No Place to Hide (22 page)

Two days after Halloween she returned from day care with Lula to find a small package in the mailbox from her mother. It wasn’t a surprise, since Rob had told her it was coming, though she had no idea what was inside. A letter, she presumed, but it clearly contained something more—perhaps the photos of her grandma that she used to ask about.

She wouldn’t open it now; she wasn’t entirely sure when she would. The house on the lake seemed to have lost its importance, even its intrigue. Whatever its story might be, she knew it couldn’t be good or it wouldn’t be a secret, and, having so many of her own, she didn’t feel able to cope with any more.

After fixing Lula a drink and admiring the paintings she’d brought home with her, she decided to check her emails. Only one had arrived since she’d left to collect Lula. When she saw it she sat down hard and covered her face with her hands.

“What is it, Mommy?” Lula asked worriedly. “Did something go wrong?”

“No, no, nothing’s wrong,” Justine quickly assured her, trying to smile. “I just got a bit of a…a surprise, that’s all.”

“What kind of a surprise?”

Justine couldn’t connect with the question.

“Is it a nice surprise?”

Justine looked from her daughter’s face to the message on the screen. “I—I’m not sure,” she answered.

We need to talk. Call me.

There was nothing to say it was from Matt, but she knew it was, and because it was what she’d been waiting for ever since she’d arrived, she didn’t hesitate a moment longer, and reached for the phone.

—

There was no answer the first time she tried, but after she’d put Lula to bed she rang again and he picked up straightaway.

“I knew it would be you,” he said softly.

The sound of his voice after so long a silence, the familiar timbre that conjured the beloved image of his face, the depth that seemed to resonate all the way into her, made it impossible for her to speak.

“Are you OK? Are you still there?”

“This is crazy,” she told him brokenly.

“I know.”

“We need to be in touch.”

“We are now.”

“I need you to come, Matt.”

“You know I want to, but we made the decision we felt was right at the time.”

“I keep asking myself what we were hoping to gain.”

“A good, uncomplicated life for Lula.”

Of course, and it was still their most important concern, but to do it this way, never to meet, to carry on as though they didn’t exist for each other anymore…? “I can’t keep to it,” she confessed. “I have to speak to you, even if it’s only once in a while.”

“I need to speak to you too.”

Dizzied by relief, she could only wonder why she’d left it this long to call. Why had he? Why hadn’t they realized months ago that trying to shut each other out, to live as though they could embrace new lives while separated, was never going to work?

“How are you?” she asked, steeling herself for an answer she was afraid to hear.

“OK, I guess,” was all he said. “I’m more concerned about you. Rob told me that Lula and her friend went missing, how worried you are that someone will hear about it and realize who you are. Has it happened yet?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m not sure.”

“Is Lula all right?”

“She’s fine. She’s started calling me Mommy.”

There was a moment before he said, “I can’t decide how I feel about that.”

“No, nor can I, but it was bound to happen.”

“Actually, it’s a good thing,” he decided. “She’ll talk with an American accent soon, and as she grows up no one will ever know she was born British.”

Though the thought of that made Justine feel vaguely disoriented, she managed to say, “Just like no one in Britain used to realize I was born American.”

There was a smile in his voice as he said, “Even I used to forget until your mother served as a reminder.”

“I had a letter from her today.”

“Saying?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t opened it yet. Did Rob tell you I’ve found my grandmother’s house and that my mother owns it?”

“Yes, he did. So what’s that about?”

“I’ve no idea.” Realizing she didn’t want to talk about any of that now, or even think of it, she started to ask about him, but he was already speaking.

“Tell me more about Lula. What happened with the rabbits?”

For the next few minutes she made him chuckle and sensed his pain as she told him about the rescue mission, the compensation she’d offered Billy Jakes that he’d actually turned down, the excitement of the Fall Fest, and thrill of Halloween. As much as it was hurting him, she realized he needed to know that Lula was settling in and appeared, for now at least, unaffected by the past. They’d done their best to shield her from it; maybe it had worked.

“She’s called you a few times,” she confessed. “She left messages on the answerphone at the farmhouse. You haven’t disconnected the line.”

“I’m sorry, I thought I had. I’ll make sure it’s done. The place hasn’t sold yet.”

“No, I know. Will anyone want to buy it?”

“There’s always someone.”

Picturing their beautiful home sitting at the top of the vale, abandoned and boarded up with no one coming or going anymore, was almost as harsh as trying to picture where he was now.

“Does Lula ever talk about…the others?” he asked quietly.

He couldn’t say their children’s names, and she wasn’t sure she could either. “Now and again, less than she did.”

“Rob was here last week,” he told her. “Hayley’s supposed to be coming tomorrow.”

So Hayley was still in touch with him.

They’d always been close, so she should have expected it.

“Does she come often?” she asked, feeling the despair of not being able to be there for him the way Hayley could.

“Not really,” he replied. “Once a month, maybe.”

That seemed often to her, or certainly more often than he used to see his editor. She couldn’t allow herself to feel jealous; she had no right, nor the heart, to deny him the contact. “Are you writing anything?”

“Not really.”

She wasn’t surprised, but it saddened her deeply to think of how frustrated and powerless the disconnect from his sure means of distraction must be making him feel, on top of everything else.

Needing to change the subject, she said, “Tell me about…Tell me how the…”

“It’s OK,” he said, apparently understanding what she was asking. “Actually, it’ll never be that, but I’m doing my best.”

Not doubting that for a moment, she started to ask more, but he interrupted, saying, “I want to hear about Culver. Rob says it’s a good place, that you were right to go there.”

“It feels right,” she answered, “or as right as anywhere can without you.”

“Do you feel safe there?”

“I did, until the rabbit rescue; now I’m not sure. The trouble is, if I leave, where would I go? Maybe I should have taken your advice and moved to a city. It’s easier to be anonymous in a city.”

“But you felt your grandmother was calling.” There was no mockery in his tone, he’d never dismissed her conviction in any way; he’d simply been concerned about all the guns and Bibles, habits, ways of life they were so unused to. “Have you felt any sort of connection since you arrived?” he asked.

“I think so, sometimes…Not lately, though, probably because there’s been too much else on my mind. It usually happens when I’m at the lake.”

“Rob tells me it’s close by.”

“It’s just a short walk from the house. We can see it from the front porch.”

He waited for her to go on.

“There’s something magical about it,” she told him. “When the light falls a certain way it makes you want to paint it, or write poems about it…” She smiled. “Not that I can do either. Other times you feel an uncanny sense of everything it’s seen, especially the Potawatomi Indians who used to live on its shores. They were rounded up by the US Army in the nineteenth century and forced to leave. Yet another instance of the white man covering himself in glory.”

“Where did they go?”

“All over, apparently, but mainly Kansas. The route they were forced to march is known as the Trail of Death.”

As the words hung between them, invisible and powerful as the ghosts they’d never escape, she suddenly realized Lula was standing in the doorway holding Daisy. Knowing how hard this was going to be for Matt, but unable to ignore her daughter, she said, “Hello, sweetheart. What are you doing awake?”

“Who are you talking to?” Lula asked.

Justine tensed, not sure what to say.

“Tell her it’s a friend,” Matt said gently in her ear, “and give her an extra kiss good night from me.”

—

Over the next few days as Justine relived the call, everything that was said and not said, all that was meant and felt, she found herself more desperate than ever to see Matt, and yet, perversely, slightly easier about staying in Culver. Describing it to him, putting some of its detail and her feelings into his imagination, had made it seem as though they were sharing it, and though he clearly wasn’t here, he no longer seemed as far away.

There had still been no contact from the past as a result of the rabbit rescue, so she was daring to hope that the connection between Justine McQuillan and Tallulah Cantrell had not been made.

All she needed to do now was find the courage, the will, to start going out again. The trouble was, in spite of feeling better for speaking to Matt, her confidence remained in shreds. Sallie Jo still wasn’t making any signs of wanting to continue their friendship, and the rejection, the loneliness she felt each time she avoided Café Max was a cruel reminder of how much she missed Cheryl.

Cheryl, whom she hadn’t spoken to in over a year, and would probably never see or speak to again.

It would get easier, she tried telling herself. She had no idea how or when, but it would, because surely it had to.

It was the middle of the day on a Thursday, just after she’d returned from walking Daisy, that she heard a car pull in from the lane. Her heart thudded when she saw it was Sallie Jo. Part of her wanted to rush out and greet her warmly in relief; the other part hung back cautiously, suspiciously, especially when she realized David had come too. A crazy fear suddenly sprang into life. They were here to ask her to leave. They believed she was in witness protection and could bring them into danger, so for everyone’s sake it would be best if she left.

Or worse, they’d found out the truth about her and were giving her the chance to go without making a fuss.

She felt suddenly desperate for somewhere to run, or someone to turn to. She needed to speak to Matt, or Rob, but Sallie Jo and David were already coming up the steps to the porch. Randomly, foolishly, she grabbed the unopened package from her mother, as though it were some sort of protection. Later she would wonder if a hand had been held out to her, but in the moment she had no clear idea what she was thinking at all.

“Hi,” she said, trying to sound bright as she opened the door. “This is…” She was going to say a nice surprise, but what she finally managed was, “Unexpected.”

“Can we come in?” Sallie Jo asked, not smiling, but not seeming hostile either.

“Of course,” and standing aside she waved them to the table. “Shall I make some coffee?” she offered.

Sallie Jo turned to face her as David said, “We’ve just had some, thanks.” He didn’t seem hostile either, but they obviously wouldn’t want to cause a scene.

His eyes moved to Sallie Jo.

Justine’s followed.

Sallie’s Jo’s expression was stern, but the natural kindness in her heart was glowing through the darkness.

“Was everything all right with the uploads this morning?” Justine asked, clutching at the banality as a way of staving off the inevitable. “I had some…”

“Everything was fine,” Sallie Jo assured her. She took a breath. “Justine, we’re here because we’re worried about you.”

Justine feigned amazement. “Why—why on earth would you be worried about me?” she stammered.

“Because you’re a nervous wreck. Everyone’s noticed it. You hardly engage with anyone these days, you stay shut up in here, you don’t come into the café anymore, you never call…”

“I’m sorry. I—I thought you weren’t calling…”

“Hazel says when she’s here that you act strange, like you don’t seem to see her.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to.”

Sallie Jo’s eyes didn’t leave hers for a moment. “I don’t know what you’re hiding, or running from,” she said bluntly, “and it’s probably not my business to know, but watching what it’s doing to you…”

“I’m fine, really,” Justine insisted.

“No, you’re not fine, and we want to help, if we can.”

Justine clutched the package more tightly to her chest. She couldn’t handle kindness; it was going to undo her.

David said, “Fall collection starts tomorrow. Maybe your landlord forgot to inform the gardener that he needs to have everything ready for the pickup. If you’ve got a rake I’ll go make a start.”

Realizing Sallie Jo must have given him a cue to leave, Justine replied, “There’s one in the garage.”

As the door closed behind him, Sallie Jo sat down and folded her hands on the table. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” she said gently, “but if you do, I want you to know that it will never go any further than this room.”

There was no reason not to believe her, because Justine knew she was discreet. However, Sallie Jo also had no idea what kind of secret she was committing herself to keep.

Justine pulled out a chair and sat down too. For a while she stared at the package in her hands. Properly registering it, she said, “It’s from my mother. I think it contains some of the answers we’re looking for surrounding my grandmother’s house.”

“You haven’t opened it?”

Justine shook her head.

Sallie Jo said nothing.

Soon they could hear the scrape of the rake outside.
Do not mix branches in the leaves; do not include pumpkins or rocks
. She remembered reading the instructions in last week’s
Citizen
.

“Justine, I really think you should talk to someone,” Sallie Jo urged. “It doesn’t have to be me, but whatever you’re bottling up inside, whatever’s scaring you, you need to let it out. If you don’t, it’s going to drive you crazy.”