I gave Nate promises and assurances and said good-bye.
“He’s doing fine,” I told Matt as I led him up the stairs. Silence. I smiled and chattered away as if nothing had happened. A thought flashed through my mind—am I the one in shock?—but I dismissed it. I couldn’t afford to worry about me right now.
In the bathroom, I cleaned his face with a damp washcloth and he pulled off his shirt.
“I’m … so sorry,” I said. “About—”
He looked at me sharply. The motion startled me.
He shook his head once—a gesture I would learn meant we aren’t talking about that—and climbed onto the air mattress in the bedroom.
Chapter 30
MATT
I eased my finger off the trigger of my pistol, relaxed my hands on the grip, and lowered the gun. The sound of its shot still sang in my ears. Four of the five cans that I had balanced on the fence now lay in the grass.
There is a clean, controlled violence in shooting. And now that I owned almost three hundred acres, I hardly needed to visit a range.
I left one can standing.
I walked back to the house, but circuitously, roaming through the woods and splashing cold creek water on my face.
Lately, I spent more time outdoors than in. Nate was visiting. Hannah worked from home. Mike made house calls three times a week. I had nothing to say to them, though. They suffocated me with their concern.
I slipped into the house by the back door, kicked off my boots in the mudroom, and hurried upstairs. I knew Hannah would be waiting for me in the family room. Sure enough—no sooner had I reached my study than I heard her bounding up the stairs.
I dropped into my armchair and glowered at the window.
The door opened; Hannah’s head popped into the room, forced cheer on her face.
“You’re back,” she said.
That was self-evident.
I closed my eyes and listened as she walked across the room. I heard the heavy metal scrape of my pistol on the desk.
“Did you … put the safety on this thing?”
“No.” I sighed.
“Do you want to shower? With me?”
I heard her drawing closer. I smelled her perfume, piquant and almost masculine. I usually loved that scent on her body, but right now it was cloying.
“No,” I said. “I’m tired.”
“Where have you been?”
I rested my head against the high back of the armchair. Some nights I drove to Denver and slept in our unsold, desolate condo. Other nights I camped on the Corral Creek property. Other nights I didn’t sleep at all. I explored our land or walked around Denver. Why should I sleep if I wasn’t tired? I preferred to sleep in the day, avoiding my battery of well-wishers with their painful, tedious questions.
How are you feeling?
Have you eaten?
Do you want to talk about Seth?
No. No. Never.
“Matt?”
“Mm.”
“It’s September,” Hannah said. Her fingers sifted through my hair, which was getting too long, and over the scruff along my jaws. “Look.” She turned the page on a wall calendar. I studied it from the armchair. Ah, yeah, I recognized that calendar: a gift with an appeal from The Nature Conservancy. September’s page showed a beach at sundown, golden sand and rocks green with lichen.
I would not like to go there. I looked away.
“Night Owl comes out in paperback tomorrow. Can you believe that?” She kissed my mouth. I knew that I loved her and I wanted to hold her, but I lacked the energy. “I’m actually excited,” she said. She sat on my lap and nuzzled my neck. “Have you been outside? You smell like pine. Matt…”
She cried for a while and told me she missed me.
“Hannah.” Nate strode into the room. He held a cup of coffee, black, which he set on my desk. He guided Hannah off my lap. “Morning, Matt.”
“Three’s a fucking crowd,” I said. I stood and brushed past them, heading for the bedroom. “Don’t touch my gun,” I said at the door.
*
I have a recurring dream.
In the dream, I drown my brother.
We played together when we were young.