fallen out completely, a box that looks to be filled with half packed and then forgotten knick knacks, a plastic crucifix on the wall. A closet door, mostly open. A window, broken and letting in night air. I rub my eyes tiredly with all ten of my fingers.
“Are you alright?” Luke asks in concern.
“I just don’t know where she could have gone,” I reply in frustration. “Didn’t you hear her in here?”
Luke looks surprised and shakes his head. “No, I didn’t hear anything. Sorry, Gray. Want to get out of here?”
I nod, wordlessly. The sense of Rose being here has diminished now, although I cannot shake the feeling of a presence in this room, listening to me the way I was listening to it. An ear pressed to the inside of the bedroom door to match mine on the outside. A single piece of pressed wood between us, so close I could almost hear the heartbeat, almost feel the breath, and yet as far away from my sister as I have always been.
********************
Back in Luke’s truck we are silent for several moments. I feel foolish for thinking it would be so easy to find Rose, yet I also feel strangely as though we came close, though I have nothing substantial to base this feeling on. I wonder why this man is chauffeuring me around on my fool’s errand. I steal a glimpse of him from under my eyelashes as he drives; his hands are both on the steering wheel, fingers drumming a bit as though he has a song in his head. He has taken off his tie and it sits between us on the seat of the truck, sitting obediently like a tiny, quiet passenger. Luke speaks.
“Well, it’s possible she was there and was scared of us.”
I don’t think he actually believes that but it is nice of him to placate me, I think.
“We could go back in the daylight,” he continues. “Might not be so intimidating that way.”
“I suppose breaking and entering with a flashlight wasn’t the way to go,” I agree, morosely. I turn my attention to the window and watch the moonlight flit in and out through the trees, a slim slice of white in the blackness. The way it dances and flickers make me remember other nights, long ago, in a different place, where candle light was the norm. The way the flame would skitter and prance about if there was a breeze or if you breathed a little too close. The moon between the pines looks like that to me. Steadily the shape of the trees gives way to more and more housetops and roofs and buildings and before I know it, Luke has pulled up to the curb outside my house. I pick up Emme’s shoes in my hand and am still thinking of our strange night and of Rose when I pull the handle of the passenger door. It seems sticky and so I shove hard. I hear a thud and a muffled exclamation as the door hits something solid before swinging the rest of the way open. I jump out and peer around the door to see Luke sprawled on the sidewalk, scowling at me.
“Gee, Gray, I kind of thought you’d appreciate the chivalry of a man opening the door for you,” he rubs his chin and narrows his eyes as I look down at him. “If you’re one of those feminist types you could have just said no, thanks, and saved me the broken body parts.”
“Sorry,” I laugh, offering my hand to help him up. “I didn’t see you there.”
“You could wait to forget about my existence at least until I’ve walked you to your door,” he grumbles, grabbing my hand and almost pulling me down to him as I haul him up.
“Don’t fret, big man.”
“I’m not fretting!” his scowls get bigger, if that’s possible. “I’ve never fretted in my life. You really have a way with words, Gray. No one else has managed to insult me quite so much and with such finesse.”
“That’s me,” I curtsy, or try to wearing this blasted tight dress. “Full of finesse and insults and harebrained schemes. I’m also available for birthday parties and holidays.”
“I’ll remember that.” We have reached my steps and I wonder suddenly if he is planning on coming in. Will he sit uncomfortably on my couch while I serve powdered lemonade? Will we make small talk? What am I supposed to do now? It’s nearly midnight. Prue will be exhausted,