Linda nodded, and opened the door so he could come in. She shut the door behind him and, without a word, ran up the stairs and knocked on the door to Anne’s room, then slipped inside. Harry watched the closed door, waiting.

Chapter 74

HOME OF BYRON AND DOLLY MAGNUSON
406 Jefferson Avenue, Pine Rapids
Friday, August 4, 1950

Refusing to cry, or to clean up the kitchen, Dolly paced the house. She caught herself gnawing on her nails, ruining her new manicure, so she kicked the foot of the sofa, stubbing her toe. She yelled in frustration, and wished for Jane, her mother, anyone who could console her.

And then she realized: There was someone who could.

Quickly, she went to the bedroom to put on an old pair of panties, then shoved her bare feet into her red ballet slippers. She ran out the front door of the bungalow, not even bothering to lock it behind her.

Chapter 75

Superior, Wisconsin
Friday, November 23, 1945

“Anne, wake up. Wake up. He’s here.”

Anne fought her way out from under the cloud of sleep. For a blissful second upon waking, her mind was blank of yesterday, but then the memory rushed back, as quick and heavy as a wave intent on drowning her. “Harry? Harry’s here?” she said, blinking against the darkness. The drapes were closed, and only a sliver of gray light made its way between them.

“Yes!” said Linda. “He looks upset.”

Anne buried her face in her pillow. “I can’t see him. Not now.”

“Anne!”

Left in charge of the house while the other girls and Mrs. Hanson were away for Thanksgiving, Linda had come out of her room wielding a baseball bat at six this morning, when the noise of Anne’s suitcase dragging up the stairs awoke her. Anne burst into tears at the sight of her, and cried while Linda took her to the kitchen and made coffee. Linda demanded to know what had happened, as they sat there at the table in the rising light of dawn, but Anne would tell her only that it was something dreadful. No, Harry hadn’t done anything wrong. And with that, she burst into tears again. Linda finally took her upstairs and put her to bed. Too tired to think anymore, too heartbroken to move, Anne had drifted in and out of sleep all day; she hadn’t slept a wink on the train all miserable last night.

Linda shook her. “Anne, don’t you think he deserves an explanation?”

“I can’t. I’m so ashamed.” The tears were starting again. “Please, Lin, just tell him I’m sorry.”

There was quiet for a moment, just the sound of the sleet hitting the windowpane, and then Linda sighed. “All right,” she said. “If you’re sure.”

Resting her hand over her eyes, Anne listened. Linda’s footsteps as she walked out of the room, the door closing gently behind her. A moment later, the murmur of voices.