Night Road

She could lift Grace up. She could be the kind of mother she’d dreamed of having. Maybe they wouldn’t have money or a big house or a new car, but Lexi knew better than most that love could be enough. Eva had proved that. She hated to hurt the Farradays—and Zach—again, hated it to her marrow, but she’d paid enough for her mistake.

The decision anchored her. Wiping her eyes, she looked around, surprised to see how far she’d walked. Behind her, the public beach was a gray comma of sand tucked tightly against dark woods. She couldn’t tell if people were still there or not.

She started to turn back when a flash of hot pink plastic caught her eye. She paused, looked up the beach.

It was the playhouse, with its fluttery pink pennant and mock stone turret.

She didn’t really make a decision to go that way. Rather, she just found herself moving toward it, walking, walking, and suddenly she was standing there, on the sandy beach, in the shade of a giant tree, looking at a little girl’s playhouse.

But in her mind, she was on another beach, years ago, standing under a different tree, in the glow of distant house lights, with her best friend and the boy she thought she’d love forever.

We’ll bury it.

A pact.

We’ll never say good-bye.

How shiny their naïveté had been, like polished silver, glinting in the darkness. She had never believed in anything as much as she’d believed in the three of them at that moment.

She bent down, peered through the small, plastic-shuttered window to the castle’s interior. Several Barbies lay in plastic beds, their clothes scattered around. An open Dr. Seuss book lay beside an empty juice box.

Here was where Grace played alone.

Lexi let her fingers trail atop the flat, mock stone roof as she moved into the yard. The grass was lush and green—summer hadn’t sapped its color yet or turned it crisp. A worn deck jutted out from the log cabin, clearly a construction afterthought. In one corner was an old picnic table with two benches; beside it a plastic-tarped barbeque. Along the split-rail fence line, roses grew wild, their leggy green branches climbing over one another like adolescent boys offering bright pink flowers to a girl.

The house—Zach’s house—was a rustic log cabin with a roof that sprouted moss along its seams. Gray stone chimneys bookended the place, seemed to hold it together. She remembered again the party they’d come to here, as juniors. That was before alcohol had taken over their class. Back then, only a few of the kids had been drinking. Mia and Lexi had spent most of the night on the beach, just the two of them, listening to music coming from behind them. Zach had been dating Emily Adamson then, and Lexi remembered how sharp her longing for him had been.

The sliding glass door rattled open, and there he was.

“Lexi. ”

How many times had she dreamed of seeing him again, of hearing him say her name that way?

He stepped out of the cabin and moved closer. She had thought of him so often, pored over his senior picture until every inch of his face was imprinted on her memory, so she saw instantly how much he had changed. He was taller, and his shoulders were broader, even as he’d lost weight. He had on a ripped gray T-shirt that said USC and a pair of khaki shorts that hung low on his narrow hips. His face was sculpted and lean. He wasn’t as heart-stoppingly handsome as he’d been before; he had a hard, tired look to him, and his eyes were sad.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he said.

“I didn’t think you’d be here. ”

“I didn’t think you’d be here. ”

Was there accusation in his voice? She reminded herself that he’d let her down, that their daughter was unhappy living with him, but it couldn’t quite grab hold, that emotion. As always, when she saw him, a part of her melted. It was her great weakness—he was her weakness and had been from the moment she’d first seen him. But she knew better now. He’d let her go to prison and let her give up custody of their daughter. “I needed to see Grace … needed to know that she was happy. ”

The gravity that had always connected them exerted its force, and before she knew it, she was moving toward him. It wasn’t until she was close enough to be held by him that she realized he hadn’t moved toward her. He had stayed where he was and let her come to him. Of course.

“Why are you here?” he said.

“I had to see my daughter. ”

“Our daughter. ”

“Yes. ” Lexi swallowed hard. She’d imagined this reunion a thousand times, a million, and never had it been so awkward, so seething with loss and distance. She wanted to ask him about Grace, ask if her daughter was like her at all, but she couldn’t do it, couldn’t hand him her heart in those few words. It was a mistake she’d made before.

He stared down at her. She could feel the heat from his body, and the soft exhalations of his every breath. “She makes a little whistling noise when she sleeps—just like you do. Used to, I mean. ”

Lexi didn’t know how to respond. Of course he knew what was on her mind; he’d always known what she was thinking. She was breathing faster now; so was he, she noticed. She stared at his mouth and remembered how he’d looked when he smiled, and how much they used to laugh, and she felt the loss all over again.

“You never answered my letters. ”