“I just tried to throw out a warning,” the aunt said, “like ‘heads up, sis; stay away from ARTnews for a few months.’”

Avoidance didn’t seem likely. Somehow Mom would come across this work. What about the other pieces? Were they just as graphic?

“I’m sorry.” The aunt touched her arm. “This can’t be easy for you, either.”

“This isn’t…” She shook her head and finished in a whisper, “Easy.” Her thoughts tumbled over memories, recasting holidays, birthdays, Sunday afternoon gatherings in uglier lights—remembering, dissembling, revising. Holy shit. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. I’m sorry.” Her eyes burned. “I’m sorry for you. This must have been painful to create.”

“But necessary. Actually, it helped me.” Elbows on the table, she folded her hands and tapped her knuckles against her mouth, like a prayer knocking for words. “It might help others, too.”

Maggie kneaded her temples. “I’ll talk to Mom.”

Wren’s head came up. “Would you? Oh, that would be really good of you, honey.”

The hope in the aunt’s face made Maggie sad. Wren didn’t want to lose her sister. She wanted only to be free of a horrible secret—and relieved of the pain she’d kept hidden. Mom shouldn’t punish her for that, Maggie thought with a flash of anger. Mom should know better.

“I—I’m afraid our Thanksgiving with your folks is off.”

She nodded, soberly wondering if Wren knew Mom wanted this off—this whole extended visit. Mom wanted her to move back home.

“I’d appreciate it if you called her.”

“I will.” Or I’ll go see her. Maggie wasn’t sure how to accomplish it. She couldn’t borrow the truck, not when the aunt had such a busy week ahead of her. And though Mom, during her emotional call, had choked out something about sending money, Maggie didn’t want to wait for the cash to buy a bus ticket. Waiting suddenly seemed even more intolerable than the inevitable confrontations looming in Carlton. Just driving into that town was going to be tough. Carlton had become the crime scene, the indifferent judge, the suspicious jury, the enemy, all wrapped up into one. She hadn’t expected to return so soon, if at all.

But she would. In fact, if she could, she’d leave right then. Not only because of Mom and Wren. Jane Cannon, too. Why wasn’t the girl writing back? Maggie couldn’t help but think that silence spelled trouble. Until she knew for sure that Jane was okay, she wouldn’t stop worrying.

Maggie saw no other option. She had to go home.

13

THE NEXT MORNING, the decision to return to Carlton was Maggie’s first thought. Out of the murk of her dreams, she woke to it, faced it, like one drifting through a sludgy water but in close proximity to the shore—there, just waiting for her.