Amy nodded slightly and turned away. “Maybe you’re right…but I’m not so sure if I’ll get over this as quickly as you, especially that part about him wanting to be like Lauren.”
“Yeah, I never expected to hear him say that, but I’m not really that surprised either,” Peter said. “For the most part, he’s right about her, and for all we know, she’s become some kind of hero to the younger generation around here. Consider what she’s done. Is it so bad that Jake looks up to her?”
Amy sighed again, reaching for the liquor bottle. She turned it around on the counter, appearing nervous. “I guess not. It just doesn’t sit well with me, knowing that my son wants to do what she’s doing. I could think of about a hundred other role models for him.”
“True that,” Peter agreed. “But are any of them appropriate for the times we’re living in?”
Amy rolled her lips between her teeth, her brow furrowing. “No,” she said. “I suppose not.”
A panicked female voice squawked from across the room, startling Peter. “What the hell was that?”
Amy pointed over his shoulder, reaching for the bottle to get a refill. “Um, the radio behind you, moron.”
“What radio?”
“The one Fred gave us a long time ago. It’s been sitting on the windowsill ever since, wired to that little solar panel you put on the roof.”
“Oh shit, that’s right,” Peter said. “That thing’s been so quiet I almost forgot we had it.”
Glass refilled, Amy gestured to the window, and the couple closed in on the chattering radio.
“That sounds a lot like Sarah,” Peter said, examining the device with a curious eye.
Amy looked crossly at him. “Shh! That’s because it is Sarah—listen!”
“I’m sorry to bother everyone, but Bryan and I need some help…we can’t find Emily anywhere. We’ve looked all over, and it’s been hours since we’ve seen her. We really could use some help looking for her. Has anyone seen her? Please, please, if you have, let us know! We’re really worried.”
Peter backed away and shared a look of concern with his wife. “Emily missing? And those two watch her like a hawk; that can’t be good.”
“It isn’t,” Amy said, finishing her drink and setting the glass down. “We should help them out. Warm up the truck. I’ll get Liam up and get the boys ready.”
“What about the bottle?” Peter asked, dismay in his eyes. “And our date?”
“Shelved for now,” Amy said, touching his chin. “We’ll pick up right where we left off when we get back.”
Chapter 15
A balmier-than-usual warm front had moved in and overtaken the valley, doing away with roughly every trace of frosty wrath that winter had dispensed. Spring was right around the corner, and above average regional temperatures thawed ice and melted snow, converting subdued solids and semisolids into crisp, animated liquid. Waters coursed from mountain tributaries into the valley; wet-weather becks and storm drains became streams; flowing creeks transformed into rivers. Trout Run had become a boisterous, raging torrent and was today nearing its twenty-year-flood stage.
Lauren Russell stood atop the wooden bridge spanning its banks behind her home, watching as the murky foam raged mere inches beneath her feet, carrying with it a profusion of debris downstream. She knelt and laced her running shoes, took a seat, and reached for her toes, marveling at Trout Run’s display of power. Extreme forces of nature had always piqued her interest. They were deserving of both fear and respect, for very few things in the known universe possessed the power to overcome that which nature chose to heave. The only tool capable of coming close to pacifying nature of which Lauren understood was time. And time was one of nature’s own innumerable offspring.
Fully stretched, she sloughed through countless muddy portions of driveway, accelerating into a warm-up sprint, and soon galloped her way onto Trout Run Road. She set her sights north and settled into her run, soon locating a familiar stride, one that would carry her from this end of the valley to the other, back, and anywhere else she chose to go afterward. Some days, she ran no more than a mile, and others, she exceeded three. Last Wednesday, when the air was still wintry, Lauren had gone ten miles without realizing until she’d done the math.
In the weeks since her father’s return home, Lauren’s routine had fluctuated. She’d initially spent much of her time catching up with him, informing him of all that had happened while he’d been away, and helping him recall a number of events he’d misremembered. She’d wanted to spend all the time in the world with him, but Lauren knew it wasn’t fair to monopolize him like that, as she wasn’t the only person who had missed him and who needed him.
Her sister Grace loved her father immensely and had missed him a great deal but had gotten over her sentimentalities in a matter of days, similarly to how she got over most things. It was just one of Grace’s many quirks. It was Michelle who necessitated time with her husband to rekindle a marriage and reacquaint herself with a love affair she had all but given up on.
So, on the days her mother and father spent together, Lauren had been obliged to locate other chores to pursue. And with the valley’s security not being one of them, she’d gone about educating herself, picking up where she had left off as best she could from high school, since the collapse had prevented her from finishing. When she wasn’t reading, writing, or tuning her mathematics skills, she focused on physical education. Exercise had always kept her mood out of the clouds. It did a reasonable job of keeping her mind occupied, but try as she might, she could not prevent herself from thinking of John.
Lauren often found herself considering the manner in which she had hurt him, how he had returned the favor, and dwelled on the
