as?’ Then she thought about the guitar strap and Farley’s name in Nickel’s book. It was time to really talk and to say what she had been suspecting. ‘When you faked that surfing trip, you weren’t just coming up here for a visit with Jonas, were you?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure.’ He paused and then added, ‘I needed to get away from Monique and the way she invaded every part of my life.’

  ‘And you blamed it on technology,’ Kit said.

  ‘That’s exactly what it was. She was good at it, and she could trace everything I did.’

  Kit reached across the table and squeezed his hand. ‘Monique won’t bother you now, I promise.’

  ‘Just because Will tried to kill her? I wouldn’t bet on that.’

  ‘I would,’ she said. ‘John Paul said she was terrified when he found her. She’s on her way home now.’

  ‘If you say so.’ He shook his head. ‘But I have a feeling I’ll still be looking over my shoulder for a while.’

  ‘If you had joined this group …’ She took a sip of the tea and felt her throat tighten as she swallowed.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Would you have told me?’

  ‘Of course. You’re my best friend. I planned to ask you to help me get rid of my things, help me sell my place.’ He looked down at the table and back at her. ‘I hope you will.’

  ‘So you’ve made up your mind?’

  ‘It was pretty much made up, and not just because of Monique. Now I can stay on here and teach music to the kids, even with this messed-up hand.’

  She struggled with the idea of fun-loving Farley settling down with a camp of peaceful permaculturists escaping the dehumanization of society by technology. Yet she had always sensed there was more to him than surfing and radio. She had known there was something missing too.

  There was no point in gushing out that she was happy for him, or that she hoped he’d stay in touch. No words could erase the reality of Jonas’s murder.

  They sat for a moment in silence as she sipped her tea.

  ‘You will always know how to find me,’ he said. ‘I promise you.’

  ‘I can’t ask for more than that.’ She stood and moved toward the front window.

  Outside, on the path before the cabin, Virgie parked the car. Its white paint sparkled in the sunlight.

  Farley started to rise but she shook her head.

  ‘Don’t walk me out.’ Instead she went back to the table and hugged him tightly.

  Then she walked over to the counter and lifted a handful of lavender blossoms – nothing left of them but their scent. She crushed them in her hand and the smell brought tears to her eyes.

  After closing the front door behind her, she stood on the porch and looked into the woods, the sunlit green-on-green that faded finally into black, the scarlet streaks in the cloudless sky, the narrow path that led to places she couldn’t begin to imagine.

  Virgie stood in front of the car, arms crossed over her vest. She looked up at Kit and said, ‘You ready to go home now?’

  ‘I am.’ She walked down the old wooden steps, every creak like the sound of a door opening and closing. ‘And Virgie,’ she said, ‘I’m driving.’