Read Scar Tissue for Free Online Page A

know.” He tried to smile. “Me, too, of course. But she’s …” He shook his head. “She’s not dealing with this at all. She’s trying to convince herself that Brian’s alive, and I’m worried that if they don’t find him—his body—pretty soon, she’ll …” He waved his hand. “I don’t know what she’ll do, Brady. The doctor came by yesterday after you left, gave her some medication. But she refuses to take it. Says she wants to be awake and alert when Brian comes home. I keep trying to tell her he’s not going to come home. It’s like a knife in my gut. Saying it, seeing the anger and pain in her eyes. She hates me when I say that to her. But what’m I supposed to do?”
    â€œI don’t know, Jake. I wish I did.”
    â€œWell,” he said, “her mother’s coming to stay with us. That’ll help. Come on in.”
    Sharon was wearing what appeared to be the same jeans and sweatshirt she’d worn the day before. She huddled in an armchair next to the fireplace with her feet pulled up under her. Her face was blotched and swollen. In that big chair, she looked like a child.
    She gave me a wan smile. “Hello, Brady.”
    I went over and kissed her cheek. “How’re you doing?”

    â€œThe waiting is hard. I miss my boy.”
    â€œI know,” I said.
    â€œWant some coffee?” said Jake. “A drink?”
    â€œBring me a glass of wine,” said Sharon.
    â€œCoffee’s fine,” I said.
    Jake went out to the kitchen.
    â€œThe Rolandos were here this morning,” said Sharon. “Tom and Emily. I felt so bad. They were very kind. It had to’ve been awfully hard for them, coming to see us. We all cried together.”
    â€œAnd Chief Sprague was here,” I said. “I just met him ouside.”
    â€œEd’s such a good man.” Sharon rubbed her eyes. “He’s trying to make me understand that Brian’s dead. Part of me knows that. But part of me thinks, no, he’ll be back. Jake thinks I’m crazy, but I’m not. It’s weird, but you know, when Tom and Emily were here, I was jealous of them. At least they know. How much easier it has to be, knowing, not wondering and hoping.” She touched my arm. “I’m just about all cried out, Brady. I’m just waiting for this to be over with. Now my mother’s coming, and she’s gonna drive me nuts, I know. It was Jake’s idea. I think he just wants to foist me off on somebody else.”
    â€œThat’s not it at all,” said Jake, who had come back into the room. “When I called her, she insisted on coming.” He handed Sharon a glass of white wine, and he gave me a mug of coffee. He patted Sharon’s arm. “She wants to be with you.”
    Jake had poured himself a beer, and the three of us sat in the gloom-filled living room sipping our drinks and not saying much. I felt uncomfortable and out of place. There was no way I could share their grief or make them feel better.
    I’d talked to my two boys today, and that was the difference between us.
    I stayed for about an hour, and when I got up to leave, both Jake and Sharon thanked me for coming. But it sounded mechanical, and as I left, I realized there was nothing I could do to help them.

    It occurred to me that if I wanted to analyze it, I might discover that my real reason for visiting them was to make myself feel better. I decided that I wouldn’t return unless they asked me to, or until something changed.

FOUR

    I picked up River Road a mile or so past the Reddington village green and headed north. At first the narrow country road played tag with the winding river, touching it here, bending away from it there, following it upstream. The river was fifty or sixty yards wide in most parts, and it was sheeted over with snow-covered ice from bank to bank. If you didn’t know it was a