Here, there was nothing. Just mountains unseen, black water, and distant stars.
“Hey, Winona.”
She turned toward the sound, trying to see him, but it wasn’t until he came closer, until he stepped onto the wooden deck, that she could make out more than his shape among the shadows. “Mark,” she said, uncertain of what to add.
“I saw your light come on through the trees.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
He moved closer, stepping at last into the pool of light cast through the kitchen window. “Me, either.”
She could see now how disheveled he looked, how ill-put-together. Like a man who’d been pacing for hours, running a hand through what hair he had until it stood up in all different directions. His shirt was buttoned wrong, too. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
“My whole life is wrong.”
“I know that feeling.”
“Do you?”
“Sure,” she said quietly, putting her tea down on the table behind her. “I’m forty-three years old, Mark. I’ve never been married and it’s probably too late to have kids now. And you may have noticed that my weight is a problem. So, yeah, I know about life not being what you thought it would be.”
“I had such a great time with you tonight,” he said. “It freaked me out.”
“It’s okay. We have lots of time.”
He shook his head. “That’s the thing I’ve learned this past year. You think you have all the time in the world, but shit happens.”
“What are you saying?”
He moved closer. “I’m saying I want you, Winona.”
She felt a little thrill move through her, and as intoxicating as it was, being wanted, she couldn’t be completely swept away by it. Her body might be aching for his touch, but her brain was up and working, too. “You’re not ready,” she said.
“I know I’m not.”
“You could have denied it.”
He put his hand around the back of her neck. His fingers felt warm and solid against her skin. She leaned back just a little so that she felt anchored by him, held close.
“Do you want me?” he asked.
She felt the softness of his breath against her lips. She wanted to close her eyes or look away; anything that would allow her to pretend. But the truth was in his eyes, as clear and visible as a starfish at low tide. He was still in love with his wife.
But she’d been lonely for a long time, and now that opportunity had drawn so surprisingly close, she couldn’t make herself push it back. She moved closer and looked up at him. “I want you.”
His kiss was a cool glass of water to her parched soul and she drank greedily. When they finally drew back, she saw her own desire reflected in his eyes.
“Come on,” she said, taking his hand, leading him into the house and down the hall and into her bedroom. Without turning on the lights, she stepped out of her robe and nightgown and pulled him into bed.
He kissed her until she begged for more, and when he finally made love to her, she clung to him with all the desperate passion of a woman who’d been alone too long. Her release was an exquisite blending of pain and pleasure, and she cried out, almost weeping at the emotions that came with it.
“That was great,” he said, lying back into the pillows and pulling her close.
She lay beside him. It had been so long since she’d been in bed with a man, she’d forgotten how much space men took up, how heavy their legs felt, how nice it was to have someone kiss your bare shoulder for no reason at all.
Long into the night they talked and kissed and later they made love again. At around four o’clock, Winona finally put on her nightgown and went into the kitchen. When she returned to the bedroom, she held a tray of food—Denver omelets, sourdough toast with fresh local honey and orange juice she’d squeezed herself.
Mark sat up in bed, letting the covers fall away from his naked chest.
She climbed in beside him.
“It’s been a long time since someone cooked for me,” he said, and then leaned sideways to kiss her.
The truth was that she had at least a thousand recipes in her card box at the house in town. She’d been collecting them for years, perfecting them all alone, waiting for someone to cook for. She ate her breakfast, listening to him as he talked. He told her about the countries he’d visited and the problems he’d had raising a teenage girl alone for the past year, and how happy he was to be starting over in Oyster Shores.
After breakfast, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. When he let go, they were lying on their sides, their legs entwined, their heads on separate pillows, staring at each other.
“How come you never came home for Christmas or anything like that?”
“I left at eighteen, remember? All I wanted back then was to get the hell away from the small town where everybody knows your business. When I married Sybil, my mom and dad came out to the wedding, but it was the only time they ever visited, and I couldn’t get Sybil west of Chicago.”
“Did you and your mom talk?”
“Some. That’s a strange question.”
Winona chose her words carefully. This was a conversation they had to have, and there was danger in it. “A long time ago there was a murder in town. It was a big deal around here.”
“I remember hearing about it.”
“Dallas Raintree.” She paused, then said, “He was married to my sister, Vivi Ann. Your mother testified against him.”
He frowned. “Yeah. I guess I knew all that. Is it important? Does your sister hate my mom or something?”
“You know Oyster Shores. Nothing is ever out in the open, but I’ve seen your mom cross the room after church to avoid having to talk to Vivi Ann. And vice versa.”
“It’s all gossip to me and I don’t see . . . Wait a minute, are you talking about Noah’s father?”
“Yes.”
“Do I need to worry about Cissy around him?”
“A week ago I would have told you to keep Cissy away from him. He’s had some trouble in school—you’ll hear about that pretty soon, I expect. Some people think he’s trouble waiting for a place to happen, but actually, I think he’s okay.”
“That’s good enough for me. And now, how about some more small-town gossip?”
“What?”
He craned his neck forward just enough to kiss her chin, her cheek, her lips.
She felt his hand slide down her back, across her butt, and slip between her legs.
“I hear Mark Michaelian is sleeping with Winona Grey.”
She shivered at his touch. “From what I hear, they’re not doing a lot of sleeping.”
Chapter Twenty-two
This has been the best summer ever. Cissy and I have learned a hundred ways to sneak off and be alone. Even at my birthday party, we figured out a way to hang out without anyone seeing us. It’s not that we don’t want people to know we’re together, It’s just that in secret we have all the privacy we need. No one worries about how much time we spend together cause they don’t know about it and Mark doesn’t think he has to tell Cissy why I’m not good enough for her. I know she’ll hear all that when she starts school, but I’m trying to keep it away for now.
The Fourth of July was especially tight. Everyone was busy with their own shit—Mom had the parade and the 4-H car wash to worry about, Aunt Winona was running her campaign booth, and Mark spent the whole day waiting for her to be done.
I took the money I’d saved this summer and spent at least half of it at the fair. I played games until I won Cissy the giant giraffe, and I kissed her on top of the ferris wheel at least ten times. When I was out of money, we went up to the hill by the horse barns and made out and talked. Best of all, I beat Mom home by about ten seconds. She found me in bed, reading, and said I’d missed a really cool time at the fair. She didn’t know I still had my clothes on under the blankets!
July and August have been the best months of my life. I don’t have time to write now (Cissy’s waiti
Mark and Aunt Winona are going to Sol Duc hot springs for an overnight trip and they invited me and Cissy along! We know they did it because they want to pretend they aren’t having sex all the time. Like Cissy and I are blind AND stupid, but we so don’t care. When they said they were going, I totally acted like I was bummed but that I was down with doing a favor for Aunt Winona. Cissy acted the same way with her dad.
We all piled into Mark’s Escalade last night. Mark and Aunt Winona were talking so much in the front seat that they never noticed Cissy and me were holding hands. At the campground, we roasted hot dogs and made s’mores and played cards. At night we all slept in our own sleeping bags in a big orange tent. The worst part was being about ten feet away from Cissy. I could hear her breathing but I couldn’t touch her or kiss her or really even talk to her.
On Saturday we all woke up early and had breakfast at the lodge, which was cool. The place has this HUGE swimming pool that’s filled with water from the hot springs, so it’s like 100° or something. You can float in the hot water and then run over and jump into a regular swimming pool, which feels freezing. Aunt Winona and Mark were in the hot springs so long I think they kinda melted. When they got out, they were both trying to touch each other secretly—as if Cissy and I couldn’t see exactly what was going on. They came over to the edge of the cold pool and called for us.
Anyway Cissy is a freaking GENIUS. Cause she swam right up to them and said she wanted to hike up to see the falls.
I swam up beside her and complained that the falls were like ten miles away, even tho I knew it wasn’t that far.
And then Mark goes Noah, why don’t you hike up to the falls with Cissy, and Cissy groans and Aunt Winona (who has to solve every problem) says That’s a great idea, Noah. You two will be safe together.
Cissy and I got to hold hands all day and hike up the wide trail. The trees around us were gigantic. Everything was big—the rocks, the plants, the trees. Even though it was a hot day in August, there was practically no sunlight on the trail. Cissy got cold so I took off my shirt and gave it to her and even tho I was freezing I didn’t care.
We could tell when we were getting close. It was loud, like a train running through the trees, making everything shake. We crossed over this rickety old bridge and kept going until we saw the falls.
It’s magic Cissy said, holding my hand. I kissed her for a long time and it was the coolest thing ever. The ground was shaking and the spray was everywhere and it was so loud you couldn’t hear anything, but when we stopped kissing, I saw the sunlight shining on us—just us—not anything else.
I said I love you without even thinking about it and she started to cry.
I said I was sorry and started to pull away but she wouldn’t let go of me. She said Don’t be an idiot. I’m crying because I love you, too.
She said it was destiny, us meeting, and maybe she’s right. I mean, if we hadn’t kissed by the falls or hadn’t said we loved each other, or if the hot sunlight hadn’t landed on us right then, maybe I wouldn’t have taken her by the hand and pulled her into the shade beneath a huge cedar tree, and if I hadn’t taken her there, maybe I wouldn’t have seen it.
But there it was, just waiting for me. Carved into the tree’s shredded-looking brown bark was a smooth, perfectly formed heart. Inside the heart were two sets of initials and a date.
D.R. loves V.G.R. 8/21/92
Today was the 20th.
I sat up so fast Cissy kinda fell away.
What is it? she asked.
I wanted to tell her, I really did, but I couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. All my life I’d thought of my old man as nothing but a killer. Practically an animal.
But suddenly I thought of him as a guy who’d taken his wife here, to the exact spot I had picked for my girl, and I was scared.
What if he wasn’t an animal? What if he was just a guy who got spooked one day and did something stupid?
And for the first time I knew that all those people who gossiped about me might be right. Maybe I was just like my father. And he was just like me.
Look at that, Cissy said when she saw the carving, It’s so romantic. I wonder who they were.
I took out my phone and took a picture of the carving. I can’t remember what excuse I made to Cissy. From then on I was totally freaked—I don’t even know how to put it—I sat there by the fire, totally tripping, waiting to get home so I could finally ask my mom who the hell Dallas Raintree was.
The worst day of the year for Vivi Ann was August 21. Sometimes she saw it coming for weeks, bearing down on her like a semi truck with bad brakes, and sometimes she was startled by its sudden appearance in the midst of an otherwise ordinary week, but either way the effect was the same: a pale gray depression. Years ago the pain of this day had been sharp, almost unbearably so, but time had sanded away its edges. It had gone from unbearable to bearable; that was the arc of her progress. She hoped she lived long enough to see it become just another day on the calendar.
She woke up late and fed the horses and steers, and then joined her father for coffee. They talked for a few moments about things that needed to be done, and then went their separate ways: him to Seabeck to look at a used Bush Hog, and her to her chores. For the rest of the day she worked tirelessly, careful never to slow down, until the effort exhausted her. Finally, as sunset drew near, she sat down in the rocking chair on her porch and dared to close her eyes.
Within mere moments she was where she wanted to be: lost in the land of memories. In some cool, rational space of her mind, she knew she shouldn’t want to be here, but that voice was small and easily ignored. On this of all days, she couldn’t help herself.
“Vivi Ann?” Winona said, walking toward her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry, I guess I dozed off,” Vivi Ann said. She got to her feet slowly, feeling a little unsteady. Memories were like alcoholic drinks; too many too fast could ruin your equilibrium. “Where’s Noah?”
“I’m right here, Mom,” he said, getting out of the shiny black SUV.
Mark got out of the driver’s side. “Hey, Vivi Ann,” he said, taking Winona’s hand. “Thanks for letting us take Noah along. He was a lot of fun.”
“Thanks for taking him. That was very generous of you two.”
Mark smiled. “We thought we’d buzz down to the fish shack for dinner and then have some ice cream.”
I was at the ice-cream shop, working late, when I saw Dallas come out of the alley . . .
“You want to join us?” Winona asked.
Vivi Ann smiled as brightly as she could. “No, thank you. Not feeling good,” she added as an afterthought.
“I think I’ll stay with Mom,” Noah said. “Thanks for the trip, though.” He went back to the car, said something to the girl in the backseat.
Winona let go of Mark’s hand and moved toward Vivi Ann. “Are you really okay?”
Some days Vivi Ann loved the way sisters could read each other, and some days—like today—it pissed her off. The only good news was that Winona would never take the time to figure out the importance of this date. “I’m fine. Really. Go have fun.”
She watched her sister walk back to the expensive black car/truck and climb inside. As they drove away, Noah walked across the lawn and up onto the porch. “Today is August twenty-first,” he said. “Does that mean something to you?”
Vivi Ann’s whole world was momentarily upended. “W-what do you mean?”
“Don’t,” he said sharply.
Where only moments ago his expression had been blank and demanding, she saw now that he was nervous.
“We were up at Sol Duc,” he said, coming nearer. “Cissy and me—”
“Cissy and I.”
He rolled his eyes and went on. “We hiked up this long trail to the waterfall and then we sat down for a while to look at it. I saw this carving on a tree.”
“A carving,” she said, unable now to look her son in the eyes.
“It said, D.R. loves V.G.R. August 21, 1992.”
Vivi Ann felt the last bit of her resistance fall away. She was so tired of evading her son’s questions. God knew he had a right to ask. She reached out for her chair and sank into it. The pain she tried so hard to outrun sat down beside her, taking up too much room.
“Mom?” he said; pleaded, really.
She nodded at him finally, revealing the fullness of her emotions for the first time in years, holding nothing back. “Today is our wedding anniversary. Your daddy carved that on our honeymoon.”
“You never call him my daddy.”
“It hurts too much.”
“Will you answer my questions?”
“The ones I can. Come on, let’s go inside. This may take a while.” She got up and followed him into the house and poured herself a glass of white wine, then sat down on the sofa, tucking her bare feet up underneath her.
Noah sat in the chair opposite her. “Tell me about the crime.”
“That’s what you care most about? Hmm. Well, a woman was murdered—a friend of your father’s, actually. I think the police suspected your father right away.”
“Did he do it?”
She’d steeled herself for this question, knowing it was coming for more than a decade, and yet now that it was here, she wasn’t sure what she should say. “Your dad had trouble controlling his temper.”
“Like me?”
“Nothing like you,” she said firmly.
“Did he kill that woman?” he asked again.
She knew he’d keep asking it until she answered, so she sighed and told him the truth. “I don’t believe he did.”
“Did you love him?”
Vivi Ann felt tears fill her eyes. There wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop them. “With all my heart.”
“Why did you divorce him, then?”
“He divorced me, actually, but that’s not what you really want to know. You’re asking why I . . . gave up on him.” Even after all this time, it hurt to remember that, to think about the way she’d let him go.
“It was so painful; hanging on, year after year, hoping. Every time the news was bad, I lost it. You remember some of that time. I took a lot of drugs and drank too much. I was a bad mother. I think your dad loved me so much he forced me to let go. And after we hit that tree in Grey Park—you remember that? It scared me, what I’d almost done to you. I knew I had to move on. We had to move on. You and me.”
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