I followed her from the porch and around the house. What if he’s here? What am I going to say? I thought of the magazine with William’s picture on the cover in the safe in Steven’s office. My cheeks flushed in anger.
The door under a weary overhang in the back gently opened with the rapping of Roxy’s knuckles.
“Well, someone isn’t too concerned about the crime rate in Champaign-Urbana. You can’t commit breaking and entering if the door is unlocked, right? Hello? Hello?”
“Roxy…” I cautioned as she walked inside.
The mudroom was dark. I blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust, scanning the glass fronts of a stackable washing machine and dryer, seeing no clothes inside.
Roxy continued to call out as we moved down a hall into the kitchen. Vinyl floors first laid down three decades ago matched outdated appliances and countertops. Mismatched furniture and newspapers littered the house. In the living room, a vintage refrigerator for Coke bottles stood right next to a sixty-inch-screen television.
I looked for photographs, any indication that Steven had a family, maybe even grandchildren of his own. The bachelor-pad vibe was too overwhelming to think he did.
“Well, I’m going whole hog. I’m looking around,” Roxy said. “He’s clearly not here, but I want to see if there’s any other fan mail waiting for you.”
A quick walk-through of the first floor revealed empty drawers left open, paperless file cabinets, and bare closets.
“I would like to sit down, but you know Stanley Steemer has never cleaned that couch.” Roxy pulled up one of the dining room chairs instead, watching me cover my lips with a balled-up fist.
“What are we doing, Lynnie? Do you think he’s crazy? I mean, obsessive compulsive, bipolar, schizophrenic? I mean, he’d have to be—to a degree—to believe that alien stuff—”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, just explain this to me: In the last twenty four hours, I’ve learned my best friend, who I say affectionately is the most normal, least-controversial person on earth, had an affair forty years ago, and maybe a love child, with a UFO hunter. So give me a minute to let all this sink in.”
“I believed him. I believed in what he was doing. I reviewed his research, I studied the cases, I talked to the families. I knew all about them, every one of them. I wasn’t just the office manager, Roxy. I was one of them.”
“One of whom?”
“They weren’t the people you see on TV now, talking about alien sightings and conspiracies. Back then, they worked quietly, communicated between universities all over the world.”
“So you’re telling me you were a UFO researcher too? Come on, Lynn.”
“I believed in it as much as I believed in anything.”
“And yet when you came back to Nashville, you decided to never, not even once, share all this with me?”
“Things got bad at the end. The work got too… intense. And when I found out I was pregnant, I knew I didn’t want that kind of life for my child. I knew I had to make a clean break. It’s why I never even went back for Tom’s graduation, why I’ve never come back here at all. Over time, with the kids and Tom’s work and then his political career… it’s been a long time, Roxy. I had no desire to go back to all that—”
My phone began to chime in my purse, and I sighed. “It’s probably Tom, he’s called three times.” I dug it out, my eyes growing wide at the screen. “It’s a 217 area code—I think that’s Springfield. And Champaign.”
“Well, answer it.”
“Hello?”
“Yes, is this Lynn? Lynn Roseworth?”
“Yes.”
“This is Doug Ellis. We met earlier today in Dr. Richards’s office. I knew you looked familiar. You’re married to Senator Roseworth. I also know you’re Lynn Stanson, Steve’s office manager from a long time ago.”
That surprised me. “How do you…?”
“I’ve been Dr. Richards’s grad assistant for five years, and before that I was one of his students.”
“It’s very important that I find Steven. Can you please tell me what happened to him?”
“I had to give you the company line back there at school. I’m not sure if I can trust you.”
“I promise you that you can.”
He paused. “Can you meet to talk?”
“Of course. I have to find Steven. I thought he was still teaching, that’s why I came all this way. I didn’t even know he was gone until I arrived. We haven’t spoken in decades.”
“I’ll have to talk to the others and see if they’re willing to brief you about what they know. But I won’t be able to reach them until tonight, and then they’ll have to travel. How long are you in town?”
“Only for a few more days.”
“Let me make some calls, but I think I can get everyone together tomorrow night. Can you meet at seven o’clock? I’ll text you the address where to meet.”
“Yes, I can meet you. Thank you, and please thank the others. If you need me before then, please call again.”
He hung up without saying good-bye.
“What the hell was that, Lynn? Are we meeting Mr. McCreep? And who are the others?”
“I’m sure they’re academics as well.”
“Academics,” Roxy grunted. “So we’re going to stay in this Midwestern freak show for another day to meet more UFO hunters?”
“They’re called Researchers,” I said softly. “At least that’s what we used to call ourselves. Let’s go, OK?”
“Fine by me. All this tragic bachelorhoodness is making me crave a burger and a milk shake. Maybe I’ll chase it with a Budweiser to complete the image.”
As she walked out, I paused for a moment, looking around. The loneliness of the house was heavy, almost oppressive, as if it were waiting to sigh.
When I stepped out into the sun, my phone dinged. The text came from the 217 number Doug had called me from earlier. It simply read the address where to meet.
I put my phone in my purse, deciding not to tell Roxy yet that we would be returning to Steven’s home.
Roxy was grumpy most of the next day. I let her stew as we flitted among antiques shops and bookstores. I texted with the girls and had a brief conversation with Tom, who said the interview had gone well, with no surprises. Roxy made little to no comment about anything, which meant she was about to blow. I’d learned over the years to give her space but remain close by when the clouds burst. We ate lunch and then dinner in a kind of understood silence, until she polished off her glass of red wine and narrowed her eyes at me. “So was this some kind of cult?”
“No.”
“Because it sounds like a cult. And we’re here for the reunion. And you said you were one of them? Really, Lynn, you believed in UFOs?”
I twisted my spaghetti with my fork. “I believed in Steven.”
“You speak so calmly about it now. A day ago you nearly had a nervous breakdown even admitting it.”
“It’s freeing, in a way, to talk about it. It hung over me for a long time when I came back to Nashville, but then Anne came, and then Kate, and Tom and I got into a routine. Just as his political career was taking off we had Stella, and our lives were so hectic and full, it became easier and easier not to think about that time in my life. Now, speaking only to you, of course, I feel like I’m recalling some wild phase. Like when someone dyed her hair purple.”
“That was not intentional, and it does haunt me to this day.”
“It was like I was in on a secret, and all these really brilliant and strange and weird and daring people accepted me.”
Roxy began to chew the last piece of garlic bread. “And Tom really doesn’t know anything about it.”
“No, he doesn’t. He never had a clue. He was so wrapped up in his studies that I think he was happy that I had found something to occupy myself, and that brought in some extra money. But that’s Tom; he never means to offend anyone when he’s more interested in his work than he is in them, and I’ve come to accept that. I could blame the troubles in our marriage then on two young people who weren’t ready to play house, but honestly, it was just a precursor to what would be the rest of our lives: him wrapped up in his career and satisfied if I appeared happy in whatever I was doing. It’s only when he knows I’m frustrated or mad about something that he takes a break from whatever he’s working on. If I’m happy, he’s completely detached. I think after the girls were in college, he was more than ready for me to attempt, once more, to write a novel or start my own business. He couldn’t be burdened with having to spend more time with his wife, who suddenly was without a purpose.”