They wanted to teach me to surf, but I couldn’t take the shock of the water. I spent most of the time on the sand, watching them in their wet suits, amazed by my luck. Sundays, we woke so early our bodies wondered why we weren’t sleeping. In darkness, Terry’s lanterns slung over our arms, we carried the buckets of blossoms Julia had prepared for us, loaded the squashes and bunches of kale in their crates, latched the back of the pickup truck, and headed to Mendocino. Up and down that winding highway, I sat in between them, always. When Billy drove, Liz rested her head on my shoulder.

I’d never been so happy.

the field

APART FROM OUR WEEKDAY LESSONS in the schoolhouse, I was spending less time with Lee. I’d suggest a hike or an afternoon with our watercolors, but more often than not he’d say no.

He was receding into himself, never eager anymore, rarely speaking.

One Saturday I went to find him in the house, hoping we’d put a puzzle together or play a board game. Jackson and Emma lounged outside, enjoying a rare sunny hour. Julia and Terry were in the kitchen, engrossed in intimate conversation. Hunter supervised the little ones as they played.

“Have you seen Lee?” I asked him.

“Not for a while,” Hunter said.

I walked up the stairs, but Lee’s door was ajar and I saw he wasn’t in his room. On my way back down, little James said, “I see Lee!”

“You see him?” I asked.

“I tink he pay-ing hide-and-seek!”

“Where?” I said. “Will you show me?”

James wrapped his hand around one of my fingers and led me to a small door under the staircase. I had never noticed it before.

“He inside,” James said, pointing.

“In here?” I asked, a chill running through me.

James nodded and scurried away.

Could it be true? The door was half-sized, like the entry to a crawl space. I put my ear close to the wood and heard a movement. Slowly, I turned the knob, eased it open.

The toe of a shoe, the hem of a pant leg.

“Lee,” I said. “Buddy. What are you doing in here?”

“Hiding,” Lee said. He had his arms around his knees, was rocking forward and back.

I bent to fit under the door frame and stepped, still crouching, inside.

“Shut the door,” he said, so I did. Light came from a bare bulb overhead. I sat cross-legged next to him. “What are you hiding from?” I asked.

“My ghost. I think.” His eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, Lee,” I said.

“I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Whatever it is,” I said, “I’ll protect you.”

“I don’t think you can. He’s getting closer.”

“What do you mean?”

“He gets closer and closer.”

“But he isn’t here now, is he?”

“I don’t know,” Lee said. “The light is on.”