A train rumbled quietly several miles off in the distance. Ever since childhood, this had been a peaceful sound to me. I’d lie in bed and hear that deep rumble and imagine all the people on the train heading off to follow their dreams.
I took a sip of water from the glass on the bedside table, turned my pillow over to the cool side, and settled back down.
This was what I concluded: I had acted badly, but not so badly that I felt like a stranger to myself. Not so badly, I hoped, that I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.
And to prove it, I closed my eyes and went to sleep.
25
Movement in the dark bedroom. Something coming quickly toward me.
I gasped.
“Relax, it’s only me,” Nolan whispered. My heart whacked against my ribs.
“What’s wrong? What time is it?”
“Put on some clothes and meet me by the front door. Dark clothes. And don’t turn on any lights.” Before I could ask him more, he left the bedroom.
I looked at the digital clock on my nightstand: 2:13 AM. I put on sweatpants and a T-shirt, used the restroom, and went to the front hallway. Nolan was waiting for me. He had on jeans and a black T-shirt. His shoes were the black loafers he’d been wearing all weekend.
“I need you,” he said, “to run an errand with me. We won’t be gone long. Leave all the lights off. Come on, we’re wasting time.” He opened the front door and waved me ahead of him.
“Wait.” I was still feeling disoriented from being awakened so suddenly. “What’s this about?”
“There isn’t time. Just come on.”
“I need to lock up.”
He held up a set of keys—mine—and handed them over. I locked the front door behind us and stepped down onto the front walkway.
The air had cooled considerably since dinner. My car was in the driveway, where Nolan had parked it earlier. He motioned me toward the driver’s seat.
“You drive,” he whispered.
“Where?”
“I’ll tell you when we’re in the car.”
When we were seated, doors closed, he said, “You were telling me the other day about that place you used to hike. Up in the mountains. Back in high school.”
“What?” I realized that I was probably still a little intoxicated. “Yeah, that’s right. So …”
“So that’s where I need you to take me.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. Up in the mountains. Can you find it?”
“It’s been years. I don’t even know if those trails still exist.”
“But you’d know where it is.”
“Nolan, it’s two in the morning. What’s going on?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, Will. For your own good, I’m going to have to decline.”
“Well, if you aren’t going to tell me …” I reached for the door handle.
“Please.” He put a hand on my arm. Despite the cold, he was sweating. “I know it’s a strange request. But I spent almost two million dollars today. I think I’m entitled to a favor. So please—do me this simple favor. Take me to the hiking trail.”
I started the engine and backed out of the driveway. Nolan apologized for ruining my night’s sleep. When I didn’t respond, he had nothing else to say.
Every so often, a session at the studio would run late into the night, and I always found it peaceful driving the streets that, any other time of day, were jammed with angry motorists. We drove these local roads that I’d come to know so well, then took the highway northwest through rolling hills. The sky darkened, the hills grew larger. After thirty miles or so the car’s engine began to work hard as we rose more steeply into the Kittatinny Mountains, well past the turnoff for the golf course we’d played earlier that day.
At the town of Colesville, I exited the highway and, not having made this drive in over a decade, hoped that my instincts would push me in the right direction. We wound round the narrow road that cut through dense woods, the headlights revealing sharp curves seconds before we reached them. It seemed likely that where there had once been forest there would now be a shopping mall or a multiplex. But no. These hills were still remote, still populated only by trees and rocks and dirt. When I’d first left the city for the suburbs, I’d been amazed by the dark night sky. I had forgotten about this. This was real darkness.
The road curved sharply back and forth up one side of a mountain, then along a ridge and down again. At this time of night, no other cars were on the road. Nor were there buildings, road signs, or even mile markers. I wasn’t sure how far to go. But then without even remembering which landmark to look for, we came upon the small green sign telling us we’d just entered the town of Grafton. I began to look for the next left turn, which, if I remembered correctly, would take us close to the trail.
After turning left, the road cut steeply downhill, narrowed, and after about a mile turned to gravel. Then, abruptly, it ended. No cars, no streetlights, no houses. Not even a sign for the trail. The trailhead was still eight or ten miles down the road from where we’d turned off. But my friends and I had liked to enter here, because the Boy Scouts and day hikers never made it this far along the trail.
“Cut the lights and the engine,” Nolan said.