The Fifteen Wonders of Daniel Green

by Erica Boyce

  “What about your parents?” I asked mid-laugh.

  He wiped his mouth with his napkin, draping it carefully back over his lap before answering. “They died in a car wreck.”

  “Oh, how terrible. I am so sorry.” In that moment, I had never been sorrier in my life, watching the lines creep across this stranger’s face.

  “Me, too. But it won’t bring them back.” He cleared his throat, holding a fist to his chest. “I’m so glad I have my sister and her kids. They’re my family now. Sometimes I worry I’m around too much.” He looked down at his fist.

  If Thomas were one of my girlfriends, I would’ve patted him on the arm and worked up the courage to fold him into a hug. I settled for, “I’m sure that’s not true. It’s impossible for them not to love you.”

  Immediately, I knew I’d said too much. What did I know about how his family felt? Thomas blushed from his neck to the tips of his ears, but he smiled a real, luminous smile. “You’re right. I’m probably overthinking it.”

  By the time we finished talking, our cups held nothing but an inch of soda-flavored melted ice, and our waitress hovered anxiously around our table. We tumbled wincing out into the midday, drunk on new friendship and lost time.

  When we’d reached his car, he said, “So, same time tomorrow?”

  And I, not thinking, said, “Of course.”

  It went on for two months, those twice-weekly lunches. I told Sam I’d made a friend and left it at that. He was so pleased, he didn’t even ask about her. The guilt collected on me like snow, but somehow, I couldn’t find the strength to stay away. I didn’t want to.

  Then, one afternoon. After pizza, I slipped into his passenger’s seat, and his face was so sweetly open, so simply happy. And somehow, I found my hands on his neck, pulling him to me. And his mouth was on mine, strange and right. Our tongues reaching for each other. And we were tearing at buttons and collars, fumbling at zippers, his lips by my ear.

  We went to a motel room, I suppose, though the details are unfocused now. All I can recall is the stark white ceiling and the stiff, starchy sheets. Afterward, I turned away from him, feeling his eyes on my neck. I heard him shifting to reach for me, and I said, one last time, “This was a mistake.”

  He didn’t interrupt me. I peeked over my shoulder to be sure he’d heard me. He was up on one elbow, looking at me, and I thought he might reply, but instead, he sat up rigidly, as if reciting the motions to himself. He eased out of bed and collected his clothes from across the floor. In the light spilling through the curtains, I saw a scar slashed across his back. I decided not to ask about it. I decided not to care.

  “I’m sorry,” he said to the floor, rubbing his jaw. “I never meant…well. I’ll leave you alone now. Do you…need money for a cab?”

  “No.” My voice came out raspy. More softly, I said, “Please don’t tell anyone about this.”

  “I swear.”

  I stared up at the ceiling and willed the tears blurring the edges not to spill down my cheeks. When I heard the door latch gently behind him, there was no hope for it. The sobs came in waves, flooding my insides clean. I let them come.

  * * *

  It was an hour before I could roll over and pick up the phone. There was only one thing I could think to do.

  “Hello?” Maggie said.

  “It’s me. I’ve done something terrible,” I managed before the next wave towed me under.

  “Where are you.” It was a statement, not a question. A command. At the time, she was still working in the next town over, so soon enough, she swept in the door in her trench coat, gathering my clothes. She perched on the edge of the bed, drew the sheets back from my face, and said, “This is what we’re going to do.”

  * * *

  That evening, when Sam walked into our bedroom to shower before dinner, I was waiting for him, wearing Maggie’s mascara.

  “Hi, love,” he said as he stripped off his undershirt. “How was your day?”

  “I have the most wonderful news,” I said, hoping the tremor in my voice passed for excitement. “I made a few phone calls and found a plot of land for sale in Vermont for just the right price.”

  Sam froze, then turned one degree at a time to face me, a cartoonish picture of shock that was supposed to make me laugh.

  I forged ahead. “I know Vermont doesn’t have the most arable land in the world, all those rocks and everything, but I’ve heard corn does well there, and you’re always talking about buying a few dairy cows. We could even try maple sugaring if you like. And—what’s wrong? Is it too far away?”

  Sam sat down next to me on the bed and took one of my hands, running the pads of his thumbs over my knuckles. “No, of course not. You’re right, it’s a great idea. But are you sure it’s what you want? Giving up your job and…well, everything?” He looked up at me finally, and his eyes were rimmed with tears. I realized with a great painful gulp that I had underestimated this man.

  I laid my other hand on his cheek. “I’d do it in a heartbeat for you.”

  He grinned then. “Ready to be a farmer’s wife, eh?”

  I smiled back. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Daniel

  I wasn’t sure how much to tell Nessa, how far I could go while still keeping my eyes on the road. I decided on less than all of it.

  It didn’t do me much good either way. I can tell Nessa’s getting annoyed with me and my unimpressive answers. But no matter how many rest stops she points out, I stay in the driver’s seat. I need something to focus on.

  * * *

  At my first circlers meeting, that something was the scrap of paper that mysterious woman had given me, folded up into nothing in my pocket. I figured the meeting would be held somewhere dank and stony, or at least in an unmarked building. It turned out to be in a church basement, cheerily hiding in plain sight.

  “I’m Claire.” A small woman with bright-blond hair appeared in front of me, holding her hand out.

  I scanned the room as I shook it, searching for that woman from the field. “Daniel. I’m going to that farming camp down the road, and—”

  “Oh, you must be the one Zoe recruited. She’s not here tonight,” she said, “but you’re welcome to stay for a bit if you’d like. The first part of the meeting is always open to newcomers. You have to become a paying member and sign the compact before we let you in on the juicy stuff.”

  I studied her face, waiting for her to burst out laughing and reveal it was all one big joke on me. She looked right back.

  “Okay, sure. I guess I could hang around a little.”

  She beamed. “Great! There’s cookies and coffee over there on the table, and you can grab a seat wherever when you’re ready.”

  Following orders, I offered to get her something before stacking a few Oreos on a paper napkin and surveying my options. There were a couple of rows of metal folding chairs arranged in a semicircle. I picked one on the edge of the outer ring, behind an overweight man in a loose-fitting suit sitting next to a woman in a ratty T-shirt. There were small groups of people scattered around the room, chatting. I wondered if I took a wrong turn and wound up at a church council meeting by accident.

  But then, everyone took their seats. Claire picked the chair next to mine. A man in a gray sweater walked up to the podium, his thick glasses reflecting the overhead lights. “Good evening, circlers,” he said.

  “Good evening,” everyone around me replied.

  “That’s Lionel,” Claire whispered, her words brushing over my ear, “the grand poo-bah of the circlers.” Was she serious? That was his official title? Her eyes danced, and I bit the question back.

  “Now, I understand we have a new observer with us today,” Lionel continued. Suddenly, he focused his eyes on me.

  Claire elbowed me, and I swiped at the cookie crumbs in the corner of
my mouth.

  “Yeah, hi, I’m Daniel. Good, uh, evening.”

  Lionel smiled. “Don’t worry, Daniel. It’s just our customary greeting, not an oath. And welcome! We start our meetings off by reviewing some circle forms and new techniques, then we have the closed part of our meetings, where we talk about our current and recent projects. Claire will let you know when it’s time to leave. Sound good?”

  I nodded, feeling the eyes of the whole room on me. I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he could’ve told me all this in private, before the meeting started.

  “Great. Karen, please pass around the circle form handout. Today, we’ll be reviewing fractals.”

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, I’d curled the photocopied handout into a tight tube and was crunching the end into my thigh. I couldn’t believe how much crop circle making was turning out to be like geometry class.

  Lionel was just launching into a hearty discussion on proper angles and footings when Claire poked me in the leg. “Yeah, this is the boring part,” she whispered. “Meet me tomorrow morning by the entrance to your camp, and I’ll show you why we do all this.”

  I told her I would, trying not to look uncomfortable as she nudged me. As if I was used to getting touched by shiny-haired women in crop circle meetings.

  * * *

  When my alarm finally rang just before dawn, I snapped out of bed to silence it. I scribbled a note to our camp counselor on the back of a receipt—“family emergency, be back soon,” enough to let him know I was alive—and left it on my pillow.

  I walked down the quarter-mile driveway of the camp to find a truck idling by the side of the road. Claire swung the back door open from her spot in the passenger’s seat.

  “Morning,” Zoe said from behind the wheel as I climbed in. She was silent while Claire explained the plan.

  “We’re doing what’s known as the Santa Claus approach,” Claire said, turning in her seat to face me. I nodded, and she continued. “A bunch of circles close to each other in quick succession. Like the one you saw the other night—the one Zoe worked on—and now this one we’re heading to today. It tends to throw folks off our scent and make them think there’s aliens in the area or something. After all, how could one person be responsible for so many circles in such a short amount of time? Like Santa Claus, get it?” I nodded again. She grinned. “It won’t do anything to convince the people who already know about the organization and that there’s more than one of us. For those of them who think it’s just some local troublemaker behind the circle in their town, though, it works like a charm.”

  Thirty minutes later, light was just starting to seep across the sky when Zoe pulled the truck down a dirt road into a thick patch of woods across from another farm. Two men were gathering up their wood planks in the field, and they waved to Zoe as they loaded them into their car and drove away. In the wheat, there was a Venn diagram of collapsed stalks, shimmering in the dew.

  “Perfect. We got here just in time,” Claire said, and I struggled not to read into her smile, the excitement in her eyes.

  “I heard you made it to the meeting,” Zoe said, her first words since I’d gotten into the truck. “Good for you.”

  “Zoe was the one who first brought me into the group, too. Her designs are spectacular,” Claire said.

  “Well. Shall we get ready for the good part?” Zoe brushed her hands together. I could hear the whisper of her calluses.

  “Absolutely. Follow us.” The two women walked down the road a few hundred feet. Claire’s thick braid swayed with every step. They slipped back into the woods. I followed them behind a bush, where we hunkered down on our haunches, facing the road. I watched for a few minutes, but there was nothing but silent asphalt and, every so often, a bellowing cow.

  I cleared my throat. “What are we—”

  “Shh. Look, here they come.”

  Sure enough, a truck appeared on the horizon, engine growling louder as it got closer. It sped by the circle, and I thought it was gone. But just before the bend in the road, it slowed, pulled a U-turn, and eased back in a huge, mechanical double take. The engine stilled, and the door slowly opened. The driver stood on the strip of gravel between field and road, hands on his hips. After a few minutes, a decision. He vaulted back into his truck, slammed the door, and peeled out.

  I chuckled hesitantly. Were we laughing at him? “That was sorta cool. Thanks, guys. I should probably—”

  I started to rise, but Claire held up one hand. “Hold on. It’s only just getting started.”

  I sank back down. A few minutes later, the truck was back, followed by two others. They pulled to a stop. Four men jumped out of each and lined the road. Their mouths open, they rubbed their jaws. The breeze carried a confetti of their words to us.

  “Well I—”

  “I can’t believe—”

  “What the—”

  “Do you think—”

  “Did you hear about the one in—”

  Soon, they fell silent. They stared a few minutes. Then, one of them burst out laughing, and it was the perfect laugh, pure and clear in the new morning. Another one joined him, and the rest looked at each other, grinning and shaking their heads. And one of them said, “I’ll be goddamned.”

  “You see?” Claire whispered, eyes fixed on the crowd. “Magic.”

  I saw.

  When the men stepped apart to dial on their cell phones, Claire and Zoe rose and hugged each other. We eased back into the woods until we were back at the truck, far from the farmers’ view. Claire threw her arms wide. “That was the best one yet,” she said.

  Zoe smiled. “I love it when they laugh.”

  “It was unreal. Thanks for showing me, guys.” I was a little embarrassed by the earnestness in my voice, but Claire just linked her arm through mine as Zoe unlocked the truck. A woodpecker clattered its beak against a tree above us, and I concentrated on the sharp tapping. And Claire’s arm, small and sinewy, roped with mine.

  When we parked in front of my camp, I looked back and forth between the two women and said, “So, when’s the next meeting?”

  * * *

  The camp counselor shook his head and ticked my name off the list on his clipboard when I stepped back into my cabin, but he wasn’t paid enough to really care where I’d been. I slipped right into an argument with my bunkmates over football players, and it was like I’d never left.

  But all day, while we tilled the soil in the fields and flung cow pies at each other in the barn, I was picturing that morning. The men de-gruffed by disbelief, the circles dancing as a breeze brushed the wheat. And Claire, drinking it in like water.

  * * *

  When I drove back down the next summer, after graduation, my heart pounded all the way from my parents’ house to Delaware. I’d planned it so I would arrive just in time for another circlers meeting—found Lionel’s number where Claire had programmed it into my phone and checked and double-checked the place and time he gave me. I got there early, so I spent a half hour or so at the fast-food place across the way. I sat in the window, wiggling my chair back and forth on its uneven legs and eating chicken nuggets. I watched people file into the church basement, some glancing over their shoulders, some laughing and slapping each other’s backs.

  And then there was Claire. Her hair blazed clean against the church siding as she bent her head closer to Lionel, who was speaking into her ear. I crumpled the chicken wrapper in my fist and stood.

  I pushed the church door open, and just when I wanted to turn around and leave again, go back home, Claire saw me.

  “Hey, look who it is!” she said. Nobody looked. “You came back.” She sounded excited, but then, maybe she always did.

  “Daniel,” I said.

  “That’s right, Daniel. I’m Claire,” she said, and I didn’t tell her I remembered. “Come on. Come sit with me,” she
said, towing me by the arm toward her chair, the same one as last time, back right corner.

  “What brings you back here?” she asked when we were sitting. “You were here for summer camp or something last year, right? Is that where you’re at right now?”

  “Actually, I graduated. All done with high school. I thought I’d try doing this for a while.” I hoped she couldn’t tell I’d been thinking about her almost every night and most mornings, too.

  She just smiled and bit into her Oreo. The crumbs flew into my lap. “That’s great. We’re always looking for new recruits. Plus, now I won’t be the baby of the group anymore.” Her smile grew, and I looked away, up at the ceiling.

  “Would you—” I said. “I mean, do you think I could shadow you or something? Tag along?” It seemed impossible to even ask, but there was a brand-new duffel bag stuffed with old clothes in the back of my car, and my parents barely knew where I was. Maybe this was nothing in comparison.

  Claire dropped the rest of her cookie into her lap. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m not a great teacher. You really need someone more experienced than me to show you how it’s done.”

  “Oh, come on. You seemed to know your stuff last time, and now you’ve got a whole extra year of experience, right?” I bit my lip. I’d practiced this on the car ride down.

  Claire glanced at the podium and crossed her legs. “I guess I did just lose my partner. She got a full-time job offer she couldn’t pass up. It’s always easier to do this in pairs.” She paused, and I held my breath. “Okay, sure,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

  I couldn’t wipe the goofy grin off my face if I’d wanted to.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Nessa

  By the time we reach Kentucky a couple of days later, Daniel’s hands are claws on the steering wheel. I’ve tried sleeping through it all, but the silence is just too damn loud, and I’m afraid to turn on the radio.

  “It’s time to make a pit stop. Take this exit up here.”