Periodically I took a moment to catalog my situation. I was in a strange town, alone in a motel room, waiting for someone who may or may not actually ever show up. I didn’t have enough money to pay for the motel room alone. And it was unclear how I would get home if Tuck never reappeared. Would I take his car? Could I find a bus? Did I even want to go home? I thought about waiting tables in the little diner where we’d had breakfast. I could change my name, dye my hair, start over again far away from any ocean.

And what about Tuck? I had no way to call him, no way to reach him. Was he at least inside somewhere? Or was he out in the cold?

I put on my jacket and stepped outside, walked toward downtown. The air was crisp and sweet smelling, and the whole town had a kind of Christmassy cheer. People with rosy cheeks were hurrying down the sidewalk. Children in mittens were trailing after their mothers.

I wasn’t hungry, but I made myself buy a slice of pizza. I took it to the bench where I’d last seen Tuck, and worried half of it down. I sat in the dark, watching the happy people of Lindenberg holding hands and walking dogs.

Then I heard drums.

Not right away, but after hearing them for several minutes it occurred to me that Tuck was somehow responsible for the drumbeat. And once I’d had the thought, it became a conviction. He was communicating with me in that most elemental way, hands on skin, heartbeat.

I threw away the rest of the pizza and took off toward the drum sound.

But if you’ve ever tried to follow a drumbeat, you know it’s almost impossible. The sound ricochets off buildings and trees. It echoes. It’s everywhere. I walked to the end of Main Street, and heard it closer than ever, but when I turned a corner, it was suddenly so faint it was almost gone.

I grabbed someone’s coated arm, a man, who looked at me in surprise.

“Where is that drumming coming from?” I asked.

“Dunno,” he said. “Maybe Calderwood Park? That’s what it sounds like to me.”

He pointed, and I went in that direction.

I found the entrance to the park, a path into the dark woods. It was the right place for the drumming. I could hear it louder than ever. I had no flashlight, but there was a half moon, and the sky still looked blue-black, with the faintest light. I took the path, walking half blind, feeling my way forward tentatively. Then I saw brightness ahead.