“The IVF didn’t take, poor girl,” Gladys whispered back.
Henry glanced at Alice again, who was busy straightening her shoulders and putting a brave face on top of her distress. Henry had an overwhelming urge to go to her, pull her into a hug, but he knew there weren’t enough hugs in the world to make the pain subside for her.
“Henry,” Del called to him gruffly. “What’s up, brother?”
“Ah, it can wait, Del. I’ll just come back later,” he said, glancing at Alice.
“Why don’t you come have a seat,” Del said, ignoring his wife. “Alice was just leaving.”
Alice shot her husband a look designed to melt steel, but Del didn’t meet her eyes.
Henry took a hesitant step forward, and Alice gave him a sad smile as she walked away from Del.
Grabbing her hand as she passed, Henry said, “Come by the house later, if you want. Eve’d love to see you. We’ll talk. If you’re up for it.”
She gave him the same distracted half smile, and swallowed back tears. “Sure. That’d be nice.” She squeezed his hand, then Henry and Del watched her as she walked away.
“What brings you in?” Del said, clearing his throat and making it clear he had no wish to discuss Alice or whatever they’d been arguing about. Del motioned Henry to the chair across from his battered desk.
“A couple of things, actually,” Henry said. “In fact, I can count them on two fingers.”
Not his own fingers, but they’d get to that soon enough.
“If this is about Dad, Henry, I gotta tell you, I’ve washed my hands of him,” Del said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Henry asked.
“I keep getting calls about him bothering folks in town with all his holy roller talk, and every time I go out there, he lights into me about Mari. I can’t keep doing it. I won’t.” Del’s face was set in harsh lines that reminded Henry of Livingston.
“I imagine that’s hard to stomach,” Henry said.
“Hard to stomach?” Del gave a short laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. He loved her more when she was alive, and now that she’s dead . . . well, I can’t compete with that, can I?”
Henry was thrown by the scowl that had darkened his brother’s features. Del had always been a simple man, and while that had its drawbacks, it had its advantages too. One being that Del had always seemed to be able to shrug off his father’s hatefulness. It seemed that ability was slipping.
“I tried to talk to him about it, Del, but you know he’s never listened to me. It’s been months since Mama died, and he slides farther away from reality every day. I don’t know where it’s gonna end.”
“I’m fairly certain I hate him, Henry,” Del said, staring at a spot above Henry’s head. His eyes were bloodshot, and Henry wondered how much sleep he was getting.
“I think maybe I always have,” Del went on. “You know, Mari went to him. Before she did it. Did you know that?”
Henry’s brows came together. He didn’t know that, but what concerned him the most had nothing at all to do with Mari. He was more worried about his brother’s state of mind. It didn’t seem to be any more stable than Livingston’s at the moment.
“Oh yeah. She went to him, tried to talk to him about how she was feeling. That business with Jonah, she couldn’t handle it. Felt like it was her fault. Truth be told, it was,” Del said, lost now in the shifting shadows of the past. “She had a vicious sense of humor, Mari did. Always took things a step too far. Like she couldn’t help herself.”
“Del,” Henry said. “I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s funny, Henry. Because I don’t either, man. Everybody thinks, since I was her twin, formed in the same womb and all that, that I’m supposed to have some great insight into why Mari did what she did. But the truth is, I don’t have a clue. Not one damn clue. Her mind was as much a mystery to me as a stranger off the street. How’s that for irony, huh?”
Del leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair.
“But you didn’t come here to talk about my sister or my crazy old man, did you?” Del said, his eyes focusing in on Henry for the first time since he’d walked into the building.
“No, I can’t say that I did. But I don’t know if this is going to make your day any better.”
“I don’t know if it can get much worse.”
“Oh, I think it might,” Henry said. He fingered the small bag he’d carried into the station with him. It looked like the kind you’d get from a jewelry store. Black velvet, with a drawstring on the top.
He leaned over and placed it in the center of Del’s desk, then rested his elbows on his knees and stared at a spot in the linoleum where the corner had chipped away, waiting for Del to open it. He didn’t look up, didn’t see the look of curiosity Del sent his way as he loosened the smooth black rope at the top of the bag.
But when Del turned the bag upside down and dumped the contents onto his desk, Henry heard the small, heavy sounds as the two disembodied fingers bounced off the metal desk.
The scrape of Del’s chair as he pulled away from the macabre offerings Henry had brought him was loud in the sterile room, but not loud enough to mask the gasp that Del gave when he realized what he was looking at.
“What the shit is this, Henry?” he practically shouted.
“What does it look like, Del? It’s fingers.” Henry studied his own hands as he said it, studying the place where his own fingers attached to his hands. He didn’t care to look at the unattached appendages lying between the two of them, couldn’t manage it.
“No shit it’s fingers! I can see that! Why the hell are you bringing me fingers in a fucking bag, Henry?”
Henry looked up into the shocked face of his brother. If it weren’t for the pale, gruesome digits lying lifeless between them, Henry might have laughed.
“That’s an excellent question, Del,” he said, shaking his head. “Short and to the point. But I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Eve plucked nervously at the unraveling sleeve of the oversized cardigan she’d pulled around herself like a blanket. She was huddled in the corner of the sofa, with her knees pulled to her chest, trying to make herself small against the onslaught of Del’s questions.
“Did you see anyone when you went to the door? Anything that looked out of place or drew your attention?” Del was demanding.
She glanced toward Henry, wishing Del would just go away. She’d tried to tell Henry not to go to his brother, not to go to the police at all. She didn’t need them asking questions that she already knew the answers to.
Mute, she shook her head.
“Nothing? I find that hard to believe, Eve. The front yard is a big open space. Henry already said he was with you when somebody knocked on the door, and you went straight to answer it. So I’m having a hard time figuring out where this person must have gone so quickly. They didn’t vanish into the air, sweetheart.”
“Take it easy, Del,” Henry said. “If she says she didn’t see anything, she didn’t.”
But that wasn’t exactly true. She had seen something. A man. He’d been standing at the edge of the woods, and he’d wanted to be seen. He’d raised a hand in her direction, making sure that she’d gotten the message, which she had. Loud and clear.
And that was before she’d opened the bag.
Stepping quickly back into the house, she’d closed the big front door behind her, her breath coming short and shallow. She’d known they were there, at least sometimes. And she’d known they wouldn’t forget about her, not so easily, yet still she’d hoped.
It was a foolish, childish hope.
“Henry, you didn’t see anything either, I suppose?” Del asked, turning to his brother.
“No,” Henry said. “I remember I called out to Eve. Asked who it was, but when she didn’t answer I got worried and came into the living room. She was standing there, looking like she’d seen a ghost. Or a monster. I saw something in her hands
, but I couldn’t tell what it was. Not until I got closer.”
Henry’s face was troubled. Eve couldn’t stop her mind from racing ahead, considering what would finally be the last straw for him. Was this it? Would he send her away now? Or would it be weeks, months from now? Not so long ago, she thought she might have been able to come to terms with that inevitable day, but now? Can a blind person who’s finally seen a bright and shining light go willingly back into the dark?
When he’d realized what she was holding in her palm, Henry’s face had gone stark. She’d seen clearly the disgust, the horror. How long would it be before he looked at her that way?
“It was a message,” she said to the two men. They turned to stare at her, and she grew uncomfortable under their combined scrutiny. She rose from the sofa and moved to the window to stare out into the day, so bright and full of promise just a few hours before.
But that had been a dream. A stupid dream.
“A message from who, Eve?” Del demanded.
She turned her head and gave him a withering glance. If he didn’t know the answer to that, he was dumber than she’d thought.
“The men from the shack?” Henry asked.
“Yes, the men from the shack,” she said with a sigh. “Who else?”
“But why? What do they want?” Henry’s voice was rising, and Eve pulled away, cringing from his anger.
“They want me to know they haven’t forgotten. That they’ll never forget.”
“Forget what, Eve? What the hell happened out there?”
She shook her head and turned her face back to the window. She leaned her forehead against the cool pane of glass. She was so tired.
“Eve, you have to talk to us,” Henry said, moving toward her and taking her by the arms. He was gentle, as he always was, but when he turned her to face him, she could see the hardened determination in his face. “You have to talk to me,” he said. “I can’t help you unless I know what the hell I’m dealing with here.”
“You can’t help,” she said, breaking free of his hold. “Just leave it alone, Henry. Please.”
Her voice broke, and she ran from the room.
Those fingers had been meant for her, not Henry, and certainly not Del. They were a warning.
If they’d wanted her dead, she wouldn’t still be here. It was a warning to keep her mouth shut.
And that was exactly what she intended to do. Nothing was going to take Henry away from her. Not now that she’d warmed herself by his light. Nothing. Not now. Not ever.
Eve knew she was living in a house built of straw. One hard puff, and it would all come tumbling down.
And she was afraid. More afraid than she’d ever been in her life. She’d never had anything to lose before.
Eve would pay any price at all to keep Henry next to her. If that price was her silence, then silent was what she would be. She’d keep their secrets, if that’s what they wanted. And she’d keep her own, for as long as she could manage.
Because the alternative was unimaginable.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Henry started when there was a knock on the door for the second time that day. He thought immediately of Eve. She was in the shed with the old loom. He’d known she wanted to be alone, to work through her thoughts in whatever way she managed to do that, but he regretted leaving her on her own. If the people who’d left the fingers came back, if they saw her by herself, without protection . . .
Alice jumped back in surprise when Henry flung open the front door, ready for a confrontation.
“Henry?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
He started to tell her. He wanted to tell her. Alice was a beacon of calm in a storm. She always had been. But one look at her red-rimmed eyes and her pale, puffy face, and Henry put it aside.
“Alice,” he said, pulling her into a hug. He could ask if she was okay, but that was a pointless question. Anyone could see she wasn’t. When he felt her against his chest, choking on her own tears as she tried to hold them back, his heart hurt for her.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice full of grief-laced emotions that Henry couldn’t begin to imagine. “I probably shouldn’t have come here. I just—” She broke off on a sob, and Henry held her while she tried to find her way out of the other side of it.
“It’s okay, Alice. It’s okay,” he said, rubbing his hand in circles on her back, giving her what little comfort he could.
“It’s just that Caroline is who I’d come to. Normally. She’d hold my hand and make tea, and I’d cry and cry—” She broke down again.
“Come on in,” Henry said.
“I miss her, Henry,” Alice said quietly. “I miss her so much.”
He glanced over to the shed, where another woman, one who owned him in a completely different way, was weaving a piece of cloth that had begun with his mother’s hands.
“God, so do I,” he said. “Come on in, Alice. I’m not Mama, but I can make one helluva cup of tea. I had a good teacher.”
Alice tried to smile. She almost managed it, even in the midst of the tears welling up in her eyes again.
They moved into the house. Alice cried and Henry let her. Between the tears, she railed against the unfairness of it all. Lacking options to make it better, Henry listened to her. It was the least he could do.
Curled up in the same corner of the sofa that Eve had tried to disappear into earlier that morning, Alice gripped her tea and tried to make sense of it all. Why? Was God punishing her? Was it just the irony of the universe, that she was destined to help other women bring babies into the world but never to have one of her own to hold?
Henry had no answers for her.
“And Del!” she said. “I swear to God, I don’t understand your brother at all. He blows hot one minute, freezing cold the next,” she said, shaking her head. “And now, every time we do this, every time we get our hopes up, just to have them crushed underneath the failure, he pulls further and further away. Away from me, and away from the idea of having a baby at all.”
Alice was moving from grief to anger, and Henry couldn’t help her. She set her teacup on the side table and rose to pace the room.
“And me, I go in the other direction. Once I realized we might not be able to have a baby, there wasn’t anything in the world I wanted more. But we’re so far apart now, I don’t know if there’s any coming back together.”
“Maybe he’s just dealing with it in his own way?” Henry asked.
“Ha!” she burst out. “He’s not dealing with it at all. One sign of trouble, and Del checks out. I knew that about him. I did. I just never expected him to check out on me. Guess that’s what I get.” She sighed, some of the fight draining out of her. “Don’t ever fall in love with someone, then expect them to change, Henry. It’s the surest way to find heartbreak I can think of.”
She sank back into the sofa in defeat. “And now I have to figure out what to do. And I’m so—so mad that I have to do it on my own. Do I let it go, leave it up to fate? I think of doing that, Henry, and it makes me want to crawl into a hole.”
She shook her head and stared down at the ring on her finger. “Del says we can’t afford to go through any more IVF treatments. And I know he’s right. Hell, I don’t know where he came up with the money for the first three rounds. I wanted this too badly to ask. But I can’t help but wonder if it’s just his way of giving up. Giving up on a baby. Of giving up on me.”
Her words trailed off, and Henry sat with her and watched them go.
“I should go,” she said suddenly. “Henry, I’m sorry I dumped this on you.”
“Don’t worry about that, Alice. I just wish I could help.”
She gave him a small smile. “Me too. But you know what my dad used to say? Wish in one hand, Alice, honey, and shit in the other. See which one fills up first.” She sent Henry a sardonic look. “Classy guy, my dad. But now that I’ve got two hands full of shit, I’m starting to get his drift.”
Henry couldn’t stop the laug
hter from bubbling up. Alice looked at him in surprise when the first chuckle broke away from him, and a slow smile started to creep across her face. When she started to laugh as well, just a giggle at first, it was contagious.
“It’s not even that funny,” Alice said, but that only made them laugh harder and, before long, the two of them were wiping away tears while they howled with amusement.
It was irrational. It was uncontrollable. And it was so very necessary.
Henry didn’t know how long they might have gone on if the sound of a vehicle coming up the drive hadn’t pulled their attention away.
Oh God, Henry thought. What now?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Jonah, you see that man there?” Aunt Helen asked.
He looked toward where her hand was pointing and followed it across until he caught sight of the man she must be speaking of.
“The loud one?” he asked, just to be sure. “That’s Mr. Doucet, isn’t it?”
“That’s the one.” She nodded.
“Yes, ma’am, I see him, Aunt Helen.”
He could hear him too. Jonah figured everybody in town could probably hear him. He looked right upset about something.
“What’s he so mad about?” Jonah asked.
His aunt shook her head. “That’d take more time to explain than I got days left on the earth, my boy. Now, you listen up. I want you to go over there, pick that man up, and put him in the bed of my truck.”
“All right, then,” Jonah said. Without hesitation, he turned to do as Aunt Helen asked.
Jonah paid no mind to the shouting of the man as he walked up behind him and hefted him over his shoulder, nor did he question whether this was something that was okay for him to do. When Aunt Helen wanted something, it was usually best just to get on with it.
After placing his wiggling catch in the back of the truck, it didn’t look like he intended to stay put, so Jonah placed a hand on Mr. Doucet’s shoulder and held him there.
“Why don’t you climb in the back, buddy. You can ride with him and make sure he doesn’t jump out,” said Helen Sue, nodding and ignoring the racket the man was putting up.
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