Jodie Picoult - Songs of the Humpback Whale - A Novel in Five Voices

We sleep on the floor of the cabin and when the sun comes up, we begin to pick our way through several trails. Oliver walks first, then the ranger, then me. From time to time Oliver slides on the worn soles of his loafers, knocking over the ranger and me like dominoes.

At a certain point it starts coming back to me. The cliff, the winding path and the little clump of trees in the distance. “We camped there,” I say. “Last time I hiked this mountain we camped in those trees. There’s a little clearing there, and you’re close by to the water, so it makes a good site.”

We hike up the eastern edge, keeping the increasingly deep drop just an arm’s length away. We can hear the river splashing over the rocks. Oliver’s jaw tenses up when he sees the cliff. I know what he is thinking: What if she’s down there? We are all out of breath by the time the ground levels off in front of us. Straight ahead is the clearing, through the pine trees, and I think I can make out something blue. We tiptoe in through the maze of trunks, and there on a blanket are Hadley and Rebecca, wound around each other. They are still, so still I think maybe this was a suicide pact, but then I see Hadley’s chest rising and falling. He’s practically naked, except for his boxers, and Rebecca’s just wearing his shirt. The funny thing is, they look really peaceful. Like you say about angels. They’re holding each other so tight, even fast asleep, that it’s as if the rest of the world couldn’t possibly matter.

“Jesus, Hadley,” I say, more out of shock than anything else. In spite of what Jane has told me about him and Rebecca, in spite of the fact that I repeated the story myself to Oliver, I didn’t really believe he was carrying on with her. She looks about nine years old with her hair spread out in back of her like that, all skinny arms and legs. She certainly doesn’t look old enough to be wrapped in Hadley’s arms this way. I can tell Oliver isn’t taking it too well, either. He is rasping, choking on everyday air.

Hadley sits up at the sound of my voice. He’s got an erection, for Christ’s sake. He blinks a few times and looks around like a captured animal. By now Rebecca is sitting up too. The thing I notice about her is that her eyes are all fuzzy, and she doesn’t seem to be surprised. “Hadley,” she says calmly, “this is my father.”

Hadley pulls a blanket over his lap and holds out his hand. Oliver doesn’t take it. Rebecca lies back down on the blanket. How far have they gone? I wonder. I stare at Hadley, but he’s not revealing anything. As Rebecca hits the ground heavily, he crawls to her side. So does the ranger, for that matter. Hadley holds his hand under Rebecca’s neck, incredibly tender.

“Get the hell away from her.” Oliver says, finally. “Don’t touch her.”

Seeing this may be harder for him than seeing me and Jane together. There’s a rotten, stale smell that’s hovering; disgrace. “Do it, Hadley. Just move away. It’s the best thing.”

Hadley turns to me and he looks like he’s been wounded. “What do you know?”

Oliver ignores what’s going on between Hadley and me. He takes a step towards his daughter, holding out his hand but not quite touching her. “Rebecca, are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

Hadley looks at me, as if to say: Don’t do this to me twice. Stand up for me, now. Please. Believe in me.

I keep eye contact with him, and he nods, just the slightest bit. I turn to Rebecca. There’s something wrong here, any fool could tell that from the way she’s just lying there. “Can you stand up?” I say, stepping close.

When Rebecca shakes her head, which looks like it takes up all her energy, Hadley moves back next to her. He props her up by her shoulders. “She came to me. She hitched. We were headed to your place today to work this all out.” He’s shouting, I wonder if he knows.

I look from Hadley’s face to Oliver’s He’s got this look in his eyes that I didn’t see even yesterday morning. I have never seen it on a human. It’s the way raccoons get, when they’re rabid. They walk right up to you, even though normally they’re scared shitless of people, and they just attack, scratching and biting and clawing. It’s like they have no idea where they are, or how they got there. They’ve just absolutely gone crazy. “Hadley,” I say real slowly, trying not to set Oliver off, “I think you’d better let Rebecca come home with us. And I think you’d better stay here for a while.”

Hadley glares at him, a vein in his temple pulsing angrily. “You know me,” he says. “You’ve known me forever. I can’t believe . . . I cannot believe that you’d doubt me.” He walks towards me, so close I could reach out and just touch him, tell him it’s over. “You’re my friend, Sam,” he says. “You’re like my brother. I didn’t tell her to come here. I wouldn’t do that.” He swallows; I think he’s about to cry. In all the years, I’ve never seen him do that. “I’m not going to turn my back. I’m not going to let you take her away.” He looks at Rebecca. “Jesus, Sam, I love her.”

He takes a step backwards, towards the chasm, and I lean forward, worried about his safety, but Rebecca lurches forward between us and throws her arms around Hadley’s knees. Hadley crouches, holding her and brushing back her hair.

It is at this moment that Oliver loses control. “Let go of her, you bastard!” I grab his arm and pull him back. “Let go of my daughter!”

I kneel, eye-level with Rebecca and Hadley. “Give her to us, Hadley,” I whisper. “Give her to us.”

Rebecca’s face is pressed into Hadley’s shoulder. He talks to her quietly,and from the words I catch over the calls of circling hawks, I think he is trying to convince her to come to us.

“You have to go with them,” Hadley says. He lifts her chin with her finger. “Don’t you want to make me happy? Don’t you see?”

I start to wonder if this is going to turn out all right. Oliver stands with his fists at his side, watching Rebecca as if there is a wall between them. I imagine it is next to impossible to see your child grow up; even harder when it comes in a matter of minutes.

Rebecca and Hadley are struggling. She clutches him, and Hadley is trying to push her away. Watching them, I have started to believe. I think I am on their side, now. In spite of Oliver, in spite of Jane. For the last time, Hadley looks at me, and he’s begging for just five minutes. Five lousy minutes.

Because I am looking into the sun to give them privacy, I don’t really know what happens next. All of a sudden, Rebecca and Hadley tear apart. In the effort to push her towards me, he falls. I see all this through blind orange sunspots, my own fault. And then Rebecca is in my arms, tiny and hot with sweat, reaching back towards the cliff as Hadley falls over the edge.

I will remember many things about that day in years to come, but the thing that will stick with me most vividly is Rebecca. Just that second her eyes clear, and she begins to scream. It isn’t a scream, though, not really; it’s the howling of an animal. I recognize it as the sound of death, and it never surprises me that it comes from her throat instead of Hadley’s. I will remember that noise, and the way Rebecca looks over the edge of the cliff when none of us have the nerve. She rips the shirt she is wearing at the buttons and rakes her nails over her chest. All three of us-three men-just stand there, not doing anything; not knowing what we are supposed to do. We are speechless. She tears at her flesh, scoring her legs and her arms. We all watch the blood from the marks she’s made seep into the earth.

They bring her back to me swathed in bandages. Her eyes are open but she isn’t looking at anything. Even when I stand right over her, she doesn’t see me. From time to time she says things about fire and lightning. She stood up during the second night, screamed at the top of her lungs, and got out of bed. She walked around the room, stepping over obstacles that were not there, touching her hand and shrieking from the burns. Then she sat on the floor, crouched, her head bent over her lap. When she looked up she was crying. She was calling for me.