Hush

“It’s probably because he’s lost his camp shorts,” Amy said.

“Shut up, Amy-you don’t know anything. Mom, I’m swimming in all four categories. There’s this kid who’s better than me in the freestyle but I think I’m gonna win the butterfly. And maybe the backstroke.”

“That’s awesome,” she said.

“Did you bring Smokey?” Will asked.

She nearly winced. “No, Will, Smokey had to stay at home.”

“But you said you’d bring him,” he said, furrowing his soft, luminescent brow.

“I did? When did I say that?”

“The day we got here. You said when you came for parents’ day, you would bring Smokey.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. It’s just so hot. He wouldn’t have liked being cooped up in the car. But you’ll be home in a few weeks-you’ll see him then.”

What would she tell them, she wondered, when they saw him still without most of his fur?

The morning was a blur of events-swimming races, soccer, archery, a lunch of soggy sandwiches and lukewarm lemonade-and she was grateful that little was demanded of parents beyond being herded from one spot to another. Her mind where it was, she couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to have to participate in some tug-of-war game or three-legged race. It was all she could do to make inane small talk with the other parents.

By the time the talent show started, she was feeling even more anxious. She was desperate to pick up Smokey and clear out of the house, and yet the thought of leaving the kids made her ache. As the show ended and the campers congregated with friends by the makeshift stage, her eyes searched until they found the camp director.

“Hi, I’m Lake Warren,” she said, approaching him. “I’m so sorry I had to wake you the other night.”

It took him a moment to connect the dots. “Oh, not a problem,” he said, remembering. “Did you figure it out in the end?”

“It must have been a wrong number,” she said. “But it did frighten me. I thought something had happened to Will.”

“You mustn’t worry. We take excellent care of the kids here-they’re never out of sight.”

“And at night?” she asked.

“At night? Everything’s locked up tight. We even have a night watchman. Why? Is there some reason-?”

“No-that call just made me a little edgy. Could you ask the counselors to keep a special close eye on my kids? I’d really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said graciously. But she could tell by the way he narrowed his eyes that he thought she was being paranoid-or else hiding something.

As she walked away from him, she bit her lip, thinking. The mystery call had come twenty-four hours before Keaton’s death. Therefore it wasn’t related to the murder and might not be related to anything at all. Still, if someone was after her-if Jack wasn’t the one responsible for Smokey-it meant her kids might be in jeopardy, too. Should she take them out of the camp, she wondered, and bring them back to the city? Her instinct was to have them close by, but as her mind grappled with all the possibilities, she realized that the city might actually be the worst place for them right now. At least up here they were off the radar of anyone who might be after her. Plus, she realized, no one but Jack knew exactly where they were. Friends, even people at the clinic, were aware they were in camp, but fortunately no one had ever bothered to ask the name of it.

At four the events wound down and it was time to go. Both kids acted uncharacteristically with their goodbyes. Will, who she had expected to be clingy, ran ahead with his friends, dragging his swimming medals through the dusty grass.

“Don’t I get a hug?” she called to him.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, Mom,” he said, darting back and flinging his arms around her. “Tell Smokey hi, okay?”

Amy, however, usually so independent and unflappable, reached for her hand as they walked toward the parking lot and held it tightly.

“What would you like in your next care package, honey?” Lake asked. “I want to send you a really good one.”

“I need a new book, Mom. And some Twizzlers. Enough for me and Lauren.”

“Got it…Oh, I nearly forgot. You got a letter from that Save the Tiger organization.”

She rooted through her purse for the envelope and as she looked up to hand it to her daughter she saw that Amy’s face was pinched, fighting back tears. Had she been troubled all day about something, and had Lake, overwhelmed by her own fears, not even noticed?

“What is it, honey?” Lake asked, squeezing Amy’s hand.

“It’s nothing, I guess.” Amy looked as if she were both anxious to unburden herself but reluctant to trouble Lake.

“No, tell me,” Lake coaxed. “Do you…do you feel sad about Dad not coming?”

“I guess. I wanted him to hear me sing that song in the show.”

“They were taping it, I think. He can get a DVD.”

“Okay,” Amy said sadly. Lake could see, though, that Jack’s no-show wasn’t the issue.

“There’s something else, Amy, isn’t there? Tell me, sweetie.”

“Mom,” Amy asked, almost in a whisper. “Is everything okay?”

“What do you mean?” Lake asked. Her body tightened in alarm.

“I don’t know. You seem different today. Like-I don’t know.”

That was so typical of her intuitive daughter, Lake thought-she had sensed the terror coursing right beneath her mother’s skin.

“I’m sorry if I gave you that impression, sweetie,” Lake said. “No, nothing’s the matter. I’m still getting used to doing things on my own again. But I’m fine. Really.”

“Okay,” Amy said haltingly. She sounded completely unconvinced.

“You know what I think?” Lake said, enveloping Amy in her arms. “I think parents’ days are both good and bad. Everybody gets together for a visit, which is really nice, but it makes us all a little homesick. I’m sad about leaving you, and I think you’re a little sad about saying goodbye to me. But as soon as you find Lauren and do something fun with her, you’ll feel good again.”

“But what about you tonight?” Amy implored.

“Oh, I’ve got plans with a friend,” Lake lied. “Now, listen, I want you to run back up the hill and wave to me from the top, okay.” Lake wanted to make certain Amy was up in the main part of the camp before she left.

They hugged each other tightly once more, and then Lake watched Amy scamper up the hill. At the top she turned and waved forlornly. Lake waved back, fighting a sob. It wasn’t until she pulled out of the parking lot that she allowed the tears to stream down her face. Why was all this happening to her? She should never have gone to Keaton’s that night, she cursed herself again. Never should have given in to her pathetic need to be desired.

She drove faster than she should have, often exceeding the speed limit on the twisting roads. When she finally reached the house, she saw two people-a man and a woman-sitting on one of the benches on the green, holding soda cans and chatting casually. Were they who they seemed to be? Lake eyed them surreptitiously as she hurried up the front steps of the house.

Inside, the house was deadly still. She walked warily through the ground-floor rooms, making sure nothing had been disturbed. When she reached the kitchen door, she stopped short for a second, listening. Then she pushed the swinging door slowly open. The room was just as she left it, except for the late afternoon sun spilling over the wooden floorboards. And Smokey was there, curled on the loveseat in the little den next to the kitchen. He raised his head and meowed plaintively as she entered.

Gently, Lake eased him back into his carrying case. As she was zipping up the case, the house phone rang, making her jump yet again. It’s got to be Molly, she thought. But when she answered, a male voice she didn’t recognize spoke her name as a question.

“This is she,” she answered, her heart picking up speed.

“Hi, Lake, it’s Harry Kline.”

“Oh, hi,” she said, taken aback. She had left her number with the clinic but of everybody there, the therapist was the last person she’d expect to hear from.