what could make a devoted father, one who had kids who loved him, a wife who loved him, a great dog, and a great life, up and leave it? Not a word good-bye. Nothing. I said all this to Ben and we tried to piece it together.
“Let’s make a list,” he suggested.
And so we did.
The other woman.
Dad’s bank job.
That was it, that was the extent of our list.
“Not very helpful,” said Ben, looking it over.
“Not at all,” I agreed. “Why not just run away? Why this whole elaborate setup with Daisy in the boat, cutting himself with a knife to make it look like some kind of fatal accident or something?”
“Maybe there was another person involved. Maybe he got cut in a fight, but maybe something worse happened to the other guy … or girl.”
“Gross! So my dad’s a murderer? You think he killed that waitress he was seeing?” I was horrified at the thought.
“We don’t know, is all I’m saying,” said Ben. “And anyway, let’s say he committed some crime, something really terrible, maybe related to his bank job, maybe not—why reappear now?”
“Maybe he knows we’re in danger,” I said. “Maybe he’s been secretly tracking us, and he knows Simon is some kind of freak.”
As if summoned by magic, Simon came strolling into the library, hands clasped behind his back, looking real casual. He came over as if there was nothing wrong, like that dumb family meeting had fixed all our problems.
“Hey there, Maggie. Hi, Ben,” he said, talking in that hushed library tone that wasn’t nearly as quiet as people thought it was. “Happy accident running into you two. Say, do you have a few minutes to chat since we’re both here?”
“Sure,” Ben said, for some reason thinking he was a part of the discussion Simon wanted to have.
“Actually, Ben and I are doing our lab report for science,” I said, spitting out the words, concocting some half-baked reason on the fly. “It’s a huge project, worth twenty percent of our grade, so—”
So go away … so no, so I don’t want to talk to you.
The teacher part of Simon understood the significance; the other part of him pretended to care.
“What’s your report about?” he asked.
Of course, Ben told him. He even talked about hyperthyroidism.
“Very interesting,” said Simon. “Listen, Ben, could I have a minute alone with Maggie? Would you mind?”
Ben grew noticeably uncomfortable, because he knew I would be uncomfortable, but he didn’t know how to get either of us out of it.
“Um … um … um…” he stammered.
“It’s okay,” I said, coming to his rescue. “I’ll take this home and finish it up. I know what to do. Just give me that paragraph on serotonin or whatever before the end of the day.”
Ben got up from his seat, hurriedly collected his things, and left with a wave good-bye.
When he was gone, Simon said, “So, Maggie, I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened and I can’t apologize enough for what I did. I was out of line and feel really stupid about it.”
His words were kind, but his eyes were cold.
“That’s okay,” I told him, thinking maybe that would be enough and he’d go, but no, he stayed.
“I … I just…” Like Ben, he was struggling for the right words. “This hasn’t been easy.”
And I thought: The understatement of the year award goes to …
“I’m trying really hard here, but for whatever reason I keep messing up.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I broke your musket. We’re even.”
Not even close, but whatever. Winker.
“Forget about that, sweetheart,” he said. “I just want this to work out for all of us.”
And I wanted to scream: Did you just call me sweetheart? What was next? Pumpkin? Oh. My. God. Please, please, please, just go away. I was about to lie about needing to get to class when my phone buzzed. I glanced at it, naturally, even though Simon was still pouring his heart out to me, repeating his excuse about how teaching children and living with them wasn’t the same thing. When my eyes went to the phone display, my heart leapt to my throat. I’d received a new Talkie to Me message from Tracy Nuts.
“So what can we do to make it easier on everyone, especially your mom?” Simon asked. “I’ve been thinking maybe we should start family counseling.”
I only half heard him. All I wanted to do was open that message from my dad. I wanted to see it, read it, touch it. My head and heart hurt with