And then she caught her first sight of Tabaquen.
The harbor was a natural shelter, the rocks reaching into the river on both sides, like stone arms. Here, unexpectedly, there were trees. Dwarfed, clinging to the ground. But determined to live. It looked like stubble on a worn face.
The harbor formed a sun trap, a rocky bowl. So that things lived here that would perish elsewhere. It was an oddity of nature and geology and geography.
As the ship glided to the long quai, the harbor felt like a sort of a haven.
Was that how a sorcerer lured his victims?
Was that how a muse might do it? Lull you in, lure you in. From the storm. With the promise of eternal safety. Eternal peace.
Was this what death felt like?
Clara took a step back from the railing, but Myrna stopped her. Held her firm.
“It’s all right,” she whispered.
And Clara, her heart pounding, stopped. And stepped forward again.
They grabbed their cases and waited for the gangway.
Gamache was first in line, but Clara, wordlessly, stepped in front of him. And he, wordlessly, stepped back.
When the bridge from ship to shore appeared, Clara was the first to take it.
Down, down, down. She led them, until she was standing on the dock. Her friends behind her.
“With your permission,” Gamache said, and Clara could see that something had shifted. He was asking, to be courteous. But that was all.
Clara nodded and Armand Gamache did not hesitate.
He walked briskly to the first person he saw, an elderly man with a large oiled hat, watching the Loup de Mer unload.
“We’re looking for a fellow named Norman,” he said. “He might go by the name No Man.”
The man looked away, out to the open river.
“Get back on the boat. There’s nothing here for you.”
“We need to see No Man,” Gamache repeated, his voice friendly but firm.
“You should leave.”
“Armand?” Myrna asked.
She and Clara were standing a distance away, scanning the harbor and the village for Peter. But there was no one about. No man, no woman, no child. The place felt more abandoned than deserted. As though everyone had fled. One step ahead of a disaster.
Myrna could feel her resolve slipping away. Flowing and flooding away. Pouring through the cracks in her courage. Behind them was the ship. With the croissants and the bathtub and the soft, rhythmic rocking.
It would take them home. To her croissants and her bathtub, and the solid ground of Three Pines.
Gamache and Beauvoir walked over to them.
“Jean-Guy and I need to find Norman. And you need to stay here.”
“But—” Clara was silenced by the slightest movement of his hand, and the determination in his face.
Whether he held the rank of Chief Inspector or not, this man would always lead, and would always be followed. Even if following sometimes meant staying behind.
“We’ve come this far,” said Clara.
“And this is far enough,” said Gamache. His look was so kindly she felt herself calming down.
“I need to find Peter,” she insisted.
“You will,” said Gamache. “But we need to find Norman first. The fisherman says he’s up there.”
Gamache pointed. Toward a rise, a hill. Where there were no dwellings, no buildings at all. It was just rock and scrub.
“There’s a diner.” Beauvoir waved at a weathered clapboard building. “You can wait for us there.”
Clara had forgotten that they’d been here before.
“I should go with you,” said Chartrand.
“You should stay here,” said Gamache. Then he turned to Clara. “You’ve brought us this far. Now you need to wait here. If we find Peter we’ll bring him to you. I promise.”
He gave a brief nod of thanks to the elderly man, who’d turned away and was again staring out at the harbor, and the river beyond.
And in that instant Gamache had the sense the elderly man hadn’t so much been watching for the ship, as waiting.
A mariner on dry land. But always a boatman. Perhaps even a voyageur.
Clara stopped at the door to the diner and watched as Armand and Jean-Guy walked out of town. And on the top of the hill, they paused.
Two figures, a few feet apart, against the morning sky.
Clara tilted her head slightly and narrowed her eyes. Then she felt her heart squeeze. They looked like the ears of a hare. Like in Peter’s painting.
In the diner she unrolled one of his canvases. Marcel Chartrand brought over a plate of lemon meringue pie and put it on one of the corners, to keep it from curling up.
Then Clara sat down and stared into the painting, the closest she could come, for now, to being in Peter’s company.
*
Ahead of them, in the distance, Gamache and Beauvoir could see the village of Agneau-de-Dieu. And at their backs was Tabaquen.
And in between was a stretch of terrain. Desolate. Empty.
No Man’s land.
Except for one neat little house.
No Man’s home.
The Long Way Home
Louise Penny's books
- The Face of a Stranger
- The Silent Cry
- The Sins of the Wolf
- The Dark Assassin
- The Whitechapel Conspiracy
- The Sheen of the Silk
- The Twisted Root
- The Lost Symbol
- After the Funeral
- The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding
- After the Darkness
- The Best Laid Plans
- The Doomsday Conspiracy
- The Naked Face
- The Other Side of Me
- The Sands of Time
- The Sky Is Falling
- The Stars Shine Down
- The Lying Game #6: Seven Minutes in Heaven
- The First Lie
- All the Things We Didn't Say
- The Good Girls
- The Heiresses
- The Perfectionists
- The Sacred Lies of Minnow Bly
- The Lies That Bind
- Ripped From the Pages
- The Book Stops Here
- The New Neighbor
- A Cry in the Night
- The Phoenix Encounter
- The Dead Will Tell: A Kate Burkholder Novel
- The Perfect Victim
- Fear the Worst: A Thriller
- The Naturals, Book 2: Killer Instinct
- The Fixer
- The Good Girl
- Cut to the Bone: A Body Farm Novel
- The Devil's Bones
- The Bone Thief: A Body Farm Novel-5
- The Bone Yard
- The Breaking Point: A Body Farm Novel
- The Inquisitor's Key
- The Girl in the Woods
- The Dead Room
- The Death Dealer
- The Silenced
- The Hexed (Krewe of Hunters)
- The Night Is Alive
- The Night Is Forever
- The Night Is Watching
- In the Dark
- The Betrayed (Krewe of Hunters)
- The Cursed
- The Dead Play On
- The Forgotten (Krewe of Hunters)
- Under the Gun
- The Paris Architect: A Novel
- The Darling Dahlias and the Silver Dollar Bush
- Always the Vampire
- The Darling Dahlias and the Confederate Rose
- The Darling Dahlias and the Cucumber Tree
- The Darling Dahlias and the Naked Ladies
- The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star
- The Doll's House
- The Garden of Darkness
- The Creeping
- The Killing Hour
- Long Lost: A Kate Burkholder Short Story