Getting Somewhere (29 page)

The passenger door on the car doesn't work, so all their stuff has to be pushed into the back from behind the driver's seat. The dome light doesn't work either, but the moon makes it bright enough to see. Sarah can't quite make out Jason's features, but she quickly concludes that he is nowhere near as good-looking as she thought he might be and far from as glad to see Lauren as she is to see him. When Lauren wraps her arms around him, he pats her back kind of distractedly a couple of times and then almost pushes her away in order to concentrate on making their escape.

With all of Lauren's stuff, there is hardly going to be room in the back for Sarah, but she is prepared to make do. She has hardly thought past this point, finds her legs are stiff and uncooperative as she moves toward getting into the car. She pauses with her hand on the roof, feeling some acknowledgment needs to be made to her surroundings before she literally slams the door on this short deviation from her real life.

She is just trying to decide what that should be when a triangle of light appears at the edge of her sight causing her head to turn involuntarily in that direction. She hadn't noticed the light on in the shed when she came out, doesn't begin to shake until the shadow in the doorway starts moving in their direction. Grace's figure moves lightly but determinedly across the expanse of yard, stops inches from Lauren, and leans over her, hands on hips. She never looks in Sarah's direction at all.

Before Grace can speak, Lauren says, “There's nothing you can do now,” in a tone that makes Sarah believe she can almost see the spit spew out of her mouth. “This stupid program is totally fucked, and we're not in your control anymore.”

As Lauren moves toward the car, Grace moves in front of her, almost bumps into Jason who is forced to step aside.

Grace's voice is low and menacing. “Well, I still have control over my property, and I don't want him on it,” she says, gesturing with a thumb in Jason's direction. “You can take your stuff back out of the car, or you can just have him take it with him. Either way, he is leaving right now.”

Lauren still tries to move around Grace to the car, but Jason has already squeezed in behind Grace, is folding the driver's seat over and pulling the bags and suitcases out of the back of the car. He pauses for a second when Lauren grabs his arm, hisses, “What are you doing? She can't stop us. Just get out of the way and let me in—” But the second Grace steps aside, he jumps into the seat, slams his door, and roars the engine into reverse. He never even looks at Lauren or says a single word to her, merely gives a feeble little wave out the open window and pulls with a charge of spinning, grinding gravel out into the road, the sound of his acceleration rattling the night air long into the distance.

Lauren, Sarah, and Grace are standing in front of the house like three forlorn figures who have missed the last bus. Grace turns to face the other two but says nothing. Finally, Sarah moves to retrieve her belongings and begins to shuffle toward the house, bent as if the weight has grown considerably since she carried them in the opposite direction. Lauren still seems unwilling to move from the recently vacated site of Jason's car, touches the handle of one of her suitcases but doesn't pick it up. Grace takes a step toward her, but Lauren holds her ground.

“What are you going to do?” Lauren asks. “Hit me? Or maybe you just want to go cry to your dear departed grandpa. Or tell on me to Ellie.”

“I don't need to do anything, Lauren. You're already doing it to yourself,” Grace says. Lauren doesn't reply, stands for a moment, and then turns abruptly away. Her luggage is a bit scattered from Jason's hasty retreat, and Lauren struggles a bit to get the various pieces strapped back together in the semi-dark. She glances once at Grace as if intending to argue more, but Grace's posture and expression prevent Lauren from any further action besides grasping the handles of her suitcases and heading sullenly toward the porch steps

Sarah hears Lauren's clumping footsteps behind her, and then they stop. She turns to see that Lauren has paused, emboldened a little by the space she has put between herself and Grace. She is facing Grace, but Sarah can still hear her harsh whisper, can see the stony expression on Grace's face when Lauren says, “Maybe it's a good thing that your mommy isn't here to see what you've become. But then, she obviously didn't care enough about you to stick around anyway, did she? I hope you know though, whether I'm here or not, you're going down. I've already made sure of that. It's just like you said yourself—all it takes is the accusation.”

C
ASSIE KNOWS SHE'S
not the only one trying to figure out what the complaint could be about. That would be enough to worry about by itself, but she also saw the look Ellie gave Jenna, is terrified what it might mean. She's sure that Jenna saw it, too, wonders what she thinks about it, if maybe she even knows. Cassie would never be bold enough to ask, and Jenna closed herself off even more than usual today. She worked far out in the garden even though she wouldn't have to on a Saturday, and left the supper table when the others had barely gotten started, heading out, probably to the river, by herself without saying a word to anybody. Cassie was completely convinced Jenna knew nothing about the complaint, seemed just as surprised and worried as the rest of them, but can't suppress the seed of doubt that has been swelling since yesterday's meeting. At first, it was like a tiny stone wedged into her shoe, so small and innocuous that she hardly noticed it, but after walking on it all day, the blister has made concentrating on anything else nearly impossible.

Cassie sits up in bed. She won't fall back to sleep now, gets up to look out the window, and sees that the moon, though still bright, has dropped behind the tree line, shimmering through with a hazy, almost ghostlike incandescence. Cassie is considering going downstairs, maybe even going outside, when she hears something, a mild crashing sound, more like tumbling. She walks to the door, opens it a crack, and peers into the hallway. Nothing. She moves quietly out her door and tiptoes to the top of the stairs and then backtracks down the hall to Jenna's room. She considers knocking on the door but decides to just go on in.

The hall is dark but when she opens Jenna's door, Cassie can easily make out the mound of Jenna in her bed, is just ready to tap her on the shoulder when Jenna rolls over, says, “What?”

Cassie whispers, “Wow, you're a light sleeper.”

Jenna sits up. “I guess I wasn't really asleep. Something else woke me up.”

“Me too. That's why I came in here. I thought I heard a noise downstairs. Do you want to go down with me?”

Jenna doesn't answer but she climbs out of bed. She is already wearing a T-shirt and boxer shorts so Cassie just follows her out and down the hall. They slowly move down the stairs, hugging the wall, stopping every few steps to listen. Still nothing. When they get to the bottom of the stairs, they can both see immediately that the hall closet is open, and something appears wedged in the opening, spilling out.

Cassie whispers, “Should we turn on the light?”

Jenna shakes her head, whispers back, “Let's check the other rooms first. Maybe it's just someone else awake.”

Before they take a single step toward the living room, Ellie opens her door and steps out into the foyer. She bends forward to see better, says, “Jenna? What are you doing down here?”

Her voice is deep and threatening, and Jenna takes a step backward just as Cassie steps forward. “And Cassie,” she says. “We heard a noise and came down to see what it was.”

Ellie just says, “Oh,” and then seems to come to herself. “Turn on the light.”

Jenna reaches behind her to flip the switch and, for an instant, the three of them are flooded with light and then plunged into darkness with a loud pop. Ellie mutters, “Shit,” and then turns to go back in her room, comes right back out. “C'mon in. I'll get a flashlight.”

Ellie's room seems way too bright when Cassie and Jenna step in, even though there is just a small lamp on beside the bed. Ellie is rummaging through a drawer in her bedside table, stands with a concerned frown on her face, clutching a flashlight in one hand.

“That's odd,” she says, not really to anyone, more to herself.

“What's odd?” Cassie asks.

Ellie looks at Cassie distractedly and then turns back and peers into the drawer.

“That drawer. All my cards and letters . . . I'm sure they were in here . . .” She appears momentarily confused and then seems to notice Cassie and Jenna again. She flips the flashlight on to see if the battery is good, and even though the light is weak with the lamp on, they can see that the bulb is illuminated. She glances back down at the drawer, bends to lift the corner of a few stray envelopes to look underneath, lets them flap back into place.

She closes the drawer and says with a lighter tone, “Okay, let's go investigate.”

Cassie can barely move. Ellie doesn't know about Lauren's theft. She imagines herself scurrying behind Ellie, touching her arm, telling her what she knows. But her mouth is just as paralyzed as the rest of her. Too much is happening at once and Cassie can't think straight. They'll just get this noise thing settled, and then she'll say something, if not tonight then tomorrow.

When Cassie emerges from the bedroom, Ellie is shining her flashlight toward the kitchen and the living room. The front door is shut and so is the office door. Ellie walks to the latter, tests the knob, finds it locked. Jenna tries the front door and it swings open. She pushes it shut again. Then Ellie notices the closet door, shines the flashlight ahead of her as she moves toward it, opens the door the rest of the way. At her feet lie several puzzle boxes, one tipped open with the pieces spilling on the floor.

Ellie moves the flashlight up and shines it into the closet, letting the beam of light rest on the empty space that Cassie knows held a tent and a suitcase not very long ago. Cassie lifts her eyes to the upper shelf where she remembers the matching suitcase was stored just as Ellie moves the flashlight beam in the same direction. The tent and both suitcases are gone. Did Lauren steal these things, too?

Before Cassie has a chance to consider the possibilities any further, Ellie is vaulting up the stairs two at a time, the flashlight beam bouncing crazily ahead of her. Cassie and Jenna stand motionless in the foyer, listening carefully as the floor creaks above them under Ellie's weight, hear her opening a door at one end of the hall and then another at the other end. They still haven't moved an inch when Ellie descends, moving more slowly now, and she says nothing as she walks right past them and heads out the front door. Cassie and Jenna follow her out.

From the porch steps, Ellie shines her flashlight across the yard and sweeps it over the pickup truck, even though they can see it without the light, parked in its usual place in front of the barn. Cassie and Jenna are right behind as Ellie moves down the porch steps and out into the yard, glancing in every direction, even beyond the beam of the flashlight, and then the three of them turn in concert to look back at the house. All the windows are dark and the house seems eerily still and silent, as if holding its breath in anticipation of the morning that is now only an hour away. Slowly, Ellie lifts the flashlight and moves it across the front of the house, past the porch rail, over the flower bed that is now in the deepest of shadows, colors gone gray and nearly black, until their eyes are focused on the place where Ellie's car, a ten-year-old silver Toyota Corolla, sits most days, unused. The spot is empty.

Ellie turns to peer through the darkness at Grace's little cabin. It is dark. Jenna and Cassie stand in the yard, their feet numb with the chill of dew while Ellie moves to the cabin, knocks on the door but doesn't wait for an answer, opens it, and goes in. The light goes on inside, and it seems like Ellie is gone for a long time. Then, the light goes off again and Ellie emerges, stands briefly in the doorway, staring at something in her hands.

Cassie watches as Ellie's head slowly drops to her chest and then lifts again, her eyes, even in the darkness, honing in to focus on Jenna.

And then Cassie understands. It wasn't Lauren who took the luggage and the tent. Grace must have been the one getting her own things out of the closet, failed to latch the door in her rush or distress, dislodged the jumbled contents enough that they lost their balance and fell sometime after she left. She has gone, and she has taken luggage and a tent with her, things she would need for a trip. But a trip to where? And why now?

Cassie's thoughts are humming like an overloaded circuit. The complaint. The complaint against the program must have something to do with Grace. And Jenna? Cassie has seen and noted Ellie's reaction and is, at first, tempted to look at Jenna as well, to see how all this is affecting her. But she discovers that she doesn't want to see her friend's face, isn't able to consider all the awful possibilities that Jenna's expression might evoke. She knows all that she can stand to know right now.