Misplaced (70 page)

Th
e
uncertaint
y
o
f
wome
n
mad
e
Miele
y
avoi
d
them
,
and
wha
t
littl
e
h
e
kne
w
o
f
the
m
h
e
foun
d
perplexing
.
An
d
y
et
somethin
g
abou
t
V
ictoria
, a
woma
n
h
e
ha
d
e
v
er
y
reaso
n
to
despise,
w
armed him. Of course there would be obstacles, but some of the best relationships began that
w
ay. Elias would not like the idea of his partner becoming part of the family, but he would e
v
entually accept the situation. In time, he might e
v
en come to be grateful for the strange coincidence that had united them.

“She
hates
you,”
Mieley
said
aloud,
stopping
at
the
light
on the access road.
“
A
t least she thinks she does.”

He remembered trying to kiss Marina Humbolt behind the gymnasium
on
a
March
day
when
the
cold
had
finally
broken.
Th
e
emergin
g
blade
s
o
f
gras
s
an
d
ne
w
l
y
bor
n
cal
v
e
s
had
made him optimistic. He pushed his tongue inside her mouth, feeling the inside of her lips while his hands mo
v
ed inside her under
w
ear—but not in the place she had expected. She pulled a
w
ay
with
an
expression
that
still
wounded
him
and
ran
across the field
shrieking, “
Y
ou per
v
ert!”

Th
e
nex
t
morning
,
h
e
hear
d
th
e
whisper
s
an
d
giggles
, understood the a
v
erted e
y
es. But hadn’t he done what any boy his age would?

It
fell
to
the
local
priest
to
ans
w
er
his
questions.
As
they
put
a
w
a
y
th
e
implement
s
o
f
th
e
Mass
,
the
y
discusse
d
hi
s
duties
to the church. When the moment arri
v
ed, Mieley gathered his courage
and
asked
the
father
if
he
could
explain
a
thing
or
two. They talked openly about his inclinations until, mid-sentence, he noticed the priest looking at him strangely.

“
P
ai
n
i
s
no
t
suppose
d
t
o
b
e
par
t
o
f
physica
l
lo
v
e,
”
he
intoned, looking a
w
ay. “But it intensifies
e
v
erything! It makes you ali
v
e!”

“It’s
a
per
v
ersion,
Arlan.
Y
ou
must
put
it
out
of
your
mind. If you don’t, you
’
ll grow up to be some kind of—”

“What?”
Mieley
had
been
too
innocent
to
know
better
than
to ask.

“
A freak, a monstrosity.”
W
atching
contempt
unfold
across
the
face
of
the
man
he
’
d
confessed
so
much
more
than
his
sins
to,
Arlan
tried
to
recall
i
f
th
e
grac
e
o
f
Go
d
ha
d
e
v
e
r
bee
n
wit
h
him
.
Lookin
g
around
the
room
for
the
last
time,
Mieley
scoffed,
“There
are
far
worse
per
v
ersions. Chastity, for example.”

A
t
sixteen,
he
w
as
pleased
with
his
cle
v
er
insult
and
felt
he
had
held
his
own
until
the
priest
pushed
his
shoulders
down,
forcing him to his knees.

“Look
at
you,
your
mind
teeming
with
filth. What
do
you
know
about
sacrifice?
Pray
for
forgi
v
eness,
Mieley,
otherwise
there’
s
a
specia
l
plac
e
i
n
hel
l
fo
r
arrogan
t
littl
e
bastard
s
like
you.”

Arla
n
lef
t
hi
s
las
t
confessio
n
wit
h
unans
w
ere
d
questions.
Sinc
e
then
,
th
e
onl
y
wome
n
he
’
d
e
v
e
r
bee
n
wit
h
ha
d
w
aited
expectantl
y
fo
r
hi
m
t
o
pul
l
hi
s
w
alle
t
ou
t
afte
r
the
y
ha
d
finished.

Wha
t
w
a
s
i
t
abou
t
V
ictoria
?
H
e
w
a
s
no
t
certain
,
except
h
e
though
t
tha
t
she
,
unlik
e
tha
t
co
w
Marina
,
woul
d
no
t
ha
v
e
pushed him a
w
ay.

Chapte
r
Thirty
Vic
t
oria

Sh
e
droppe
d
Lila’
s
clothin
g
i
n
a
pil
e
o
n
a
fade
d
re
d
wing
chair,
one
of
a
pair
which
sat
in
front
of
the
fireplace.
The
cabin
smelle
d
faintl
y
o
f
tobacc
o
an
d
th
e
earth
y
scen
t
o
f
decayin
g
wood
.
Th
e
upstairs
,
whic
h
Celest
e
ha
d
sai
d
w
a
s
th
e
cats’
domain,
w
as silent.

V
ictoria
treated
herself
to
a
leisurely
exploration
of
the
log
cabin
.
Th
e
mos
t
moder
n
piec
e
o
f
furnitur
e
i
n
th
e
mai
n
room
w
a
s
a
n
ol
d
stere
o
consol
e
o
n
th
e
fa
r
w
all
.
Sh
e
ra
n
he
r
hands
o
v
er
the
smooth
pecan
wood and
lifted
the
hinged
top, turning the
knob,
until
the
panel
lit
up. An
honest-to-goodness vin
y
l record
w
aited on the turntable. It
w
as dusty, but
not
badly
scratched.
She
blew
hard
on
it,
and
then
gently replaced it.

Curiosity
attracted
her
to
the
photos
hung
in
groups
along
the
short
hall
w
ay
leading
from
the
main
room
to
the
bedroom.
Mor
e
tha
n
a
fe
w
w
er
e
o
f
Celest
e
an
d
he
r
handsom
e
Carl.
W
ith
him,
she
stood
straight,
al
w
ays
smiling
and
radiant,
and
usuall
y
holdin
g
a
bouque
t
o
f
f
lo
w
ers
.
He
r
gaz
e
w
en
t
t
o
th
e
next
cluster
of
photos.
Each
w
as
captioned
with
an
expedition
date
and
a
detailed
description
of
the
exotic
locations
that
Herman
McCollis,
the
farm’s
original
owner,
had
visited.
A
great
bear
o
f
a
man
,
V
ictori
a
sense
d
a
certai
n
lonelines
s
abou
t
him
,
though
th
e
black-and-whit
e
Polaroid
s
sho
w
e
d
hi
m
surrounde
d
by
Chines
e
railroa
d
workers
,
Africa
n
huntin
g
guides
,
o
r
other
hired
labor.
She
searched
for
a
photo
of
him
with
a
woman
or
children,
but
found
none.
What
story
will
the
pictures
of
my
life
tell?
she wondered.

V
ictori
a
sighe
d
gloomil
y
an
d
mo
v
e
d
o
n
t
o
stud
y
th
e
framed
cross-stitc
h
sampler
s
sca
t
tere
d
o
n
th
e
opposit
e
hall
w
a
y
w
all
.
Som
e
w
er
e
v
er
y
elaborate
,
th
e
fabri
c
browne
d
an
d
color
s
softene
d
wit
h
age
.
One
,
mor
e
intricatel
y
embroidere
d
and
obviousl
y
ne
w
e
r
tha
n
th
e
others
,
turne
d
ou
t
t
o
b
e
a
w
edding
sampler
.
A
hear
t
bedecke
d
wit
h
f
lo
w
er
s
an
d
bird
s
celebrated
October 27, 1966, as the day of Celeste’s marriage.

Sh
e
w
en
t
t
o
th
e
foo
t
o
f
th
e
dar
k
woode
n
staircase
,
s
o
narrow
tha
t
sh
e
couldn’
t
imagin
e
McColli
s
coul
d
ha
v
e
use
d
it
.
After
eight
steps,
the
staircase
turned
tightly
and
abruptly,
and
then
continued.

Ligh
t
greete
d
he
r
a
t
th
e
top
,
spillin
g
throug
h
smal
l
windows
o
n
al
l
sides
.
Sh
e
face
d
th
e
bathroom
,
whic
h
ha
d
moder
n
fixtures
carefully
chosen
so
as
not
to
clash
with
the
wooden
floors
and
old-fashioned oil lamps. To her left
w
as a small loft with a roll—
top
desk
and
chair.
To
take
full
ad
v
antage
of
the
light,
a
rocker
had
been
placed
near
the
desk,
and
it
w
as
flanked
by
a
small
table
littered with
books.
The
railing
at
the
far
end
o
v
erlooked
th
e
si
t
tin
g
room
.
I
n
additio
n
t
o
th
e
on
e
downstair
s
another
bedroom
lay
to
the
right
inside
which,
bet
w
een
the
pillows
at
the top of the bed, lounged a cat with green e
y
es.

“
Y
ou
must
be
Heather
of
Scotland,”
V
ictoria
said,
brushing
her
hand
across
fur
as
soft
as
cotton
candy.
“Celeste
told
me
I
’
d
find
you
here.”
The
cat
got
up
from
where
she
w
as
nestled
and
thrust
her
pink
nose
into
V
ictoria’s
hand.
Heather
w
as
soft
and
round,
her
meow,
charming
and
utterly
feminine.
As
V
ictoria
s
at
o
n
the
bed
s
tr
o
king
her,
s
he
sc
anned
the
r
oom
.
Wh
o
e
l
se
li
v
es
up
here?
she
wondered.
There
w
ere
supposed
to
be
four
or
fi
v
e
cats
living
in
or
near
the
cabin.
P
eering
under
the
bed,
V
ictoria
found a sleek Siamese, which bolted down the stairs in terror.
“The charms of
V
ictoria Barrón strike again,” she remarked
as Heather climbed into her lap.