Ben couldn’t make out Bub’s answer, but he nodded to the boy. He didn’t even know if they could afford to take nice vacations anymore.
“Right, I’m sure we’ll figure it out. Tons of people own small businesses, and they must take time off, right?”
“Who are you talking to?” Charlie asked from the doorway.
“Your brother.”
“What is he saying?”
“Can’t you understand him?”
“No. You can?”
“Of course.” Ben finished drying Bub and wrapped the towel around him.
“I try to understand,” Charlie said. “I know he wants us to understand.”
“Maybe you should try being a better listener. You’re supposed to be in bed.”
“I was in bed at school.”
“We can’t have you passing out again. What if you hurt yourself?”
Charlie didn’t say anything and didn’t move from the doorway. “Who was the lady I had to talk to today?” he finally asked.
“A counselor. Didn’t she tell you that? I know I told you someone would be talking with you.”
“You didn’t say why.”
“Oh, there are a couple reasons,” Ben said. He stood up, lifting Bub with him. “Mostly because of that picture you drew of the shed burning down. Do you remember that one?”
Charlie nodded.
“Well, some people found the man in the smoke you drew kind of disturbing.”
“The man in the smoke,” Charlie repeated.
“They think you might have unresolved issues having to do with the fire.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that they think there’s something you’re not telling us. Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
“Like what?” A frown creased the boy’s face.
“Like anything.”
“You’re mad at me.”
“No, I’m not.” Ben looked away from Charlie and kissed the top of Bub’s head.
“You are. Sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Ben looked at Charlie and thought of Hudson. After tackling Charlie, Hudson had run into the forest howling at something. That very same something had kept him from ever coming home.
“Sorry you’re mad at me.”
“Is that an apology or a recrimination?” Ben asked.
“I don’t know wh—”
“I have to get Bub dressed, Charlie.”
“Do you still want me to go to bed?” he asked.
Ben studied his son. He still looked like a little kid. A pale and sick-looking kid. But Ben saw someone older in those gray-blue eyes. In their reflection he could imagine the dead animals in the woods and the fire in the shed. They made him think of huge men lurking in the forest. They made him wonder about his dead dog. They made him think of secrets that no child should be keeping to himself. When he looked at Charlie, he felt more things than he could sort.
“Do whatever you want to do,” Ben said. He maneuvered past him. When he turned in to Bub’s room, he could still feel Charlie’s gaze on his back.
—
Ben had just gotten Bub dressed when he heard Caroline call for him. There was something strange in her voice, but it wasn’t the Wolf.
He slung Bub over his shoulder and headed downstairs. The chief was sitting in the kitchen, his shoulders powdered with snow. Caroline leaned against the counter, gray-faced.
“What happened?” he asked.
“We found Mrs. White,” the chief said. “Not far from where you told us to look. Found her up in the cemetery. She passed, I’m sorry to say.”
“She’s dead?”
The chief nodded.
“God,” Ben said. He sat in the chair next to the chief’s. “She didn’t look that bad when I saw her. I mean, she was disoriented, but she was also sprinting through the forest.”
“The cold can catch up to you fast,” the chief said.
“I don’t know what to say.” Ben felt sick, and he felt naked against the eyes that were on him. “I ran after her, but I lost her.” Saying it aloud only made Ben feel worse; how hapless would a man have to be to be outrun by an arthritic ninety-year-old?
“She say anything to you when you saw her?”
“No,” Ben said. “She was totally out of it. And she was so thin. I offered her that apple—I thought she must be hungry—but that’s when she took off.” He shook his head. “She was muttering something to herself, but she had almost no voice. It sounded like ‘Swann.’ She said it over and over again, but I didn’t know what she meant.”
“She said ‘Swann’?” the chief asked. “You’re sure?”
“That’s what it sounded like to me. I figured she was remembering that the Swanns used to live here. Could it mean anything else?”
“Her mind was gone,” the chief said. He scribbled something in his notepad. “Coulda meant anything at all.”
“She froze to death?”
“Hypothermia’s our guess. Book says we gotta take her to North Hampstead for the autopsy.”
“She was such a sweet lady,” Caroline said. “I really can’t believe it.” She looked down at the counter.
“I don’t know what I could have done differently,” Ben said. “I searched for her and I couldn’t find her.”
“No one’s blaming you, Ben,” the chief said. “She’s with God now.”
“What about her son?”
“You let me worry about Tommy.” The chief stood up to leave. “Sorry to give you this kinda news before your party.”
“Don’t worry about us, Chief,” Caroline said.
“Yes,” Ben said. “Our sympathies are with the family.”
“In a village this small, we’re all family,” the chief said. He put on his gloves. “Now, you remember that. We all got to stick together up here. The winter’s too hard to do otherwise. I’ll see you tonight.” When he opened the door to leave, the room filled with icy air.
“Are you all right?” Caroline asked.
“Yeah, it’s just—yeah, I’m fine,” Ben said. “I’m sorry, I know you and she became close.”
“Do you think we should cancel the party?”
Ben would have liked nothing more. But one look at her face told Ben that wasn’t what Caroline wanted to hear.
“You’ve already made so much food,” Ben said. “It’d go to waste.”