Keeper of the Lost Man, that is the last I saw of him. I wanted you to know this and know that you are not alone in knowing him or caring for him.
• • •
Sia stumbled to her office and switched on the desk lamp. What the fuck was going on? She turned her chair to the wall and studied the map. China was enormous, so far from Massachusetts. She looked for Fujian Province and found it on the southern coast. How could Toad have gotten to China? How could he have navigated his way to this small village? And if what this woman said was true, he was not speaking even then, so whatever sadness had crossed his path had done so before she had met him by the pond.
Sia did not know how to assess this information. She didn’t even know how to take it in. She pushed a red pin into the coastline of Fujian Province.
Now there were six.
CHAPTER 152
“Toad?”
Silence.
“Toad?”
Stillness.
“Toad, what is this?”
Sia pressed her finger to the keyhole wound behind his left ear. A small bit of pus oozed out. “Is it a gill?”
Silence. Stillness.
The fish in Sia’s middle leapity-leapt/jumpity-jumped/flippity-flipped.
“Were you in a fight?”
No response.
“Were you injured in an accident?”
Nothing.
“Does it hurt?”
“Toad?”
Silence.
“It looks like it hurts.”
CHAPTER 153
The Dogcatcher’s route was circuitous, one that led Sia through the west end, along the waterfront, through a couple of boat yards, and near the eastern edge of town. Twice she paused: once to take a sign for a lost collie from a light pole and once to pick up a discarded hat from a grove of trees. As the rain lashed down, she stuffed the flyers and the hat into the pocket of her slicker.
When she made the necessary turn for the warehouse, Sia was relieved. Despite her rain gear, she was soaked to the skin. Hot, sticky, and tired, she now understood how the Dogcatcher maintained her mop-handle figure.
• • •
When they reached the warehouse, the Dogcatcher turned suddenly. “Are you coming in with me today?” she called to Sia, who was crouched behind a bush not far from the white building.
Sia stepped out from what she’d thought was a hiding spot. “May I?”
“Yes, of course,” as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
CHAPTER 154
“She feels things like I do.”
“The Chinese girl?”
“No, the grandmother who wrote the letter.”
“Why does this surprise you?”
“I’ve never talked to anyone who feels things the way I do. People’s sadnesses and pain.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“So how do you feel knowing there’s another one of you out there?”
Sia picked at a torn cuticle. “Not sure. Comforted, I guess.”
Her therapist nodded. “Anything else?”
“Less responsible.”
CHAPTER 155
“What if one of us dies?”
It was snowing outside. The wind off the ocean was pelting the house with icy flakes, and already the truck was buried up to its fenders.
“Dies?” Jack said. “What are you talking about?”
“You know, if one of us has an accident or gets sick.”
“Odyssia Dane, why would we worry about that tonight?”
“I just don’t ever want to lose you.”
“I never want to lose you either, but we can’t live life worrying about it.”
“I know, but what if?”
Jackson pulled Sia’s nightgown so her stomach was exposed. With his finger, he drew circles around her belly button.
“Well,” he said, “if you died, I would chase you all the way to Hades and bring you back with me.”
“You would?”
“Absolutely.” He sat up and flexed his biceps. “I am a brave and passionate man. I will follow my wife to Hell and back.”
“Just like Orpheus?” Sia said.
“Yep.”
“Well, you know, Orpheus ruined it all by looking back at Eurydice.”
“Come on, Sia, you know I’m not that gullible.” He kissed her shoulder blade.
“You wouldn’t look back to make sure I was there?”
“Oh, I’d be tempted all right, but nope, I’d just know. I’d feel you behind me.”
Sia smiled. “I’d follow you to Hades, too.”
“Ah,” Jackson said, “but the gods wouldn’t be so kind if I died. They’d say, ‘That rat? No way. He’s here to stay. Earth has had enough of him.’”
“Stop it.”
“They would. I’m not beautiful or sweet smelling or perfectly kooky about my pens and my dog. They wouldn’t have any reason to send me back.”
“I’m sleepy, Jack.”
“Good. Close your eyes.”
“I don’t ever want to live without you,” Sia said as she dozed off.
“You’ll never have to,” he whispered.
• • •
An hour later. “Jack?”
“Mmmmm?”
“Why are you so sure I’d end up in Hades?”
Jack laughed. “Took you a while.”
Sia pinched him.
• • •
“In the winter censuses,” Stuart read aloud, “the highest concentration of plovers are found in Florida, Texas, and Louisiana.”
CHAPTER 156
“Are you sitting down?”
Sia walked to the kitchen stool with the phone and sat. “I’m sitting.”
“Okay,” Richard said, “the lead was correct.”
“Which one?”
“The one from Italy. It’s him.”
The fish whipped around. Sia pressed a hand to her belly.
“Odyssia?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes, I heard you.”
“Are you okay?”
“Are you sure it’s Toad?”
“Yes, I spoke to his family earlier today, just after I e-mailed a photo to them.”
“And?”
“They confirmed his identity.”
“So he’s from Italy?”
“He is.”
“Toad is Italian.” Sia thought of Lothario and his wife’s most delicious lobster.
“Yes.”
“Did you ask if he speaks English?”
“He does. French, too.”
“Not Dutch?”
“No, not Dutch or German.”
Sia laughed.
“He’s been missing a good while, Odyssia. His family had pretty much given him up for dead.”
• • •
Sunlight leaked through the blinds onto Toad’s head.
“We know who you are now,” Sia said.
He didn’t respond.
• • •
That night, Sia tiptoed into the guest room, pushed Gumper to the floor, and crawled into bed beside Toad. He was curled on his right side, facing out toward the edge of the bed. She curled on her left side, facing out. As they lay back-to-back, each in their own dreams, tucked in like two potato bugs in a sandbox, the light from the alien beacon blinked against the window, summoning someone who would never come.
CHAPTER 157
Subterfuge.
A valiant, successful subterfuge.
A house inside the warehouse.
A real house.
A full-size house.
A house that like most other houses had a quaint porch, four windows, and a lion’s-hea
d brass knocker on the front door.
Subterfuge.
Sia couldn’t believe it. She closed the door of the warehouse behind her and turned in circles. It was as if she’d been dropped into Oz.
A buoy-bell wind chime hung from the porch frame.
Six red geraniums sat in clay pots.
The Dogcatcher scratched and looked down at her feet.
“What is this place?” Sia said. “Is this yours?” She climbed the stairs to the porch and knocked.
“No need to knock,” the Dogcatcher said. “It’s unlocked.”
“So it is yours?”
Sia opened the door and stepped into a living room. It was neat and orderly with pale blue walls, two blue-and-white checked couches, and a wooden coffee table in the center. There were vases with plastic daisies, a telephone on a table near the door, and three standing lamps. The wood floors were shiny, and a circular blue rug lay in the center. It looked like a regular house, but felt more like a showroom in a model house.
“Who lives here?” Sia asked. She wandered down a short hallway to a dining room. The Dogcatcher followed.
The dining room had a table with six chairs and a bone-white china closet in which white ceramic plates with cornflower-blue leaves etched on their rims were stacked. At one end of the room were six wooden filing cabinets. Fancy wooden ones with carved curlicue corners.
“Who lives here?” Sia repeated. “Do you live here?”
The Dogcatcher turned away and scratched.
Rain pounded on the roof of the warehouse.
The kitchen was red and white, and the curtains had red posies all over them. It was supposed to be a happy kitchen, but it wasn’t. The knives were too shiny. The glasses too spotless. And the refrigerator? Empty. As clean and unused as one you would see at the appliance store.
“What is this place?” Sia asked.
There was nothing dark or dangerous about the house, but it was sad and empty, as if all the loneliness in the world were centered in this very spot. Sia’s belly throbbed.
• • •
Sia walked to the large wooden filing cabinets. “What’s in here?” she asked, reaching for a drawer.
“Don’t touch that,” the Dogcatcher said.
“Why not?”
“They’re lost.”
Sia leaned to read the word that was neatly printed on a label stuck to the front of the cabinet.
“Cat,” she read.
She moved to the second drawer.
Cat.
Then the third drawer.
Dog.
Cat.
Dog.
Cat.
Dog.
Cat.
Dog.
• • •
“What is this?” Sia asked. “Tell me.”
“A house of lost things,” the Dogcatcher said. “I’m sure I told you that.”
CHAPTER 158
“When does she get here?” M asked.
“In the morning.”
“Does Toad know?”
“I told him I know who he is, but I didn’t tell him his mother-in-law was coming.”
“Why not?”
“It might scare him.”
“Scare him away, you mean?”
“Maybe. I don’t know what got him here in the first place.”
“I’m afraid it was a horrible tragedy and that maybe you won’t be able to manage all the sorrow.”
“It could be.” Pause. “It probably is.” Silence chewed through the wire. “But I’m okay, Mom. Really. I didn’t think I would be, but I am.”
“All right, sweetie. Just be careful.”
“I will.”
• • •
“When does she get here?”
“In the morning.”
“Does Toad know?”
“No. I told him I know who he is, but I didn’t tell him his mother-in-law is coming.”
“Maybe it was her that scared him away, huh? Maybe she’s a horrible wretch of a mother-in-law who tortured him in Italy.”
“Maybe, Jil, but I doubt it.”
“Why is his mother-in-law coming instead of his mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can I be there?”
“Not right away. You can meet her later.”
“Okay. Guess he’s not an alien after all, huh?”
“Are you disappointed?”
“Yeah, I liked the idea of him being from Mars.”
“And the idea of us being able to keep him forever?”
“Something like that.”
“Maybe you should go out with Richard again.”
“Maybe.”
“He’s mad about you, you know.”
“You think?”
“You’ve got to be blind not to see it.”
Jilly covered her eyes with her hands.
• • •
“When does she arrive, Mrs. Dane?”
“In the morning.”
“And have you informed your”—Dr. Dillard paused to clear his throat—“guest that she’s coming?”
“No.”
“Are you going to?”
“No.”
“I don’t think that’s wise, Mrs. Dane.”
“I don’t care what you think, Dr. Dillard.”
“This is my professional opinion.”
“I take professional opinions from professionals.”
“May I be there when she arrives?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Please, Mrs. Dane. You may need professional intervention. Things could go wildly wrong.”
Click.
• • •
“When does she get here, Sia?”
“In the morning.”
“Oh, boy. How do you feel about her coming?”
“I’m okay.”
“Really?”
“Well, I’m bummed my sex life is going to end again.”
“You’re sure he’ll go home with her?”
“What else would he do?”
“How do you feel about that?”
“I’m going to miss him.”
“And Gumper? How’s he going to handle the loss?”
“I’m going to start bringing him for therapy.”
“How about the fish?”
Sia put a hand on her belly. “Bloody awful.”
CHAPTER 159
Sleek Sophia.
Sophisticated Sophia.
Stylish Sophia.
She arrived on time. Dark hair. Sunglasses tipped back on her head. A black bag with gold doodads. Skinny jeans and a black T-shirt with a pair of gold flip-flops.
Stunning silky sensuous Sophia.
“Odyssia Dane?” she asked in perfectly executed English.
No makeup. Just lipstick.
Sublime Sophia.
“Yes. Sophia?”
“Yes.”
Sophia held open her arms and Sia stepped into them, resting her head on Sophia’s shoulder.
Sympathetic soft oh-so-subtle Sophia.
• • •
“His name is Tomasso. Everyone calls him Tomas. My daughter—his wife—called him Tomato.”
• • •
“His wife and daughter were murdered. How do you say?” Sophia waved her hand while she searched for a word. “Brutally.” She paused, slipped off her flip-flops, and crossed her legs under her on the chair. “Yes, brutally. Very, very brutally.”
Sia closed her eyes.
CHAPTER 160
PLOVER REPORT
AUGUST 2012
NESTING PAIRS: 12 (refuge); 4 (Sandy Point Reservation)
PAIRS STILL SITTING ON NEST: 0 (refuge); 0 (Sandy Poin
t Reservation)
CHICKS HATCHED: 23 (refuge); 6 (Sandy Point Reservation)
CHICKS FLEDGED: 20 (refuge); 5 (Sandy Point Reservation)
BEACHES: All beaches now open to humans.
LOST: 1 mature plover (female); 2 plover eggs
• • •
Rejoice! Rejoice!
Joe Laslow pulled on his favorite T-shirt, the one he saved just for this day every year. On the front:
“The Natural Food Chain”
On the back:
A sketch of a man with a piping plover on a plate.
CHAPTER 161
“Dogs 2001.”
Sia picked out a folder.
“A”
Airedales
Akitas
Alaskan Malamutes
Alsatians
. . . and more.
• • •
“P”
Papillons
Pekinese
Pointers
Poodles
. . . and so on.
• • •
“S”
Samoyeds
Schnauzers
Shih-Tzus
. . .
• • •
“Whose house is this?” Sia asked.
“Mine,” the Dogcatcher said.
“Do you live here?”
“No.”
“But it’s yours?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” Sia said, “you keep it very nice. It’s very neat.”
The Dogcatcher nodded and pulled out a drawer in the armoire behind her. “These are all of the lost spoons.”
Clank. Clank. Clank. Clankety-clank.
The drawer was stuffed with spoons. Some were shiny and new; others looked as if they’d spent one hundred years in a dirt pile.
Sia nodded. “What about this?” she asked, pointing to the objects on the shelves in the corner.
The Dogcatcher closed the drawer. “There are many lost things in the world.”
• • •
Then, under a chair . . . sneakers.
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