“Can I help with anything?”
She flaps a dish towel. “Is Jed here yet?”
“I haven’t seen him.”
Your brother is helping your father use the computer in the corner.
“You don’t need to type in your password,” he says. “It’s already saved.”
“I don’t want it to be saved.” Your father makes a grab for the mouse.
“They’re all saved because you keep forgetting them.”
“No! How do you unsave them?”
“Dad, come on. I can’t keep resetting them for you. Trust me, no one wants to log into your Prime account.”
“That’s how they get you!” He taps the side of the computer. “Next thing you know, it’s tickets to Aruba on your dollar!”
“Please stop talking, Dad.”
Your mother told me they didn’t have Wi-Fi. Obviously, she doesn’t want me to use it. I wonder if you used it. I can’t imagine you broadcasting from here, in the middle of your parents’ living room, but I still want to search their computer.
“You have Internet,” I say to your mother.
“It’s for business use only,” she snaps. “We don’t like you kids going on there and messing things up.”
“But if I—”
“Emmett, Homer!” Your mother flaps the towel again, shooing away the heat. “We need to start dinner. Where’s Jed?”
I want to push, but what’s the point? I can’t search for you with a crowd gathered. I need to come back when everyone is gone.
“Hi again.” Clementine appears at my elbow. I shift away in surprise, but then I remember she is on your list.
“Where’s Jed?” Your mother asks again. It’s unclear who she’s asking.
“I think I saw him heading down.” Clementine’s smile stretches between her ears. “He was looking at the ducks.”
“Looking at ducks? Has he lost his mind?” An image comes to mind, of me unearthing a doll from the blackberry patch; maybe he’s not the only one. “I said five thirty. Didn’t I say five thirty?” Again, it’s unclear who she is talking to. Clem and I both scan the room for her target audience.
“Why don’t we start setting the food out? I’m sure he’ll be here just in time for the prayer,” Clem says brightly.
Your mom’s face sours, but she hisses, “Whatever.” Then she stalks to your father. “Get off the computer and help!”
I take up a tray of smashed potatoes. Clementine smiles gratefully. “You know, I’d still love you to come to my class.”
“I’d be happy to.”
She is taken aback by my sudden change of heart. “Oh, okay, great,” she says, and I wonder if she is one of those people who make offers to sound nice. “What about Friday?” I guess not.
“I’d have to check with Addy.” My stomach does a little flip. Your mother will never agree to this; she doesn’t want me to leave. But I don’t need her permission. I don’t need anyone’s permission, and I wish I didn’t have to remind myself of that every time I do something someone else doesn’t like.
“I can check with her,” Clementine offers, and I want to hug her. She knows I am afraid, and she is helping me. Her daughters join us. “Asha and Aya hoped you would be here,” she says like they are one thing. “We’ve been talking about you all week.” I don’t know how that can be. They barely know me. Surely, they can’t know enough to fill a single conversation, let alone a week’s worth. But I also realize that out here, the littlest things can be magnified, become an obsession.
“Where’d you get that shirt?” Aya asks me.
“Your grandmother.”
“Told you,” Asha snaps, and sticks out her tongue.
“Help,” Clementine orders, mom-style, and they pick up the hot plates with square pads.
I carry the potatoes out through the living room. Asha and Aya step in on either side of me. “We want to watch you talk to her class,” Asha says quickly. “Tell our mom.” And then they both go out ahead of me, their long skirts swirling in sync.
As I pass the stairwell, my eyes drift upward. I want to go up there—maybe I can ask to see the house? I wonder what your room looks like now that you’re gone. Have your parents preserved it? Would knowing that tell me what they really think happened to you? If your bedroom has been preserved, would that mean they expect you back, or could it mean they have left it as a shrine?
Clementine comes back in and finds me. “It’s a beautiful house, isn’t it? Addy hand carved the sconces.”
“Yeah, it’s amazing. Do you think maybe I could go upstairs?”
Clementine blinks in alarm. “Why?”
“I just thought it might be fun to see, you know, what they’ve done with it.”
“Addy’s kind of a private person. But you’re welcome to come see our house anytime!” Clementine is nice. Maybe I can trust her. Maybe she is a better choice than Jed, who appears right then with one leg soaked with mud past his ankle, looking like he really has lost his mind.
We haven’t talked since Sunday night, when it took us well over two hours to walk back to the ranch. Over two hours not speaking, as the forest rattled with nighttime sounds, angry calls that chilled me to the bone. Not a single car passed, and I wasn’t sure whether that was a blessing or a curse. Would someone have offered us a ride, or would they have played chicken, tried to run us off the road? When we were finally about to cross the highway to the ranch, a semitruck appeared. Jed laughed in spite of himself, caught my eye and shook his head. But once we crossed the road, the spell was broken, and he walked me to my door and left without saying good night.
Your mother is incensed by his late arrival. “Where have you been? We’ve all been waiting.”
“I thought I’d go swimming,” he says. Asha and Aya giggle frantically and each slaps a hand on the chair between them.
“Jed, sit here!” They say in unison.
“I got a tattoo.” Asha slides up her sleeve to reveal her wrist.
“It’s fake,” Aya butts in. “When are we gonna go shooting?”
Even the women from the church seem to perk up in his presence. Only your mother bristles.
We pray and then we eat. The food is rich and it goes down heavy. Your brother and Clementine are quiet, keeping their heads bowed over their plates, breaking their silence only to exclaim over your mother’s food, your mother’s garden, your mother’s ranch. Elodie and Geraldine, who work at the ranch every summer, sing even heavier praises to your mother, marveling at what a strong woman, what a good cook, what an inspiration she is, like she is royalty, like they are lucky to be hosted on her land, in her kingdom.