They meet back at the front door.
“What did he say?” Emma asks. “He said okay. Then he said that I’ll need some money because you don’t have any.”
“I’ve never had a dollar,” Emma says. “Father said I don’t need money.”
“He’s right. You don’t need money.”
“I do if I want some die.”
“I’ll buy that,” David says. “Just as I will buy what we need in the future.”
They walk to the car. David opens the passenger door, walks to the other side, gets in, starts the car, and drives to the market with Emma watching his every move along the way. At twenty minutes before six, they pull into the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly market in Ider.
“Tell me what you want and I’ll run in and get it for you,” David says.
“No,” says Emma. “No! I must go in. It’s not the die I want. I want out of the house. I want to see something. Somebody. Anything. Anybody. I want out, don’t you understand?”
“Very well. You are making me nervous. I don’t know what you are running from, but, very well. Go on.”
Emma bounds from the car before David gets his door open. His sighs. She walks to the driver side, signaling for him to roll down his window.
He does.
“I need some money, remember?”
“Yes,” says David, who pulls out his wallet and retrieves a $5 bill he hands to Emma. She takes it, walks to the market and through its automatic doors which open wide upon her approach.
Emma looks in awe at the isles before her. She looks to the right at a stack of pumpkins selling for $5 each.
“Local Grown,” the sign says.
She looks to the left to a bulletin board. It’s covered with flyers – mostly the same one.
“MISSING,” it says.
There’s a picture of Josh, and a picture of his truck stashed on the Denton farm.
“REWARD for any information related to the whereabouts of this man,” it says.
David catches up with her.
She doesn’t see him coming, but he grabs her arm from behind.
“Let’s find the isle for food coloring. They will be closing soon.
“There,” he says. “It’s over there. Bakery items. Isle eight.”
They walk past isles five, and six, and Emma looks down each one with a broad smile. So many things, she thinks, wishing she had money, and time, to buy it all. Passing isle seven, stocked with beans and canned foods, Emma sees young girls who look familiar. She stops. A deep male voice from around the corner calls for the girls, who scurry away in response, heading toward another isle.
Emma backs up, to isle six, for a look.
“Ahh!” she blurts, before covering her mouth.
“What is it, Emma?” David asks, from eight feet away.
“Michael!” she says, covering her mouth again.
“What?”
“It’s Michael.”
David catches up with Emma and stands at her side.
“Michael? Michael? That one? That heathen boy who comes from the hippie family who went to Ider High?”
Michael, talking with his sisters on the other end of the isle, hears the discussion without disseminating the words and looks up. He sees Emma, and David.
He focuses on Emma.
She and Michael exchange a long gaze.
Emma takes steps down the aisle toward Michael, who is standing still, with arms on his sister’s shoulders.
David follows in Emma’s steps, and reaches out to her from behind, grabbing her dress just beneath her shoulders.
“Emma,” David asks. “Do you know him? Do you know this heathen Michael? Surely you aren’t going to talk to him, are you?”
Emma brushes away David’s hand.
“No,” she says.
But Emma keeps walking forward, with David following close behind, until she’s standing directly before Michael and his sisters.
“Michael. Where did you go, Michael?” Emma cries out, pressing her opened hands against her cheeks with her fingers just beneath her eyes. “Where did you go?”
Emma’s neck is flushed, and her words are tinged with tears.
“I … I left early for school,” Michael said. “I … I thought that was best. I’ve just come home for Thanksgiving.”
He pauses, and looks at Emma.
“Emma,” Michael says, reaching out a hand to touch her cheek. “You look beautiful. My goodness. You look beautiful.”
Michael reaches his hand to the right side of Emma’s neck, touching it.
“What happened here?”
“Michael!” Emma says, punching her right fist into his chest. “Why did you leave me? Where did you go? Why didn’t you tell me? Michael?”
Michael grabs Emma’s hands, pulling her arms down to her side.