“We’re having a big party,” I told the teenager at the window. She handed me the paper bags with a shy grin.
I put everything on Lacey’s lap, then placed her arms around the bags so they wouldn’t fall off.
Keep her body engaged. Keep her present. That’s what the doctor had said. The more engagement, the better.
“Let’s celebrate. You’re still here with us. It’s a miracle.”
I paid and took the shortcut home. We passed wetlands, then rows of houses tucked away outside of Peabody.
“What happened was really terrible,” I said. “And I probably wouldn’t want to talk for a while either if I were you. But you’re still here, Lacey. God, or whoever is out there, decided you should be here with your kids. With me.”
I slowed at a stop sign, glanced at her again. “You made it through the worst. That night in the woods … that was the worst.But it’s over now. You’re safe. And we’ll move forward together. At your pace.”
I didn’t let Lacey hear the slightest doubt in my voice. Even if I had it. What if she never spoke again?
I turned onto our street. It was a typical New England neighborhood. Leafy trees lined sidewalks. Old Capes and Colonials mingled with white modern farmhouses with black window frames. Prices had exploded like everywhere else in the country. And our little yellow coastal-style cottage looked like it didn’t belong here anymore. Like we were being shamed for staying. For not remodeling. For still being here.
I waved at the Bristols, who were unloading grocery bags from their trunk. Sheryl just stared. No wave back.
Bob gave a tight nod. Nothing else.
Strange.
“What’s wrong with them?” I asked Lacey, shaking my head. “I mean, I know rumors spread like wildfire, but that wasn’t very kind.”
We drove a few more blocks, but then I had to slam the brakes. The food bags tumbled off Lacey’s lap and hit the floor with a loud crunch.
“What in the name—” The words slipped out as my hands clenched the steering wheel. Large vans were parked in front of our house, half on the curb, half on the street. One hadSeacoast Newsin blocky letters. A camera crew stood beside it. More vans pulled up behind them. Reporters, cameras, mics. Women and men in sleek jackets and styled hair standing on the sidewalk, fixing their makeup, pointing at our house. I turned the car into a neighbor’s driveway and pulled out my phone.
Nine missed calls from Brian. Three from Dylan.
I called Brian and backed out fast. I’d take the narrow private road that the trash trucks used behind the homes.
“Where are you?” Brian’s voice jumped out at me through the speaker.
“My phone was on silent for the session. The psychiatrist took longer than expected. And we got takeout. We’re coming in from the back now.”
“You’ve seen the shit show then?”
“Yes. I have. What’s going on?”
“We’re becoming famous,” Brian said, bitter. “And not in the good way. Talk to no one. Just come straight home.”
Chapter 10
Nicole
When I got home, Amanda and the kids were sitting at the kitchen table, playing that pirate game—the one where a little pirate jumps out when you stick plastic knives into the barrel. Amanda had been with us every day since the incident. Being a mother to the kids seemed to help her just as much as it helped them. She was born to be the center of a large family but never got that wish fulfilled. Most of her relatives were either dead or avoided because of substance abuse issues. And Zach’s family never liked her. They treated their marriage like it was a mistake.
All eyes turned to me when I entered the room with Lacey and the messy Dairy Queen bags.
“How did it go?” Dylan asked.
“Really well,” I said, hoping to mask the lie. “The doctor says it’s just a response to trauma. She’ll be talking again in no time.”
The kids exchanged glances. Then Lila jumped up, ran to her mom, and wrapped her little arms around Lacey’s waist.
“See, Mom? I told you. You’ll be better soon.”
