Dividing Earth: A Novel of Dark Fantasy (21 page)

George leaned forward. His face was getting red. “Do you believe you can stroll into my office after seven years and inquire about your child? Half of us around here believed you and my daughter had a thing, that you’d agreed to meet her somewhere, to start a new—”

“What are you talking about?” asked Robert, sitting up, thinking,
Could I possibly be asking a question you don’t know the answer to?

“It was no secret you and Veronica were damaged goods, so don’t act like a grieving widower.” They stared at each other a while, their eyes locked. George’s chin quivered. “I haven’t seen my little girl for seven years, Mr. Lieber. Seven years. And you have the gall to apologize for years of uncertainty?”

George hadn’t seen Mary for seven years? It was more than Robert could grab hold of. “What happened, George? Where is she? Where are they?”

George stared at him a moment longer, then hid his face in his hands. He wept.

“You have no idea?”

George couldn’t speak.

“You haven’t even heard from her?”

George lowered his hands. His face was red, his eyes puffy. “My wife isn’t well,” he whispered. “She’s not well.”

They were silent for a few minutes. Robert scooted his chair back and stood. “I can’t account for my whereabouts. All I can tell you is I’ve been gone, and I have absolutely no idea where our daughters are.”

“She was pregnant, you know.”

“Mary.”

George nodded. “She came home pregnant. It was a bad time for all of us, and then you went missing. Everyone looked for a couple of weeks, and Jenn stayed with us.”

Hearing it, Robert felt the emotion welling up. “Was she okay—”

“Her mother had just passed, you fuck. Then you vanished. How do you think she was? When Child Services began calling, Mary got upset. She and Jenn had been sleeping in the same bed, and Grady had—”

“Grady?”

“Her best friend.”

“The girl with the spiky hair?”

George nodded. “They were coming to take your daughter, put her in foster care, and we and Mary went round and round about it. Then one morning, they were all gone.”

“Don’t tell me that was the last you—”

“For seven years.”

* * * * *

It took most of the afternoon to pry it from him, but George finally offered a couple of guesses as to where they went. He believed that two girls would have settled in a place known to at least one of them.

For the first few days, he and his wife hadn’t searched too hard. Mary was at a rebellious age, and they both felt that if they allowed her to find out how difficult the world could be, she would come crawling back. But she hadn’t crawled back; she hadn’t even called to relieve them of worry.

Around the two week mark, Freddie prevailed on him to begin searching in earnest. George started with all the relatives he knew, first the ones in-state, then a couple from as far away as Oregon. He got nowhere. No one on either side of the family had a clue. At this point, they filled out a missing persons report. They got nowhere with that either, and George researched the whereabouts of Grady’s parents.

He found only one person bearing Grady’s last name, a woman in Asheville, North Carolina, and he called her one afternoon. When he mentioned Grady, she broke down, began recounting she and her daughter’s disastrous relationship, and how she hadn’t heard from her in months, not since she’d disappeared from school. George had asked why she hadn’t searched for her, and the woman told him how hard her daughter’s heart was, and how it wouldn’t have done any good.

In this manner years passed.

From time to time, George wondered how his own daughter’s heart could have become so hard, and whether or not he had failed to give her something along the way, something she’d needed desperately. He knew his wife thought much the same things, and often, but Freddie and he gradually grew farther apart. Now, they barely spoke.

Over the years he had made three sojourns to North Carolina, hoping to pick up a trail, but the trips had been next to useless. Still, he had always felt closer to his daughter while in that state. It was nothing he could explain, just a feeling that hit him stronger each time he made the trip. He wasn’t a superstitious man, but he confessed to Robert that he found the sensation eerie.

“If I had to make a bet,” George told him, “I’d put my money on North Carolina.”

* * * * *

It seemed as good a place to start as any. Robert took a cab to Orlando, bought a ticket at the bus station, and waited at the terminal. It was a typical Florida day: a clear blue sky in the morning, a virtual lock to rain later in the day.

He fell asleep for a few hours, and when he awakened they were just crossing into South Carolina. He stared out the window, watching the steep change of grade, the gray sky flat overhead. He started thinking back to the cancer and his fear of death, but nothing compared to the stark, unyielding terror he felt over not knowing where his daughter was. And yet he felt every bit as scared to find her. If she was alright, she wouldn’t be all that happy to see that he’d made a complete recovery. In her mind, he’d be the cheap fucking coward who’d skated out of town right on time, right after her mother had died, just in time to get out of dealing with anything at all. And who could blame her? He’d brought her into this world with a woman he had not loved, and, because of his selfishness and self absorption had been incapable of giving her the love, care, and devotion a child desperately needed.

There came a time, he knew now, when the hopes and dreams of youth faded away, and a man was left with the truth of what he has done and who he has become. There came a time when a man had to start telling the truth or keep on lying.

Robert Lieber resolved to tell his daughter the truth. All of it.

* * * * *

He began in a little town outside Asheville, and started with Grady’s mother. She didn’t know anything, but agreed to take him to everyone who’d ever known her daughter. The people were surprisingly pleasant, but none of them were much help.

During this time he stayed with Martha, Grady’s mother. She seemed a nice woman, if sad. There seemed to be no leads.

Then on his second week in town, he caught a break. He was sitting on the porch, trying to read the morning paper. Shortly after Martha left for work, a girl Martha had led him to and who had sworn she had no clue about anything to do with Grady, visited him. When she pulled up in an old, rusted Camaro, she got out, shielded her eyes from the sun. “Mr. Lieber? Can I talk to you?”

He folded the paper up, leaned forward. “What’s up, Carla?”

“You think your daughter’s with her, right?”

“I hope she is. If she’s not, then I really have no other lead to follow.”

“I couldn’t tell you this in front of Martha, Mr. Lieber, but—”

“Oh, God, please, Carla, please tell me.”

“You see, Grady hates her mom, says she committed a
sin of omission
, so I know she wouldn’t want her to know where she is. But I’ve felt bad, because you aren’t a part of this place’s drama. You’re just trying to find your girl.”

Carla turned, walked under the shade of the oak tree bordering Martha’s property. She stared at the ground. Robert held his breath.

“She was my best friend in high school. We talked about everything.” She turned, eyed him. “Everything. She dreamed of getting the hell out of here, got good grades even though she wasn’t all that smart. Girl studied her ass off.” Carla chuckled, thinking back to good times. “There was this place she saw in this brochure. It was a resort at the top of a mountain, and it had man-made lake at the top. Houses built into the side of the mountain lined the lake. She said it was the most beautiful place on earth, and that if she ever got the chance, she’d live there.”

“How could she afford it?”

“It was a dream, man. A dream.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It’s a resort. People work there.”

Robert went cold. He put on his shoes. “Where is this place?”

“A little town called Coopville. About two hours west.”

Robert glanced back at the shack Grady grew up in. Or grew apart from. He turned back to Carla. “Take me?”

Carla smiled. “Got gas money?”

* * * * *

When they got there, Carla pulled up beside the Chamber of Commerce, and wished him luck.

“You’re not coming?”

“Tell her I miss her. I’m not going anywhere.”

Robert touched her arm. “Thank you.”

She leaned over, pressed her lips to his cheek. “Good luck,” she said, drawing back, her green eyes panning his face.

He smiled, got out, and strolled into the Chamber, grinning at the secretary, who sat up straight and chirped, “May I help you?”

“I’m here to write an article about a lovely resort I hear you hide at the top of Mt. Renier,” he told her.

* * * * *

Robert used the last of the cash the old woman had given him to ride a cab up the mountain.

The Coopville resort was stunning. A man-made lake sprawled to his left, a beautiful beach, also man-made, bordering it. A dock reached out over the water. To his right, bungalows wound around a pristine golf course.

Inside the front office, Robert strode directly to the poor girl at the reception counter. “What a place,” he said with unabashed excitement.

“Isn’t it?” the girl responded. She smiled dutifully.

“You know, I really should thank the girl who tipped me off.”

“Oh? Who might that be?”

“Uh, let me see, I think her name was . . . Mary.”

“We’ve got a couple of—”

“McDylan!” He snapped his fingers. “That’s right. Mary McDylan.”

“She’s off today, Mister . . .” and the secretary looked over, confused that she hadn’t thought to ask his name before now.

“Lieber,” he said, unsure over telling the truth. He hoped it didn’t show in his voice.

Apparently, it did not. “She lives on the grounds, Mr. Lieber. I could page her—”

“Don’t bother. I’ve got to deliver an award for the tip.”

“And what magazine are you from?”

“
Four Score and Seven
.”

“Haven’t heard of it.”

“That’s what I’m trying to change.” He clicked open the door, stepped out. “Which bungalow was that?”

“Oh, it’s across the course—” but then she paused.

Robert waved, smiled, and started for it.

* * * * *

He stood before the door, waiting, frightened. What if Jenn wasn’t here? Or—and in some strange way, this possibility seemed worse—what if she was, and wouldn’t speak to him?

He lifted his hand, held it up, hesitating. Finally, he knocked. Inside, a female voice informed him at high volume that it would be just a sec. It wasn’t Mary, and he didn’t think it was Jenn.

The door opened. Grady stood there, all blonde spikes, lip gloss, and eyeliner. She wore a tank top and a pair of white shorts.

“Holy shit,” she said. “Ain’t this a kick in the ass.”

He opened his mouth to speak, and she slammed the door in his face.

Robert turned from the door. His head was swimming. He had stepped through a portal, and everything he’d known had ceased to be. What if Jenn wasn’t here at all?

He descended the porch steps, turned, and looked up at the place. It was a simple but nice duplex, painted in muted earth tones.

The door reopened. His eyes shot to the entry. In it stood Grady and Mary, and while the former hadn’t appeared all that different, Mary had changed. She’d been very pretty before, but her beauty had been unfinished, childish. He stared at her, nearly gawking, and she gazed back with sharp green eyes, brushing soft auburn hair away from a cheek the color of ivory. She’d grown two, perhaps three, inches and now stood a full head above Grady, and while she remained thin, she belonged in her skin now. She wore denim bib-overalls, a stained T-shirt beneath, and simple sandals. She was devastating.

Mary stepped from the doorway, still staring.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” said Grady, slowly shutting the door. Even as it closed, she kept her eyes on him.

Mary took two long, graceful steps toward the railing and reached forward, embracing it, slanting her face against the wood. “You’ve come back.”

He stood transfixed, afraid that if he twitched he would pitch onto his face. Looking at her was like looking at the final masterpiece of a genius sculptor, working for years until his work was complete and perfect. Before, Mary’s features had hinted as to what might be, but no one could have foreseen what now was.

“She didn’t believe me, but I told her you would.”

“She?”

“Grady.”

“You’re not—”

“Oh, I’m very angry with you,” she said, though her eyes were soft. “Don’t think I’m not.”

Robert looked away, down the green of the golf course, and thought about that home in the Simola Straight golfing community that Veronica had so wanted. But that time seemed so far away now, so far back it seemed safe, unable to haunt him. But this wasn’t so: The past was nothing if not a ghost. “You would not believe my last few days. I’m not sure I do.”

“You wouldn’t believe my last seven years.”

Robert sighed, a choked exhalation. “I’m so sorry.”

“She won’t be home for a couple of hours.”

He looked back. She hadn’t moved, but still regarded him calmly, patiently. As if she’d expected this day to come. She seemed almost serene.

He said, “She—” Tears sprang into his eyes and he suddenly couldn’t catch his breath. “She’s—”

Mary nodded. “She’s fine, Robert.” She came down the stairs. “You’ve seen the lake?”

“Yeah.”

“Want to kill an hour?”

* * * * *

Grady screamed and spat. Grady screeched, gesticulating wildly.
He finds his way back after seven fucking years and you wanna take him for a fucking boat ride?
was the mildest of her opinions. But Mary had handled her. She hadn’t raised her voice, had weathered the tirade all the way through, and when Grady had finally tired Mary had gone to her, taken her hand, and whispered soothingly into her ear for some minutes. Eventually, Grady snorted in disgust, proclaimed, “Whatever,” then stalked back into the house.