Ellis wondered if she’d stop thinking about her children in ten years, if they would be as absent from her world as her grandmother had been for Samuel. It was probably different if the person you were separated from was still alive. Maybe that made it harder to let go.
But for all Ellis knew, Viola was already gone from the earth.
No, Ellis had to believe her daughter was alive. To keep the darkness from overcoming her. The baby was presumed to have been stolen by a woman—and naive or not, Ellis doubted a woman who wanted a baby would have motive to kill her.
A woman was the only lead the detectives had. A couple who’d been hiking saw a woman walking off-trail, and when she’d seen them looking at her, she’d quickly disappeared down a forested ravine. They had no description except that the woman was middle aged and had a blonde ponytail. The couple also said there was a blue sedan in the lot when they arrived, a car that wasn’t there when Ellis went back for Viola. Unfortunately, she had been too distracted to notice if the blue car was in the lot when she’d initially come out of the forest with the children.
Ellis took one of the candies out of the bag. She sucked on its buttery sweetness, remembering the day her grandfather had gotten her at the police station after her mother died. She hadn’t known anything about him; he’d parted ways with his rebellious daughter long before. Even in his seventies, he was robust, tall and unbent, a former construction worker, and all the more intimidating because he rarely talked. His first real communication with Ellis was handing her a butterscotch candy from his pocket as they left the police station.
During the five years Ellis lived with him, his candy offerings continued, a common communication between them. At first, Sam, as he asked her to call him, acted wary around her, often scrutinizing her silently, probably afraid she’d be like his daughter. But when he saw Ellis mostly kept to herself, did well in school, and helped clean the apartment, he gradually warmed. Ellis knew he’d accepted her when he started inviting her to watch football and baseball games with him. Though a lifelong resident of Youngstown, Ohio, he’d inherited his Pittsburgher father’s dedication to the Steelers and Pirates, but he also followed Ohio State football.
Two of Sam’s construction friends, Mick and Harry, often came over to watch the games, and when they saw Sam wouldn’t, they took it upon themselves to teach Ellis the rules. Ellis liked those times, sitting on the couch with the three men watching sports. Mick always joked, Harry had almost poetic insights about life, and Sam made terse comments that were often unintentionally hilarious.
Ellis had never felt anything like that camaraderie with her mother. Usually she had been too drunk or stoned to share anything real with Ellis, especially during her last years. She mostly alternated between silence and ranting about nothing. Sometimes she’d say strange things she believed to be great wisdom, though they were nothing of the kind. Most of the time, Ellis and her mother had lived in unconnected parallel worlds.
The day before Ellis left Youngstown to attend Cornell University on scholarship, Sam, Mick, and Harry sent her off with a little party. By then, the men were in their eighties. Harry had been diagnosed with lung cancer, and he was soon leaving Youngstown to live with his son. The farewell cake had Steelers and Pirates logos, and Mick and Harry gave Ellis money to help her at college. Sam gave her quite a bit of money, and that week he’d surprised her with an old Chevy sedan to take to Ithaca.
Ellis cried and hugged the three men, and for the hundredth time, Mick said there was no way a girl that sweet could be related to mean old Samuel Abbey.
When Ellis said goodbye to Sam the next day, he said in slow words, “Well . . . I want to say something to you . . .” He paused before he continued. “When you first came here, I didn’t know about you. I really didn’t. But I soon saw. You’re a quality person, Ellis. I’m proud of you. Real proud. I guess I’m going to miss you. I’m going to miss you a lot.”
That was possibly the most words he’d ever said to her all at once. And the closest he’d ever come to saying he loved her. Ellis didn’t say it either.
But now she knew she had loved him. She’d loved Mick and Harry, too. She wished she’d known how to tell them. All three were dead now.
Ellis swallowed the last tiny sliver of butterscotch candy. “I love you, Sam,” she whispered to the grave.
But you were right not to trust me. I’m sorry you can’t be proud of me anymore. I’m sorry.
She turned away from Sam. She walked back to the car as light snow began to flutter down. She needed a drink but wouldn’t until she returned to the campground. She never drove drunk. She wouldn’t risk an accident that might kill someone. A baby, a mother, a grandfather. She’d done enough damage already.
7
“Hello? Hey there!” a man called.
Whoever he was, he was in her campsite. Close to her tent.
“Hello?” he said again.
Ellis shook herself out of the stupor she’d been in for three days. Or was it four?
“If you’re in there, please answer,” the man said.
“Yes, I’m in here.” She fumbled for the hunting knife she’d inherited from Sam. It had been his father’s. She kept it in its sheath inside the sleeping bag when she slept.
“I’m a park
