That day in the kitchen when David returned from his run, only to find out that Fiona was missing, he pranced about shirtless, leering at me over the rim of his glass of orange juice, basically forcing me to look at his bare chest and the thick gold chainhe wore around his neck—a piece of jewelry the same color, size, and shape as the necklace that the boy with the blacked-out face is wearing in the picture with my aunt Susie, taken not long before she disappeared.
Chapter 27
Julia
It was after sunset, and the croakers were louder than usual. The starry night blinked down on Julia, a solitary figure by the firepit, with her wineglass as her only companion. She savored her petty revenge—indulging in the very activity for which she had ostracized her husband. She, too, drank out of need, the alcohol quelling her storm of sorrow.
Dinner that evening was different from the boys’ usual grill-a-thon. Everyone ate in David’s backyard, at the picnic tables near the campfire. David made tuna salad sandwiches, and Erika cooked a pot of mac and cheese that the twins gobbled down. Julia had contributed some wine for the adults and juice for the kids. She wasn’t up for cooking.
While Izzy had a limp and moved at half power, she managed to keep pace with occasional help from David. Meanwhile, Taylor was back in the house, glued to her computer, watching something mindless on Netflix. Julia checked in with her several times, but left her alone when she insisted she was fine.
Tomorrow night, Erika planned to take Taylor into town for a movie, just the two of them. It was Julia’s idea; she wanted to give her daughter a respite from the family drama. The sojourn would also offer a chance for unfiltered girl talk, which Julia had encouraged. Without her mom around, perhaps Taylor would open up about her father’s relapse and sudden departure from the lake. Julia, however, was stuck here for the duration.
The smell of the campfire made her feel extra lonely. Christian should be here, his strong arm wrapped around her, pulling her close. She’d rest her head on his shoulder, the night orchestra of the humming insects and the crackling fire playing in her ears.
She stoked the dwindling embers, arguing with herself about calling him. Christian wasn’t checking on her, so why was it incumbent on her to call him? Although she was reeling with anger, if she was honest with herself, she was also worried. Was he still drinking? Had he gone back to AA? Called his sponsor? People often did crazy things when they were financially desperate. When addiction was thrown into the mix, their behavior could bewildlyunpredictable. She didn’t think he was suicidal, but she couldn’t be sure.
An instant later, her anger returned, stronger than before.
What would she say if she called?Sorry I haven’t reached out, Christian. Sorry I don’t seem more caring. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.
No. Fuck that.
Instead, she drank. The fruity taste of wine caressed her lips and tongue, sending a buzz to her brain that traveled to every cell in her body until she hummed from the inside out. Christian did this to himself, and he should be the one to call, pleading for forgiveness and promising to find a way out of this mess—and not an empty promise, for once.
She inhaled the air. The lake smelled different at night, somehow fresher and richer. Daunting as it was, she had to believe in herself and her ability to rebound from this disaster.
Her financial advisor was on the job. He’d figure out what, if anything, could be done. Maybe they could mediate with the bank, liquidate other assets, or sell the business (if anyone would buy it).
But that wasn’t what mattered most. What she wanted was Christian, or something akin to the man shethoughthe was up until yesterday. For good, bad, ugly, or worse, he was still her husband. Even though this was her childhood vacation home, Christian had embedded himself into the fabric of the place. He’d painted the interior more than once and fixed the door that constantly flew openin a strong wind. He had replaced every window and cleaned every gutter. He’d hung theWELCOME HOMEsign at the front door that greeted them upon each arrival.
Even gone, he haunted this land. Her thoughts flickered back in time, to when everyone was much younger. The kids were finally tucked into bed and sleeping. The group had reconvened around the firepit, drinking and relaxing. David, so youthful, went on about his newly formed talent scout business, and some new girl in his life whose name was lost to the past.
Back then, Erika and Rick sniped at each other less, and Julia and Christian connected more. The mystery and magic of those early days of parenthood acted as a soothing balm, obscuring the slowly forming fissures in their respective marriages. The laughter never seemed to end, and it was always Christian who made the wittiest remarks, leaving everyone in stitches. But that was when he was still drinking, and his lack of a filter made their conversations all the more entertaining. This was what meant the most to Julia—her friends, her husband, time together as a family, and loving the lake life. In those days, the rest of the world didn’t exist when they were here.
“Hey, there.” The deep, baritone voice from behind caused Julia to jump.
Rick’s bearded face appeared, lit by the fire. The dying embers rose up, casting him in a mischievous glow.
“How are you doing?” he asked casually, as though her world wasn’t falling apart.
Whatever.She’d prefer time with Erika, but she could see her friend through the window cleaning up from dinner. Funny that Rick didn’t feel a need to help his wife, but Julia wasn’t offering, either, so who was she to judge?
Rick dragged a chair over, twisted off the top of his beer, and gulped some down. “I’m really sorry about Christian,” he said. “That’s a tough one. I don’t know all the details, but Erika told me enough. Just sucks.”
Oh, Rick.He never pretended to be a deep thinker, so leave it to him to sum everything up so succinctly.
“It sure does,” Julia concurred.
“Hope he’s doing better,” said Rick, which created an opening for Julia to share more, but because she hadn’t checked on her husband, she couldn’t answer him. Instead, Julia offered a strained smile and a soft “Thank you” for his concern, and left it at that.
“I just came from the command center. Day three, and still no sign of Fiona. Not sure how much longer Baker and company will keep up the effort.” Rick’s tone was grim and filled with uncertainty.
“And nothing about her family and friends?” Julia inquired.
Rick shrugged. He hadn’t heard about or seen anyone from her close circle at the command center.
Why aren’t her people on-site, tracking progress, holding vigil… something?
