The Face of Death

'Hi yourself,' I reply, smiling back.

Sarah has a good smile. It's not pure like it should be--she's been through too much--but it gives me hope. It shows that she's still herself inside. I pull up a chair next to her bed and sit down.

'So what do you think about Kirby?' I ask.

'She's . . . different.'

I grin at this. It's a concise and perfect description.

'Do you like her?'

'Sure, I guess. I like that she's not afraid of anything, and that she chooses to do this kind of thing. You know--dangerous stuff. She told me not to feel guilty if she gets killed.'

This is enough to get rid of my grin.

'Yeah. Well, she'll protect you, Sarah. And she'll protect the people who live in the home you're going to tomorrow too.'

She frowns. 'No foster home. I need to go to the group home. He doesn't kill people there.'

That's true, I think. 'Do you know why that is, Sarah?'

'Maybe. I think it's because I don't care about anyone at the group home. And I think it's because he knows just living there is bad. I mean, it is--the group home sucks. Girls have been beaten and molested and . . .' She waves a hand. 'You get the idea. I think it's enough for him that he knows I'm there because of him.'

'I see.'

I sit back for a moment, considering. I'm trying to choose my words, which is hard, because I'm really only realizing how I feel about this right now, myself. I love Elaina. And there is Bonnie, who stays at Alan and Elaina's while I am at work. A not-small, very selfish part of me wants to say: Yes! I agree! You need to go to a group home. People die around you!

But then I feel a great stubbornness rise up in me at that. The same stubbornness that kept me from moving out of the home I'd been raped in, that my family had died in.

'You can't give in to fear,' I say to her. 'And you're going to have to accept help from others. This is different than all the other times, Sarah. We know what he is. We believe he exists. And we're taking steps to protect ourselves and you from him. The man and woman you're going to live with know what we're dealing with, and have chosen to take you in anyway. And you're going to have Kirby to watch over you, don't forget that.'

Her eyes are downcast. She's struggling with this.

'I don't know.'

'You don't have to know, Sarah,' I say, my voice soft. 'You're a child. You came to me and asked for my help. Now you're getting it.'

She sighs, a long, ragged sigh. Her eyes come back up to meet mine and they look grateful.

'Okay. Are you sure they'll be safe?'

I shake my head. 'No. I'm not sure. There's no way to be one hundred percent certain. I thought my family was safe, but they died anyway. The point isn't to have a guarantee. It's to do everything you can, and not let fear run your life.' I point toward the door. 'I have a pretty lethal bodyguard out there, and she's going to go everywhere you do. And I have a team of the best--the absolute best--hunting for The Stranger. That's all I can offer you.'

'So you know, then? For sure, that he's real?'

'Yes. One hundred percent.'

The relief runs through her in a full-body shudder, startling me. It resembles the body language of disbelief. I realize there might be some of that mixed in there.

She puts a hand against her forehead. 'Wow.' She touches her cheeks with the palms of both hands, like someone trying to hold themselves together. 'Wow. Sorry. It's hard to come to terms with after all this time.'

'I understand.'

She turns to me. 'Did you go inside my house?'

'Yes.'

'Did you--' Her face crumples. 'Did you see what he did?'

She starts to cry. I go over and take her in my arms.

'Did you see what he did?'

'I saw,' I say, and stroke her hair.

42

ELAINA HAD COOKED DINNER, AND BONNIE AND I STAYED TO EAT. Elaina worked her usual magic, turning the dining room into a place of merriment. Alan and I had been somber upon arrival; by the time dessert arrived, we'd laughed more than once and I felt loosened up and happy.

Alan had opted for a final try at chess with Bonnie. I was pretty sure it was going to be a fruitless endeavor. Elaina and I left them to it and worked together in the kitchen, a slow and amiable rinsing of dishes and filling of the dishwasher.

Elaina poured us both a glass of red wine and we sat at the island in the kitchen together and didn't say anything for a little bit. I heard Alan grumble, and imagined Bonnie smiling in reply.

'Let's talk about Bonnie's schooling,' Elaina says, out of the blue.

'I have a suggestion.'

'Uh, sure. Go ahead.'

She swirls the wine around in her glass. 'I've been thinking about this for a while. Bonnie has to go back to school, Smoky.'

'I know.' I sound, and feel, a little defensive.

'I'm not criticizing. I'm aware of all the circumstances. Bonnie needed time to arrive, to grieve, to normalize a little. You too. I think that time has come and gone, though, and my concern now is that your fear is the real barrier.'

My first instinct is to get angry and deny, deny, deny. But Elaina's right. It's been six months. I've been a mother before, I know the drill, and yet, in that time, I haven't gotten immunization records for Bonnie, or found her a dentist, or sent her to school. When I step back from the day-to-day and view it as a whole, I'm dismayed. I've spun a cocoon for Bonnie and me. It's spacious, it is lit by love, but it has a fatal flaw: Its architecture was inspired by fear. I put a hand to my forehead.

'God. How could I have let this go on so long?'

Elaina shakes her head. 'No, no, no. No blame, no shame. We review our faults, we accept the fact of them, we change for the better. That's called responsibility, and it's a lot more valuable than beating yourself up. Responsibility is active, it improves things. Blame just makes you feel bad.'

I stare at my friend, dumbfounded as always by her ability to put words to the simple and the true.

'All right,' I manage. 'But I have to say, Elaina, I am afraid. God, the thought of her out there in the world . . .'

She interrupts me. 'I'm thinking homeschooling. And I'm thinking that's something I'd really enjoy doing.'

I stare at her, dumbfounded again. Homeschooling had occurred to me, of course, but I had dismissed it as I had no way to implement it. But Elaina-as-teacher . . . I realize it's a perfect solution. It deals with, well, everything. Bonnie the inquisitive and Bonnie the mute, equally. Don't forget Smoky the fearful and Smoky the neglectful.

'Really? You'd want to do that?'

She smiles. 'No, I'd love to do that. I researched it on the Web, and it's not that hard.' She shrugs. 'I love her like I love you, Smoky. You're both family. Alan and I aren't going to have children of our own, and that's okay. It just means I have to find other ways to have children in my life. This is one of those ways.'

'And Sarah?' I ask.

She nods. 'And Sarah. This is one of the things I'm good at, Smoky. Dealing with children, with people, who have been hurt. So I want to do that. The same way you want to chase after killers, and probably for the same reasons: because you need to. Because you're good at it.'

I ponder the echo she gives to my earlier thoughts, and smile at her.