“If you want to hate me, if you want to believe that, you can convince yourself of it—but you know it’s not completely true.”

“Not completely true?” Nick spit in his anger, kicked a wicker hamper across the floor. “Not all the way true? You lied to me for twenty-five years, let me believe she—”

“Say her name, say her name,” Eliza whispered.

“Amy. Amy. You let me believe Amy didn’t answer my telegrams, that you were the only one there for me. That you were the one who . . .” He turned to his backpack and shoved clothing into it.

“I was the one who was there for you. You lied to me, too.”

“How?” He slammed his backpack onto the floor.

“I believed you were over her, that you loved me. That you . . . were here with us, with our family. But you weren’t. The whole time you were waiting, wondering about her.”

Nick leaned down and grabbed his bag, threw it over his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Eliza asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What if I . . . what if the kids have to get ahold of you?”

“I have my cell phone.”

“I’ve tried that.”

“Leave a message. I’ll get it.”

“Nick . . . please. Can’t we talk?”

“Not now. No.” He walked past his wife, down the hall, then stood in the foyer. His two sons’ wrestling duffel bags sat beside the front door. He reached down, touched the bags. He’d missed four wrestling meets since all this started; he’d never missed anything for his sons. He blamed this on Eliza—her lies. He kicked the front door open, walked to his pickup truck.

He was frantic with the need to know if Amy was okay, to find out why she’d left him in the middle of the night. He alternated between believing she’d told her family she loved him and believing she hated him, hated what he’d become to her.

He shoved a hand in his pocket, fingered the necklace he’d found on the beach while looking for her. He wanted to hand it back to her, see her, hear her.

In the week and a half since the night with Amy, he’d been camping out on Oystertip. He was taking a chance, but getting caught trespassing paled in comparison to his need to be alone in the last place he’d been with Amy. He’d been paddling a kayak back and forth and he’d planted his tent in the thick brush, where passersby wouldn’t find him unless they knew to look for him.