The Reunion by Amy Silver Page B

What do you think?’
    ‘Jesus, Claudia.’
    ‘Listen, I have to go. He’s coming now, we’re going to lunch. Just… be patient, OK?’
    She ended the call.
    Dan sat back down on the desk chair, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. He felt nauseous. Why did she tell him that? Why did he ask? Bloody idiot. Suddenly he was beyond furious; he leapt to his feet, grabbed the stupid little pot with the stupid little purple flower in it and made to hurl it against the wall. He stopped himself in time. He put the pot back down and carefully brushed the bit of soil which had spilled out under the rug. He sat down on the floor, crossing his legs and resting the backs of his hands on his knees, thumb lightly touching the third finger. He closed his eyes and breathed, in and out. He felt a little better. He tried to clear his mind, to forget the here and now, but the sick feeling in his stomach wouldn’t go away and he couldn’t banish the image from his head of Claudia’s head thrown back, white throat exposed, someone else moving on top of her.

 
     
    17 November 1996
    Dear Jen,
    I don’t know if this will reach you. Andrew says he sends his letters to you care of your parents, but isn’t sure if they pass them on.
    It’s been almost five months. I waited, because I knew you’d need time, I knew you’d probably want to be left alone. But I didn’t want you to think that I wasn’t thinking of you, spending every moment wondering where you are and what you’re doing. Wondering whether you’ll be OK, whether you’ll ever come back.
    I understand why you went, but please come back.
    There is no reason for you to feel guilty. None of this was your fault. It was mine, mine and Andrew’s: we were the ones who were driving too fast. The terrible part of it is that I have escaped without punishment. Without formal punishment, anyway.
    Andrew will not be so lucky. His sentencing is next month. His legal career will be over, though they think he will escape a custodial sentence. Nat is doing better. Still at her parents’ place, but she’s out of the chair most of the time now, which I think is a huge relief. She talks about coming back to London, taking up her old job. I haven’t seen much of Lilah. I don’t think she’s doing too well. It’s hard to tell because she won’t talk about it. She isn’t strong, though. She isn’t strong like you.
    We miss you, Jen.
    I can’t know what you’re feeling, but I know that mixed in with all the grief there will be something else, and I know I am the cause of that. Can I be sorry without feeling regret? Because I can’t, Jen, I can’t regret it, I wish that I could, that I could wish it had never happened, but I can’t. I can’t bring myself to wish for that.
    Please, give me a chance to help you through this, Jen. I just want a chance.
    Come back.
    Dan

Chapter Nine

    THEY WERE RUNNING low on firewood and Zac volunteered to fetch more. Lilah jumped at the chance to go with him, to have a cigarette and get away from baby talk. She’d never been good at enthusing about maternity. Zac went upstairs to get their coats and they went out the back door, past the barn and up the hill, hand in hand, towards the woodshed. They squinted into the sunshine.
    ‘You want to go back for your sunglasses?’ Zac asked her.
    ‘It’s OK,’ she said, raising a hand to shield her eyes. They were looking up towards a clump of trees halfway up the hill, beyond the shed. Suddenly, Lilah stopped dead.
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘Nothing,’ she said, and started to walk again. Just for the briefest of moments, she’d thought she saw someone moving, just beyond the tree line. It gave her a fright. She blinked hard into the brightness, but there was nothing there. No one there. Still, it made her feel a little strange. There was something about those woods, something frightening and yet alluring. She gripped Zac’s hand a little harder; he turned to her and smiled, and kissed the top