“His dad’s a huge nerd,” Hannah said.
Sally laughed.
“Sammy has a lively imagination but does know the difference between real and imaginary. He told me the whole story of Where the Wild Things Are, almost word for word. He said it’s his favorite story. He sang several songs for me, and knew all the words.”
“Let me guess. ‘She’ll be Coming Around the Mountain When She Comes,’ ’’ Hannah said. “Or ‘I’ve Been Working on the Railroad.’ ”
“Both,” Sally said.
“He speaks in complete sentences,” she continued, “and has a well-developed vocabulary. His use of “me” instead of “I” and his inconsistency with possessive pronouns is not unusual for a younger age group, but you can work with him on that and I’m sure it will resolve on its own.
“He passed the physical coordination tests with flying colors. He told us he can ride a two-wheeler without training wheels and can swim.”
“All true,” Hannah said.
“He knows his colors, shapes, letters and numbers,” Sally continued. “He can write his name, and he told me his address was ‘the farm at the end of Possum Holler.’ “
“That’s true,” Hannah said. “Up the holler we all have post office boxes instead of mail delivery.”
“He didn’t know his home phone number,” Sally said, “but he said he wasn’t allowed to use the phone unless it was to call 911, and only if it’s something really bad. I asked him what he would do if he was lost in a strange place and he said he would look for a fireman or a policeman. He then fully explained the concept of stranger danger.”
“Whew,” Hannah said. “It sounds like he passed.”
“He’s a bright, happy, inquisitive little boy,” Sally said. “He’s intellectually and physically ahead of his age, but still more of a three-year-old in his level of maturity and impulse control. Socially, he played well with others and played well on his own, made healthy eye contact, and engaged with children and adults in an age-appropriate way. He shared his toys, and showed empathy and kindness when another child started to cry. He patted her and told her she would be all right.”
“I’m so relieved,” Hannah said.
“He’s healthy and happy. I think his issues are age-related and he will grow out of them.”
“So, why does he continually run away?” Hannah asked.
“I asked him about that. He said he likes to run away like Max, and he likes to run away with the dogs and have adventures, and then he likes to find his way home. He’s very confident in his abilities to take care of himself. I think his lack of fear is understandable given his confidence and physical ability level; you’ll have to work with him to understand that bad things can happen to him not because he isn’t capable, but because of outside forces beyond his control.
“Like escaping from preschool,” Hannah said.
“I can see you’ve got your hands full,” Sally said, “but he’s a delightful child. There’s nothing really wrong with him.”
Hannah noticed that Sally’s ID was now turned so it could be read.
Her last name was “Gearhart.”
“Do you have any questions?” Sally asked.
“Do you play the piano?” Hannah asked.
“Why, yes I do,” Sally said.
“Is your first name actually Talisman?” Hannah asked.
“It is,” Sally said, obviously surprised. “It was a little too weird for me when I was in middle school so I adopted ‘Sally’ instead. Only my mother calls me anything else. How did you know?”
“I’m not sure if I should mention this,” Hannah said. “Your mother is Sammy’s preschool teacher. She’s the one who recommended I have him assessed.”
Sally immediately arranged her face into a blank mask, but Hannah had seen her face fall before she made the adjustment.
“I didn’t know that,” Sally said. “I guess I should have made that connection on my own; I apologize. Do you want someone different to do the assessment?”
“No,” Hannah said. “I’m thrilled with your assessment. Your mother had me thinking there might be something wrong with him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sally said. “I can assure you my mother has not discussed your son with me. I can also assure you that I will keep his assessment completely confidential.”
“No, I want you to tell her,” Hannah said. “I want her to be the first to know.”
There was a short, uncomfortable silence.
“Your mother and I didn’t exactly start out on the right foot,” Hannah said.
“I’m so sorry,” Sally said. “That’s really all I can say.”
“I’m going to give you my assessment, unasked for and probably unwanted, and you can take it for what it’s worth,” Hannah said. “You need to cut the apron strings.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Sally said. “That’s all I can tell you.”
“Well, good luck to you,” Hannah said. “I hope you can eventually work it out.”
“Me, too,” Sally said, and then smiled at Hannah. “You have a wonderful, healthy little boy. Take care.”
When Hannah collected Sammy, he made sure to announce to the room that he was now going to get a Moonshine Slershy. Hannah hurried him out before someone else could demand custody of him.
Later on, Hannah and Sammy were washing her work truck, or rather, Hannah was washing the work truck and a blue-Slershy-stained Sammy was spraying everything with the hose, Hannah included. Hannah had given up trying to redirect him, and just let him play.
“Try to actually hit the truck occasionally, why don’t ya?” Hannah said.
“Me washing the rocks,” Sammy said.
Hannah heard someone drive up the road, wheels crunching the gravel. She turned and saw a big, expensive-looking black SUV with dark-tinted windows and shiny chrome rims. It pulled in behind her truck and the window slid down.
It was Linda.
“Is it safe to get out?” she asked in a sweet voice with a hint of something not so sweet. “I don’t want to get a shower in my work clothes.”
Hannah grabbed the hose away from Sammy and turned it off at the spigot.
Sammy howled.
“Me washing the rocks!”
The dogs came running up the hill from the creek, wet and muddy. The big two barked at Linda while the little two danced at Hannah’s feet.
“Hang on a minute,” she told Linda. “Let me get this bunch sorted out.”
She swung a struggling Sammy up under her arm and called the dogs. They followed her through the screen porch into the house, where she locked them in. She grabbed Sammy’s bag of pool toys and dragged him and the bag back outside, where she used the hose to top off his plastic pool and put her fully clothed son and his toys in it. It was a little too cool outside for it, but it wasn’t the first time she’d put her sanity before ideal parenting, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Thankfully, Sammy was thrilled and started filling cups with water to then pour into his buckets.
Hannah took a deep breath as she approached the car.
Linda opened the SUV door.
“Sam’s not here,” Hannah said.
“I know,” Linda said as she slid out of the SUV and her high heels hit the gravel. “I just saw him at the community center.”
She was dressed in a tight, short-skirted suit with her sunglasses perched on top of her head. She was much blonder than Hannah remembered, and was wearing a lot of expertly applied makeup. She was carrying a large tote bag over one shoulder and in her hand she carried her phone, which promptly rang.
“Sorry,” she said. “I have to take this.”
She walked away, leaving Hannah to consider her wet shorts, dirty tee shirt, and holey sneakers. Hannah went over to where Sammy was playing in the pool.
“Who dat lady?” he asked.
“Daddy’s friend.”
“What’s Daddy’s friend doin’?”
“Sh
e’s talking on the phone.”
“Does she wanna eat lunch with me?”
“No,” Hannah said. “I don’t know what she wants.”
“Does she like cookies?”
“No,” Hannah said. “She likes salads.”
“Yuck,” Sammy said. “Me no like salad.”
“Sorry about that,” Linda said as she reappeared. “Do you mind if we sit down and talk?”
Hannah gestured to the picnic table, far enough away that Sammy wouldn’t hear what they talked about, but close enough Hannah could keep an eye on him.
Linda made a point of brushing off the seat before she sat, but Hannah was not inclined to apologize for anything that inconvenienced Linda, or didn’t meet with her approval.
She could feel her heart rate climb and made an effort to unclench her fists. She told herself there was nothing to fear. Linda was not going to kill her and eat her.
“I’ll get right to the point,” Linda said. “I know Sam told you that I want to help him get a grant for his program. There’s a new therapy called Accelerated Resolution Therapy that’s been developed for PTSD, and has had amazing results. Sam wants the grant to pay for his volunteer counselors to go for the training. We’d like him to rewrite the grant request to ask for enough money to pay for an ART trainer to come to West Virginia and train counselors from all over the state. He’s hesitant to accept my help, however, and I think it’s because of you.”
“Sam makes his own decisions,” Hannah said. “He’s a grown man.”
“I understand my prior relationship with Sam might make you uncomfortable,” Linda said, as if she were testing the water to see how hot it was.
“You were together, for what? Five, six years? He was overseas for four of those,” Hannah said. “Sam and I have been together for a long time, and we have a child. We’re a family. I’m not threatened by you. You ditched him when he came home from the war, and I picked up the pieces. You’re not someone he cares about anymore.”
Linda’s face turned red.
“I wasn’t sure if I should do this or not,” she said. “But, I think you should know the truth.”
“About what?” Hannah said.
“Mama, me gotta poop,” Sammy said.
“Just a minute,” Hannah called out to him.
Linda dug in her cavernous tote bag and pulled out a large envelope.
“After Sam came back, it took me a while, but I finally went to Walter Reed to see him,” she said. “I decided to face my fears, defy my mother, and ask him to give me a second chance. It turned out to be the day after he got out, and the nurse was so glad to be able to give me these, which he had left behind.”
She handed the envelope to Hannah.
“What are they?” Hannah asked.
“Mama!” Sammy called out. “Me really gotta poop!”
“Hang on!” Hannah responded.
“Letters from someone who wrote to him the whole time he was overseas. They’re very sweet.”
“I don’t want your love letters,” Hannah said.
“That’s just the thing,” Linda said. “They’re not from me.”
Linda stood up and brushed off her skirt.
“Look,” she said. “You don’t have to like me in order for Sam to get the money he needs for his program. It’s a great program and it deserves the money. I just happen to be in a position to make sure he gets it. I wasn’t mature enough to handle his injuries when he came back from Kuwait and I will always be sorry for that. We all make mistakes when we’re young; surely you can understand that. I just want you to know I’m not some kind of monster who abandoned Sam back then and I’m not after him now.”
“Besides,” Linda said as she gestured to the envelope, “he already had somebody else lined up to take my place.”
“Mamma, me pooped in the pool,” Sammy called out in a singsong voice.
When Sam came home, Hannah was sitting on the front porch steps with the letters scattered around her. She had dropped Sammy off to her mother, with a threat that if she let him out of her sight Hannah would burn her house down. Her mother was taken aback, to say the least, but she promised.
Hannah heard his van pull up, heard the spring on the back door groan as he opened it, the thwack of it closing, heard the dogs flipping out with happiness at his arrival, heard his footsteps as he went upstairs, looking for them, calling, “Anybody home?”
She stared out across the front lawn, down the hill, to the lake, where a canoe tethered to the dock drifted as far as it could, buoyed by the wind. It was cold, but she hadn’t bothered to go in and put on a sweater.
She didn’t want to be warm, didn’t want to feel better.
“Hey,” he said as he came out the front door to the porch. “What’re you doin’ out here? Where’s my boy?”
Hannah pointed to the pile of letters.
“Linda left those for me,” Hannah said. “She said she thought I ought to know the truth.”
“Truth about what?” he said.
He sat down next to her and picked up a letter.
“These are from Claire,” he said. “How in the world did Linda get hold of these?”
“She came to Walter Reed the day after you left,” Hannah said. “She said she had decided to honor your engagement and ask for another chance. The nurse gave her those, said you forgot them, and thought they were from her.”
“The last time I saw these letters they were in a tent in Kuwait,” Sam said. “I didn’t even know they went with me to Walter Reed.”
“They’re very sweet,” Hannah said. “Very romantic.”
“Claire was going through an awful time with Pip,” Sam said. “Linda had quit writing to me, so I was pretty miserable. It was nice to get letters from home.”
“It seems like she was in love with you.”
“She might have had a crush on me, Hannah, but I never encouraged that.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying to you,” Sam said. “I was kind to Claire, but I never encouraged her, and I always said I was sure she would work things out with Pip or find a way to be happy without him. I alternated between hoping Linda was somehow still my fiancée, and being mad because she quit writing. If Claire flirted with me, I didn’t mind; it made her feel better and it didn’t mean anything to me. Claire had a crush on me in high school. We made out once when I was really drunk, when Linda was away at cheerleader camp. I apologized the next day, and told her we should pretend it never happened.”
“In high school this happened?”
“Yeah, down at the lake the summer before my senior year.”
“Claire quit school that summer.”
“I know.”
“Was that because of you?”
“I doubt it,” he said. “It was just one of those stupid, teenage mistakes. She seemed all right about it afterward.”
“Or she just didn’t want you to see how much it meant to her.”
“I really doubt that, Hannah.”
“The thing is,” Hannah said, “this all sounds very reasonable when you tell it. Unfortunately, I only have Claire’s letters to you, and they’re pretty romantic.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I am being honest with you, and I promise my letters back to her were not romantic. I said I hoped we would always be friends, I looked forward to coming home, and I hoped she would work things out so that she could be happy. If she imagined it was more than that, it could only have been because of how unhappy she was, and what she wanted to believe.”
“If she was in love with you, she’d still have your letters, I expect.”
“Maybe.”
“I could ask her.”
“Whatever you need to do, you do it,” Sam said. “If we need to have Claire come out here and talk about it, the three of us, let’s do it.”
“I want to believe you, Sam, but right now, I gotta tell you, it doesn’t look good.”
“Claire would not lie to you.”
/> “Except by omission,” Hannah said.
“She probably didn’t say anything because she realized she’d had a little crush, and she was embarrassed when she realized it wasn’t reciprocated.”
“In her last letter she said she came to see you at Walter Reed.”
“I never got that letter.”
“Here,” Hannah said, as she sorted through the letters until she found that one.
Sam read it. When he was done, he looked shocked. Honestly shocked.
“I had no idea,” he said. “This must have come while I was still there, but I was so doped up all the time I honestly don’t remember her being there or receiving this letter.”
“She said she was going to come home to Rose Hill to take care of you,” Hannah said. “She said she realized how important you were to her, and she wanted you to always be together.”
Sam maintained intense eye contact with Hannah.
“But then she didn’t, did she?”
“No,” Hannah said. “I did wonder about that.”
“It was something she dreamed up,” Sam finally said. “When you read my letters to her you will believe me.”
“I hope so,” Hannah said. “Because right now, honestly, it could go either way.”
When Hannah arrived at her parents’ house to pick up Sammy, her father asked her in, and seated at the kitchen table, told her about Ian. Hannah had seen her father cry very few times, and this was one of them. They sat together for a long time, just holding hands, and when the room began to get dark neither of them bothered to turn on a light.
“Just leave Sammy here,” her father finally said. “I kind of want him around tonight.”
Claire had just got home from leaving her father at Riverview and was debriefing her mother, Aunt Bonnie, and Maggie. After a silent ride back to Rose Hill, Scott had gone to the station and her Uncle Curtis had gone home.
They were all sitting in the kitchen, which smelled like coffee and Fitzpatrick’s Bakery. There were several bakery boxes on the table, along with various casseroles from her mother’s church family and neighbors, but it looked as if nothing had been eaten. Claire had no appetite, either, so they did not appeal to her.
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