There was silence when Grace entered Julia’s house. They stood together in the foyer, where Julia had said she kissed Grace’s husband.
“I’ve come to apologize,” Grace had said.
“You should sit,” Julia said. “Put your feet up.”
Grace shook her head. “I’ve worried about the girls all summer, you know.”
“Yes,” Julia said. “But you have nothing to apologize for, Grace. Nothing. I’m the one who should be apologizing. What I said about James, about the kiss, it was a lie. Such a terrible lie.”
And then Grace told Julia. She told Julia about three men-two of them faceless and one whose face and hands and smell Grace knows better than her own. One man who Grace knows so well he must live inside her even now. Julia looked at Grace’s stomach and nearly tripped as she stumbled away. Grace shook her head. No, the baby belongs to James. The men came only a few weeks ago, the night Elizabeth’s shoe was found. And as soon as Grace said it, Julia knew they were the ones.
“Elizabeth,” Julia whispered.
It was true, after all. Elizabeth didn’t wander off down Willingham to the river and find trouble far from home. Those men took her from Alder Avenue, from right outside her own house. They spared Grace, but they killed Elizabeth.
“No,” Grace said.
But Grace only said that because it was Julia’s fault Elizabeth was there for those men, Julia’s fault Elizabeth was such easy prey, Julia’s fault they could take Elizabeth from her own front yard.
“I know what you’re thinking, Julia. But I promise you, it wasn’t your doing.”
Again, Julia offered Grace a seat. Grace shook her head, walked toward the door, and placed one hand on the knob.
“The one who is dead,” she said, “the one I hit, I knew it was him. I wasn’t hoping to find the twins when I got in that car.” Her voice broke. She swallowed and continued. “I thought the girls were already gone. I thought it for certain. It wasn’t an accident. I wanted that man dead. I thought he’d killed Elizabeth and taken the twins. I was wrong. So now I have to say I killed him because of what he did to me.” She paused and looked at Julia for the first time since she began talking. “What he did to me, is that reason enough?”
Upstairs, the girls were quiet. They were in their room, or maybe listening at the landing.
“James?” Julia said.
Grace shook her head, knowing what Julia meant to ask. She meant to ask if Grace would ever tell James about the men.
“He’d never forgive himself,” Grace said. “Mother thought he wouldn’t want me after it happened, but she was wrong. It’s the guilt that would destroy him. I think he knows that too. Deep down, I think he knows that too. I can’t do it to him, to us.”
When Grace said it was time to get home, Julia asked her to wait a moment and rummaged through the coat closet’s top shelf until she found the belt the twins had stolen. She couldn’t repair the hole Arie dug in the thin leather, but returning it was the right thing to do.
“Could you give this back to Mr. Symanski?” Julia had said. “The girls, they stole it. Tried to tell me it was yours, that it was trash from your garage. I can’t imagine what they were thinking.” She ran a finger across the small buckle that sparkled where Arie had scrubbed it clean. “I remember Elizabeth wearing it. One of her favorites. Do you remember?” She stretched out her arm, handed the belt to Grace. “I know I’m a coward for it, but I can’t bring myself to face him.”
Grace stood at the front door, one hand resting on the silver doorknob. “I suspect they did find it in my garage,” she said, shaking her head and pushing away the belt. “You let them keep it. And talk to Arie, would you? Tell her I’m going to be all right.” She pulled open the door and paused on the porch as if enjoying the feel of the sun on her face. “Promise you’ll believe me. Promise because you are my dearest friend and I wouldn’t lie to you. What happened to Elizabeth… it wasn’t your fault.”
Regardless of whether Grace will want the crib or not, Julia can’t take it apart without Bill’s help. She was able to lug the small dresser downstairs by packing up all the tiny clothes, removing the drawers, and carting them down, one by one. She’ll ask Bill what he thinks when he comes in from outside. He’s been out back for forty-five minutes, struggling to tighten rusted screws and bolts so Julia’s clothesline won’t droop. But she doesn’t really need to ask. She knows Bill will say to save Grace the heartache and give the crib to the church. Give it to them and don’t tell them to whom it once belonged.
“What are you doing, Aunt Julia?”
Huddled together in the nursery doorway, the girls lean into the room but don’t cross over the threshold. Both have wet hair. They took their baths without being asked, a sign they are trying to make up for running off.
“You’ll both need a trim soon,” Julia says, pushing off the floor. “A nice haircut before school starts.”
“Where did everything go?” Izzy’s voice bounces off the walls, almost echoes in the nearly empty room.
The girls must have peeked into the nursery at some point over the last three years. What child wouldn’t? A mysterious door that is always closed. Of course they peeked. Julia motions with her head for the girls to come inside.
Izzy is the first to move because she isn’t afraid. She is never afraid. She marches across the small room, opens and closes the closet door, and then walks over to the window, where she waves at Arie to join her. The air is light and crisp this morning. Izzy draws a deep breath in through her nose. Across the street, the windows in Warren Herze’s house are dark, the driveway empty. He’ll likely move soon and eventually he’ll remarry. He could never stay in that house. He could never walk into that garage again.
“I owe you two an apology,” Julia says, and motions for Arie to join her inside the room. “I should have known you were gone. I left you both alone, and I’m sorry as I can be.”
“We thought you’d come the first night,” Arie says as she walks up next to Julia and leans into her until their bodies touch. Arie is warm and smells of soap and shampoo. She stares at the crib sitting alone in the corner of the room. “When it got dark,” she says, “we thought you’d miss us and that you’d come looking. We walked all night.”
“Will we lose privileges?” Izzy asks, resting her head against Julia’s arm. Her damp hair leaves a wet stain on Julia’s sleeve.
“You two should stay,” Julia says. “Stay here with Uncle Bill and me. Not live at Grandma’s anymore. Go to school here and live here. Izzy, this could be your room to have all to yourself.”
“What about that?” Izzy says, pointing at the crib.
“We’ll give it to someone with a baby,” Julia says. “Would you girls like to stay? To have your own rooms? Here with Uncle Bill and me. We’d like it very much if you’d stay.”
“Can we paint the room blue?” Izzy asks.
“Yes,” Julia says. “Blue would be a fine choice.”
It’s a perfect day for rolling dough, cooler, drier. This may have been Grace’s problem all along. But the heat hadn’t caused trouble for the women of Willingham. Their pierogi had turned out perfectly and are tucked safely in Grace’s freezer. If she had gone back to Nowack’s Bakery, if she would ever go back, the women would make more, but there won’t be a bake sale this year. Without Malina, there may never be another. Grace pushes her wooden pin over the smooth dough, her large belly only allowing her to reach halfway across the table. She straightens, stretches, and the baby rolls, settling on a more comfortable position.