Mira stamped her foot against the grass. She did it over and over and then got down on the ground and clawed at the dirt. Her fingers dug into the rich earth, pulling up chunks of sod and throwing it behind her. “I don’t understand. It was right here. This wasn’t grass. It was a hole. They couldn’t have finished it. It couldn’t have—it just, it couldn’t.”

“Mira, stop.”

“I don’t get it, Jesse,” she said, stopping. She hit the ground a final time. She felt ridiculous. They were so far away from the main grounds, and for what? Maybe she’d seen nothing after all. She’d been out in the heat for a long time, walking around in these woods. Sweat soaked her clothes, and now that they were standing there together she thought maybe she’d been imagining what she saw.

“Maybe I was wrong.”

“No, I believe you. You hear me? I believe you.”

Jesse asked her if she wanted to get lunch.

“Come on,” he said. “There’s some stuff we should talk about. Some other things, I think, it’s time you knew.”

XIV.

JESSE HAD OFFERED to take Mira off the plantation but she didn’t want to leave in case Celine came back. As a compromise, they ordered a late-afternoon lunch at Mira’s cottage. The room service menu was all distorted versions of the food Mira remembered from her childhood. The glimpse of familiarity excited her, and Mira let herself order what she really wanted. Hush puppies, fried golden and crunchy. Pan-seared shrimp and cheddar grits with andouille sausage. Buttermilk biscuits, flaky and crumbling. Jesse ordered chicken fried steak with potato puree and a side of collard greens. It wasn’t until the food had been delivered and the room had filled with its smell that Mira realized how hungry she was. She relished the meal, not talking much as she dug in. Jesse too was quiet, and as they ate they listened to the sounds of traffic outside—guests opening and closing their cottage doors, the sounds of conversations fading in and out.

Mira relaxed a little from the heaviness of the meal and the time that had passed. Earlier, while waiting for their orders to come, she’d changed her clothes, putting on a T-shirt and jeans, and had taken off her shoes. Jesse had stripped off his tie and left it draped over the edge of the couch where they both sat. On the coffee table in front of them, the unfinished remains of their food were getting cold. Mira’s stomach ached. She watched as Jesse cut into another bite of his steak and brought it to his mouth before sitting back on the couch, pushing the plate away to keep himself from eating any more.

“I hadn’t eaten here yet,” Jesse said after a while. “Until today, I mean. It’s not bad.”