“Eliza, stop.” But he was trapped in a corner and Eliza slipped her hand into his back pocket, jerked the papers from it. “Voilà.” She waved them in the air. Nick grabbed at the papers and missed.

Eliza attempted to hand them to Amy. Amy held her hands up as a sign that she did not want them.

“Here. Here. They’re yours.” Eliza shoved the papers at Amy.

“What?” Amy held up her hands.

Eliza threw the papers at Amy’s feet; they fluttered to the ground. Nick grabbed at his wife’s arm, hauled her through the French doors to the foyer. Escorting her was not a difficult task as Eliza was unsteady.

Revvy met them at the front door. “Hey, man, guess she was more sloshed than confused.”

“Yeah, I guess so, Rev. Now move.”

Nick opened the front door and half-carried, half-thrust his wife onto the front porch. He closed the door behind them and leaned into her face. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“The same thing you were gonna do . . . show her the notes. I’ve waited all night for you to get here, knowing that if you did, it was only to see her. I was just beginning to hope that you weren’t coming. But it’s the same me, the same stupid me who thinks maybe, just maybe you’re over her. I was wrong about that, and about you coming here. I’m so stupid, stupid, stupid.” She wept bent over, shaking.

“You are not stupid, just drunk. Climb in my truck. I’ll take you home.”

“Why? Why would you take me home when it’s not me you want to take home at all?”

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-four

The background noise of the dwindling party had served as a cloak to the bizarre discussion with Nick and Eliza. Now they were gone into the frigid night and Revvy stood in the foyer staring at Amy, shrugging his shoulders.

She had considered each part in her life—family, friends, Nick, the OWP—as separate and distinct; now her worlds had collided in a grinding mess.

She turned to Carol Anne, whispered, “What the hell was that?”

Carol Anne pointed to the papers on the parlor floor. “What the hell are those?”

Amy picked up the papers, held them to the light; they were yellowed at the edges with a brownish tea color in the middle and a round coffee stain on the lower right corner. The paper was lined but the writing slanted across it, not following the lines. The note was written in all capital letters, as if screaming the smudged message.

She began to read the words, then looked up at Carol Anne. “No . . .”

Carol Anne grabbed the papers, but Amy’s tight grip caused them to rip in half. She stood still as she held half of Nick’s ancient pleas and Carol Anne held the other half.