I'd all but forgotten that Michael and Nolan were leaving in mid-April, so it caught me off-guard when Carmen brought me a plate of pancakes and a mouthful of hot gossip early one warm morning.
"Did you hear yet?" she asked, as I sliced up the pancakes and, to my delight, found two links of sausage underneath them.
"About what?" I said, mouth half-full.
"The boys at the bank?"
I swallowed sharply and cleared my throat. "Nolan and Michael?"
"They ran off last night," she said, leaning forward and whispering, eyes wide.
"I hope they didn't rob the place," I said.
"No, but I hear they cleaned out their bank accounts. Nolan's little sister says they went to Chicago."
"Really," I said innocently.
"Together!" Carmen added, a hint of scandal seeping into her voice.
I admit to a little mischief. After the last few months, I felt I was owed that much. "Well, it's better to travel in pairs."
"No! Like, together."
I raised an eyebrow at her. "Is that so. I suppose I can see why they'd run off, then."
"You mean aside from Michael's dad throwing him out of the house?"
"Well, this just gets more and more operatic. Did he really?"
"That's what I hear."
"Well, what do you think of it?" I asked, honestly curious. She glanced at me, frowned, and looked out the window nearby.
"Some people are meant for the city, I guess," she said. "But we look after our own folk, don't we?"
"That we do," I replied.
"So...things're changing. Maybe they just change here a little slower." She grinned. "Says something that Charles is fit to be tied at Michael's dad, huh?"
"Is he going to excommunicate him?" I winked.
"Well, he's right out of the choir and the Farmer's Association are thinking of taking measures too. Everyone sort of thinks it isn't really right, what he did to his boy."
I nodded. "What about Nolan's parents?"
"Haven't heard yet. If they don't know now, they will soon. Nolan's mother's liable to go down to Chicago with a shotgun and haul 'em both back, though, don't you think?"
"I hope not," I said.
"You liked those boys," she said – a half-question.
"I still do," I replied. She twisted her fingers together, looking from the window to me and back to the window.
"If you could go back to Chicago, would you?" she asked.
"Why do you ask?" I said.
"Just wondering." She tried to act casual, and mostly failed.
"Chicago wasn't perfect either," I told her.
"What if...you know..." she prompted, and I frowned.
"What if what?"
"What if Lucas came back?"
I stared at her, openmouthed.
She gave me a dry look. "Wasn't exactly a secret, Christopher. Plenty of people worried for your state of mind after he took off."
"I..." I said, blinking. "Low Ferry's my home, Carmen. Whether he were here or not. And if he did come back -- this'd still be my home."
"Good," she said, all smiles now. "And you know Charles would tan anyone who came after you, and I'd be back of Charles with a baseball bat unless the Harrisons beat me to it."
"Comforting," I said. "But I don't think it's needed. You've got a line, by the way," I added, pointing to the cafe, and she swore and yelled "Bye Christopher!" as she ran out the door.
I sat at my counter thought about it for a while: what she'd said of Michael and Nolan's flight, how she'd asked if I would go too, what it meant to say I was putting down roots here, to say it to someone in Low Ferry who mattered to me.
Marjorie answered the phone almost before I'd realized I had the phone in my hand. Her cheerful "Eighth Rare Books, Marj speaking" startled me, and I stuttered over my hello.
"Christopher," she said. "Your ears must have been burning, I was just saying to someone that I should call you."
"Oh yes? What can Dusk Books do for you today?" I inquired.
"Nothing at all, as you well know. No, I was just saying I wanted to invite you up to Chicago soon," she said. I heard her pencil tapping on the newspaper in the background.
"Well, I thought I might come up, actually. Play tourist a little, that kind of thing. My doctor wants me to have my heart looked at."
"Oh?" her voice turned concerned. "Have you had another attack?"