And the smell, the ones she remembered from childhood that had hit her at full force when she had first stepped through the door. They were a mixture of the same damp earthy lake air and smoke from the fireplace. The sight and scent had filled her with such a state of happiness; she didn’t think anything bad could happen while she was here.

She looped around the couch and chairs. When she grew tired of the pattern, she circled the kitchen table, walking, pacing—the movement soothing. Sometimes her mind raced with thoughts of Sara, her heart too heavy for her chest to hold and she’d stop, bend over, and release the most terrifying sound she had ever heard, one laden with grief.

She continued on, stepping in and out of one of the three bedrooms. She couldn’t bring herself to walk into Sara’s bedroom, where her daughter should be sleeping. And the master bedroom, if you could call it that since the space could just about fit the queen-size bed and chest of drawers, where Kyle had slept on their second night when she had telephoned about Sara, reeked of failure and loneliness. The thought of both empty beds was too much to bear.

She took to biting her nails, moving haphazardly through the rest of the cabin. She lost track of time. At one point she poured a glass of water and swallowed it down in large gulps. Within minutes, the water sloshing around her belly, she bent over the kitchen sink and threw up. She couldn’t remember the last time she had had something to eat or drink. Her body ached with exhaustion. She walked on.

Gradually, slowly, her thoughts turned to Jo and the news about Billy. No, no. She wasn’t ready to think about it yet. She couldn’t bear to think he was gone from this world. Not Billy, too.

But she did think about him, the boy he was the last time she saw him. He was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans even though it had been a particularly hot day. In fact, it had been a hot summer. The days were long and the humidity relentless. But somehow not even the heat could touch cool Billy. Or maybe because he spent so much time on the lake, the coolness of the water never truly left him. It was as though he had been a very part of what made the lake special.

True, she had been young, but not so young that she didn’t recognize the way her stomach flip-flopped and her heart skipped whenever he was near. “Are you feeling okay?” Dee Dee would ask. “I feel funny,” she would whisper, only to have Dee Dee whisper back, “That’s why they call it lovesickness.”

She had followed Billy everywhere. He had never given any indication he had minded. In fact, thinking back, he had encouraged her.

“What do you think, Pattie-cakes?” He had looked into her eyes. There had been something about his gaze that had invited you in. A girl, young or old, could have lost herself in those eyes, so deep and full of mystery. “Should we take the boat for a spin?”

She had tried to answer, mixing up her words and stuttering. In the end, she had resorted to nodding. He had picked her up, his biceps bulging, sunglasses perched on the top of his head. He had placed her in his boat and off they went, speeding across the water after dinner well before the partying started, before Jo had turned up to take him away.

*   *   *

Patricia stopped pacing when a car pulled into the yard and parked. Her first thought was that it might be the sheriff. She yanked the curtains aside and looked out the window, recognizing Kyle’s BMW. He knocked on the door. She didn’t know what else to do but let him in, caught off guard, surprised to see him. It must’ve been why he tried calling earlier, to let her know he was coming.

“Is there any news?” he asked, straightening his tie, the crease in his pants still evident even after a six-hour drive.

The sight of him in his crisp suit, fresh and pulled together, more than bothered her. She touched the tangles in her hair, glanced at her wrinkled clothes. “Nothing yet,” she said.

“How are you holding up?” He crossed the room and sat in one of the wicker chairs.

“I’m okay. Can I get you anything? Coffee? You must be tired after the long drive,” she said, wondering why she felt compelled to play the role of wife, to pretend nothing was wrong.

“No,” he said, and rubbed his brow. “I’m good.”

She sat on the couch across from him and waited. He obviously wanted something from her, but she couldn’t force herself to care enough to ask, to show him any empathy. Instead she picked up a couple of Sara’s pictures from the table and started shuffling them around, making the collage she had promised her daughter she would make on their first day here.

“Can you put those down?” he asked.

She carefully set the pictures back on the table and folded her hands in her lap.

“How long is it going to take to find her?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“But they must’ve told you something, given you some idea.”

She shook her head. “They’re doing what they can.”

“Is it possible they’ll never find her? I mean, is it possible it could take weeks, months, even years? How long are we expected to wait?”

“I’ll wait as long as it takes,” she said.

“But I can’t. Don’t you understand?” He stood, smoothing back his hair. He walked around the chair. “I just can’t take off days and days to sit around and wait.”

No, of course not, you always were weak. It took a tremendous amount of strength to sit and wait and hold it together. “What do you want, Kyle? Do you want me to tell you it’s okay that you left? That you went back to work knowing your daughter was still out there? That you didn’t care enough about her to stick around until they found her, her body?” She raised her voice.

“No. Yes.” He walked around the chair again. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You want me to ease your guilt?” She stood, her anger building, understanding that was exactly what he wanted.

“No,” he said, and stopped. “I want her found as much as you do.” His voice cracked.

There was pain in his eyes when he looked at her. He was hurting, and for a second she wanted to reach for him, to have him put his arms around her, to grieve with her. It was their child and nothing could change that. But before she had a chance to go to him, to comfort him, to comfort her, he opened his mouth.

“Just promise me, when all this is over, we’ll handle it between us. That you won’t get anyone else involved.” He held his hands up, pleading with her.

“What are you talking about?”

“We can do this on our own. I can draw up the papers. I promise, I’ll be fair.”

“Papers?” My God, he was talking about their divorce. Her body stiffened. How could he bring up their divorce at a time like this? Her teeth rattled with rage. “Get out,” she said.

“What?” He cocked his head. “Where do you want me to go?”

“Get out!” she shouted.

“Calm down. There’s no need to shout,” he said, trying to placate her. “Somebody will hear you.”

“I don’t care. Just get out.” She pushed him in the chest. “Now.” She screamed.

“Be reasonable. I drove all this way.”

“Get out.” She continued pushing him, slapping him in the arms, shrieking. “Get out. Get out. Get out.” She hollered until she pushed him outside. The screen door banged shut between them. He stood on the other side, staring in at her.

“We’re not done talking about this,” he said.

She slammed the wood door in his face.

*   *   *

She returned to the living room and dropped into the wicker rocking chair. How could she have loved him? He was an awful human being. She cried into Dolly’s soft stuffing, but still she wouldn’t allow herself to unravel. Not now. She wouldn’t give Kyle the satisfaction.

What she needed was to talk with someone, someone who would listen, someone who would understand what she was going through. She could no longer do this by herself.