Chapter Twenty-Five
Helen rolled over in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, surprised by the glimmer coming through the sheer bedroom window
curtains. Surprised to find herself alone. The clock said six minutes past ten o’clock. She couldn’t remember the last time
she’d slept in that late. She pulled a light sweater on over her nightgown.
In the bathroom, she saw the towel she’d given Isaac was draped over the side of the tub. She touched it. Still damp.
Farther down the hall, she found the door to the guest room ajar and the bed made. The corners of the quilt weren’t tucked
as precisely as they had been before Isaac had slept in it, but his effort was obvious.
In the kitchen, she looked out the window and saw Wade’s truck was gone. She opened the refrigerator, and it appeared as though
nothing was missing from inside. She wondered if Wade had taken any food with him for lunch. In the sink, there was one bowl
filled with milky water and a little dried oatmeal crusted on the rim. A single spoon lay next to it.
Helen walked back to the guest room and sat down on the edge of the bed.
It creaked under her weight, and she imagined it had made that same sound whenever Isaac had turned over in the middle of the night.
The pajamas she’d given him were folded neatly on top of the desk next to the Yeats book, the candles, and the clean blanket he hadn’t used.
The house lay still as a cemetery, her head silent as a grave.
Helen sat there for a long time, longer than she would have guessed if anyone had been there to ask her how long she stayed
on the bed. There was no clock in the room and no other way to mark time: no television in the corner streaming shows in thirty-minute
intervals, no speakers playing songs in four-minute chunks, no downtown bus rumbling by on a set schedule. She was on forest
time, and she was alone again.
It seemed Isaac had continued on his way without saying goodbye. Time was rolling by without her, and it had carried away
last night’s mysterious trespasser. If she’d been able to see him off this morning, she wondered if they would have embraced—and
if they had, would they have A-framed their bodies to keep an appropriate distance tented between them or would she have been
unable to resist the longing to crush herself fully against him? He must be on the road right now, on to his next adventure.
Well, none of that mattered now. Isaac had arrived and been witness to one uncomfortable episode after another. It was for
the best that he was gone and she didn’t have to look him in the eyes as she wished him well. She’d rather not endure yet
another goodbye in her life, which had turned into a series of strange goodbyes. Things were back to normal. Maybe Wade would
be able to think more clearly now, let go of his outrageous idea that Isaac was dead.
Helen stood and collected the worn pajamas. She brought them to her face and inhaled, but she detected no lingering scent.
Good, she wouldn’t need to wash them. Wade could wear the same pajamas his brother had worn for one night.
She carried them to her bedroom. Before putting them away in the dresser, she breathed in one more time, just in case—but there was only the faint smell of soap. She ignored the feeling that passed quickly through her, refused to acknowledge it as disappointment.
Back in the kitchen, Helen noticed an envelope on the side table with her name scribbled across it.
She opened it, thinking it was from Isaac, but then realized it was Wade’s writing, scrawled so sloppily she almost didn’t
recognize it.
As she read the note, the alarm swelled inside her.
Helen, I’m taking Isaac with me to work the trees. I’m going to take him deep into the woods and make sure he never comes
back. Don’t worry. You and I will be safe.
Helen rushed into the living room and snatched the small wooden box from the mantel. She fumbled it open. The revolver was
gone.
She ran outside into the yard and spun in a desperate circle, looking as far as she could see. There were trees in all directions
for miles. She didn’t have a vehicle or even a bicycle. She could spend the entire day roaming the woods on foot and never
find them.
It was too late. She had let things get out of control. Of course, she realized Wade had been saying and doing crazy things
last night, but it hadn’t really seemed all that crazy within the context of her own experiences. Her mind had temporarily
escaped the confines of reality after Tyler’s death, had even turned dark and violent corners, but she thought Wade just needed
time. This was his own brother, not a masked murderer. She had never suspected that Isaac was in danger.
She didn’t know where they were, but she had to do something.
Helen ran back inside and went down to the cellar where she set up the burning candles around Tyler’s photo. She made her
plea again, but this time it wasn’t just for herself: “Tyler, I need your help! Not just me, but someone else needs help,
and I don’t know what to do. Send me a sign. I can’t do this alone.”
Her eyes searched the cellar, willing Tyler to appear.
When he didn’t, she screamed his name, but it was futile.
She dropped her head and closed her eyes.
It took a while before she was able to summon the energy to blow out the candles and return everything to the box on the bottom shelf of the cellar.
Dragging her feet back up the stairs, she told herself that Wade wouldn’t shoot Isaac, wouldn’t actually kill him. No, he’d just scare him with the gun, order him to leave their property. That had to be all Wade meant by the cryptic
note.
That’s what Helen told herself as she brushed her teeth and got dressed in a gray linen long-sleeved dress that was much too
delicate given the circumstances. That’s what she told herself as she did the day’s chores, finishing Wednesday’s, Thursday’s,
Friday’s, and Saturday’s brown bag lunches. That’s what she told herself every time she stopped in the midst of whatever she
was doing and brought her hands to her face in horror. It was too much to imagine otherwise.
As the day wore on and her anxiety grew, the metronome in Helen’s mind—the usual repetition of Tyler, Tyler, Tyler—was replaced with Isaac, Isaac, Isaac.
When she finally heard the rumble of Wade’s truck just before sunset, she ran outside.