The Jodi Picoult Collection Read online

  “Do you know his name?” I ask, pressing him for more details. What was he wearing? How many people in his party? What type of car did he drive?

  “Hey, that’s it!” the young man says. “A blue pickup, really nice new truck, which is how come I noticed. And it said Hansen’s on the door.”

  • • •

  Hansen. Hansen. Hansen. None of the mailboxes on this road have that name; doesn’t the man have any relatives in the town? Anything to appease my gnawing excitement? I have already plotted what I will do. It is barely five in the morning, and even a farm will still be asleep. So I will jimmy the lock and creep inside, and try to find Jane’s bedroom. It should be easy; she sleeps with the door ajar because she is claustrophobic. And then I will sit on the edge of the bed, and touch her hair. I have forgotten its texture. I’ll wait until she stirs and then I’ll kiss her. Oh, will I kiss her.

  Hansen’s. I slam the brakes, sending the Lincoln spinning. I have always preferred big cars, but they fishtail at times like this. I right myself, and pull into the long, winding driveway. If I drive the entire way, they might hear me. So I park midway on the rutted gravel and walk to the large white house.

  The porch creaks beneath me. I try the door—open—does anyone in the country lock their doors? Inside, I have to feel my way in the dark, but I do not mind. This is a good sign: no one is awake.

  I became very good at cracking doors just a hair when Rebecca was a baby. If she heard the slightest sound, she’d wake and begin to cry, and God knows it was difficult enough to get her to sleep through the night. It’s all in the wrist.

  The farthest door on the right yields an empty room decorated with antiques and patchwork quilts. Jane’s purse is in here, which leads me to deduce that this is indeed her room and she is probably sleeping with Rebecca out of fear or discomfort or loneliness. My heart is pounding when I open the next door, expecting to find my wife and my child together. But it is just Joley, snoring loud enough to blast granite.

  When I open the next bedroom door, it too is empty, but the sheets are messed on the bed. Strewn around the room are Rebecca’s clothes—I recognize her GUARD suit, the one she was wearing the day she left. A half-full glass of juice sits at the bedside, as if the room was left in a hurry. As if the occupant is coming right back. This worries me; I don’t want her to see me before I have a chance to see and speak to Jane. So I duck into the hallway, and make my way to the last door.

  It falls open without a sound. Jane is in the bed, curled onto her side. She is not wearing anything. She is smiling in her sleep. She is in the arms of another man.

  I stagger forward, creating a loud noise that coincides with the crash of the door against the wall. They both jump up, blinking. Jane sees me first. “Oliver,” she gasps.

  I lunge for him, hauling him out of the bed. Jane is screaming for me to stop. I think she is probably crying. “Get the fuck away from her!” I shout, throwing the man onto the floor. I don’t even know who he is. I’m ready to kill him, and I don’t even known his name.

  I kick him in the gut and in the balls and send him reeling backward. Jane jumps out of bed, wailing, naked, and throws herself across him. I have poison running through my veins. I want blood.

  She cradles his head in her lap. “I’m all right,” he says to her. “I’m okay now.” He tries to get to his feet, to come after me.

  “Come on,” I say, beckoning. “I’ll kill you. I mean it, I’ll kill you.” Suddenly Jane is in between us, and she throws herself into my arms, and it is so remarkably distracting that I lose my sense of purpose. She has wrapped herself in a sheet. She is so soft.

  “Don’t do this,” she pleads. “For me. Don’t do this, please.”

  “Let’s get Rebecca. We’re leaving.”

  Jane will not make eye contact with me. “No.”

  “We’re leaving, Jane,” I say authoritatively.

  She stands directly between us, her hands knotted into fists, her eyes pressed shut. “No!”

  And this is when Joley chooses to enter the room. “What the hell is going on?” He sees me, he takes note of Jane and this other asshole, leaning on the bedpost for support. “Sam, what happened?”

  “Sam Hansen? You’re the one who’s been screwing my wife?” It all balls up inside my throat then, my shoulders. I grab for Sam’s neck. I can break it in one swift move. I know human anatomy.

  Joley pushes Jane out of the way. He grabs me by the collar of my shirt and wraps his arms around mine so that I am pinned. I struggle but he is too strong for me, and eventually I relax. “Where’s Rebecca? I want to see Rebecca.”

  “She’s next door,” Jane says.

  “There’s no one next door.”

  “Of course there is,” Joley says. “Where should she go at five in the morning?”

  Jane’s hands start to tremble, and she turns to Sam. Sam. “I told Hadley to leave,” he says. “I told him last night. She must have found out. She must have gone after him.”

  Jane nods very slowly, and then she bursts into tears. “She knows it was me. She knows I told you.”

  Joley, for once in his goddamned life the voice of reason, walks towards Sam and practically shouts in his face. “Do you know where his mom lives now?”

  “I know the town. It won’t be hard to find.”

  “I can’t believe this,” I say. “I travel across the country to find my child has run away and my wife is in another man’s bed.” Sam and Joley continue to talk about some area of New Hampshire. I come closer to Jane and I take her hand. “I had so much to tell you,” I say sadly. Her cheeks are red and swollen with the tracks of tears.

  “Oliver,” she whispers, hoarse. “I can’t lose her. I can’t lose her.” She looks up at me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  I know they are watching, from across the room. I know they are watching and that is what makes it even sweeter. This has not been easy. I came across an entire continent to tell this woman I am in love with her. I came to tell her my life is nothing unless she’s by my side. And I’m not about to throw that away, in spite of it all. I know how to forgive, now. I know how to forget, I imagine, too. It is up to me to put my family back together. I squeeze Jane gently. Then I close my eyes, and press my lips against hers. Her mouth is quivering. But she is kissing me back. This much I know: she is kissing me back.

  65 JOLEY

  When Oliver hugs Jane like that, Sam stirs next to me. I brace my arm, so he doesn’t step forward and do anything stupid. He takes three slow measured breaths that rock his whole frame. Then he pushes past me. “Let’s go,” he says.

  We’ve decided that since we know where Hadley’s gone, we have a good chance of finding Rebecca there. If we get a start this early, we’ll be there by lunch time. “I’m going with you,” Oliver says. He lets go of Jane and she sags against the post of the bed. I think she might pass out, from the looks of things.

  “Oliver.” You have to feel bad for the guy. This isn’t what he expected to find in Massachusetts, after all. “It won’t do you any good to come with us. Someone has to stay here with Jane, anyway.”

  “This is not a question. I am telling you: I’m going with you to New Hampshire.”

  Sam takes a step forward. I can see Oliver’s face change as he drinks in the tone of Sam’s voice. “You know where Hadley’s mom lives. You two go. I’ll wait here in case she comes home.”

  “Like hell you will,” Oliver says. It’s about to come to blows again, so I step in between them. “I’m not leaving you here with my wife.”

  “You can’t go by yourself,” Sam says. “Half the roads there aren’t marked.”

  Oliver leans towards Sam. “I can find places that are totally unmarked, you asshole. I do it for a living.”

  “This isn’t the ocean.”

  Jane puts her hand on Oliver’s arm. “He’s right, Oliver. You can’t go up there alone.”

  “Okay,” Oliver says, pacing. He wheels around and points to