‘Isn’t it kind of unethical to date someone who the Foundation is – helping?’
‘You tell me,’ Leaf says politely. ‘You seem to know.’
‘Where were your bags?’ Adam says suddenly.
‘What?’
‘I met you at the door when you got back this morning. You didn’t have any bags.’
‘Ross brought them in from the car,’ Leaf says.
‘I didn’t see—’
‘It’s his job for you not to see him.’ Leaf stops. ‘I can’t stand jealousy.’ His voice cracks. ‘It ruins everything. It spreads like rot.’
Leaf thrusts his fists against the trunk of an apple tree. He punches it hard, making small noises of pain.
‘Hey, hey.’ Adam takes hold of Leaf’s wrists. ‘Stop it.’ The grazes on Leaf’s knuckles ooze blood. ‘I didn’t mean to—’
‘Everyone wants things from me,’ Leaf says. ‘Even the police just want to get in here and poke at me and look and pry. Before I put up the gate and hired Ross, people found their way in here all the time. They would take branches from the apple trees. One woman tore hair from the horses’ manes.’ Leaf leans against the apple tree. He tips his head back, eyes closed. ‘You’re just the same as all the rest of them – you want to own me.’
‘That’s not fair,’ Adam says. His heart pounds hard at the pace of disaster. ‘I was just asking. Last night I heard the door. The alarm was off. Who else knows the code? And there were lights on in the house. I thought you had got home early.’ He swallows. ‘I looked for you all over. So when you came in this morning, and I didn’t see your luggage, I just thought—’
‘What? That I was hiding from you somewhere in my own house?’ Leaf’s voice vibrates with anger. ‘What you’re saying makes no sense. Where do you think I was?’
‘I don’t know,’ Adam says. ‘But I also don’t understand.’
‘Do you know why I work with the Foundation?’ Leaf asks. His voice vibrates with anger. ‘They say that long ago five children were kept here, back when it was an apple farm. They were murdered and the town covered it up. Maybe that’s why Nowhere wants me to help young people in trouble. She’s trying to make up for it.’ Leaf breathes. ‘And maybe it’s time you went back to your girlfriend.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Adam feels everything receding. He imagines a world where he doesn’t see Leaf or touch him ever again. Adam takes Leaf’s hand and kisses it gently, avoiding the bloodied knuckles. ‘I don’t want that,’ he says. ‘I want you.’
Leaf gives him a smile. Adam’s heart swells and almost stops. ‘I don’t want my fingers to ever get itchy with you,’ Leaf says. ‘I want you to stay forever.’
‘I will, if you’ll have me.’ Adam feels he’s lifting right out of his body.
They come out through the trees. In the distance, beside the house, is the green hill mounted with white crosses. ‘Jackrabbit,’ Adam murmurs.
‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ Adam says. He squints. He had thought there were twelve graves on the hill – now he counts thirteen.
‘Did something die?’ he asks, anxious. ‘Is that a new grave?’
‘Just some tropical fish,’ Leaf says. He trails a finger down Adam’s cheek. ‘Did you swim yesterday?’ he asks. ‘How long did you hold your breath?’
16The Lilac Boy
Big Bobby Sullivan tells the story at the bar of the Dew Drop Inn sometimes, when they’ll let him, and when he’s had his third or fourth drink.
He was shooting grouse out of season one early fall when he saw the face in the tree.
It had been a poor day for grouse, but Bobby hadn’t come up here for the kill, more for the crisp air and to be alone on the mountain with his thoughts and the whispering trees. And away from his wife, with whom he’d had an argument that morning. There had been snow a couple of days before. It hadn’t stayed; the weather warmed straight after and everything smelled fresh-turned, like the earth was alive.
Bobby stopped by a lilac tree to eat his sandwich. It was a meat-ball sandwich; his wife made the best meatballs in Ault. Everyone said so. He ate it sitting by the lilac tree, which was in full bloom. The scent was heavy, making him kind of sleepy; lilac always did that to him for some reason. There was a rustling in the tree and Big Bobby took up his gun again, thinking of bears. They travelled thisway around this time of year. He peered into the purple and green but couldn’t see anything. But he had the prickle in his skin that told him eyes were watching. The sun went behind a cloud and it felt later in the day, suddenly, than it had a moment before. He realised that his watch had stopped. Bobby felt very alone all of a sudden. He thought about home and a beer and these seemed like great things. Just because he needed a little while away from home didn’t mean he didn’t love it. And he wanted to get off the mountain. He couldn’t remember why he’d wanted to come out here so badly. He struck out through the forest back towards the main trail.
A few moments later he stopped. He realised he had left half his meatball sandwich on the ground by the tree. He groaned aloud.
Bobby was raised near the mountain; he knows that you never leave food out like that, not in wild places. The bears find it. They learn to like human food. After that they are unstoppable. A couple of years before, tourists had got into the habit of leaving food out in clearings by parking spots, and then retreating to their cars to watch the bears come. The bears learned quickly. When tourist season ended and there was no more food they started coming closer to town. Some of them learned to knock the lids off trash cans. Eventually a black bear was caught on camera, delicately letting herself into a kitchen by turning the handle on the porch door. After that of course the Park Service had to shoot her. Bears cannot start to like human stuff. Just like people mustn’t let the wild get inside them or it might take over.
