“I’m Hattie Hoffman, actress, CVS clerk, and Pine Valley high school senior. I’m in love with Peter Lund and I want him to move to New York with me.”
His face froze. He stared at me for what felt like forever and I didn’t know if he was going to hug me or yell at me. We’d never talked about the future. My future, yes, but not his. Not ours. This relationship existed outside of our lives; it had no sense of time or progress.
Suddenly Peter yanked his hand away, stood up, and walked to the edge of the branches hanging over us. I followed him.
“Peter? Say something.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Say yes.”
He laughed again, but it was a hard sound now. It made my stomach clench.
“Oh, okay. I’ll just go to New York with you. That sounds simple.”
“It is. It can be.”
“Where will we live?”
“We can sublet a room somewhere. There’s a million listings on Pulse.”
“And how will we pay for that room?”
“I have over two thousand in savings. And I’ll transfer to one of the pharmacies there.” I rattled off a few of the CVS locations I’d memorized from their website, touching his shoulder, but he pulled away.
“And you can teach,” I added.
“Do you even know what the licensing requirements are in New York?”
“Licensing?”
He laughed that awful laugh again. The conversation was turning on me. This wasn’t supposed to happen. If I had taken more time and researched things, I could have answered him. I could have shot down his every objection. But no—he demanded I be honest and like an idiot I was. Now he wouldn’t even look at me. I felt the desperation in my throat, closing it off like stage fright, and it made me bounce on my toes, quick bounces to try to shake it off.
“We’ll figure everything out. We’ve got the whole summer to figure it out.”
“The whole summer?” He stretched out the word whole, using that sarcastic voice he got when he wanted me to feel like I was four years old.
“How long do you need? People move to New York all the time.”
“Our situation is a little more complicated than most people’s.”
“Don’t you want to go with me?”
He didn’t say anything and I almost started crying right then. Then he put a hand over his face. “I do.”
The hope and love surged through me so fast and fierce I almost couldn’t breathe.
“Then come with me.”
“It’s not that simple.” Finally he turned around. His eyes were full of despair.
“Actually it is.”
“I’m married, Hattie.”
“So get unmarried.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“It really is, Peter. You say I don’t want to be married to you anymore. Here are the divorce papers. Goodbye.”
“Her mother is dying.”
“Her mother was dying two months ago when you ran off to Minneapolis to sleep with me. She was dying an hour ago when you were kissing me under this tree.”
“Mary can’t know about this. The last thing she needs right now is—”
“I don’t care what the last thing Mary needs is. I’ll tell her myself. She comes in to the pharmacy every week for her mom’s prescriptions.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” His voice went low and scared. He grabbed my arm.
I leaned in close, close enough to feel the heat of his breath, to see his pupils dilate and the blood beat against his throat.
“You have no idea what I would or wouldn’t do, Peter. Remember? All my names, all my identities that make you so crazy?” I gave him a tight, angry smile, even as my heart was breaking. “Who knows which one your wife might meet the next time she stops in for her meds?”
I wrenched my arm out of his hand, hard enough that it hurt, and marched down the hill and back toward the barn. I wanted to look back, to see if he was following me to apologize, but I didn’t. I wanted to run, too, faster than anyone had ever run before, but I didn’t do that either. I walked in the dried mud tracks of a combine that had plowed through these fields last fall, letting the tears come, feeling the ache in my arm where he’d grabbed me. By the time I got back to the pickup, I was sniffling and trying not to lose it completely. I drove home and walked in the front door to see Mom sitting at the kitchen table with my computer open in front of her. She looked from the screen to my face with heavy, disappointed eyes.
“We need to talk.”
DEL / Wednesday, April 16, 2008
I GOT back to the station that afternoon after talking to Fran, half hoping the DNA results would be sitting on my desk. Instead, Mona was waiting in my office, her hands quietly folded and eyes down as she sat in the visitor’s chair. Winifred Erickson was with her. I thought about my phone call with Bud this morning, how he’d hung up on me, while I stood on the other side of the glass looking at them.
Jake came over with some warrants: two for outstanding tickets and one failure to appear. County business still had to go on.
“How long have they been here?” I asked as I signed the warrants.
“Twenty minutes maybe.” He kept his voice down. “I tried to get them to wait in the conference room, but they just walked in there and sat down. Didn’t say a word to anyone.”