Page 32 of The Invisible Hour

“I dreamed we were lost,” Robert said when he opened his eyes. It was likely the name of the river that had influenced his dream. That was how mysterious the world was; standing alone in a river could make you feel as if you were the only person on earth, and nearly come to believe it, and wish for the company of those you loved best.

“We’re not,” Nathaniel said warmly. “We’re right here where we belong.”

“And you’ve not gone mad?” Robert asked.

Nathaniel laughed and some birds took flight, startled by the sound of his voice. “Not yet.”

Nathaniel leaned his back against the tree and looked out at the river. His uncle had been right. Sitting by the river where so many had drowned, he’d remembered who he was meant to be. He had no story to tell, and yet he knew he was still a writer. He closed his eyes and saw a string of words, as if they were sparrows sitting in the tree. Talisman, transformation, oracles, labyrinth, solace. Words were magic. That was all he knew. Words were all they had. And if that was true, then anything was possible. He simply had to wait for the story to come to him, and then all he had to do was write to make it so.

PART THREE TWO WORLDS

CHAPTER SEVEN WHEN WE WERE HERE

The end of summer in New York was scorching, with days so brutal people waited anxiously for darkness to fall, even though the nights weren’t much better, as heat continued to rise from the asphalt and cement. Ice melted as soon as it was taken out of the freezer; pigeons were unable to lift into the sky. People ran cold showers, and when out shopping, they lingered by the frozen food in the supermarkets; they took the subway to Coney Island or sat under trees in Central Park on wilted patches of grass. Still the world seemed to be burning.

It was possible to feel more alone in Manhattan than anywhere else no matter how many people surrounded you. This was especially true during the last few days of August, when the streets were crowded with everyone who didn’t have the time or the funds to go on vacation. There was an emptiness, as if the city floated in the ether, as if it were a dream and everyone on the avenues, dressed in the lightest clothes they could find, undershirts and shorts or summer dresses, hadn’t yet woken from sleep. Mia had been back for more than three months, and she still didn’t feel as though she belonged in her own world. At night she dreamed she slept beside Nathaniel in the cottage bed. There were stacks of paper and written out on every page was the book that had saved her, the one she could recite word for word. Love, whether newly born or aroused from a deathlike slumber, must always create sunshine, filling the heart so full of radiance, that it overflows upon the outward world.

What was most important was for the book to be written and for her presence not to disturb Nathaniel’s life and work. And yet, it was as if she were still in that field of grass where she’d first seen him. Here in the city, she couldn’t see a single star. She avoided people and didn’t answer the phone, which often rang in the middle of the night. When she walked to the grocery store or the coffee shop she often had the sense that she was being followed. She felt nervous and ill at ease, and recently, she had stopped showing up for work.

In the mornings, she was sick to her stomach, exhausted before she even got out of bed. She spent her days staring at her neighbor’s yard, not even wanting to read. She waited for the night, when she could dream of Nathaniel. In her most recent dream, he had climbed a tree and was high above the earth. He was calling her name and saying, You can come back. I’m here waiting for you. But as she awoke, it was Elizabeth’s voice she heard ringing inside her head. A fish cannot live in the world of a sparrow. One will gasp for air and the other will drown.

On the last day of August Mia found the leaf on the stoop outside her building. Leaves in Blackwell were already beginning to turn yellow at this time of year, as this one had. Mia told herself it was a coincidence, but the very next day she found another, this time inside the hallway of the building, which could be entered only if someone had a key or managed to convince one of the neighbors to let him in.

That night she answered the phone when it rang. She didn’t say a word; she merely listened to the emptiness on the other end of the line. And then he spoke. “I always knew you were a thief. I just didn’t know what you were trying to steal from me.”

Mia hung up, her hands shaking. She had no clue as to what he was talking about, but she knew that once Joel Davis had an idea in his head, it was nearly impossible to convince him otherwise. All she knew was that he had found her, and so she phoned Sarah and the very next morning she took the first train to Boston, then the commuter train to what had always seemed like home. Mia intended to walk to the little house by the river and was surprised to find Sarah waiting for her at the station.

“You didn’t have to meet me here,” Mia said.

“I’m afraid I did.” Sarah looked grim. “He’s shown up again.”

Mia tried to remain calm, but she could feel her heart pounding against her ribs. She had a sudden memory of the girls in her dormitory at the Community, all rushing out to avoid Joel when they’d heard he was coming upstairs to talk to Mia after her mother’s death. She recalled the look on his face when he said, I will break you. She knew that he would. I don’t know what he’s capable of. That was the reason Ivy had stayed, that was why she could never run away and why she said they could never be invisible as long as Joel was watching over them.

“Here in Concord? How could that be? He was in New York yesterday.”

“He must have known you would come here. I looked up this morning when it was still dark, and there he was in the driveway.”

“Your driveway?” Mia couldn’t help but sound panicked.

They had left the train station to walk to the library, which had always been a safe place. Sarah no longer worked at the Concord School and instead she volunteered here most days. Occasionally, she found herself looking up from her work, half expecting to see Constance; then she remembered that she was alone. It was easy to trick yourself sometimes, if only for a moment or two.

“That’s why I met you at the train station,” Sarah said. “You can’t come to the house. For all I know he could still be lurking there. He could be waiting under the lilacs.”

“Maybe it wasn’t him,” Mia said, desperately wanting that to be true.

“Mia, I talked to him.”

The first thing Sarah had noticed was the movement of the heart-shaped leaves that Constance always said were as beautiful as any flower. She thought perhaps the wind had picked up, as it sometimes did off the river, but then she spied a shadow cast across the driveway. She wondered if there were crows in the hedges, as there sometimes were, birds so intelligent she could call to them to eat crusts of bread from her hand, but then he stepped out of the greenery. He appeared as if he belonged there, as if this was his house rather than hers, for Constance had made certain that everything that had belonged to her would go directly to Sarah.

Sarah opened the front door but kept the screen latched. “This is private property, sir.”

“I know all about private property,” Joel Davis said. Sarah didn’t like the look on his face, or his tone. But she acted as if it was perfectly normal to have a man station himself in her driveway. “The government is trying to take my land away. The deed is missing and guess who has it?”

“It’s really none of my business,” Sarah told him.

“You made it your business when you stole the girl.”

Sarah then made the mistake of looking into his eyes. He had a way of looking into you and making you feel as if there was nowhere to go, as if he had you in his grasp and you had best not try to oppose him.