As she slid back behind the wheel, she overheard some man she hadn’t noticed near the church say, “That’s public property. You can’t take that.”
Screw him, she thought and drove on. Up the road, she caught a glimpse of her boss and old friend, Blue Silverman, lugging a box of hardbacks in his arms. He was heading toward the Book Barn, where they worked selling, of all ridiculous things, used books.
She thought back to the conversation she’d had with him yesterday.
“Jess,” Blue had said while sitting on the corner of his desk. Wearing overalls and a full graying beard, he looked every bit the old hippie his name suggested. “Star has started to work here after school on your off days.”
“You mentioned she might.”
“She’s sixteen now. Seems more like a walking black cloud.”
Jesse fiddled with some papers. “Sounds typical... from what I hear.”
“Beth and I just want to get her out of her room. Learn about earning money. Responsibility. Anyway, she may overlap with you some days. You okay with that?”
What was she going to say? That she didn’t want her quiet oasis of the Book Barn shattered by a sullen sixteen-year-old? That she didn’t want her daughter’s best friend around her? That although she used to love Star, after That Day, the sight of her was more than she could handle?
Get over yourself, she’d thought. The job got her out of her house and out of her head. “You’re the boss, Blue.”
She looked back over at him crossing the street. If he’d known how she’d spent her day off, or every day off, he might not be so accommodating. She flipped him a wave and drove on through town.
Chapter Two
Already a good hour late for her meeting with Gary, her realtor, Jesse pulled into the long drive on Blueberry Lane. The neighborhood was newer and more monied than where she lived in Canaan. The house was a modern design, all tall glass and sharp angles.
Jesse burst through the door and found Gary pacing in the kitchen.
He rushed up to her. “I didn’t think you were coming.”
“Sorry, I got held up,” she said, rummaging around in her purse for another cigarette.
He was in his early forties and wore out-of-fashion large wire-rimmed glasses. With his shaggy hair that hung over his ears and wrinkly sweater, he looked like a rumpled John Denver. And although she wasn’t one to advertise it, Jesse had liked John Denver in the day.
“I was worried,” he said. “You’re so late.”
She found a cigarette, lit it nervously, and inhaled deeply.
“Are you okay?” He put both his hands on her shoulders.
She wasn’t about to tell Gary about her weekly trips to the mall or her run-in with security. He knew enough of her secrets; he didn’t need to know all that, too. There would be no more Zone, and she didn’t know what she’d do without it. She had recently walked out on her therapist, Lila, for the third time in two years. That woman had a way of pushing Jesse’s buttons. So Jesse would have to deal with it on her own.
She took another drag of her cigarette and watched as Gary distractedly rearranged the various realtors’ business cards that had been left on the kitchen counter. On the card for his company, Hill Town Homes, his phone number and website were printed alongside an old photo of him wearing a droopy mustache he’d shaved off years ago. He’d never gotten around to having another photo taken. The poor guy always had good intentions but never seemed to get it together.
Jesse wandered to the picture window and gazed at the wooded yard out back. The little cabin next door, tucked away behind a stand of pine trees, had been empty all summer, and it was already closed for the oncoming winter. With its shades drawn tightly, it looked lonely and desolate, just how Jesse felt.
After Cooper moved out, Gary’s wife, Carol, had begun her persistent prodding, bugging Jesse to look at houses with him. “How can you live in that house without Sophie or Cooper?” she’d asked. “The memories have to be killing you.”
Jesse feared that if she moved, Sophie wouldn’t know where to find her, and she still had a fantasy of coming home from work one day to find Sophie playing in her bedroom as if the nightmare had never happened. So she’d refused for years, until finally, she gave in and went to look at a listing. She was up-front with Gary and told him she had no interest in moving, not revealing the real reason.
Now Jesse turned abruptly and kissed him while backing him against the granite kitchen island. They stood that way for a minute, frantically kissing and touching.
“Looking at houses” had quickly turned into a long-standing affair. The vacant house on Blueberry Lane had been on the market for two years, and it had become one of their regular rendezvous spots.
She grabbed his arm and led him upstairs, ducking into the master bath and the enormous newly renovated marble walk-in shower. She pulled off his sweater as he unzipped her jeans and removed her shirt. She took his hands and held them over his head as she pushed her whole body against him, pressing him into the cool white marble. She craved his healing touch. The skin-to-skin contact was like a salve.
She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about missing girls. Or the gruesome scenarios that tormented her constantly. Cold dark rooms. The scent of urine. Horrible threats. Dark attics and basements. Knives and blood. Sexual assaults. Nor did she want to keep thinking about the recent upsetting phone conversation with Cooper. Him telling her she had to put the house on the market within the month because he couldn’t afford two mortgages any longer. Having to leave the safety of her cocoon. Her home. Sophie’s home.
A few years after That Day, Cooper had divorced Jesse, remarried, left town, and had another child. Jesse had remained in their family home, waiting. Alone. She shut it all out and breathed in, letting herself be swept away. Northern Gannett. That was what she would be—a most spectacular gleaming white sea bird that glided and flapped in flight. She felt weightless, soaring, rising, swooping. Free.
They finished, falling against each other and the slick marble in a sweaty heap. How she wished the reprieve could last longer. Create space for yourself. Find a place of refuge—away from the pressure of the search and the investigation, where you can be alone with your thoughts and regroup. No matter that its advice might not have been apt after so many years, she still followed the instructions in the survival guide. The affair was her refuge. She needed it... desperately. The guide book, along with her job, had saved her. Jesse reached for her clothes, but Gary pulled her back into the shower and kissed her.
“Oh God, what do I do about you?” He grasped her hands, lacing his fingers through hers. He kissed her breasts. “You’re beautiful.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m not.”
“You are.” He played with strands of her hair.
She handed him his underwear, then she stepped into her panties and pulled her top over her head. Looking at herself in the mirror, she shuddered involuntarily. Her stomach growled as it always did after sex with him.
Gary stood behind her and put his chin into the crook of her neck. They stared at themselves in the mirror.
“We look good together, don’t we?” he said.
They stood that way for a whole quiet minute. Gary was slight, small in stature, and jittery. A piping plover. Sophie had pointed one out on the beach in Wellfleet. Always on the move, it darted about in jerky, anxious movements. But Gary was a kind bird. He didn’t judge her. He was there for her in his way. The winter after Cooper left, Gary had flown over to her house with a blow dryer to thaw the frozen kitchen pipes, then he’d raked snow off the roof. He was considerate, and she was grateful for that.
Cooper, on the other hand, was strong, aggressive, and masculine. Hawk. She missed him and the good days of long ago, the years before it all turned black and unraveled. She missed herself, for that matter. She’d gone from a carefree white-throated sparrow to a gangly, aggressive brown thrasher.
She looked up, and Gary turned and hugged her
tightly.
“Don’t be sad,” he whispered. “I’m here for you.”
He meant well, but his words just made her feel sadder. She smiled at him and shook her head. “Oh, Gary, we’re a pair.”
He slipped his hand under her shirt and caressed her breasts.
She stepped into her jeans then tried to neaten her hair, which wouldn’t be neatened. It always had that wild just-had-sex look even without any sex.
The sound of a car engine coming up the driveway ended their moment. They both looked out the window and saw Peggy Collins, another realtor and the town gossip, get out of her SUV with a young couple.
“Shit.” Gary frantically tugged on his clothes. He brushed his hands through his hair, adjusted his glasses, then nodded for Jesse to follow him. They headed downstairs. He turned back to Jesse and said loudly and stiffly, “Nice bathroom renovation, wouldn’t you say, Ms. Albright?”
Peggy stood in the middle of the living room, her pink lipstick clashing with her dyed red hair, her arms crossed over her chest. A bright-eyed couple stood next to her and stared as Jesse and Gary came down the stairs. Jesse avoided eye contact.
“Oh, hello, Peggy,” Gary said.
“Showing Mrs. Albright yet another house, eh?”
“There’s always another house.”
“Your sweater’s on backward, Gary."
His eyes darted to the young couple momentarily. “Ah, thanks, Peggy,” he stuttered, “but I always wear it like this. Have a nice day, folks.” He nodded and followed Jesse out the front door. They walked over to their cars.
“Fucking Peggy. That was too close,” he whispered then glanced back while slipping out of the arms of his sweater and turning it right side front. “You know this Saturday is the Pumpkin Harvest Festival thingy. Carol always organizes the party. You used to come, remember? I know you won’t go, but she told me to remind you when I saw you. She knew I was showing you a house.”
Jesse tilted her head. “She really doesn’t know about us?”
He shook his head.
“Maybe I’ll just have to make an appearance at this party. I haven’t been to one in years.”
“What? You’re kidding, right? About coming.” He looked at her, squinting. “I figured you’d never go. That’s really not a good idea, Jess.”
Jesse knew Carol. She’d been in a book club with her years ago. They’d been casual friends. She was an executive at some computer software company based in Pittsfield. A real go-getter. The opposite of Gary. Jesse had done a good job of mostly avoiding Carol, giving a quick wave and hightailing it if she saw her in town. Jesse didn’t want to hurt her—she liked Carol—but it wasn’t about Carol. The affair was Jesse’s coping mechanism. Her key to sanity. She thought back on what Lila had said the day she had finally confessed the affair in a session. “Passive-aggressive and self-destructive. You’ve created your own set of rules.” Jesse remembered Lila sitting there all high and mighty. She had tapped her pen rhythmically on her yellow pad. “You need to own your actions.”
Looking up at Gary, Jesse shook her head. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to the Harvest Fest.” She walked toward her truck.
He called after her, “So, have you given this house another thought? Quality bathroom reno, huh? Great light?”
“Give it up, Gary,” she said, sliding into her pickup, then drove off.
Chapter Three
While peering out the front window of the cabin, Star Silverman watched Jesse Albright drive off in her truck. She turned back to Ophelia, the new girl she’d met that day. The odd name seemed to fit the girl. She’d come into the Book Barn, trying to sell a stack of moldy books she’d probably found in the trash.
Star had started working for her dad at the shop recently, hoping to get her parents off her back about finding a job. It was easy, and mostly, she just sat around playing music or texting Ruby. There weren’t many customers wanting used books. Who even buys books anymore, let alone old smelly ones?
So when the girl walked in looking lost, Star had felt sorry for her and given her a few bucks out of the petty cash box. Maybe it was her little-girl voice. Or her really bad haircut. Maybe Star had been kind of lonely herself lately. All her friends, except Ruby, had seemed to disappear. They didn’t get her anymore. Or maybe it was the other way around. Star just wasn’t very interested in them. They were all about what colleges to apply to and what they were going to major in. Star couldn’t concentrate on schoolwork, and she’d done poorly on her SATs. She had other things on her mind—ugly things that crept into her brain and took work to tamp down.
“Where do you live?” Star had asked Ophelia.
“I’m just passing through. I kind of need a place to crash. Could I maybe stay with you? I could sleep on the floor, just for a night or two.”
No way Star’s parents would allow some stranger to sleep over. And she couldn’t risk sneaking her in. But there was something about the girl. A desperation in her eyes. “I know a place,” Star had said.
“What are you looking at?” Ophelia said, pulling Star back to the here and now.
Star stepped away from the window. “Nothing.” But she still watched as Jesse turned out of the drive. She thought about the old days. Back when she and Sophie were BFFs. Back when Star hung out at the Albrights’ house practically twenty-four, seven and Jesse was really nice to her. She had to admit it; she used to have a serious mom crush on Jesse. Star had wanted Jesse for her own mother. Jesse was totally awesome, with her messy hair and the holey jeans she wore before they were even in style. She was so unlike Star’s own mother, who was just a regular mom—uncool. Jesse’s paintings were big and loaded with extra-thick paint. Landscapes mostly and lots of barns. But after Sophie went missing, everything changed. Jesse’s hair literally turned white, like she was some cartoon character who’d just seen a ghost. She started hoarding junk, or at least that’s what everybody said. She barely left the house. It was all so confusing to Star back then. She’d tried to stay close to Jesse, who’d only pushed Star away as if she had some disease.
“Star, it’s time you hung out with kids your own age,” Jesse had said, sounding like a robot.
Star’s mom said that Jesse was in pain. “You remind her of Sophie.”
AFTER WORK, STAR DROVE Ophelia to the Stop-n-Shop in her new car. She’d gotten her license last month and inherited her dad’s old Honda, which gave him an excuse to buy the latest Prius. Ophelia picked up chips, an energy drink, and cereal. A real health food nut. Not!
Then they drove to Blueberry Lane, where Star had discovered the deserted cabin not far from her home. It was next door to a fancy house where Jesse and her “secret” boyfriend, Gary, met. When Star first discovered the cabin, she noticed one of the back windows was unlocked and easy to climb through. It was a cool place to hang out and spy on Jesse. There was no such thing as privacy anymore—everybody knew that—so Star didn’t think she was doing anything wrong. Not much anyway.
Star climbed in the window as usual and opened the door for Ophelia, who walked in and gazed around the place. She took note of the small bedroom, couch, and kitchenette, even opening the fridge and looking inside, checking out drawers and cupboards. “Wow, Star. This place rocks.”
Star couldn’t tell how old Ophelia was. She could be fifteen or even seventeen. She was all covered up with a ratty red hoodie and jeans. Hardly a fashionista, but Star should talk. Lately, she could barely drag herself out of bed, let alone put on nice clothes. And her hair, which usually got her compliments because it was long and normally really shiny, had been looking dull and greasy, as if she’d stopped washing it, even though she hadn’t.
“This place has been closed up for the season. No electricity or water. There are blankets, but no working shower or toilet, and the fridge is turned off, too. So you can’t stay here long.” She hoped no one would come snooping around and find Ophelia. Jesse and Gary always seemed preoccupied and in a hurry. Star had even crouched down close to th
e big house and looked in on them through a window a couple of times and seen them having sex. Star wasn’t sure why she was obsessed with knowing what Jesse was up to, but watching her was like binging on a real-life reality show.
As Star wandered into the bedroom and plopped onto the bed, Ophelia followed. “How old are you?” Star asked.
Ophelia glanced up at the ceiling. “Twenty-one, but I’ve always looked young.”
No way this girl is twenty-one. “Did you run away from home?”
“I’m twenty-one. I don’t live at home anymore. I graduated, like, eons ago. I have my own place.”
Star didn’t buy it. “Awesome. Then why are you here?”
She exhaled. “I’m taking a little break. Don’t you ever feel like you need to get away from it all?”
“Duh. Like all the time, but I live with my parents.” She rubbed her fingers on the quilt. It was soft, with tangerine-colored flowers. Whoever owned the cabin had good taste. “Where are you from anyway?”
Ophelia looked away, as if she didn’t hear the question.
Star tried again. “Are you from around here?”
She shrugged. “Star, don’t ask me so many questions.”
“Sorry.”
They didn’t speak for a long time. Ophelia bit her fingernail. “I like your name. Star.”
She rolled her eyes. “I hate it. My parents thought they were hippies when they were young and had to go and name me a stupid hippie name. It wasn’t the sixties, for God’s sake. Do you know how many starfish jokes I’ve had to live through?”
“I like it. It’s pretty. Romantic.”
“Whatever.”
“You’re lucky. This seems like a nice town, and you have nice parents who care about you.”
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