“You can help Dad look for Hudson after school, can’t you, Charlie?” Caroline said.
“In the forest?” Charlie looked as if he’d slept as poorly as Ben had, but there was something off about him that could not be explained by fatigue.
“Where else?” Ben asked. “You like the forest, don’t you, Charlie?” He watched his son carefully.
“Better run and get your things now,” Caroline told Charlie.
Charlie looked from Caroline to Ben. He opened his mouth once before closing it and heading back up the stairs to his room.
“I’d like to tell Cal to schedule that session with the school counselor,” Ben said once Charlie was out of earshot.
“I think it’s an overreaction,” Caroline said. She picked up her mug, cradling it in her hands for a few moments before taking a sip. “But if it will make you feel better.”
“It will.” He’d expected another fight but was happy to be wrong.
Charlie came down the stairs, his backpack listing from side to side as he walked. He had the face of a prisoner awaiting execution. He let Caroline kiss him before heading outside. The door banged on his way out.
Ben put on his jacket and moved to follow him.
“I’m sure Hudson will show up, Ben,” Caroline said.
Outside, Charlie stood by the Escape. He looked even paler in the bright morning light. Before school Ben often found him staring dreamily at the trees, but today he was fixated on the car door, pulling urgently at its handle, waiting for Ben to unlock it.
28
Ben had not been gone ten minutes when the ladies arrived. Sometimes Caroline thought they purposely waited until he pulled from the drive. This morning it was Mary Stanton along with Ruth Wyatt.
“Good morning, Caroline,” they chirped from the doorway. Caroline let them in, wishing she’d had the foresight to stuff Bub into a jacket when she’d first heard their car doors slam.
“Mary, Ruth,” Caroline said. “How nice.”
“I wanted to thank Ben for his help during last week’s cleanup at the farm,” Ruth said. Even in a coat three sizes too big, she was all angles. She thrust a pie toward Caroline as Mary stooped to the floor to greet Bub.
“That’s so kind of you,” Caroline said. She took the pallid thing by its sweating aluminum foil pan. “Ben was happy to help.”
Caroline had originally been pleased when Ben volunteered to help the villagers dispose of the plague-stricken cattle. Community integration was essential. But he spent so much time lugging around chopped-up cows and working on his book, Caroline had to prod to get him to do anything around the house. She hated being that kind of wife, but he seemed to demand it from her.
“We missed you at last Sunday’s service,” Mary said. She pursed her lips in a way that was somehow both conspiratorial and admonishing.
“Oh, I know,” Caroline said. She shook her head in mimed exasperation. “Bub’s been out of sorts with the teething, and Charlie’s been off, too. And Ben—well, he probably didn’t even notice it was Sunday.” Not lies, exactly.
They’d gone to Sunday services at the small church in the village several times. These had been bleak affairs, filled with interminable dirges and brimstone sermons from the town’s elders. The village was a dire place and had a religion to match.
Ben had gotten a kick out of it, but, then, he got a thrill from everything these people did. “That was interesting, wasn’t it?” he’d invariably say at the end of the service. As if it were performance art and not part of the actual life they were living.
For him, Swannhaven was a time capsule stuffed with colorful anecdotes that would someday fill an acknowledgments page. To Caroline, the village’s claustrophobic society grew less endearing by the day.
“I just have a few minutes before I need to run some errands,” Caroline said. “But maybe you’d like a cup of something? Some of Mrs. White’s teas? Or coffee, if you’d prefer?” Hospitality was a virtue the region seemed to value above all others, and Caroline did her best.
“Maybe a little coffee,” Mary said, looking at Ruth.
“But we won’t keep you,” Ruth added.
Promises, promises, Caroline thought, as she got two mugs from the cabinet.
“How’s Ben doing?” Mary asked.
“Oh, fine,” Caroline said. “Busy. We’re always busy around here,” she laughed. She gave the women their coffee and made herself more tea.
“And his new book, it’s going well?” Ruth asked.
“Absolutely,” Caroline said.
She hadn’t dared talk to Ben about it, but she actually got the sense from his mood that the book wasn’t going well at all. This, his usual flakiness, and the masculine sense of entitlement that came with the work of the cattle cleanups was not a winning combination. If poor Hudson was really gone, Caroline could only imagine the nightmare the holidays would be.
“It must be very hard to write a book and fix up a house at the same time,” Mary said.
Yes, impossible even, Caroline thought. “Well, at least he’s not entirely on his own with one of those projects,” she said.
“Poor dear. You must end up doing just about everything around here,” Ruth said.
“Well, I wouldn’t say—”
“We’re all wives here, Caroline. We know who ends up doing the real work around a home. But it’s important not to overexert yourself,” Ruth continued.
“You have to think of your health,” Mary said.
“My health?” In the corner of the kitchen, Bub crashed a toy airplane into a firehouse, shouting the delighted sounds of explosions.
“If you ever need a break, someone to watch Charlie and Robert—you know you can count on us,” Mary said.