South Of Hell

Louis couldn’t think of an answer for that one.

Luckily, Lily didn’t demand an answer. Her eyes had wandered away from him, off in the direction of where the cruiser had been parked, as if she wanted to end the lunch right now and head back to Channing.

He wondered if he’d been too honest, maybe too sharp in his reply, or worse, if he had disappointed her somehow. He was reminding himself that she was only eight and trying to think of a way to soften what he said, when she looked back at him.

“I didn’t know what I was going to say to you, either,” she said, “but here we are talking.”

Jesus.

“Would you find him for me?” she asked.

Louis sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know, Lily. That’s not as easy for me to do as you might think. I might be a grown-up, but there’s still a little hurt there.”

“I understand.”

Louis gathered up the wrappers and rose to throw them away. When he got back to the table, she was standing and trying to work the puffs from the knees of her red tights. Beyond her, Louis could see Kyla walking toward them. She was all in black, with a red shawl thrown over her shoulder. His heart quickened. He had not expected her to come anywhere near him, and he didn’t want words shared in front of Lily.

Lily saw her coming and looked quickly to Louis. “Will you come back to Michigan for my birthday?” she asked.

“For your birthday?” he asked.

“I forgot,” she said. “You don’t know when that is, do you?”

“No.”

“It’s September 2,” she said. “If Momma says it’s okay, will you take me to Mackinac Island?”

“You’ve never been?”

“Momma says it’s ticky-tacky, but I saw a movie about it in school and want to go. Will you take me?”

“Sure. If it’s okay with your mother.”

Kyla stopped next to Lily. Her hand closed over Lily’s, but her gaze was pinned on Louis — not with anger, just coolness.

“I don’t know what to say to you except thank you,” Louis said. “She’s beautiful, and it’s obvious you’ve been a great mother.”

Kyla ignored the comment. “When are you leaving?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Louis said. “Maybe a week or so.”

“We need to talk before you do,” Kyla said.

“I know.”

Kyla turned and led Lily away. Just before they reached the parking lot, Lily broke her mother’s hold on her hand and said something to her. Kyla nodded. Lily ran back to him, out of breath by the time she reached him. He knelt down to meet her eyes.

“I just wanted to tell you,” she said, “I’ll help you find him and talk to him if you’re scared to do it alone.”

Louis stared at her.

“’Bye,” she said as she ran off again.

He rose slowly and watched her until she was inside the car and Kyla had buckled her into the passenger seat. When the car left the parking lot, he turned and wandered the market until he found a cafe.

He needed to wait for Joe. He took a seat near the window, ordered a beer, and thought about Jordan Kincaid and the courage of eight-year-old girls.

Chapter Twenty-nine

They got to Dr. Sher’s home early, and there was a note pinned to the front door from the doctor saying she would be a little late. So now, Louis, Joe, and Amy were waiting on her front porch.

Amy was sitting in a wicker chair, engrossed in a book. From his place sitting on the steps, Louis could see the cover. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Yesterday, it had been Gone with the Wind. Tomorrow, it would likely be Little Women. She read the same three books over and over, rotating them in no particular order. Joe had offered to buy her something new, but Amy had politely declined, saying the people in the books were her friends, and she didn’t want to lose them.

Francie, Ben Blake, Mammy, Aunt Sissy, Marmee, Big Sam, Cornelius… she could name them all.

Louis looked across the porch to where Joe sat, a hip propped on the porch railing. She was watching Amy, her expression one Louis could never remember seeing before, tenderness mixed with a sort of quiet terror. Was that the maternal instinct? An aching urge to protect even when you knew how impossible the job was?

Joe rose from the railing suddenly and went down to the yard, looking down the street for Dr. Sher’s Volkswagen. Louis knew why Joe was so edgy. Dr. Sher was going to hypnotize Amy again. But this time, it was with the intent to retrieve Amy’s memories of the black woman’s death. Joe had been against it, but Dr. Sher had convinced her that the old memory, even if it was a fabrication, was so powerful that it was blocking everything else. And until Amy came to terms with this imaginary past life, they would never access her memory of her mother’s death.

He still didn’t buy it, this regression stuff, not for a second. But if making Amy believe she could go back a hundred years could somehow lead them to how Jean Brandt died, then he’d play along with this idea of a past life.

He reached into his jeans for his wallet. The snapshot of Lily was tucked behind his driver’s license. He pulled it out and ran his finger over the surface.

“Who is that?”

Louis turned and looked up. He hadn’t heard Amy come up behind him. She sat down next to him on the step, cradling her book to her chest.

“That’s your daughter, isn’t it?” Amy said before he could answer.

Louis nodded, surprised. He hadn’t said anything to Amy about Lily. He was sure Joe hadn’t, either.

Amy glanced at Joe, then back at the snapshot. “Miss Joe isn’t her mother, is she?”

“No,” Louis said.

“But you and Miss Joe-”

“She’s here,” Joe said, coming up onto the porch.

Louis slipped the snapshot back into his wallet, glad that Joe had not heard Amy. He went down to the sidewalk as Dr. Sher got out of her car.

“I’m so sorry,” Dr. Sher said. “I had a meeting at the university and had no way to reach you.”

“We found your note,” Joe said.

“Good,” Dr. Sher said, smoothing her hair. “Come in, please.”

She led them into the living room, dropping her coat onto a chair, and turned to face them, giving Amy a smile.

“How are you feeling today, dear?”

“I’m okay, Dr. Sher,” Amy said softly.

Dr. Sher looked up at Joe.

“She didn’t sleep well last night,” Joe said. “She had another asthma attack.”

“The inhaler I prescribed isn’t helping?” Dr. Sher asked.

Joe shook her head.

“Are you sure you feel up to this today?” Dr. Sher asked Amy.

Amy nodded. “I want to do it. It’s the only way I can help my mother.”

Dr. Sher put her arm around Amy’s shoulders. “Then let’s get started.”

The drapes in the living room were closed against the bright sun. The room was quiet except for the ticking of an old alabaster clock on the mantel. Louis had removed his jacket twenty minutes ago in an effort to get