Jet’s fingers stop moving, but she doesn’t look up from the string of flowers. “I didn’t know. I guessed. Once I realized it was out there, that Sally had made this thing and given it to someone, the possibilities were pretty limited. I didn’t think she’d trust any man with it, honestly. Not even an attorney. Not in this town. The Poker Club is large enough that any man could be beholden to them, and not even Sally would know. Once I got that far, I figured it had to be Nadine. If her mother had been alive, Sally would have chosen her. But she wasn’t. That’s it, really.”
I don’t know what to say. This is actually worse than what I imagined. She gave up Nadine without even being sure she had the cache.
“I know it’s terrible,” Jet says softly. “It’s probably the worst thing I’ve ever done. But they threatened Kevin. I was terrified for him. I wanted it all to go away. The danger. I didn’t let myself believe they would really hurt Nadine. But I was lying to myself. I know that, because it was my fear of what they would do to Kevin that drove my actions.”
I wish I could say something to ease her conscience, but nothing comes to me.
“Please tell Nadine I’m sorry, even though it probably won’t mean anything.”
I nod and leave it at that.
“Look,” Jet says, pointing under the trees. “Turn very slowly.”
I do. Something is watching us from the edge of the clearing. It’s a doe. A spotted fawn stands just behind her in the overgrowth, nervously watching its mother. The doe stares at us for perhaps fifteen seconds, then, with supreme indifference, leaps over a patch of briars and vanishes. The fawn looks lost for a moment, then scrambles after her.
“A good omen?” Jet whispers, plucking another flower from the ground. She has seven tied together now. Soon she will close the circle.
“For what?” I ask. “The future?”
She gives a slow shrug as her fingers work. “I’ve been worried about you. We talked about having a child together.” She looks up, her eyes filled with concern. “You need one. Deserve one. And neither of us are kids anymore.”
“That’s about the last thing I’ve been thinking about.”
Sadness creeps into her face. “Are you going back to Washington? Or will you stay here and run the paper, like you told Paul?”
So the two of them have been talking. “I don’t know. Does it matter to you?”
“Of course.” A strange smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “But I can think of somebody who’d love to make babies with you, if you’re still here.”
This is the most surreal conversation I’ve had in a long time, maybe ever. And that’s saying something. “You’re a matchmaker now? For me?”
“Nope. Jealous rival. Always. Voilà.” She dangles her completed necklace before me from one finger. “My anniversary present to you.”
“Anniversary?”
She stands and slips the necklace over my head, then pulls me to my feet. “We started growing up here. Maybe we’ve finally completed the journey. Maybe we’re grown-ups now.”
“I don’t know about that. But it’s definitely time to put away childish things.”
She studies me for several seconds. Then she nods. “I need to get home. One kiss? Goodbye?” She moves almost imperceptibly toward me. Her eyes seem bottomless, and her lips grow larger, fuller in my sight. Even now, she radiates some mysterious field that draws me to her—
“Something tells me this is not a good idea,” I murmur.
Jet goes still, then smiles and squeezes my hand, letting hers trail off mine as she turns and walks to the door of her Volvo. Watching her climb in, I remember the earrings in my pocket but decide not to stop her. She starts the engine, makes a hard turn, then heads down the overgrown path toward the real world.
Turning back to the barn, I take out the sapphire studs she left in my bathroom as a test to see whether Nadine would find them there. With only the faintest pang of regret, I toss the earrings through the barn door, into the kudzu and poison ivy.
This barn was my refuge from the world, long after I left it physically behind. Jet, too, was a refuge of sorts, a sanctuary from reality, a bubble of childhood in which everything seemed pure and new and the future always bright. We all carry those bubbles within us. But they’re too fragile to bring out into the sun. They’re like my brother’s laugh or my father’s pride. They’re memories.
And the real world awaits.
Acknowledgments
At Writers House: Dan Conaway and Simon Lipskar.
At William Morrow: David Highfill, Liate Stehlik, Tavia Kowalchuk, Danielle Bartlett, Chloe Moffett, and everybody in the sales department—especially the reps!
At HarperCollins U.K.: Julia Wisdom, Charlie Redmayne, and all the team.
My all-hours co-conspirators: Ed Stackler, Jamie Kornegay, and Laura Cherkas.
Writers tend to know a little about everything and a lot about nothing. A novel like this requires the knowledge of many experts. I thank them here, and all mistakes are mine!
James Barnett, for sharing his deep knowledge of Native Americans in the Mississippi Valley. Dr. Chuck Borum, for his knowledge of scouting and Native American customs.
Terry Burkley, for sharing painful details about living with a loved one with Parkinson’s disease.
Richard Grant, an insightful writer, for an outsider’s perspective on Mississippi.
Wade Heatherly, banker, actor, and former rescue swimmer, for great info (and for acting in my son’s movie).
Friends with details: Kevin Cooper, the newspaper business; Scott Slover, attorney; Howard Jones, the lumber business; James Lee, coroner; Dr. Barry Bertolet and Dr. Kellen Jex, medical expertise; Dr. Randy Tillman, aviation; Glenn Green and Mimi Miller, miscellaneous. Terri Aldridge for the last-minute read!
Friends with insights: Courtney Aldridge, Rod Givens, James Schuchs, Kevin Dukes, Billy Ray Farmer.
The loved ones who keep me going: first and foremost my wife, Caroline Hungerford. Madeline Iles, Mark Iles, newcomer Elliot Iles, Geoff Iles, Betty Iles, Dr. Jerry W. Iles, and Nancy Hungerford and Betsy Iles for babysitting Elliot!
About the Author
GREG ILES has spent most of his life in Natchez, Mississippi. His first novel, Spandau Phoenix, was the first of sixteen New York Times bestsellers. His Natchez Burning trilogy continued the story of Penn Cage, the protagonist of The Quiet Game, Turning Angel, and #1 New York Times bestseller The Devil’s Punchbowl. Iles’s novels have been made into films and published in more than thirty-five countries. He is a member of the lit-rock
group The Rock Bottom Remainders, lives in Natchez with his wife, and has three children.
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