He follows my gaze and nods again. “I know what you mean…but I still feel him more strongly when we come here….They say a portion of the soul is always present at the grave site….”
I nod, listening to the sound of silence, then realizing that it’s not silent at all. Leaves rustle in the breeze. A dog barks in the distance. A car engine turns over. Meanwhile, I feel Nolan looking at me, and know that he expects a reply.
“To each his own,” I finally say, worrying that I might sound flippant. Meredith would definitely hear it that way.
But Nolan isn’t Meredith, fortunately, and only murmurs his agreement. “Yes, everyone is different about these things…but you definitely do believe he’s somewhere, right?” His brow furrowed, he looks directly into my eyes.
I hesitate, thinking that sometimes I do, but sometimes I do not. “I don’t know,” I finally say.
He looks at me, aghast. “But, Josie…you have to,” he says. “Otherwise…”
“Otherwise what?” I retort.
“Otherwise, how do you make sense of it?”
“I don’t make sense of it,” I say under my breath, thinking that more than anything, I hate that notion of “God’s plan.”
Before I can say more, his phone rings, saving me. He pulls it out of his front pocket, glancing at the screen. I think we both expect it to be Meredith—at least I do. But he holds it up, showing me an unprogrammed 404 number. Mumbling that he has no idea who it is, he answers it anyway.
“Hello?” he says, his voice as anxious as I feel.
I hear a woman’s high voice droning and assume it’s a telemarketer. Until Nolan begins to grin.
Watching him smile is like watching the sun come out, I remember my mother once saying, before Daniel died, back when she used to make such poetic observations. It was and still is true.
“That’s awesome! Thank you,” he says excitedly. “We’ll be right there! Thank you so much.”
He hangs up, slides his phone back into his pocket, and looks up with tears in his eyes. “Harper, sweetheart! Guess what?”
“What?” she yells back, shielding her eyes with her hand.
“They found Rabby! He’s safe and sound at Legoland!” Nolan shouts to both of us.
As Harper cheers and sprints toward us, Nolan beams, giving me an I-told-you-so look. “See?” he says.
“See what?” I reply, though I know what he’s thinking because I’ve heard him say it many times before. Something about Daniel being Harper’s guardian angel. Something about him looking out for all of us.
As if “God’s plan” would ever, in a billion years, include taking a young man but saving a stuffed rabbit.
—
LATER THAT NIGHT, after I’ve rather easily put Harper to bed (with Rabby’s assistance), I come downstairs to find Nolan eating the remains of Harper’s macaroni and cheese directly from the pot with a big wooden spoon. He gives me a sheepish smile, wiping his mouth with his hand.
I smile back at him and say, “Don’t worry. I do it, too. Why is food always better when you eat it right off the stove?”
“I don’t know, but it really is,” he says, taking one last bite. “Are you hungry? We could throw in a pizza or order something?”
“No, not really,” I say. “I was actually gonna take off….”
“Right now?” he says, looking disappointed. “Do you have plans?”
“No,” I say, though Pete did send me a text about an hour ago asking what I was up to. “But now that we have Rabby back, I figured you didn’t need me….”
“I don’t need you. But why not stay and hang out for a bit?” he says. I remember Meredith once told me that Nolan can’t stand to be alone. “One beer?”
“Sure,” I say. “Why not?”
Nolan smiles, heading straight to the refrigerator. He opens it, grabs two Budweisers from the door, and hands me one before sitting at the kitchen island. I stand across from him, leaning on the edge of the counter, twisting the top off.
“So? How’s life?” he asks, taking the first sip.
“It’s fine,” I say with a shrug. I fleetingly consider telling him about the latest development with Gabe and his offer, but decide against it, knowing he has enough on his mind. “How’s your life?” I ask him.
“Oh, it’s totally swell.” He gives me two thumbs up to reinforce the sarcasm, and I take it as an invitation to ask him point-blank what’s going on with Meredith.
“Who knows?” he says with a long sigh.
I take a sip of beer, choosing my words carefully. “Why is she in New York, exactly?”
“She’s just taking a little break….” he replies, his voice trailing off.
“Is anything…wrong? With y’all?” I press, knowing that the situation must be fairly dire if Meredith is missing Halloween—right up there with Christmas when you have a four-year-old.
Nolan looks up and to the left, which, according to body language experts, is strong evidence of an impending lie. “No,” he says. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Okay. But just so you know,” I say. “Liars always look up in that direction.”