Just as she was expecting, she heard Sam’s footsteps come from the kitchen to the hall. Then he stopped and grabbed his keys, which jingled in his hand. He hesitated a moment, not three feet from her door, then turned and walked the other way.
“Sam?” she called, but he didn’t seem to hear.
She couldn’t believe he would just leave her like this.
And if he wasn’t going to work, where was he off to?
Phoebe pulled on her jeans and green boots, ran a hand through her sleep-tousled hair, and hurried into the hall. Sam’s truck started in the driveway.
Phoebe grabbed her purse and keys.
“Where’re you going so early?” Evie asked. She was watching from the living room, still cocooned in blankets on the couch. All Phoebe could see of her was her face with its enormous dark eyes. And the key necklace, on top of the covers.
“To see what the hell Sam’s up to,” Phoebe said, hurrying toward the front door.
Evie nodded. “Be careful,” she said, and Phoebe got a chill.
At first she was sure she’d lost him. She knew he’d turned left out of the driveway onto Lang Street, but did he go left on River or right? She looked right and saw no sign of his truck. The road to the left took a sharp bend, so it was impossible to see very far. She took a chance and went left and soon had him in sight.
She kept her distance, making sure there were always at least two cars between them. As they drove out of town, this got harder because the traffic thinned. He was heading toward the state forest. He could be going for Lisa, maybe to take her to Barre on his own now. He turned down Harrington Road, which took him away from Franny and Jim’s and into the heart of the state forest with its vast network of hiking trails. Where the hell was he going? There was nothing out this way. Nothing, nothing, and more nothing. Phoebe hit the brakes, wondering if she dared follow. There were no cars between them now. Maybe he was going to take a little impromptu hike to clear his head. That seemed a very Sam-like thing to do.
But then, Sam hadn’t been acting like himself lately, had he?
She moved her foot from the brake to the gas and rolled slowly after him.
They passed a small pond, a stand of sugar maples, and a Christmas tree farm. The road twisted and turned like a drunken snake. Phoebe clawed at the wheel with her thumbnails. Every now and then, she caught sight of his taillights and slowed. At least she hadn’t lost him yet. If he turned down a side road or driveway, she’d have no way of knowing. Each time she came to one, she hit the brakes, glanced down the road, and, seeing no sign of Sam’s red pickup, continued on.
The houses were few and far between. Seasonal cabins, mostly. A few year-round dwellings for hardy souls.
She passed a run-down trailer on the right. There were cars up on cinder blocks, an oil tank outside on bent legs. And there were Christmas decorations up—strings of ragged lights, a tattered reindeer flag, and a big shiny plastic sign on the door that said SANTA IS COMING. A warning.
And who was Santa anyway, Phoebe thought, but the king of the elves? Elves—first cousins to fairies.
“Idiot,” she mumbled to herself. The road dipped down, then leveled. Phoebe wished she was back home at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of hot coffee, instead of out here on a wild-goose chase. Evie would get up and they’d have cinnamon toast with mountains of sugar.
Up ahead, she caught up with Sam just enough to see him turn onto a side road. She followed, creeping along. She passed a U-Haul in front of a small gray house. Two guys in dirty T-shirts were loading a couch into the back of it. Up ahead, Sam was pulling his truck into the driveway of a small ranch three houses down on the left. Phoebe slammed on the brakes, put her car in reverse, and backed up so that she was hidden by the U-Haul.
The house whose driveway Sam had pulled into was set back from the road and had sickly yellow vinyl siding and a tidy yard. And in the driveway, right in front of Sam’s truck, was the black Jeep with Massachusetts plates.
“Holy shit,” Phoebe said, rubbing her eyes like a stupid comic book character who can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. And she felt more like a character in a comic book or film than her true self—surely this wasn’t her real life, her real boyfriend and father of the baby she carried inside her.
“What’s your daddy up to?” she asked, placing a protective hand over her belly.
She sat and watched in a dumbfounded stupor as Sam approached the front door and knocked. The door was answered by the bearded man who had called himself Elliot back in the cabin.
Phoebe slouched down in her seat. The fake Elliot stood talking with Sam for a minute. Then the girl who played Evie appeared in the doorway in a midriff-exposing halter top. There was no hole in her side or thick bandaging. She was intact and unhurt.
Sam seemed agitated. The more he talked, the louder his voice got. Phoebe unrolled her window all the way, straining to hear.
She caught Sam saying baby. Elliot shook his head, rubbed his face worriedly. Then the fake Evie said something Phoebe couldn’t hear.
She couldn’t risk moving any closer. Elliot shook his head, said something that made Sam relax. Then, a few seconds later, Sam was laughing.
She had to do something. Call someone. But who? The police—no, she’d sound like a crazy person. How could she possibly explain? Sam was involved; involved in what, exactly, she couldn’t say.
She grabbed the phone and dialed her home number. Evie picked up.
“You’re not going to believe who Sam is talking to right this minute,” she said.
“Who?” Evie asked, sounding half-asleep.
“The fake Evie and Elliot! He drove right to their goddamn house, and they’re all chatting away like the best of friends. The girl’s got a short shirt on, exposing this totally perfect belly—not a mark on her. Shit! He just went inside with them. What the hell is going on, Evie? Who are these people?”
Evie was silent a minute. “I think you better get out of there,” she said, sounding suddenly awake. “Don’t let them see you. Get out of there and come back home. We’ll sit down and figure out what to do next. Okay?”
“Okay, but I want to make a stop first. I want to check on Lisa and tell Franny not to let Sam and his merry bunch of goons come anywhere near her.”
“But how could Sam be involved in whatever happened to Lisa?” Franny asked. “This is his own sister we’re talking about. And her baby!”
They were sitting at Franny’s kitchen table sipping jasmine tea with honey from heavy ceramic mugs. Lisa was outside picking strawberries with Jim. Phoebe could see them through the kitchen window. Lisa was wearing overalls and a T-shirt. She looked lost in Franny’s clothes, and she had the complexion of a vampire. How could such a skin-and-bones woman give birth to a baby? Phoebe couldn’t believe that it would have been born healthy. She pictured the baby out there now, malnourished, sick, needing medical attention.
“I don’t know,” Phoebe admitted. “None of it makes any sense. I can’t believe he might have been involved with what happened at the cabin—I mean, what would be the point of all that? It seems like a hell of a show to put on just for my benefit. And when I think for even a second that he might have had anything to do with taking Lisa’s baby . . .” Her voice broke and she blinked back tears. “He didn’t say anything when he found out I was pregnant, Franny. And then I find out he’s promised his firstborn to the fairies! What other secrets is he keeping?”
“I’ve known Sam practically his whole life, Bee,” Franny said, putting a comforting hand on Phoebe’s arm. “He’d never put a child in harm’s way—his or anybody else’s. The idea of him being involved in some crazy criminal conspiracy just doesn’t fit. But he obviously knows more than he’s been letting on, right?”
Phoebe nodded, took a sip of tea. It seemed impossible that her life had spun so far out of control these last days. That the love of her life, the guy who cried at the death of the wounded owl, had become one of the bad guys.
&nb
sp; “He may be into this deeper than I ever imagined,” she said. “When I talked with Becca, she said if I wanted to know what really happened to Lisa, I should ask Sam what he saw in the woods that night and how he got the scar on his chest. So he was there! And he saw what happened. Shit, he might even have been a part of it!”
Franny slammed her mug down and stood up quickly, reached for Phoebe’s hand. “Come on,” she said.
“Where are we going?” Phoebe asked, spilling tea down the front of her shirt as she was jerked to her feet.
“Becca knew Sam was in the woods that night.”
“Yeah?”
“Which means she must have been there too.”
Chapter 33
Lisa
June 15, Fifteen Years Ago
“This is the worst day of my life. Period.”
Evie smiled. “Did you mean to do that? Isn’t that kind of a pun or something?”
Lisa threw a pillow down at Evie, who teased, “Missed me.”
They were in Lisa’s bedroom with the door locked.
“What’s going on in there?” Sammy asked, pounding at the door.
“Girl talk,” Evie said. “Buzz off.”
“Have you heard anything?” Sammy asked through the door. “From Mom or Aunt Hazel?”
“Um, you can hear the phone ring as well as we can, right?” Evie said. “Why don’t you go watch for them in the driveway.”
Lisa rolled over and looked at the clock. It was nearly four. All they’d heard was the one phone call from her mom this morning saying that Da was in a coma. He’d taken a lot more pills this time.
“But he’s gonna be okay, right?” Lisa had asked.
There was a long pause. “We’re not sure,” her mother had said.
“I want to see him!”
“You can’t, sweetie. He’s in intensive care. No one under sixteen is allowed in.”
“But I . . .”
“Rules are rules, love. I’ll call again when there’s news.”
Evie spent the morning upstairs by herself, while Sam and Lisa played hand after hand of rummy. Evie came downstairs and made them all tuna melts, which she burned. Lisa couldn’t eat a single bite.
“Come on,” Evie had said. “I know my cooking sucks, but you gotta eat.”
“Stomachache,” Lisa said, her abdomen twisting and cramping.
Later, when she went into the bathroom, she found brown stains on her panties.
“I think there’s something wrong with me,” she’d told Evie.
“No, dummy,” Evie had said. “It’s your period.”
“My period? But isn’t blood supposed to be red?” This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Her mother should be there, welcoming her to womanhood. And she was supposed to feel like a woman—not a helpless kid who couldn’t even go visit her dad in the hospital. Her belly had cramped and she bent forward, grimacing. No one had told her it was going to hurt like this.
“Trust me,” Evie had said. Then she rummaged around in the bathroom closet and found a box of pads. “Get some fresh underwear and put one of these on. Then take three Advil.”
After, they’d locked themselves in Lisa’s room and Evie told her that she’d been getting her period for almost a year now.
“But how could you not tell me something like that?” Lisa asked.
Evie shrugged. “Maybe there’s lots of stuff I don’t tell you.”
“Like what?”
“Forget it.” Evie looked away. “Let’s go see what Sammy’s up to, huh?” She stood up and unlocked the door.
“Evie?”
Evie stopped, her hand on the knob.
“There’s something I want to show you. Something I found in your mom’s room.” Lisa went to her bookshelf and pulled out the dictionary. The old photo of Da and Hazel was right where she’d hid it. After crumpling it up, she hadn’t been able to throw it away. So she smoothed it out and stuck it in the M’s.
Misery.
Misfortune.
Mishap.
She held it out to Evie. “Is this part of the secret?” she asked. “Your mom and my dad—they were together once, right? Is he your dad too?”
Evie took the photo and stared down at it, her brown eyes darkening. “You shouldn’t have been snooping around in her room!” she said.
“It’s true, though, isn’t it?” Lisa asked. “We’re sisters, right?”
The door was pushed open.
“Sammy!” Lisa snarled, turning to see that it wasn’t Sam but her mother stepping through the door. Her mother’s eyes were red and puffy with dark circles under them.
“You’re back! What happened? How’s Da?”
Don’t say he’s dead. Please God, don’t let him be dead.
“No change,” her mother said. “They said they’d call if there was any news.” Then her eyes went to the photo in Evie’s hand.
“Where did you get that?” Lisa’s mom hissed.
“Lisa,” Evie said.
“Give it to me,” Phyllis demanded, snatching the photo from Evie and ripping it up right in front of them. “What’s done is done,” she said, staring at Evie with a venomous look.
“Lisa got her period,” Evie said.
Phyllis looked like Evie had slapped her.
“What?” she said, studying Lisa. “Is this true?”
Lisa nodded. She wasn’t sure what to expect: some motherly wisdom, a hug, or maybe some kind of you’re-a-woman-now congratulations. But her mother’s face just got paler. Then she swallowed hard, smiled, and said, “You two go on downstairs now. Or go outside and get some air. Sam says you’ve been locked in here for hours.”
They played another round of rummy while Hazel threw together a tuna noodle casserole.
“We had tuna for lunch,” Evie whined.
“Well, you’ll just have to have it again, won’t you?” Hazel said. “Has anyone seen the cream of celery soup?”
“No,” they all chimed.
“And the cookies,” Hazel said. “I just bought a brand-new package of those chocolate peanut butter chunk ones you love so much, Sammy. Don’t tell me you ate the whole bag!”
Sam shook his head. “I didn’t even see them. Ask Lisa. Maybe she took them for her Fairy King.”
Lisa glared at him across the table. She’d kept her end of the deal. She hadn’t mentioned the fairies all day. And now here he was, blabbing away.
“What?” Hazel asked, turning from the counter to face them.
“She’s been leaving all kinds of treats for him. Soda and cookies. And he left her stuff, too, right, Lisa? Show her your charm bracelet. Tell her about the book.”
“Book?” Hazel’s face got all pinched-looking. “What book?” She looked right at Evie when she said it. Evie looked away.
“The Book of Fairies. It’s got all kinds of crazy stuff in it. She so obviously made it up herself. Fairy King my ass!” Sammy said.
Something inside Hazel snapped. Lisa could almost hear a popping sound fill the kitchen. “Enough! We do not talk like that at the table. Go to your room!”
“But I—”
“Now!” she snarled. “And Evie, you too. I want to talk to Lisa alone.”
Sam headed upstairs and Evie slunk outside.
“You’ve got some explaining to do,” Aunt Hazel said once she and Lisa were alone. Hazel got right in her face, her hundred-proof breath nearly knocking Lisa flat. “What’s all this about a fairy book?” Hazel’s eyes were bloodshot and frantic.
“It’s nothing,” Lisa said, shrinking. “It’s . . . it’s a story I made up.”
Hazel took an unsteady step back, shaking her head in an I-don’t-believe-you way.
Hazel reached out, grabbed Lisa’s wrist, studied the bracelet. “Tell me the truth, damn it!” She was twisting Lisa’s wrist so hard it brought tears to Lisa’s eyes.
Lisa shook her head firmly and tried to yank her hand away, but Hazel had it in a firm grip. “I made it all up. Really. I left the gift
s there myself.”
Hazel let go of her wrist. Her mouth was working like she was saying something, but no words came out.
Lisa slowly backed away from Hazel and went to look for Sammy, but he wasn’t in his room. When she left his bedroom, she heard her mother and Hazel having one of their whisper fights downstairs. Lisa snuck down the steps, tried to listen in. All she caught was the end. Her mother saying, “Just go. Now!”
And Hazel grabbed her bulky purse, crammed full of tissues, romance novels, and expired coupons, got in her car, and took off, tires squealing.
“Mom?” Lisa said. Her mother was standing at the stove, making tea. “Is everything okay?”
Her mom gave her a vacant stare, like her eyes weren’t focused on anything at all. “Fine,” she said at last, forcing a painful-looking smile.
Hazel came back from her trip just as they were sitting down to dinner. Sammy was heaping casserole on his plate. Lisa took only a little salad. Evie hadn’t shown up yet—no one had seen her all afternoon.
“Well?” Phyllis said, glaring at her sister.
Hazel shook her head, then fixed herself a tumbler full of milk and brandy, bypassing the tuna casserole completely. She went and said something to Phyllis in a low voice. Lisa, who was sitting beside her mother, caught only one word: Gone.
Did she mean Da? Had he died? And here they were eating stupid tuna casserole?
Hazel took a seat at the table and nursed her drink. Her hands shook each time she took a sip.
“Have you heard anything more about Da?” Sammy asked. “Are you going back to the hospital?”
Neither Phyllis nor Hazel responded. They were both staring off into space.
“It just seems like someone should be there,” Sam said. “You know, in case he wakes up or something.”
Or dies, Lisa thought, hating herself for it.
He’s not dead, he’s not dead, he’s not dead, she told herself, concentrating with all her might. She pictured him coming home from the hospital, giving her a big hug, saying, “Hiya, Beanpole.”
“I’m going back to the hospital later,” Phyllis said, pushing food around on her plate. Hazel kept working on her milky drink. No one spoke. There was only the sound of forks scraping plates.
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