“Try, Megan. You’ve been given another chance. Make it work. I know you can.” He took her in his arms and held her for a minute. “We’ll be rooting for you.” Then he set her back, kissed her lightly on the forehead, and joined Savannah.
***
Savannah spent hours thinking about her and Susan’s last visit with Megan, about what the three of them had said. So much of it made sense. She didn’t understand why she hadn’t seen it before.
She tried to imagine what her life would have been like if she’d never had Susan or Megan as points of reference. Certainly less rich. Flatter. More one-dimensional. Susan was her sister, Megan her friend. She’d taken their best points and tried to match them, making her a more complex person than she might have otherwise been. Through contrast and comparison, they’d pushed her toward realizing her potential.
At least, that was the optimist’s view. But it was the one Savannah clung to, and largely because of it, she agreed to stop at Megan and Will’s after work on Tuesday to pick up the keys for the realtor. The movers had left. Megan and Will were racing to catch their plane to Saint Croix. The keys were tucked in the tray of the planter outside the front door.
Savannah found them without any problem. Instead of pocketing them and heading home, though, she turned toward the house, looked at the door for a minute, then slowly unlocked it and let herself in.
The front foyer was warm, fallen prey to the August heat that had poured over the toiling movers. While the large hall inside was cooler, it was a chamber of echoes for her slightest step.
For a long time, Savannah stood motionless in the hall, feeling the emptiness of the place, listening to its silence. Then, almost idly, she wandered into the living room. She thought of the generations of Vandermeers who had lived within its walls—Will’s grandparents and parents, Will, and Megan, who was never quite a Vandermeer, yet perhaps more dedicated to the Vandermeers than any of the others.
That was why she’d done it. If she’d done it.Hadshe done it?
The living room floor creaked as Savannah crossed it, drawn irresistibly toward the library. It was as empty as the rest of the house. Shadows fell over the shelves where books had once been, cast there by the evening sun that slanted in through the French doors. She had expected to have an eerie feeling about the room. Instead, she felt nostalgia.
The library, more so than any other room in the house, was a nerve center. Business had been transacted there, family matters discussed, social affairs planned. With the dismantling of this room, an era had passed.
An era had passed. It was time to move on.
Will and Megan had sold the business and were selling the house. An era had passed. They were moving on.
Susan had turned her back on the idle rich in favor of being a policeman’s wife and mother to a five-year-old daughter. An era had passed. She’d moved on.
And an era had passed for Savannah, too, she realized. The long nights of being alone, of working herself to the bone to mask the void that gnawed at her from within, were behind her. Ahead was a richer life.
A new lightness settled over her as she stood in the empty library. She thought of Jared, then of the baby she carried, and a private smile softened her lips. She wanted them, both of them, more than she had believed possible.
Maybe that was what being thirty-one was all about. Maybe it was about putting things in perspective, setting priorities, closing a chapter in one’s life, and opening a new one. She was ready. It was time.
And with that realization came one more. Looking at the French door that had been shattered one Monday night in March, she realized that she didn’t want to know whether Megan Vandermeer had planned her own kidnapping. Knowing wouldn’t change a thing. Megan wouldn’t be brought to trial; without the money, there was no case, and Megan clearly didn’t have the money. So maybe the Cat had double-crossed her, and if that was so, it was poetic justice. Besides, Megan had her own conscience to live with, which was a sentence far greater than one any judge might mete out.
As for Savannah’s conscience, the only thing weighing on it was that she hadn’t shared her new insights with Jared. Turning on her heel, she set off to remedy that situation.
***
“It’s twelve-oh-four,”came the deep, sandy voice that Rhode Island knew and loved,“that’s four minutes after twelve on a breezy September Monday. You’re tuned to 95.3 FM, WCIC Providence, where the country sounds are always cool. I hope your Labor Day weekend was as sweet as mine. This morning’sJournalwas right; I got married. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be here as always, bringing you a little country in the city from twelve to six. I’ve got a super string of stars to kick off the month, including the likes of Ronnie Milsap, Reba McEntire, and Kenny Rogers. Right now I’m wantin’ to hear Randy Travis say, ‘Forever and Ever, Amen.’”His voice grew deeper.“This is Jared Snow in the heart of the night, and that’s a vow.…”
***
“That was Sawyer Brown, and this is Jared Snow comin’ to you through the driving snow on a stormy February Wednesday.”The voice was deep and familiar, but it had a special lilt that couldn’t quite be denied.“It’s twenty-seven degrees out there, but you don’t want to stray from the fire unless you’ve got good cause. I did. My son was born four hours ago. He and his mom are tucked safe and warm at the hospital, listenin’ in, like you, So don’t touch that dial. It’s set for cool country, 95.3 FM, WCIC Providence. On a special night, I’ll be bringin’ you special songs, kickin’ off with the Gatlin Brothers and ‘Love of a Lifetime.’”He paused for a split second, and when he went on, his voice was more hoarse.“Jared Snow, here, in the heart of the night, believe it.…”
***
“You’ve been tuned to 95.3 FM, WCIC Providence, and Jared Snow. It’s a promising Saturday in May, five fifty-six in theA.M. At the stroke of six, I’ll be on my way, but I’m leavin’ you in good hands. Noel Lappan is kickin’ on right after the news, and starting Monday night, Christopher Nix will be easin’ you through the heart of the night. I’ll miss you all. I’ve had a good three years here at CIC, but my baby’s gettin’ bigger and my wife’s indulged me far too long. I don’t mean to say we’ll always be sleepin’ through the heart of the night. Sometimes we’ll be listening like you, sometimes we’ll be remembering how we met, sometimes we’ll be lovin’ the night away, and if that ain’t inducement enough to start working days,”he drawled,“I don’t know what is.”He paused, then said more quietly, seriously, emotionally,“So I’m goin’ home, and all the way I’ll have ‘Georgia on My Mind.’ This is Jared Snow with the rising sun, Godspeed.…”
