Audrey returned to the bathroom with the two glasses and Katie said, “Oh, you’re in a cast—I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have asked you to open the wine.”
“It’s fine. Should I…?”
“Yes, just set mine there, please.”
The little girl was standing now, with her hands over her face, as Katie filled a plastic Cool Whip container from the spout and emptied it over her head. The girl’s wet hair hung in a dark curtain down to her little biceps, islands of suds slipping down her tummy and down her legs and she stood with no embarrassment at all; her nudity was nothing to her.
“How old is she?”
“How old are you, Mel?”
One little hand came out from under the hair with four fingers raised and went under again.
“Four?”
She nodded.
Katie tossed a towel over the girl’s head and lifted her out of the tub and set her on her feet and began rubbing at the body under the cloth. As she rubbed she looked at Audrey more carefully, as if it were only now possible to do so.
“I saw you on the news,” she said. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
“What?” said the girl, her small voice muffled and shaken.
“I’m talking to Audrey, baby.”
“Oh.”
Audrey sipped her wine.
Katie said, “I’m sorry about your friend. Caroline?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Just so awful.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry about your father too.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ve had a rough time of it, haven’t you.”
“I’m all right.”
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
“Nineteen. Lord. How’s that wine?”
“It’s good. Thank you.”
“Is Audrey sleeping over?”
“No, baby. Audrey and Mommy are going to talk for a while after you go to bed like a good little citizen.”
“I wanna talk too.”
“No, you don’t. This is grown-up talk.”
“So?”
“Come on,” she said, lifting the girl again. “Let’s get you in those jammies.”
Audrey sat on the loveseat and watched the crime show with the volume turned down, and after a while the little girl came thumping out and dropped to her knees in the space between the sofa and the coffee table and began moving the horses around.
“What are their names?”
“This is Lavender and this is Strawberry. This is Peaches, she’s Strawberry’s sister, and this is Dave.”
“Dave?”
“Mm-hmm, and this is the corral and that’s the meadow where you’re sitting.”
“Should I move?”
“No, they already runned in the meadow before.”
“Oh, good.”
“What did you do to your hand?”
“I broke it.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Not anymore.”
“Can I touch it?”
“Sure.” She held out the cast and watched as the girl stroked it like it was a soft pet.
“I like the color.”
“Thank you. I do too.”
Katie came out in sweatpants and a University of Minnesota T-shirt. “I slipped into something a little more comfortable, as they say.” She went to the kitchen and came back with the wine bottle and set it on the coffee table away from the horses. They sat and watched the crime show while the little girl played with her horses and chattered. At the end of the show you still didn’t know if the wife had done it or not; she was in jail awaiting her trial. There was no end and no answer.
“They always end like that,” Katie said. “It’s one big tease.”
Audrey was feeling the wine. She’d almost forgotten why she was there. She thought she could curl up on the loveseat and sleep over after all.
“Will you be all right while I put her to bed?”
“Sure.”
“We read for a bit. It could be awhile.”
“It’s OK. Take your time.”
“Say good night to Audrey, baby.”
The girl came around the coffee table and lifted her face, her lips, and Audrey leaned forward for the softest kiss. “Good night, Audrey.”
“Good night, Mel.”
When they were gone she put her head back and closed her eyes and soon she heard Katie’s reading voice down the hall, and then it was as if she were in the bedroom herself and the voice were reading to her, and next she knew a hand was on her shoulder gently shaking and Katie was sitting facing her with one foot tucked up under the other leg. The TV had been shut off and music was playing quietly from somewhere.
“I’m sorry…” Audrey said.
“Don’t be. I almost didn’t wake you. I almost threw a blanket over you and went to bed. But then I remembered you wanted to talk to me.”
Audrey sat forward and felt the blood go to her head with a deep thump of pain. “Maybe I’ll have some of that water now.” She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead.
“I shouldn’t have let you drink all that wine. Did you eat anything?”
She couldn’t remember. “Yes,” she said.
Katie got up and Audrey turned her father’s watch on her wrist. It was just nine o’clock. The second hand seemed connected to the pulse in her head.
Katie came back with two aspirins and a large glass of water and sat as before and watched as Audrey took the pills and drank down half the glass.
“Do you feel sick?”
“No, I just feel like… like I don’t know where I am.”
“You’re here, with me, in my apartment. You wanted to talk to me.”
“Yes. I just don’t know where to begin.”
“How about why.”
“Why?”
“Why me.”
Audrey shook her head. “I don’t know. I mean—I was just trying to figure something out about something. About someone.”
“Who?”
“A man named Ed Moran.”
Katie stared at her. Just stared, no expression. Then she picked up the wine bottle and refilled her own glass and set the bottle down again.
“Do you know him?” Audrey said.
“I know he used to be a sheriff’s deputy down there.”
“He’s a sheriff now, down in Iowa.”
“Lucky Iowa.”
“Why do you say that?”
She shrugged. “Smart-ass reflex. So what about him?”
“He’s investigating my case. Mine and Caroline’s.”
Katie nodded slowly, recalling. “There was a second car, they said. Did they ever find it?”
“No. Or those two boys either.” She didn’t want to go into what her father had done. Or Moran’s photo line-up.
“Two boys?” said Katie.
“From the gas station.”
Katie shook her head and Audrey said, “The ones who tried to—who grabbed me?”
Katie stared at her. “I don’t remember anything about two boys.”
“Young men, actually.”
Katie was silent. Then she said, “What did they do?”
“Nothing. Caroline got them with the pepper spray. We were driving away when we went off the road.”
“And was it them, those two pieces of shit, who pushed you over the bank?”
“I don’t know. We could only see the headlights.”
“Jesus,” Katie said. Then she said, “All right. So what has this got to do with me?”
“I don’t know. This person I know… this woman who worked for my father—”
“Your father the sheriff.”