“Do you remember those yellow folders we used in school?” she asked.
“Pee Chees?”
“Yes, the ones with the athletes on them, which I always thought was odd. When we were in fifth grade, I wrote my first name and your last name on the inside flap to see what they looked like together. Mrs. Carlie Paisley. Hearts over each i, of course.”
“That’s adorable.”
“My sister found it and teased me for months,” Carlie said. “I’d come down to breakfast and she’d call, ‘Good morning, Mrs. Paisley.’ I was mortified. My dad laughed every time.”
“Carlie Paisley has a nice ring to it.” I smiled as I played with strands of her shiny hair that dangled over my shoulder. “And who doesn’t dot their i’s with hearts?”
“You’re very kind.”
I breathed in the sweet scent of her hair. “Your hair smells so good. It always has.”
She laughed. “You can remember what I smelled like?”
“How could I not? You have an extraordinarily nice-smelling head.”
We were quiet for a moment. The cricket kept up his racket. A rustle in the bushes came from the direction of the pasture. Duke lifted his head but didn’t seem to hear or smell anything alarming and went back to sleep.
“What’s that noise?” Carlie asked, stiffening.
“Probably a rabbit or little fox,” I said. “Maybe a raccoon. Nothing that will hurt us.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, there’s a lot of critters who come out at night,” I said.
She relaxed and a second later said, “I wish I’d tried harder to get your address.”
My heart stopped beating for an instant. The idea of what could have been had we stayed in touch pressed against my chest in the way only regret can do. But it hadn’t been up to us. We were kids, without power or influence over our own destinies. “Even if you had, my dad wouldn’t have let me see letters from you.”
“Because of what happened?”
“It’s irrational, but he blamed your family, as if you were the cause of us having to leave town. He was the king of misplaced anger.”
“He wasn’t the only one who had emotional reactions to what happened. My parents went crazy with grief.”
I was quiet, knowing she would continue.
“That whole year afterward it was like free-falling into blackness,” she said. “I watched my parents trying desperately to find a reason to keep going. Ironically, the very thing that caused them so much pain was the same thing that ultimately allowed them to continue going. Their love for my sister and the love for me. In equal measures the love they felt for me, knowing I still needed them, kept them putting one foot in front of the other. It’s like this new layer of yourself, this part that can never see the world as a good place. Even during the darkest moments, love is still a gift. The only thing that can save a soul. There’s beauty in the dark.”
“I haven’t thought about it that way. My feelings for my dad are complicated, and I certainly can’t find the good in the relationship he had with me or my brothers.”
“But hasn’t it made you a better man? More sensitive? More compassionate?”
“I don’t know if I’m either of those things.”
“You are. Trials make us stronger,” Carlie said. “Even my louse of an ex-husband gave me something. My daughter, obviously, but other things too.”
“Like what?”
“A better understanding about who to give my heart to,” she said softly. “There were clues all along, too, which I ignored.”
“That sounds familiar,” I said. “My wife was sleeping with our neighbor for a year. Right under my nose. This is weird to say, but that was almost the worst part. Being duped, so to speak.”
“I totally understand. Pride is a terrible beast.”
We were quiet for a few minutes. My eyes had started to droop, and the air had chilled. “Do you want to go in now?”
“I’m a little cold.”
“It’s midnight. You don’t want to drive home now, do you? I have a guest room.”
“Yes, I’ll stay.”
“We can have breakfast in the morning,” I said. What a thing to look forward to.
“I’ll text my mom that I’m not coming back tonight in case she wakes up and is worried.” She giggled. “Mom will be scandalized that we stayed together the first night we went out.”
I rose up from the chaise and offered my hand to help her up. As we walked through the doors that led into the house, she slipped her hand into mine. Once inside, I closed and locked the doors. “Wait here while I check that I locked the front door. Would you like a little herbal tea before bed? I always end the day with a cup of chamomile.”
“I’ll start the kettle,” she said.
“Great. I’ll just check the lock and turn the security system on.”
“Don’t forget about the gate. You left it open.”
“Right.” I’d completely forgotten. She hadn’t. A woman who had lost her sister to a violent crime would notice. I had to be more careful to always lock up and reassure her by having the security system on when she came to visit. Maybe I should get some cameras?
I hurried down the hallway to the entryway and locked the door. That’s when I saw a shadow. A man, running across the lawn. My outside lights sensed the movement and turned on, making it possible for me to get a better view of him. He appeared to be about six feet and wore all black and a knit cap. How long had he been here? Had he just arrived, or had he been out back while we were there? Was the rustle we heard not an animal but a man?
The night absorbed him. Seconds later, headlights from just outside my gate sparked to life. I went out to the front porch and squinted into the darkness but couldn’t make out the make or model through the bank of trees that separated the road from my property. My stomach churned. An electric fence surrounded my land. Unless the gate was left open,
