The front hall was filled with people, many of whom had been at the house after the funeral the week before, and the mood was light, as though they’d come by for an impromptu party. Marlene was handing around coffee, and Terrance had brought out a tub of bottled beer. I held Michael tightly in my arms as Press and I thanked everyone who had searched. It was mostly men, though there were a few wives too, mostly of the men who worked on nearby farms. Shelley, the cheerful, blond nineteen-year-old sister of the orchardkeeper, had even put on work boots to help with the search. I wouldn’t have noticed, but she mentioned them, embarrassed that she was wearing them in the house.
“I had to come,” she said. “My baby brother was lost for a day and a half when he was three, and we found him in an old well someone hadn’t covered. It about killed my mother.”
Michael shifted in my arms, wanting to get down, but I just held him more tightly. Relenting, he rested his head on my shoulder with a sigh, sucking on two of his fingers.
Shelley smiled. “She said there were years of leaves down there that broke his fall. He was just bruised, and very mad. Now he’s training in the Navy to go on a submarine. You’d think he’d be afraid of dark small places after that happened, but he isn’t.” Shyly, she reached out to touch Michael’s damp curls. “And where were you hiding, little one?”
Michael watched her intently for a moment, then grinned and turned his head away, shy.
Where had he been? I still wasn’t certain.
After I’d shouted down the gallery to let J.C. know I’d found him, and asked her to find Press, I quickly changed his very full diaper and took him to the kitchen to feed him. Before everyone started gathering at the house to see Michael for themselves, I told Press and J.C. that I’d found him on top of the armoire. I saw the muscles in Press’s jaw tense—a sign that he was either angry or trying to make a decision. Finally he said, “Well, he’s a magician, this one.” He rubbed Michael’s head and kissed him. “But let’s just tell everyone he fell asleep under his grandmama’s bed and we missed him. It’s not anyone’s business.”
J.C. and I had looked at each other, then nodded. It was the best answer.
I knew there was no way he’d gotten to the top of the armoire without help, and, given the number of times we’d looked in Olivia’s bedroom, it seemed unlikely that he could have been up there, quiet, the entire time. But who would’ve put him up there? I still suspected Terrance, whom Press had assigned to hand out cigars to the men and was now making his way from group to group, holding open one of Press’s smaller humidors. But I still couldn’t answer the question why. It seemed like a prank—a dangerous, foolish prank. Playfulness did not seem to be in Terrance’s dour personality. Then there was J.C., who might have done anything while I was knocked out and the others were searching. I silently cursed myself for giving in to Jack and his drugs. But Press had been holding me. I’d had no choice.
As Shelley continued to try to engage Michael, I looked across the hall to see Rachel talking to Hugh Walters, who wasn’t in uniform but wore a denim work jacket and light brown moleskin trousers. Jack hadn’t wanted Rachel around the stressful search, but had called her to come right over after Michael had been found. Seeing me, she blew me a kiss.
Michael, excited by the novelty of the crowd, began to wriggle again, and I recognized the signs of approaching hysteria. His eyes were rimmed in red, and he rubbed at them with his fist.
Having volunteered to help Marlene hand around drinks, J.C. finally came to stand beside me. After I introduced her to Shelley, Shelley said that she would try to find her brother, and excused herself.
J.C. had returned to wearing her very public smile, but toned it down when she stepped a little closer to gently pat Michael’s back. He put his thumb in his mouth and rested his head on my shoulder.
“Looks like he’s about to pass out.”
“I really should get him upstairs. Have you seen Press?” I felt awkward and confused around her. Was she really having an affair with Press, and was she involved in Michael’s disappearance? Or was I mistaken? Something about her made me want to trust her, but I couldn’t make myself.
She said she thought she’d seen him go into the library. When I went in search of him, she drifted toward Hugh and Rachel. Recalling what I’d seen in the garden, I couldn’t help but wonder how uncomfortable that conversation might be.
I found Press and Jack in the library, the smoke from their cigars clouding the room.
“There’s my little man.” Press rested his cigar in the nearby standing ashtray and rose to take Michael from me. I didn’t want to let him go, but Michael had given a small grunt of delight on seeing his father and pulled away to reach for him.
“He needs to be in bed, Press. He’s about to fall apart.”
Michael rested his face against his father’s cheek and patted his head as though it had been Press lost and in distress all afternoon. It was reassuring to see how comfortable the two of them were together. Without Eva, we would all need each other that much more.