Page 58 of Call Off the Dark

She didn’t want to force him to relive it, but she needed more details to understand how he could have arrived at the extraordinary conclusion that Isaac was dead. But before she had a chance to ask anything more, Wade said, “I need to get some sleep.”

He stood and started rummaging through the canvas bag he’d packed for their escape.

“Really?” she asked, stunned by his abrupt turn.

“Yeah, really.”

“A minute ago, you wanted to leave.”

“Yeah, and you won’t. So I have no choice but to figure this out here. And I’m exhausted from this whole thing.”

In disbelief, Helen watched Wade change into his flannel pajamas and push the bag onto the floor as he got into bed.

He pulled the blankets up to his chin. “Turn out the lamp, please.”

Helen was still standing in the middle of the room in her dirty dress, so no, she couldn’t turn out the lamp and plunge the room into complete darkness. But she also couldn’t go into the kitchen and spend the night wandering around listening to the coyotes and reading poetry with his brother staying in their house.

So after a moment, she removed her dress and put on her nightgown. She would have to skip her bedtime routine in the bathroom tonight. She climbed into bed beside Wade and turned off the lamp. None of this made any sense.

Wade’s apology broke the stillness. “I’m sorry. I haven’t handled things very good, but I’ll figure it out.”

She turned to face him, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. “It’s been stressful.”

“That’s for sure.”

His hand found hers under the blanket. She felt the bones in her fingers press together when he squeezed too hard.

“Let’s just say, theoretically, Isaac did die,” Helen said, trying to reason with Wade by first acknowledging his story as possible. “Then he knows it was an accident. So it doesn’t mean it’s bad that he’s here. We all dream of seeing our loved ones after they die.”

Tyler. Tyler. Tyler. His name, the metronome.

She continued, “Maybe Isaac came back to make up with you. Maybe it’s a gift.”

“No, the look in his eyes when I first walked in . . .” Wade shook his head at the memory of it. “No, it was something else. Maybe he’s something else now.”

“So what do you want to do? You want us to sneak out in the middle of the night, and then what? Live in the truck? Abandon the land?” There was no way Wade would leave the land. She knew that, he knew that.

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Wade sighed in tired contemplation. “And I think he’ll find us wherever we go.”

“He only knew you were here because of the letter you wrote your aunt.”

“I never wrote a letter. We don’t even have an Aunt Sue.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Helen pressed.

“Am I sure I don’t have an Aunt Sue, or am I sure I didn’t send a letter I never wrote?”

“Sorry.”

“Because I’m sure about both things.”

Helen didn’t know what to say. Perhaps what was happening right now wasn’t one thing or the other. Perhaps both of them were right: Wade was traumatized by the accident and thus erroneously believed Isaac was dead, and Isaac was messing with Wade. It certainly seemed plausible that Isaac might blame Wade for the tractor accident, and his anger could be coming through in these twisted mind games.

“Maybe you should go to your parents’ while I deal with this,” Wade said.