passing scenery. She didn’t try to convince us to change the radio or CD to something she liked, so I asked her if she wanted to listen to something.
“I’m fine,” she said.
I didn’t know what else to say, and apparently neither did Abby.
Caitlin broke the silence for us.
“Where are you going to drop me off?” she asked.
“Drop you off?”
“You can do that anywhere,” she said.
I tried to talk to her with one eye on the road and one eye on her profile in the rearview mirror.
“We talked about this at the hospital, remember?”
She ignored me.
“We’re going home,” I said. “To the house you used to live in.”
Nothing.
“Your room is just the way you left it,” Abby said.
But that was it. Caitlin didn’t speak again the rest of the way home, not even when we turned down our street and saw the news van from the local TV station parked at the end of our driveway. A police department spokesperson had met with us at the hospital, and we gave our approval toa fairly standard statement, one that said we were happy to be home, thankful to have our daughter back, and eager for privacy. When I hit the turn signal and angled toward our driveway, the cameraman moved out of our way but kept his lens trained on the car. I took a quick look at Caitlin in the rearview. She seemed not to notice.
The reporter and cameraman didn’t follow us farther onto the property, so we were able to pull to the end of the driveway and the back of the house.
Abby and I climbed out, but Caitlin stayed in the car. Abby shrugged and pulled open Caitlin’s door.
“Are you ready to go in?” Abby asked. “Do you need a minute?”
Caitlin looked up, her lips slightly puckered. “This is where you’re taking me?”
“This is home,” Abby said. “Remember it? Here’s the yard and the back door. We left the front porch light on every night since you were gone. Every night. And the key was right there so you could come in if you wanted.”
“Really?” Caitlin said.
“Really,” Abby said. “We were waiting for you.”
Caitlin nodded a little, then stepped out of the car. I hustled with the keys and undid the back lock, opening the door ahead of them and stepping aside.
“It’s all pretty much the same as when you were last here,” I said.
Inside, Abby and I followed behind Caitlin as she went from room to room on the first floor, looking around and taking in the sights with the passivity of an unmotivated home buyer. She took a quick glance out the front window where the news van was still parked. The cameraman appeared to be putting his gear away, and the reporter, a young blond woman who I recognized from the news but whose name I couldn’t remember, was talking on a cell phone as she smoked a cigarette.
“Where’s Frosty?” Caitlin asked.
“Oh,” Abby said. “Oh, honey. .”
“Is he dead?” Caitlin asked.
“Honey, when you. . went away, we thought. . We put him to sleep. He was old. .”
“He’d only be nine,” Caitlin said.
“He wasn’t put to sleep,” I said.
They both turned to look at me.
“I took him to the pound, and someone else adopted him.” I looked at Abby. “I checked. In fact, if you want, I can try to find out who adopted him and we can try to get him back. Under the circumstances, I would think-”
Caitlin turned away, but I went on.
“We know you loved Frosty. And he was crazy about you. When you left, he used to sit by the door and cry. Didn’t he, Abby?”
“He did,” she said. “He was so sad not to see you.”
“You didn’t like Frosty, did you?” Caitlin asked. She turned and directed the question at Abby.
“I liked him,” Abby said.
“You didn’t like me to walk him. You thought I was getting away from you.”
“No, honey. I worried about you, of course. That’s what moms do.”
“We can get another dog,” I said. “Or we can try to get Frosty back.”
Caitlin turned away and shrugged a little. “Whatever,” she said. “Just don’t say everything’s the same, because it isn’t. That’s bullshit.”
Abby jumped a little but kept her cool.
“Your room is the same,” Abby said, staying on message. “Maybe we need to update it a little. And clothes. The clothes you have here wouldn’t fit anymore, I guess. Do you have any clothes from. . where you were staying?”
“No. Nothing.”
“Whenever you’re ready, we can go out and buy some things,” Abby said.
When Caitlin remained silent, Abby looked at me, helpless.
“Would you like to go up to your room? Maybe you’d like to take a nap?”
It took a long time, but finally Caitlin nodded.
We trudged upstairs, the three of us. Caitlin went and sat on her bed, while I remembered standing in that closet and feeling the piercing pain of her loss go through me like a lance.
“I bet the sheets aren’t clean,” Abby said.
“I got used to dirty sheets,” Caitlin said.
Abby sat next to Caitlin and leaned in close.
“Where was that, honey? Where were you sleeping without clean sheets?”
Caitlin didn’t answer. She stared at me.
Abby pressed on.
“If you tell us, the police can help find the man responsible. It was a man, right? An older man who did this to you?”
Caitlin’s eyes widened, expressing an urgency to me, so I spoke up.
“Why don’t we let the kid sleep, okay, Abby?”
Abby looked a little wounded, a little betrayed by my comment. But it was just a flash.
“Honey,” she said, “I know this is tough, but you can talk to your dad or me about whatever you want, whenever you want. You know that, don’t you?”
“Who’s been sleeping in the guest room?” Caitlin asked.
“Why do you ask that?” Abby asked.
“I saw the door open when we came up here, and the sheets were messed up. Did you have company?”
“Buster was here visiting,” I said.
“Really?” Caitlin perked up a little.
“Have you seen your uncle Buster?” Abby asked. “You know, since you’ve been gone.”
“Why would you want to know that?” Caitlin asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s nothing.”
“We do have to be honest with you about something,” Abby said. “Dad and I. . we’ve been having some tough times in our marriage. It happens when people have been married for a long time. We’re trying to sort it out.”
“You mean with counseling or something?” Caitlin said.
“Yes,” Abby said. “Some of that. But we’re both here for you now. We’re both going to be in the house with you and helping you any way we can. Together. Right, Tom?”
“That’s right.”
