Page 66 of The Gallagher Place
“You should have gotten me before you did it!” Henry said.
Marlowe laughed. “We couldn’t stall, we had to act!”
She pulled her long hair over her shoulder and leaned over the fire so that the flames could dry her freezing, wet strands. Nora did the same thing, bending over and throwing her locks upside down so they dangled above the screen.
“Don’t burn yourselves,” Glory said. “I don’t want to have to put out a fire on your heads.”
Frank wandered in from the study. He smiled at them drying their hair by the heat of the fire and recited a line from one of his favorite poems: “You may see their trunks arching in the woods, years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground. Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair before them over their heads to dry in the sun.”
SUNDAY
DECEMBER 2, 2018
THIRTY-TWO
Ascending the staircase from her room, Marlowe squinted against the early-afternoon light spilling through the kitchen windows. Her head throbbed—a dull, manageable ache—but she steadied her breath. No room for nerves now.
Henry was making lunch for the kids when he noticed her.
“Mom and Dad went to town?” She could see their car was missing from the drive.
“Yes, they just left.” Henry flipped a grilled cheese in one smooth motion, the bread sizzling in the butter. “Don’t go in the study—Steph and Constance are wrapping gifts. It’s top secret.”
He turned and winked at Kat and Dolly.
“Where’s Enzo?” Marlowe asked.
“He’s resting upstairs,” Henry said. “Would you ask him if he wants lunch? He can come down, or I can bring it up to him.”
Henry fit so easily into the role of caregiver. He had been carrying half of Enzo’s meals up to him on a tray. He never seemed uncomfortable or ashamed when Enzo took forever to chew one bite of food, or when Enzo spewed out sentences that didn’t make sense.
Marlowe turned toward the stairs and made her way slowly to the spare room.
She knocked gently and pushed the door open to find Enzo propped up in the twin bed, a book on his lap.
“Marlowe.” Enzo’s eyes crinkled as he smiled.
The room was painted in a shade of light blue. A large window faced the North Field, framing a massive oak, bare branches swaying in the wind. In the summertime, the leaves would crowd the glass, making the room feel like it floated among them.
“Henry wants to know if you would like to come down for lunch.” Marlowe stood in the doorway, examining the shriveled man. “But you look comfortable here.”
Enzo chuckled, his thin frame sinking deeper into the pillows. “Henry once told me he’d like to die in this room. What a thing to say.”
She tried to return a smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “Enzo, I want to ask you about my friend—Nora. I know you remember her.”
He frowned, lines deepening around his eyes. “I was so sure that bear would kill her. Kill you all. That’s why I had you gather the stones for the wall. Turned out well, didn’t it?”
“Enzo,” she said again in a bracing voice. “Do you know where Nora is?”
Enzo made a strange humming sound, fingers tracing the worn pattern on the quilt. For a moment, she thought he hadn’t heard, but then he looked up, his eyes bright as if he’d been struck with a memory.
“Can you find the Bend in the Bean? You children should run along and hide at the Bend.”
He smiled at the old joke, and Marlowe tried to suppress her frustration. Enzo didn’t know what year it was. He didn’t know who was still a child and who wasn’t. Or maybe he did, and this was his way of dodging.
“Lunch?” Marlowe snapped. “Do you want to come down for it?”
Enzo blinked and opened his mouth, as if wildly confused by Marlowe’s question. More confused than when she had asked about Nora, she realized.
