The Unremembered Girl: A Novel

by Eliza Maxwell

  And with those words, she broke him.

  His hands came up of their own accord and wrapped themselves around her throat. He saw them, watched in fascination as they tightened. She didn’t fight him, only squeezed her eyes shut. An act of love, he realized. So that he wouldn’t have to look into her eyes.

  His hands fell away, and he dropped to his knees in the boat, and he sobbed.

  He felt the light touch of her hand upon the back of his head. And he sobbed harder.

  He’d been wrong. He’d been wrong all along. He couldn’t fix her. Who did he think he was? No amount of love would erase what had been done to make her this way, and he’d been a fool, an arrogant fool, to think it would.

  And now he was paying for that arrogance.

  It was the wrath of Livingston Doucet’s vengeful god, visited upon his head in one swift blow.

  “Shh,” Eve whispered in a soothing tone. “It’s okay. It’s over now.”

  He couldn’t bear to look at her. He couldn’t face the truth he’d see in her face.

  He felt her hand when it pulled away from him. He felt the rocking motion of the boat beneath them as she walked the few steps it took to reach the edge.

  He looked up, forced himself to see.

  He felt it in every fiber of his being when she stepped up onto the edge of the boat. He felt it as if he were standing there with her. Because he was.

  “Forgive me,” she said, her hair blowing in the breeze behind her just as it had done the night he’d realized his life would never be the same. And those words tore through what was left of him.

  He knew what she was going to do. Knew, because she was him.

  He didn’t move to stop her.

  This was the only ending their story was ever destined to have.

  With one last glance in his direction, Eve stepped off the boat. The swamp took her greedily, and she didn’t fight against it, giving herself over freely to the death that waited there.

  And Henry let her go.

  After a moment, he stood himself, listening to the sounds of life around him. Life that served no master but death. It lay in wait for all of them, knowing it held the winning hand. Always.

  Henry stepped off the boat to meet it face-to-face.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  The brackish water filled Henry’s mouth and his nose, tasting of death and whatever comes beyond.

  Henry let it fill him, pull him down, as he gave himself into its hands.

  But his eyes opened, searching, even through the darkness of the murky water around him, for one last glimpse of Eve.

  A calmness fell over him, and all thoughts drifted away. He thought of his parents, of Livingston and Del. He thought of Noah. And he drifted.

  It was Jonah who had other plans.

  With a jerk, Henry was pulled back from the destination he so desperately sought. He fought against the hands gripping him.

  No! he opened his mouth to yell, but nothing emerged. He had no breath left to yell with.

  And no more strength to fight. As the blackness finally took him, his lungs and his heart burning, he realized that it wasn’t meant to be.

  Death wouldn’t be his escape. Jonah would pull him from the water, breathe life back into him.

  Life would be his punishment. Life without Eve.

  A coldness filled him as he lost consciousness. A coldness that he would carry with him for the rest of his days.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  Jonah was sad for Henry.

  He’d pushed on his chest the way Aunt Helen had shown him, when he’d dragged him from the marsh, and he’d breathed in his mouth, but Jonah wondered if he’d done something not quite right.

  He didn’t understand what had happened at the swamp, but he knew that the Henry who’d awoken, vomiting up water, wasn’t the same Henry who’d gone in.

  And that made him sad.

  “Eve,” Jonah had said, once he’d realized Henry wasn’t dead, turning to head back into the water.

  “No,” Henry told him, coughing and grabbing him by the ankle. “No, Jonah. She’s gone.”

  And that made him sad too.

  He’d tried to walk Henry back to the boat. He’d take him to Aunt Helen, she’d know what to do, but Henry had other ideas.

  “No, Jonah. Alice. Take me to Alice,” he’d said, leaning his weight against Jonah.

  “But, Henry, you don’t look to be in a fit state to drive,” Jonah had told him.

  “Keys are in the truck,” Henry said, shivering and coughing. “You can drive me.”

  “But . . . but, Henry, I don’t know how to drive.”

  “It’s easy. You just point and steer. Please, Jonah.”

  And he couldn’t say no to that.

  So with a lot of starts and stops, and a few close calls, Jonah had driven for the first time in his life, across town to Alice’s house.

  “You did good, Jonah,” Henry murmured when Jonah stopped the truck in Alice’s driveway.

  Jonah grinned. He thought he kind of liked driving.

  Henry lurched to the side, reaching to open the passenger door, but Jonah thought he might fall out on his face if he managed it, so he hopped out and ran around to help Henry out of the truck.

  He carried his friend’s weight as he helped him toward the house.

  The front door opened, and Jonah could see Alice outlined by the light that shone from inside.

  “Jonah? Is that you?” she called.

  “Alice,” Henry called.

  “Henry?” The worry in her voice was clear, and she ran down the steps toward the two of them. “Oh God, Henry, are you all right? What happened to you?”

  Henry released his hold on Jonah and fell into the woman’s arms. He cried. Jonah had never seen a man cry before, and it made his heart hurt something terrible.

  “How could she, Alice? He’s just a baby,” Henry cried into his sister-in-law’s embrace.

  “Noah? Henry, you’re not making any sense,” Alice said, pulling back to look at Henry’s face. “Jesus, you’re freezing. Let’s get you inside. Jonah, can you help me with him?”

  He nodded, happy to oblige.

  With Alice on one side and Jonah on the other, they helped Henry stumble up the steps to the front door. Jonah could hear the sound of a child laughing from inside, and that made him a little happier, although he was still worried about his friend.

  The lady named Camilla came to the door. Jonah had met her before. She was nice.

  “Mary, honey, can you fetch me a blanket?” Alice called into the house as she settled Henry into one of the chairs that sat on the porch. “Now somebody better tell me what happened. Where’s Eve?”

  Henry dropped his head into his hands, so Alice looked up at Jonah. He could only shrug.

  “Eve’s gone, Alice,” Henry said from the chair. “She’s gone, and I just . . . I just let her go.” A sob caught in his throat. “I couldn’t help her, Alice. I couldn’t fix her.”

  Alice lifted a hand to her mouth, and Henry looked up into her shocked face.

  “Noah. She couldn’t let him live. There was something broken inside of her, and the baby . . . She . . . she’d rather let him die . . .”

  Alice looked over her shoulder at Camilla, the woman who’d become her friend in the last few months. With wide eyes, she gestured toward Henry with a nod.

  Camilla walked forward and stood in front of him. When Henry looked up, she leaned down and gently placed a warm, sweet bundle into his arms.

  Noah’s dark eyes stared up at him in fascination, and his mouth opened and closed, like he was tasting what life had to offer.

  Jonah smiled when a tiny, chubby hand reached up and grasped Henry’s finger in his fist.

  “Noah,” Henry breathed, holding the baby tightly while silent tears ran down his cheeks.

  “She didn’t know. Thank God, she didn’t know,” Henry said, with a look at Alice. “She didn’t know I left him here.”

  Alice shook her
head, looking as sad as Jonah felt.

  “I’m so sorry, Henry. I wanted it to work as badly as you,” she said.

  “I was a fool,” he said quietly, holding the baby like he might never let him go. “I thought I could shock her into being whole. That the experience of leaving her child would bring her back to me. But I expected too much, Alice. She could never be that girl. Because that girl didn’t exist. Not anymore. Only in some unremembered place, where unbroken souls hide.”

  Alice laid a hand on Henry’s shoulder, and they watched in silence while Henry held the child and sobbed like his heart might never be whole again.

  Jonah didn’t understand. But that was okay. There were a lot of things he didn’t understand, so he didn’t worry much about it.

  He knew that he was with friends. And that was enough.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  “What the hell are you saying, Henry?” Brady demanded as he paced across Alice’s living room.

  Alice was there too, looking pale and shocked.

  “I’m saying it was me,” Henry said, his voice a barren and parched wasteland. “I’m the one who took Livingston’s body to the shack. I wanted to make it look like the traffickers had done it. But I knew, I knew the whole time, and it got Del killed.”

  He glanced over at Alice, who was staring at her hands, fiddling with her wedding ring.

  “I know it doesn’t fix anything, Alice, but I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Alice huffed out a breath and stood from the couch, straightening her blouse and walking over to stare out the window.

  He didn’t expect her to forgive him. But she deserved the truth. They all did.

  “I couldn’t let you think Jonah did it,” Henry said to Brady. “I couldn’t live with you thinking that.”

  Brady sat down in an armchair with a huff.

  Henry waited. He’d said everything there was to say, and he knew once it sunk in there’d be questions they deserved answers to, recriminations and accusations that he deserved to answer for.

  So he stayed silent, and he waited.

  It got a lot harder when Alice started to cry. She was quiet about it, but Henry could hear the faint sniffling, and he could see her back shake with the sobs.

  He wanted to go to her, to tell her again how sorry he was, but she wouldn’t want to hear that now. And he didn’t deserve to ask for her forgiveness.

  The clock ticked, and Henry waited.

  “I put in my resignation yesterday,” Brady said in a dazed voice. “It was always Del and me, side by side. Without him . . . I just don’t want to do it anymore. Tinker said he’s looking to sell his place. Thought maybe I’d take out a loan, put it together with my savings.”

  Brady shook his head. “Alice,” he said. “It’s up to you. You want me to arrest him? I’ve still got a badge until the end of the month. You say the word, and I will.”

  Henry could only stare at him. He’d never considered that Brady might not arrest him. He was an accomplice to murder, or an accessory, or whatever the hell it was when you hid the truth from everyone you loved and made one bad decision after another and ended up getting your brother killed.

  But Brady wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at the wife of his best friend. His dead best friend.

  Alice gave a bitter laugh.

  “Isn’t that just like a man?” she said, still staring out the window. “Just fine walking around like you’re in charge, until things get sticky. Then you want to dump the whole thing in my lap, shift the responsibility off yourself.”

  Brady looked abashed. “I . . . well, I mean . . . ,” he stammered.

  Alice sighed, then turned back to the two men. “It’s fine, Brady,” she said. “It’s fine. I’m used to it. You and Del really were two peas in a pod, weren’t you?”

  Brady shut his mouth. Henry supposed there wasn’t much he could say to that.

  Alice turned her attention to him. “Henry,” she said. “Henry. Look at you.”

  She walked over and took his hand.

  “I love you, Henry, but you are a stupid, stupid man. Henry, you can’t fix everybody. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your own shoulders. Did you kill Livingston?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Did you kill Del or those men at the shack?”

  “No,” he whispered. “But—”

  “Stop it. Stop it now. Whatever you’ve done, whatever punishment you deserve, I think you’ve got that and more. Right there inside that stupid head of yours. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go check on Noah.”

  And with that she walked out of the room.

  Henry watched her go, marveling at the strength of her.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  The day that Henry walked away from his life was crisp and cool, the promise of winter around the corner.

  He locked the doors at the empty house, the house that had been his father’s and his grandfather’s before that. He put a padlock on the shed that held the still and his mother’s loom.

  Before he did, though, he took the small strip of fabric from the loom, the one Eve had been working on at the last. He ran his thumb down the brightly colored threads, woven together to form something beautiful. Some physical thing that showed she’d existed.

  Lifting it to his nose, he breathed in the smell of the fabrics, then held it tightly in his hand. He tucked it into his pocket. He knew there was no point trying to forget Eve. But he did try not to remember quite so often. It was difficult. Impossible, really. But he tried all the same.

  He’d said good-bye to everyone already. Everyone who mattered. They’d made noises about his going, but he knew they could all see that he was only existing there, rattling around in the old house alone.

  Noah was with Alice now. She was a good mother. He’d always known she would be.

  Brady and Camilla were engaged. The wedding was going to be in the spring. Mary would be the flower girl.

  When he’d told Ms. Watson that he’d been to see the army recruiter, she’d smiled and given him a hug.

  “You’re gonna be just fine, son,” she said. “I know you don’t believe it now, but time really does heal. You’ll see.”

  He thought she was probably wrong, but he smiled back at her anyway, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

  He’d found a rare sense of joy, though, when he’d handed Jonah the keys to his truck. He’d spent some time teaching him to drive over the past few months, and he trusted him not to hurt anyone on the road.

  “I can’t take your truck, Henry,” Jonah had said.

  “I want you to have it,” he told him. “But be careful, okay? Remember, this one’s not a toy.”

  “No,” Jonah said, shaking his head vigorously. “Not a toy. I’ll remember, Henry, I will. You’re a good friend, Henry. A real good friend.”

  The big man’s words had brought a bittersweet smile to Henry’s lips.

  “No, Jonah. Not me. Everything I know about being a friend, I learned from you.”

  He was leaving now, and he didn’t know when he’d be back, if ever.

  But the army called to him, as it always had, though for different reasons now. He longed to be just a face in the crowd, a soldier whose only responsibility was to do what he was told. He thought maybe he could do that.

  But one way or another, life wouldn’t be denied. It was his punishment, and he would serve his time—life, without Eve.

  Together they’d been one. Together they’d burned their world down around themselves, and there was no going back. The only way was forward.

  So Henry walked forward, one step at a time, with the bitter taste of ash in his mouth.

  EPILOGUE

  Four years later

  The bell rang above Henry’s head as he entered the diner. Everything looked exactly the same, down to the waitress he’d gone to school with. Only Henry had changed.

  His family didn’t know he was back yet. He was looking forward to surpr
ising them. Especially Noah. Alice had sent pictures, letters, and handmade drawings that had reached him in the far-off places he’d been. He’d kept each and every one, chronicling the journey of a happy dark-haired boy.

  Eve had been wrong. About a great many things, but mostly about her son. He was no monster. He was whole, and he was beautiful.

  Henry often thought of Eve, though the sharp edges of the memories had dulled with time. Ms. Watson had been right about that. Mostly, he was haunted by the girl she could have been. If she’d been given the chance.

  Henry took a seat at a booth.

  The waitress walked over. The tag on her blouse said “Becky,” though he would have remembered anyway.

  “Just coffee, please,” he said.

  Her eyes lit with recognition. “Henry Martell. Well, I’ll be damned.”

  He smiled. “How are you, Becky?”

  Her eyes twinkled. “I’m good, Henry. I’m real good.”

  She brought him his coffee, then glanced around the empty diner. She bit her lip, obviously debating something with herself. When she straightened her shoulders slightly, Henry could see she’d made up her mind.

  Becky slid into the seat opposite him and smiled. And just like that, Henry’s life changed course once again.

  There was a sorrowful corner of Henry’s heart, marred by shadows and scars, where Eve lived—and always would. But in the days and years to come, Henry would occasionally hear a faint echo. It was the voice of an old man named Apollo, who’d once given him a piece of advice at a truck stop in Louisiana.

  You’ll never appreciate the daylight till you’ve walked on the dark side of the night, without even the stars to show you the way.

  Dawn, at long last, was breaking on the horizon.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’ve heard a rumor that it takes a village to raise a child. I can attest that it takes a village to raise a book too.

  Many grateful thanks to Katie Shea Boutillier, Faith Black Ross, Danielle Marshall, Miriam Juskowicz, and the rest of the Lake Union village.