Jodi Picoult - Lone Wolf

“No, but-”

“Then how do you know it’s where she actually went?”

Georgie’s mouth tightens. “She would never do that to her brother.”

“She would if she thought it would save her father,” I argue.

I know Georgie will not fight me on this one. If Luke Warren is larger than life for most people who know of him, he’s absolutely mythic to Cara.

“I’m going to kill her,” Georgie says calmly. “And then I’m going to ask her what the hell she was thinking.”

“You might want to reverse the order,” I suggest. I pour oil into the wok and turn up the flame beneath it; then with a sizzle and a flash of steam, I toss the beef cubes and vegetables in. The room fills with the smells of onions and pepper.

She sits down on a kitchen stool, rubbing her temples. “Does Edward know?”

“Does Edward know what?” Cara says, suddenly standing in the doorway, her face stricken. “Did something happen to Dad?”

Georgie stares at her, her features rigid. “I don’t even know what to say to you right now. You know how you feel about losing your father? Like a piece of you would be missing? That’s how I’ve felt, every day, since your brother left home. Now he’s back, and you try to get rid of him by getting him charged with attempted murder?”

Cara’s face flushes. “He started it,” she says.

“You are not seven years old! This isn’t about who broke a lamp!” Georgie cries.

“He would have killed Dad if I hadn’t found out what he was doing in time to stop it,” Cara answers. “I’m seventeen and three-quarters, and no one gives a crap,” she says. “My vote still doesn’t count. So you tell me how else I was supposed to get everyone’s attention.”

“Maybe by acting like a grown-up, instead of a spoiled brat with a grudge,” Georgie argues. “If that’s what people see, they’ll treat you like one.”

“You’re criticizing my behavior?” Cara laughs, incredulous. “You know what I see? I see Edward, who’s been pissed off at Dad for six years. I see the doctors, who would rather have a new patient who can pay the hospital bills. I see that you wish deep down I was the kid who disappeared, and not Edward.” She swipes at her eyes with the back of her free hand. “But you know what I don’t see? Anyone who gives a shit about me or my father.”

“Do you really think I don’t love you? Or Luke, for that matter?”

I can’t help it. Chopping lettuce and tomatoes, I flinch.

“You’ve got your perfect little family now,” Cara says bitterly. “I’m just here till you pull the plug, right?”

Georgie reels back. “That’s not fair,” she replies. “I’ve never chosen between you and the twins.”

“But you did choose between me and Edward, didn’t you,” Cara says flatly. “You followed him downstairs at the hospital. You made excuses for him. You got him a lawyer.”

“I love him, Cara. I’m doing what I have to do for him.”

Cara folds her arms. “I’m doing what I have to do for Dad.”

There is a long silence. Then Georgie comes forward and pushes Cara’s hair out of her eyes. “I’m not making excuses for your brother, and I don’t love him more than I love you. But Edward doesn’t want to kill your father. He just wants to let him die. There’s a difference, Cara, even though you won’t let yourself see it.”

She slips out of the kitchen, and Cara throws herself onto a stool, burying her face in her hands. “I don’t mean to get her all worked up, you know.”

I slide a plate of loc lac in front of her. “Guess it’s a gift you have.”

“Will you take me to the hospital?”

“Nope. I still have to go talk to my client. If you want to visit your dad, you’re going to have to reinstate diplomacy with your mother.”

“Great,” she mutters. Then she looks up at me. “Does Edward know what I did?”

“Oh yeah.” I rest my elbows on the counter, across from her. “He heard the whole testimony.”

“I bet he wants to kill me.”

“If I were you, I’d be a little more careful about throwing that phrase around,” I say. “You could have wound up in jail yourself, you know. For perjury.”

“I wouldn’t have let him go to jail, for real. If it got that far, I would have said something-”

“Unfortunately, the law doesn’t bend to the whims of a seventeen-year-old. Once the state pressed charges, it would have been out of your hands.”

She grimaces. “I really didn’t mean to lie. It just sort of slipped out.”

“Just like it slipped out when you lied to the police about drinking the night of the accident?” I ask.

Cara lifts her face to mine. Her eyes are wide, and I can see secrets swimming in them, like koi in the dark shallows of a pond. “Yes,” she admits.

“That’s not the only thing you lied about, is it?” I press.

She shakes her head, silent.

I am hoping that, this time, our shared Cambodian cooking moment might bleed into a conversation. I am hoping that, because I’m not part of the universe of this family, but only a satellite, she will be more willing to talk to me. But then there is the sound of a door slamming, and the helium bubbles of the twins’ voices spill into the hallway. “Daddy! Daddy!” Elizabeth cries. “I made a mermaid picture for you!”

“Jackson, let me unlace your boot,” Georgie says. Her voice is still shaky, and I know her well enough to realize she is grateful for the distraction, for the pudgy hands that grip her shoulders as she works off our son’s shoe and for the smell of him, pure child, when she buries her face in the right angle of his neck. A moment later, the twins bounce into the kitchen and cling to my legs like mollusks. Elizabeth thrusts the damp finger painting upward; it droops over her hands.

“That is some mermaid,” I say. “Don’t you think so, Cara?”

But the stool where she’s been sitting is empty. Her plate of loc lac is full and steaming-the first Cambodian meal I’ve cooked for her that she hasn’t devoured.

I wonder how someone can leave in the blink of an eye without you even noticing.

And just like that, my mind drifts to Luke Warren.

Later that day, I receive a text from Danny Boyle. There’s no message, just a snapshot of the dismissal form he’s filed in court.

I drive over to Georgie’s old place. Edward opens the door wearing a Beresford High School T-shirt and a pair of threadbare sweatpants. “He kept my clothes,” Edward says. “They were in a box in the attic. What do you think that means?”

“That you’re overthinking,” I tell him. I hand him his passport. “Congratulations. You’ve got your life back.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The indictment’s been voided. The whole charge has been revoked. You can go to the hospital and see your dad; you can go back to Thailand if you want; you can do anything and go anywhere you like. It’s like none of this ever happened.”

Edward envelops me in a bear hug. “I don’t know what to say, Joe. Honestly. What you’ve done for me…”

“I did it for your mom,” I tell him. “So do me a favor and consider how she’s going to feel before you jump off the deep end again.”

Edward ducks his head, nods.

“You want to come over to the house? See your mother? I know she’d like that.”

“I’m going to head to the hospital,” Edward says. “See if anything’s changed.”

I am about to wish him well when the doorbell rings. I follow him into the mudroom as he opens the door to a man wearing a leather jacket and a wool fisherman’s cap. “Sorry to bother you,” the man says. “I’m looking for Edward Warren?”