“Shall I make you a potion? Hot spiced milk is what Mee-Maw always makes me when my thoughts are running away.”
Erica nodded and went to the fireplace, wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, and sat by the window, listening to the rain spatter against the glass. By and by, the child arrived, walking with measured steps and holding at arm's length a mug, the spoon clinking against the ceramic edge. The milk smelled of cardamom and honey, and at the first sip, Erica felt relaxed and full of sleep. Una sat in the next chair, curled her feet under her, and made a tent of the white nightgown over her knees. They whispered to each other in the dark.
“This is just the thing. I'll be asleep in no time.”
“It's a magic potion. Mee-Maw cackles when she's stirring, calls it her brew, like she's a witch.”
“Your grandma said she was expecting us?”
“She goes off in her own thoughts sometimes. Imagining what ain't here.”
After stifling a yawn, Erica took a long swallow. “You live here just the two of you? Where are your parents?”
“Lest you want to sleep down here in the parlor, you best get on up the ladder. That potion will have you dreaming in a few minutes.”
Fatigue raced through her veins like quicksilver. Her muscles felt like pulled taffy. Ordering her legs to move, Erica trudged back to bed, and when her head landed on the pillow, she slept like a baby, endlessly rocking, gone from this world of cares.
15
“Here is a riddle I almost forgot to ask you,” Shirley Rinnick said. They had been requested to wait downstairs while Paul and Denny checked Wiley's room. “When is a thought just like the sea? Do you know? Today's Jumble question, do you remember? You helped me with ‘elate.’”
The sea. Maybe they've gone to the sea, Margaret thought. Forget all this crazy talk of revolution, they're just in love. They've eloped and gone to the Jersey shore, maybe, or Maryland, or Virginia even. The tide roaring in on the sand. Funny how after you're there more than a day, the surf gets in your head, your blood, in your legs. Tug of the sea for days after you go home. Remember Jackson running in the morning on the strand.
“I used the A and the T from ‘elate,’ if that helps you. When is a thought just like the sea? When it's … ? Two words, Mrs. Quinn.”
He loved you, that boy. Jackson. Romantic then, but now? Let's go to the ocean, he proposed, and stare all day at the waves.
“Mrs. Quinn. First word is one letter, and that's usually an A, so I'll give you that.”
Middle of fall, like now. All of twenty. Go stare at the waves.
“Second word, six letters. When it's a blank.”
Erica is not like me. She would go, if asked. Yes. That's where Paul went wrong, trying to keep her close, he held on too tightly to Erica. She went not just to be with this boy, but to go. To be free. Margaret looked at the woman across the table. “A notion.”
“Right you are, right you are,” Shirley answered. “How did you get it so fast? I didn't figure it at first, but the sea is the ocean. Not always the same, but still—”
“You think they're just on a getaway? You said they'll be back by Sunday night,” Margaret snapped at her. “He wouldn't have forced her to go? I saw that room of his. Wiley is an angry child.”
“I always do the Jumble, every day. Keeps the mind sharp.”
“What about the stolen car?” Margaret asked. “The guns, the cash from your hidden coffee can? How do you explain that, Mrs. Rinnick?” Kidnapped my daughter, she thought, and ran away, probably to get away from his crazy mother.
“A notion, an ocean.”
Oh be quiet, you stupid fat cow. Erica is missing and your son is to blame and all you can do is rattle on about some puzzle?
“A sharp mind is the key to life. If you have your wits, you have everything. You could lose an arm or a leg—”
She wanted to say: Shut up, you crazy bitch.