Six (12 page)

“What are you doing here?” asked his dad.

“Why are you reading my letter to mum?” whispered Parker. His voice was weak with shock.

“What do you mean? I was just working.”

“I saw it. I saw Emma's letter. Why were you reading them?” He was distracted as he spoke, his thoughts on the contents of his letter—private stuff, stuff about his dad working too much, about how much he missed his mum, and, worst of all, about the fight with Aaron.

“I . . . um . . . I wasn't reading them . . . I was just . . .”

While Parker's dad stumbled on his words, Parker's mind raced to come up with his own explanation. He reached his conclusion before his dad could come up with any excuse that Parker would buy.

“You're
spying
on us?”

“No! I wasn't. I'm not . . . I . . .” Parker's dad stopped and put his head in his hands.

“Is this why you asked us to write them, so you could check up on us?” asked Parker. He could feel his voice getting louder the angrier he got.

“No, Parker, I didn't . . .”

“What do you think we're hiding?” continued Parker. His whole body began to shake in fury. “You could have just talked to us! Did you think of that?”

His dad bolted out of his chair. “Parker! Lower your voice! You'll wake up Emma. Let's sit down and talk about this.”

“Wake up Emma?” shouted Parker, throwing his hands up in frustration, “
What
are you talking about?”

His dad rolled his eyes as he realized the stupidity of his comment.

“I wish she
could
hear this!” continued Parker.

“Parker, please . . .”

“She should know what you're doing,” continued Parker, ignoring his dad. “She should know that it was all just a way for you to check up on us and that . . .”

Parker stopped as another thing occurred to him. “Why were you typing it up?
Were
you typing it up?”

There was a brief pause and then, in response, his father closed his eyes and dropped his head.

Parker felt a tear run down his cheek and he brushed it away quickly. “I don't understand,” he whispered. “I don't understand why you'd do this.”

“Parker,” said his dad as he stood up. His voice was gentle. “I know you're upset. I understand. Just let me explain. Please.”

*  *  *  *  *  *

Parker knew his father wasn't perfect. He understood that. He also knew that it wasn't in his father's nature to lie or be underhanded, which was why Parker had been so confused and upset by his father's betrayal. It was also why he accepted his father's hour-long rambling and cryptic explanation—an explanation so ridiculous that there could be only one reason for it: his father had lost his mind.

The anger was gone, mostly, replaced by a deep sense of concern. “So,” said Parker slowly, as if he were talking to a young child, “you're typing up our letters because you want to have everything on a memory stick for mum in case she comes back. Is that what you're saying?”

His father pursed his lips and nodded.

“And you
really
think that? That mum might come back?”

Parker's dad gave a small shrug.

“After she died in a car crash?”

“I'm just saying that anything is possible.”

Parker leaned forward on the sofa and tried to work out what was going on. He turned back to his dad.

“And you're not lying to me. You really weren't checking on us?”

“I swear to you, Parker,” said his dad. He placed his hand on Parker's shoulder. “I trust you and Emma one hundred percent. With all my heart. I wasn't even thinking about the contents of the letters—I was just typing them up for your mum.”

“But you know she's dead, right? We scattered her ashes.”

“Yes. Well, sort of.”

“Sort of what?”

“I don't know, Parker. It's complicated. I just think that maybe the end isn't always the end.”

“Okay. But when you say that,” continued Parker, still not sure if he was completely understanding what his father was saying, “do you mean it in an eternal-life-up-in-heaven way or in a she-might-actually-walk-through-that-door way?”

“Both, maybe. Who knows?”

Parker stared at his dad, examining his face for any signs that he was lying to him. He found none. His dad, the scientist. His dad who, up until this point, Parker had considered a rational human being.

“I think I should call a doctor,” said Parker.

At the suggestion, his father bolted upright.

“No! Don't call anyone. I don't need a doctor.”

“Dad, you're not well.”

“I'm fine. I really am. I know how crazy this all sounds. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm just tired.”

Tired. Of course! Suddenly it all made sense. Parker had once read about sleep deprivation as a form of torture and how it had the power to drive people mad—even kill them.

“Dad. You
have
to sleep.”

His dad looked at him, and now all Parker could see were the deep gray bags under his father's eyes. His father nodded.

Parker stood, pulling his dad's arm. “Go to bed.”

Parker's dad sighed and hauled himself up. Parker led the way out of the room and up the landing as his father followed and turned off the lights behind him. Parker turned to say good night.

“I'm really sorry I worried you tonight,” said his dad before Parker could say anything. He put his arms out, and Parker let himself be pulled into a hug. “And I'm so sorry about the letters. I won't ever do that again.”

Parker closed his eyes. “It's okay, Dad. I think I get why you did it now.”

His dad let go. He reached out with his hand and pulled up Parker's chin to look him in the eyes.

“You and Emma are my world, Parker. I am so proud of you—of how strong you are, how kind, how responsible. I'm sorry I betrayed your trust.”

Parker shifted uncomfortably at his father's show of sentimentality. He pursed his lips and smiled. “I guess you'll be wanting to talk to me about the thing at school, though.”

Parker's dad smiled and shook his head. “No. But if you want to talk to me about it, I am always here for you.”

“Okay.”

“Really, Parker. I know I work a lot, but you and Emma are my number-one priority. All you have to do is say that you want to talk to me—about anything, no matter how small—and I'll drop everything. Do you understand?”

Parker nodded as his father put his hand up to his mouth to stifle a yawn.

“Get some sleep, Dad.”

“I'm going, I'm going,” said his dad, walking away. “Night, night.”

“Night, Dad,” said Parker as he closed his bedroom door and flopped onto his bed. He was asleep within minutes.

Parker's mother died at approximately six o'clock in the morning, when her rental car came off the highway, rolled down a steep slope, and crashed into a tree. The official report that his father had received had been unable to determine the exact cause of the accident, but the most plausible theory put forward was that she had swerved to avoid a deer and had lost control of the vehicle. There had been no witnesses—at least none who had come forward—and the first that anybody knew about the accident was that evening, when an eagle-eyed truck driver spotted the mangled wreck and called for help. The police had assured Parker's father that, even if she had been found earlier, her injuries had been instantly fatal—there was nothing that anyone could have done to save her.

Three years later, and a few days after arriving in the country, their father had taken them to visit the exact spot where their mother had died. His father had been there before, back when everything had happened, and he had warned them both that there was nothing to see. Nevertheless, Parker had been disappointed, if that was the right word. In his opinion, it was unfitting given its significance—a nondescript stretch of highway lacking a single identifiable feature other than the mile-marker sign on the side of the road.

That day, his father had parked on the hard shoulder with his hazards on so that Parker and Emma could leave the flowers that they had picked. A few minutes later a patrol car had pulled up and told them to move on. The cop had been ready to give them a ticket, until he heard why they were there, and then let them off with a warning. Nevertheless, they all agreed that it wasn't going to be a suitable place to visit regularly, and it was Emma who suggested finding another place, somewhere quiet where they could go and think about their mother. In the end they had picked Golden Hills State Park for two reasons: it was the nearest park to the actual spot where their mother had died, and it was on a lake. Their mother had loved the water.

So it was here, to the parking lot near the boat launch area, that Parker's father drove them to that Sunday morning.

As they pulled up into the parking lot, Emma turned to Parker for what must have been the tenth time on their journey and signed for him to turn Effie on.

“Don't feel like it,”
he signed back.

Under normal circumstances Emma would have been fine with that, except she could tell something was wrong; neither Parker nor their dad had spoken barely a word since getting up.

Parker jumped out of the car as soon as it came to a stop and headed off by himself to the water. He turned and saw his dad watching him, a look of concern on his face.

Parker walked out on the rocky pier and sat down at the water's edge. He picked up a stone.

“Want to talk?” asked his dad, walking up behind him.

Parker shook his head.

“Are you still angry?”

He shook his head again. He wasn't, but he couldn't just forget what had happened. He also couldn't help but see this visit to the lake in a different light. It now seemed so pointless. His mother wasn't here, and she wasn't going to be reading anything that they had written. Whatever his dad might hope for, she was gone. She was never coming back.

His dad sat down next to him. Parker turned and saw the same heavy bags under his eyes that he'd had the night before. If anything, he looked worse.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” asked Parker.

“A bit,” said his dad. He looked around and, on seeing Emma was content checking the squirrel's drey that she had found in a tree the week before, he turned back to Parker. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” said Parker.

His father said nothing. Instead he reached out and rubbed Parker's back as if he knew Parker wasn't telling the truth. Parker, in response, felt his eyes fill up with tears.

“I hate it here, Dad,” he said, his voice tight. “And I hate how you are since we got here. Why can't we go back?”

“We will.”

Parker looked up in surprise. “What?”

His dad attempted a smile. “We will. I miss our family and friends too. I miss my work and I miss our house.”

“Well, just . . . leave!” said Parker, shocked at the revelation. “It's just a job! With your—”

“It's not that easy, Parker,” interrupted his dad. “My job here is complicated. I can't just walk out.”

“Yes, you can! You just say ‘I quit' and leave.”

“I wish I could. I'm working on it.”

“How long will that—”

“Emma!”

Parker jumped in surprise as his dad scrambled to his feet and broke into a run, his hand pressing down frantically on his wrist. Parker spun around and saw what his father was running toward: Emma looking up at two men talking to her. He leaped up and followed his father, who was still running at full speed across the grass.

“Leave her alone!” shouted his dad.

At the sound of the voice, the men looked up. The taller of the two, a man in a black coat and glasses, turned back to Emma and ruffled her hair. Then, calmly, both men turned and walked over to a silver car parked next to theirs just as his dad reached Emma. He grabbed her shoulders and raised her face to his to check she was okay, then looked over at the men, who were now getting into their car.

Seeing Parker had almost caught up, his dad pushed Emma in Parker's direction and ran toward the silver car. He was too late. The wheels screeched as the engine was revved, and then the car shot away, leaving a trail of smoking tarmac behind it.

Emma stared at Parker, a look of complete bemusement on her face.

“What happened?”
signed Parker as his wrist began to vibrate.

“I don't know,”
answered Emma.
“I think . . .”

They were interrupted by their father calling them on Effie.

What did they say to you?
asked their father.

Even through Effie, their father's panic was palpable.

They just asked me the time,
replied Emma.

His dad reached them and again grabbed Emma by the shoulders.
What else did they say?

Nothing!
Emma looked terrified.
They didn't say anything! They just asked the time and then you ran up.

And that's it?
asked their dad. Emma nodded.

Who are they, Dad?
asked Parker.

His dad let go of Emma and sat down on a large rock next to him.
I don't know,
he mumbled. He ran his hand over his hair.

You don't know?
asked Emma.

I just thought that . . .

What?
asked Parker.

His father looked up and thought for a moment, then shook his head.
I just didn't know what they were doing, that's all.

Dad!
said Emma,
I'm not five. I'm not just going to follow strangers into their car. And you were right there.