EIGHTY-FIVE

EIGHTY-FIVE

KYLE WALKS INTO THE room and closes the door behind him. We're in an office that Dr. Grant let me use. I am sitting in a chair, trying to hold still, probably looking as messy as I feel.

But I don't have time for messy.

"Dr. Grant told me," he says. "Marce, I'm so sorry."

I nod. The tears have dried now, after I let it all loose for half an hour. The time is now 8:50 a.m. I have to leave in ten minutes.

"He said you wanted to see me," he says. "How can I — what can I do?"

"My kids can't know, first of all," I hear myself say, my cashed-out voice sounding more like a croaking frog's than a human's. "Not yet. Not today. He's on life support. He needs to stay that way for now. For today. Until I get back."

"Okay, sure." He looks at me with a question. "Get back from where?"

"I met Agent Blair. He wants me to help with something today."

"Today? Well, c'mon, Marce, he'll understand that something came up."

I get to my feet, my legs still shaky, trying to maintain my composure. "Today is not a day for ‘something came up.' Not even this."

I have to comply with the FBI and help them catch Silas, or my kids, in a twenty-four-hour span, will lose both parents.

"They're dropping a net," he says. "Aren't they? And using you to do it."

I've been instructed not to tell anyone. Not Camille, not Kyle, not anybody.

I take a deep breath, emotion rising to the surface. "Kyle, I have to ask you something. I know things between us haven't been … well —"

"That's not your fault," he says. "I had all kinds of suspicions about you."

"You were doing your job. You were trying to protect your town."

That was always his dream. To stay here forever, to be the one who kept this nice little town as nice as possible. I used to think that was small, unambitious. I used to think a lot of things.

"I never said this before, but — I'm sorry for how everything turned out. I said we couldn't be together because I didn't want to spend my life in HG, and then I ended up marrying someone else and doing that very —"

"It is what it is," he says, playing the hardened, emotionless cop, though he is anything but. "Yeah, it was hard at first. Maybe it still is sometimes, if I'm honest. Every time I drive down the road and see that damn Hemingway statue staring at me." He chuckles.

It couldn't have been easy for Kyle. And yet he's making it easy on me now.

"Okay, here goes," I say, clapping my hands together and then locking my fingers as if in prayer. "I don't have any family. No siblings, no living parents. Neither, as far as I can tell from Camille, does David. We're both only children with deceased parents. And now David's gone, leaving only me for my kids."

Kyle's chin rises, as if alerted.

"And even though we've hardly spoken to each other in sixteen years, I still know you better than anyone else in the world. I know this sounds crazy —"

"Marcie," he says, touching my arm. "Everything's going to turn out fine today. I'm sure of it." He nods, and I see his eyes fill, his mouth working to stave off emotion. "But if you're asking me, if something happens to you, will I …" He swallows hard, unable to finish the sentence. He clears his throat and makes an effort to look me in the eyes. "Of course I'd take care of Grace and Lincoln —"

I rush into his arms, overcome with emotion. I can feel him breaking down, too, the thumping of his heart, the trembling of his body. How did things get so turned around that the man I jilted will now come to the rescue and raise my kids if need be?

Finally, when my voice returns: "We have plenty of money. It would all be yours."

"Why do you think I said yes?" he whispers back.

I laugh. It feels odd to laugh. We separate, each of us wiping our faces, keeping a distance. Using humor to defuse tension, always a tool in Kyle's toolbox.

"I have to go," I say, noting the time. It's almost nine. I start walking backward.

"I know you'll make it back," he manages. "I know you will."

I nod, because I have to believe that. But I don't speak, because my throat is clogged with emotion.

Then I turn and leave the room.

I had to get that covered. Now it's time to do the job.