There was a wooden creak as someone moved through the house. A door opened and closed.
“I don’t under—”
“Cal, we’re going to take the plane and go to New York.”
My heart pounded once, sending a tremor through my chest, and then everything seemed to go perfectly still, like the world was balanced on the edge of a cliff.
“I can’t promise that Alec will agree, but Diane and I talked about it. We’re going to tell him that if he doesn’t take the three of you with us, then we’re not going to go either.”
“I don’t know what to—”
“It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to say anything. And we should probably be prepared for the possibility that Alec prizes Diane’s guitar playing and my sparkling wit a little less than we’d hope. In which case the five of us might be stuck here for a while. Anyway…”
Kate dipped in and kissed my cheek. Her face lingered alongside mine afterward. The scent of lavender clung to her as it did to me. I closed my eyes, breathing in the flowery scent. When I opened them she was gone. The house was shadowy and still, quiet except for the phantom strains of Diane’s guitar that replayed in my mind.
Something brushed against my calf and then Bear jumped up and planted his paws on my knee. He looked at me, his stump of a tail twitching frantically.
“You need to go out?”
Bear exploded out the porch door as soon as I opened it, disappearing into the trees. Even he seemed to be feeling better, his limping run a thing of the past. I went to the kitchen and filled one bowl with water and another with crumbled hamburger and leftover chunks of steak I found in the fridge. I carried the bowls outside and sat down at the end of the table. The sky was clear, so I found the North Star and used it to turn my chair due east.
I could feel Ithaca, sitting out there like a fire in the dark, tendrils of its warmth brushing my skin. I saw myself climbing onto a plane and rocketing toward it, a thrill in my chest so great it was almost an ache. I imagined finding Mom and Dad and even Grandma Betty out in the garden. Mom would have a glass of wine in her hand, listening as Dad played. Once dawn cracked the sky, we’d all drift toward the house and settle down to sleep. No one would ask about the last six years, no one would ask about James; we’d all slip into the future without a word.
Bear trotted out of the woods and threw himself into his food, snuffling and slurping as he ate. I looked across the table and saw that Diane had left her guitar behind. I popped the clasps of the case and pulled the guitar out and into my lap, leaning over its body.
“Want some dinner music?”
The Path didn’t allow music outside of Lighthouse, so it had been a long time since I had played. My fingers moved across the steel strings, stretching against the restraint of my cast to press into the frets. I played slow and mechanically at first, chord to chord, but then it started to come back to me. I meandered for a while until a song settled in.
My fingers tripped, sending the tune flat. I backed up and started again.
“Hey.”
Nat was standing in the open doorway behind me, barefoot in her filthy clothes. Bear left his empty bowl and ran to her, butting her shins with his forehead.
“She doesn’t have any hamburger, buddy.”
Nat lifted him up, setting his forepaws over her shoulder and cradling his bottom with one hand. Bear nuzzled into her neck as she dropped into the chair beside me. Bear adjusted, dropping off her shoulder and curling into her lap. He rooted around in her hand, opening it up and then licking it thoroughly.
Nat stared out at the shifting trees. She looked exhausted. Her face was drained of color and her eyes were deep and shadowed.
“Who are these people?” she asked.
“They’re from California, I think. Their parents sent them here when the war was heating up. Sounds like they even sent a squad of Feds to look after them.”
“Seriously? Fed soldiers?”
“That’s who found us on the mountain. I guess they’ve got their own barracks out there somewhere.”
Nat’s brow furrowed as she turned to look deep into the trees around us.
“You okay? Sorry, that’s a stupid thing to—”
“No,” she said. “It’s all right.” A tired smile rose on her lips. “When they brought us here, that Reese guy patted my back and said, ‘Just remember — everything happens for a reason.’”
“He’s lucky you weren’t armed.”
A puff of a laugh escaped Nat’s lips. It was welcome, but fleeting. She picked up a plastic lighter from the table and turned it in her fingers.
“I keep thinking about that parade,” she said. “You know? The one they used to have at Thanksgiving?”
“Macy’s,” I said. “My parents took us down to see it one year when we were little.”
“You remember how they had those helium-filled balloons? The big ones?” I nodded. “I feel like one of them. Big and empty and just… floating.”
Nat sparked the lighter once, illuminating her face in flames, then tossed it onto the table.
“Me and James had never been away from our parents before,” I said. “So those first few weeks after we were taken, it didn’t even feel real. We kept thinking we’d just wake up one day and everything would be back to normal. Someone would come for us or…” I looked over at her, ashamed. I was saying everything wrong. “I know it’s not the same—”
“No,” she said. “I know what you mean. Does it get better?”
I wanted so badly to tell her that it did, that all it took was time and patience and then everything was okay again, but I couldn’t lie to her.
“You think about it a little less,” I said. “But it’s always there. Eventually you go a day or two without thinking about it, but then you walk by a particular street or hear something familiar…”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re back where you started. And you hate yourself for ever feeling good, because it’s like you’re the one abandoning them.”
“So what do you do? How do you…”
“I wish I knew.”
Nat’s gaze drifted to the table. Bear thrust his nose into the palm of her hand and Nat leaned down until their foreheads touched. She breathed in deep, shaking. I reached out and gently touched her arm.
“I should go in,” she said. “Get something to eat, then go back to sleep.”
Nat lowered Bear to the ground and rose from her chair. She was halfway to the door when I stopped her.
“They have a plane,” I said. “In a couple days they’re taking it and they’re going to New York.”
Nat stood with her back to me, staring at our reflections in the glass door. Bear went to stand beside
