She closed her eyes, hardly able to register her shock. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know what I’ll do.”

When she opened her eyes, he was looking at the floor again. “If you did, I—I mean, Christ, I’m not much. But—”

Dolly felt her heart constrict. “Don’t, JJ,” she said. “You can’t—can’t say such things to me when I’m a married woman. You just can’t. No matter what he’s done. Or what I’ve done. I haven’t made up my mind. I might be a fool, but—JJ, you said you never mess with married girls! You made me feel I was safe with you.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “It was just—I felt—” He looked up at the ceiling, around at the shadows. “Christ, maybe it’s true about this fucking house,” he said. Then he turned and started up the stairs.

She gaped at the slump of his shoulders as he ascended the stairs, stunned by the finality of his tone. She was afraid of being left alone to wither on the vine with her dreams and crazy fascinations. She realized then—her connection with JJ hadn’t been only about her seeing the truth of him. He had understood her, too. She had been herself with him: angry, prideful, caring, sweet, relaxed, meticulous, demanding—an entire kaleidoscope. And he had accepted every color, every pattern, every face she showed. “JJ!” she called. “It’s all right—it was a mistake! We can still—be friends! I didn’t mean—Let’s just—just forget about it!”

He didn’t turn around. “I’m leaving,” he said, making his way up the stairs, one ragged step at a time. “Do what you want with this fucking place.”

For a moment, she was shocked to blankness. But then, anguish and fury mounting, she thought: How could he?

She called after him, but he didn’t answer, just kept climbing the stairs. And suddenly, she couldn’t stand the humiliation of lurking one more second in the shadows of the Mickelson house. She thundered down the stairs and burst out the front door, into the cool, dark night.

Chapter 81

ON THE TRAIN FROM PINE RAPIDS
Monday, November 26, 1945

Wilma drew her coat tighter around her body and straightened her hat as the train picked up speed, leaving the Pine Rapids depot. She supposed John was still standing there on the platform under the gray sky, larger than life in his black overcoat, with his hat in his hands, but she didn’t look back.

Following her breakdown at the piano on Friday, she had let the family put her to bed. She stayed there two days. Then she got up and packed a suitcase. Just a few things. She wouldn’t need much.