He had driven Julie out past the edge of town where there was a cherry orchard that had been let go, that had overgrown in new wildness, that was no longer managed by anyone. The farmhouse was abandoned too. The parents of the missing girl hadn't been able to bear to look at one another anymore, after all those years of fruitless searches, all that agony, even though they had been childhood sweethearts and good companions to each other. Although they had been married for twenty years. "I guess they just too keenly reminded each other of that loss," Julie thought. It was a hard thought.
They were standing in that sundered couple's bedroom, actually, looking down on the orchard, which was in bloom, drinking the rain of a somewhat dark spring day. Though it no longer mattered to anyone, it was still beautiful. Like the girl would always be beautiful, Julie thought, when the ones who loved her were all dead, and everyone else had forgotten her. She had seen her photo.
Robert rested one of his hands on the sash of the window that looked down on the trees and gazed through its pebbly bleariness of rain. One of the panes had been shattered. Someone had probably thrown a rock through out of bored mischief. Kids are terrible, she thought. Acts like this were opening the house up to the cycles of nature, beginning the erasure of the fact of the house. Was it what was best now? Julie didn't know. It was a house of pain, she knew. The rain just made it all seem worse. There was still an end table left there, beside where the bed would have been. You could see places in the paint where pictures or photographs had cheered this room which was now so desolate. Looked like someone had smoked there nervously. A long sweating out of years in nicotine. It's strange the ways even walls will talk to us.
"They say when it rains like this, she tastes the earth, what she's missing, what the rest of us have, and she gets up and walks. People have seen her. Who knows? Maybe one of these days she'll even lead us to the one who did this to her. Hell, maybe she'll lead us to her moldering body. They searched for miles around here, dragged that pond, walked the state game lands. Hundreds of people. Dogs too. I don't think they'll ever find her. She could be hundreds of miles from here. Keep your eyes peeled. They say she likes walking through that orchard sometimes. And it's such a dark day."
"What a horrible joke to make, Robert!" Julie said coldly. "A girl died. Practically a child! We're not kids around a campfire."
But Robert chortled as he exited the room, excited again, like a bird dog after a pheasant. "Hey, down this way. I want to show you her bedroom."
Miffed, she didn't follow him right away. Instead, she walked to the window where Robert had been standing.
Her body winced back from the window, nearly involuntarily. Her eyes had given her body a shock. Because down below in the yard there was a young girl, perhaps seventeen years old, who was standing behind the vehicle in which they had arrived. She was only a few feet away from it. Her clothes were torn, hanging off her, her long hair was streaked with mud. She was barefoot. She was resolutely still. Otherworldly still. She was staring at the trunk of Robert's car.
They were standing in that sundered couple's bedroom, actually, looking down on the orchard, which was in bloom, drinking the rain of a somewhat dark spring day. Though it no longer mattered to anyone, it was still beautiful. Like the girl would always be beautiful, Julie thought, when the ones who loved her were all dead, and everyone else had forgotten her. She had seen her photo.
Robert rested one of his hands on the sash of the window that looked down on the trees and gazed through its pebbly bleariness of rain. One of the panes had been shattered. Someone had probably thrown a rock through out of bored mischief. Kids are terrible, she thought. Acts like this were opening the house up to the cycles of nature, beginning the erasure of the fact of the house. Was it what was best now? Julie didn't know. It was a house of pain, she knew. The rain just made it all seem worse. There was still an end table left there, beside where the bed would have been. You could see places in the paint where pictures or photographs had cheered this room which was now so desolate. Looked like someone had smoked there nervously. A long sweating out of years in nicotine. It's strange the ways even walls will talk to us.
"They say when it rains like this, she tastes the earth, what she's missing, what the rest of us have, and she gets up and walks. People have seen her. Who knows? Maybe one of these days she'll even lead us to the one who did this to her. Hell, maybe she'll lead us to her moldering body. They searched for miles around here, dragged that pond, walked the state game lands. Hundreds of people. Dogs too. I don't think they'll ever find her. She could be hundreds of miles from here. Keep your eyes peeled. They say she likes walking through that orchard sometimes. And it's such a dark day."
"What a horrible joke to make, Robert!" Julie said coldly. "A girl died. Practically a child! We're not kids around a campfire."
But Robert chortled as he exited the room, excited again, like a bird dog after a pheasant. "Hey, down this way. I want to show you her bedroom."
Miffed, she didn't follow him right away. Instead, she walked to the window where Robert had been standing.
Her body winced back from the window, nearly involuntarily. Her eyes had given her body a shock. Because down below in the yard there was a young girl, perhaps seventeen years old, who was standing behind the vehicle in which they had arrived. She was only a few feet away from it. Her clothes were torn, hanging off her, her long hair was streaked with mud. She was barefoot. She was resolutely still. Otherworldly still. She was staring at the trunk of Robert's car.
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