"But let me say again that I apologize. You don't have to accept it. But that is what I called to say, Louis. I apologize."
"All right," Louis said. He closed his eyes. His head was thudding. "Thank you, Irwin. Your apology is accepted."
"Thank you," Goldman said. "And thank you... for letting them come. Perhaps it is what they both need. We'll wait for them at the airport."
"Fine," Louis said, and an idea suddenly occurred to him. It was crazy and attractive in its very sanity. He would let bygones be bygones... and he would let Gage lie in his Pleasantview grave. Instead of trying to reopen a door that had swung shut, he would latch it and double-bolt it and throw away the key. He would do just what he had told his wife he was going to do: tidy up their affairs here and catch a plane back to Shytown. They would perhaps spend the entire summer there, he and his wife and his good-hearted daughter. They would go to the zoo and the planetarium and boating on the lake. He would take Ellie to the top of the Sears Tower and show her the Midwest stretching away like a great fiat gameboard, rich and dreaming. Then when mid-August came, they would come back to this house which now seemed so sad and so shadowy, and perhaps it would be like starting over again. Perhaps they could begin weaving from fresh thread. What was on the Creed loom right now was ugly, splattered with drying blood.
But would that not be the same as murdering his son? Killing him a second time?
A voice inside tried to argue that this was not so, but he would not listen. He shut the voice up briskly.
"Irwin, I ought to go now. I want to make sure Rachel's got what she needs and then get her to bed."
"All right. Goodbye, Louis. And once more-"
If he says he's sorry one more time, I'll f**king scream.
"Goodbye, Irwin," he said and hung up the phone.
Rachel was deep in a litter of clothes when he came upstairs. Blouses on the beds, bras hung over the backs of chairs, slacks on hangers that had been hung over the doorknob. Shoes were lined up like soldiers under the window. She appeared to be packing slowly but competently. Louis could see it was going to take her at least three suitcases (maybe four), but he could also see no sense in arguing with her about it. Instead he pitched in and helped.
"Louis," she said as they closed the last suitcase (he had to sit on it before Rachel could snap the catches), "are you sure there's nothing you want to tell me?"
"For God's sake, hon, what is this?"
"I don't know what it is," she replied evenly. "That's why I'm asking."
"What do you think I'm going to do? Creep off to a bordello? Join the circus?
What?"
"I don't know. But this feels wrong. It feels as if you're trying to get rid of us."
"Rachel, that's ridiculous!" He said this with a vehemence that was partly exasperation. Even in such straits as these, he felt a certain pique in being seen through so easily.
She smiled wanly. "You never were a very good liar, Lou."
He began to protest again, and she cut him off.
"Ellie dreamed you were dead," she said. "Last night. She woke up crying, and I went in to her. I slept with her for two or three hours and then came back in with you. She said that in her dream you were sitting at the kitchen table and your eyes were open, but she knew you were dead. She said she could hear Steve Masterton screaming."
Louis looked at her, dismayed. "Rachel," he said at last, "her brother just died. It's normal enough for her to dream that other members of her family-"
"Yes, I surmised that much for myself. But the way she told it the elements...
. it seemed to me to have a quality of prophecy.
She laughed weakly.
"Or maybe you had to be there."
"Yes, maybe so," Louis said.
It seemed to me to have a quality of prophecy.
"Come to bed with me," Rachel said. "The Valium's all worn off, and I don't want to take any more. But I'm afraid. I've been having my own dreams... " "Dreams of what?"
"Of Zeida," she said simply. "The last few nights since Gage died, when I go to sleep, Zelda's there, She says she's coming for me, and this time she'll get me.
That both she and Gage will get me. For letting them die."
"Rachel, that's-"
"I know. Just a dream. Normal enough. But come to bed with me and keep the dreams away if you can, Louis."
They lay together in the dark, crowded into Louis's single.
"Rachel? You still awake?"
"Yes."
"I want to ask you something."
"Go ahead."
He hesitated, not wanting to cause her even more pain but needing to know.
"Do you remember the scare we had with him when he was nine months old?" he asked finally.