Magic hour: a novel (33 page)

The words left a heaviness behind, a residue. “A toddler doesn’t know her name. Not her last name, anyway.”

“I know.”

Ellie leaned back in her dad’s chair and sighed heavily. “It seems like no one is looking for this kid, Jules. The NCIC has come up completely blank on any known missing or kidnapped children who match her description. The DNA had done nothing for us, and the press isn’t interested anymore. And now you’re telling me that even if you get her to start talking up a blue steak, she may have no idea what her name is. Or who her parents are, or what city she lives in.”

“Jeez, El. I was feeling pretty good about tonight. We got her outside
and
talking.”

“I’m sorry. You’ve done a hell of a job with her, Jules. Really. But I have responsibilities, too. DSHS thinks we should start permanent foster care proceedings.”

“Don’t do it, El. Please. I have a chance with her. It’s not only about finding her family anymore. It’s about saving her, bringing her back to the world. You reminded me of all that, of how much
good
I can do for Alice.”

“You make it sound like you’ll stay as long as you need to.”

“Why wouldn’t I? There’s nothing left for me in L.A. When you don’t have a husband, or kids, or a job, it’s easy to walk away from your life. Just lock up your condo and go.” She finally lifted her gaze. “The truth is,
I
need Alice right now. I’ll do whatever I have to do to help her. Can that be enough for now? Can we just let the temporary custody agreement stand?”

“Of course.” Ellie didn’t know how she felt about the idea of her sister living here all through the winter. It was something she’d have to worry over later, in the dark, while she tried to fall asleep. But she knew she appreciated someone else shouldering the burden of little Alice’s damaged soul. “What about . . . all that weirdness? The birds?”

Julia stared over the rim of her teacup at the moonlit river beyond. “I don’t know. She’s lived in a world that’s different than ours, with different fundamental rules. When I was doing research on the documented cases of wild children, it was clear that in most previous centuries, these children were romanticized, seen as examples of true nature. Uncorrupted and uncivilized, they came to represent a purity of man that couldn’t exist in a society that set down rules of behavior.”

“And all that means what?”

“Maybe she’s more a part of nature than of man, more connected to the natural world—sights, smells, plants, animals—than to us.”

Ellie didn’t even know what to make of that. “It looked more like magic than science to me.”

“That’s another explanation.”

“So what now? How do we get her to start talking?”

Julia looked at her. “She needs to learn that she’s safe here. I think we need to show her what a family is. Maybe it’ll ring some bells with her, make her remember. And we teach her the way you’d teach any two-year-old: one word at a time.”

L
ATER THAT NIGHT, AFTER
E
LLIE WENT TO BED,
J
ULIA LAY IN HER BED,
staring at the ceiling. She was too wound up to sleep. Her blood seemed to be tingling just beneath her skin.

Stay.

That moment kept repeating itself, over and over. Each time she remembered it, she felt a shiver of awe at what it meant.

Until tonight, that very moment when Alice had spoken her first word, Julia hadn’t even realized how lost she’d become, how far she’d fallen. Her grasp on confidence had been fragile and slippery. But now she was
back.
She was her old self.

And she’d never give up again. First thing tomorrow morning she would call the team of doctors and scientists who wanted to study Alice and tell them to back off. Then she’d convince DSHS that they had nothing to worry about with the girl’s current placement.

Maybe that was the lesson she’d needed to learn from the tragedy with Amber, the missing sign she’d been so desperate to find.

In her business, there would be failures. Heartbreaking losses. But to be the best, she had to stay strong in her belief that she made a difference.

She was strong again. No phone calls from scientists or so-called colleagues or questions from the media would ruin her again. No one would take Alice from her.

She needed to talk to someone tonight; to share her triumph, and there was only one person who would understand.

You’re crazy, Julia.

She threw the covers back and got out of bed. Dressing in a pair of well-worn black sweats and a blue tee shirt, she kissed Alice’s soft cheek and then left the room.

Outside Ellie’s bedroom, Julia paused. There was no light from beneath the door, no sounds from within.

She didn’t want to wake her sister. Besides, Ellie didn’t truly appreciate the importance of tonight’s events.

Without letting herself think, she moved. She went out to the car and drove toward the old highway. There were no other cars on the road this time of night; the world was dark and still. Stars splattered the sky like a Jackson Pollock painting.

Just before the entrance to the national park, she turned onto a rutted gravel road. At the final bend, she flicked off her headlights. Under cover of darkness, she pulled into his yard.

In truth, she didn’t know why she was here, parked in front of his house like a teenage girl on a lonely Saturday night.

That wasn’t true. She didn’t want to admit why she was here, perhaps, but she knew.

No matter how often she’d told herself she was being stupid—the fly going straight into the web—she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

She got out of the Suburban and walked across the dark yard, hearing the gentle lapping of the lake along the shore.

M
AX HEARD THE CAR DRIVE UP AND HOPED LIKE HELL IT WASN’T A
medical emergency. This was his only night off call this week and he had already finished his second scotch.

He heard footsteps on the porch. Then a knock on his front door.

“I’m out here,” he called out. “On the deck.”

There was a pause, a long time of quiet. He was about to call out again when he heard footsteps.

It was Julia. At the sight of him in the hot tub, she stopped dead.

She stood beneath the orangey bulb that illuminated the covered deck. He hadn’t seen her since the diner, and yet—to be honest—he’d thought about her often. He couldn’t help noticing how pale she looked, how thin and drawn. Her stunning bone structure now looked edgy and sharp; her chin was pointier than before.

But it was her eyes that caught him, held him as firmly as a child’s grip on a favorite toy.

“A hot tub, Doctor? How clichŽ.”

“I went climbing today. My back is killing me. Get in.”

“I don’t have a suit.”

“Here. I’ll turn off the light.” He pressed the button and the tub went dark. “There’s wine in the fridge. Glasses are above the sink.”

She stood there a long time. So long, in fact, he thought she was going to decline. Finally, she turned and left. He heard the front door open and close. A few moments later she returned, holding a wineglass and wearing a towel.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

“I can see your bra straps, Julia.”

“Are you going to close your eyes?”

“What are we, eighth graders? Are you planning on spin-the-bottle later? I doubt—”

She walked away.

“Okay, okay,” he said, laughing. “My eyes are closed.”

He heard her return, heard the muffled thump of the towel landing in a chair and the quiet splashing of her getting in the hot tub. Water rippled against his chest; for a split second he thought it was her touch.

He opened his eyes.

She sat pressed to her side of the tub, her arms at her sides. The white lacy bra she wore had gone transparent; he saw the creamy swell of her breasts above the fabric and the water, and the dark spots of her barely covered nipples.

“You’re staring,” she said, sipping her wine.

“You’re beautiful.” He was surprised by the thready tone of his voice, surprised by how much he suddenly wanted her.

“I struggle to calculate how many times you’ve said that to women foolish enough to get into this tub.”

“Are you foolish?”

She looked at him. “Absolutely. But I’m not stupid. Stupid would be naked.”

“Actually, you’re the first woman who has ever been in this hot tub.”

“Clothed, you mean.”

He laughed. “Those see-through scraps are hardly clothed. But no. I mean the first woman—clothed or naked—to be here.”

She frowned. “Really?”

“Really.”

She turned slightly, looked out at the lake. In the charcoal-hued distance, two white trumpeter swans floated lazily on the surface of the water. Moonlight seemed to make their feathers glow.

The silence turned awkward. Julia must have noticed, too, because she finally turned to him and said, “Tell me something real, Max. I don’t know anything about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Why are you in Rain Valley?”

He gave her the answer he gave everyone. “One too many gang shootings in L.A.”

“Why do I think that’s only part of the story?”

“I keep forgetting you’re a shrink.”

“And a good one.” She smiled. “Jumping to conclusions notwithstanding. So, tell me.”

He shrugged. “I’d been having some personal issues, so I decided to make some changes. I quit my job and moved up here. I love the mountains.”

“Personal issues?”

Of course she picked up on what mattered. “That’s too real,” he said quietly.

“Sometimes you have to get away.”

He nodded. “It was easy to leave Los Angeles. My family is crazy enough to be carnival workers, every one. My parents—Ted and Georgia, before you ask—are currently on leave from their jobs teaching at Berkeley. They’re traveling through Central America in a motor home called Dixie. Last I heard they were looking for some bug that’s been extinct for eons.”

Julia smiled. “What do they teach?”

“Biology and Organic Chemistry, respectively. My sister, Ann, is in Thailand. Tsunami relief. My brother, Ken, works for a big-time think tank in the Netherlands. No one has seen him in almost a decade. Every year I get a Christmas card that says: ‘My best wishes to you and yours, Dr. Kenneth Cerrasin.’”

Julia laughed so hard she snorted. At the sound, she laughed harder. Max found himself laughing along with her.

“And I thought my family was strange.”

“Pikers,” he said, grinning.

“Were they there for you when your . . . trouble happened?”

Max felt his smile fade. “You sure know how to throw a punch, don’t you?”

“Hazard of the trade. It’s just . . . I know how alone I felt during the mess in L.A.”

“We’re not that kind of family.”

“So you were alone, too.”

He put down his drink. “Why are
you
here, Julia?”

“In Rain Valley? You know why.”

“Here,” he said, letting his voice soften.

“Alice spoke tonight. She said
stay.
”

“I knew you’d do it.”

A smile overtook her face; it came all at once, as if she hadn’t expected it. The porch light bathed her skin, tangled in her hair, made her lashes look spidery and fragile against her cheeks. She moved slightly. Water rippled against his chest. “The thing is . . . I’ve been waiting every day for weeks for this to happen. . . .”

“And?”

“And when it happened, all I could think was that I wanted to tell you.”

He couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d tried—and he didn’t try. He closed the tiny distance between them and kissed her. It was the kind of kiss he’d forgotten about. Whispering her name, he moved his right hand down her slick, naked back and reached around for her breast. He’d barely felt the full swell of it when she eased away from him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking as pale and shaken as he felt. “I need to go.”

“There’s something between us,” he said. The words were out of his mouth before he knew what he was going to say.

“Yes,” she said. “That’s why I’m leaving.”

They stared at each other. He had the strange sensation that he was losing something of value.

Finally, she climbed out of the hot tub, went into the house, and retrieved her clothes. Without even bothering to say good-bye, she left him.

He sat there a long time, alone, staring out at nothing.

J
ULIA DREAMT OF
M
AX ALL NIGHT.
S
HE WAS SO CAUGHT IN THE WEB
that when she woke, it took her a second to realize that someone was knocking on the bedroom door.

It sounded like an advancing army.

She sat up in bed. There was no army at the door.

It was, instead, one small, determined girl, standing by the closed door.