The Pieces We Keep(60)

“Personally?” Judith said, and regarded the closest art piece. “I think it’s the magical idea of floating above everything. Being untouchable, not knowing where you’re going to land. Just the pure freedom of it.” She drifted briefly into her thoughts before shifting the frame to hang a quarter inch lower. “Now, then—before I bore you with more of my philosophical analysis—are you looking for something in particular?”

Audra had to stop and reset her thoughts. She hoped it wasn’t offensive that she didn’t come to shop. “The truth is, I’m actually looking for someone.”

Judith’s sleek eyebrow rose, either intrigued or wary.

“His name’s Sean Malloy. He’s a young Army vet. We ... happened to cross paths at the Rose Festival last week. And I’d heard you might be related—”

“You’re that woman. The mother of the boy who’d gotten lost.”

Not Audra’s proudest distinction.

“I’m Sean’s mom,” Judith explained, “so I was there with family, to see him being honored by the mayor. I only caught a glimpse of you that day.” She lowered her chin with a compassionate smile. “I’ve thought of you and your son quite a bit. I’m so glad everything worked out.”

“Thanks. Me too.” An understatement.

Judith patted her chest. “Anyhow. Sean mentioned you two might know each other ... Aubrey, was it?”

“Audra. Hughes.” To avoid complicating the situation, she bypassed the details. “I’d love the chance to catch up with him, if that’s possible.”

“Oh, yes. You definitely should. The doctor said anyone from his past might be helpful. Here, let me jot down his address for you. Sean mentioned he’d be there all day.” She snagged a pen from the reception counter and scribbled on a notepad. “He’s staying with my aunt, on her farm up in Vancouver. You’ll love meeting her. She’s ninety-three going on eighty.”

Audra didn’t expect such eager cooperation. She checked her watch. Vancouver. It would take at least fifteen minutes to reach southwest Washington and another forty to get home.

“I’ll let them know you’re coming.” Judith passed along the paper, before a serious look took hold. “You do know about his accident, I assume?” Her tone suggested Audra should know more prior to the drive over.

“He just said there was a bomb, while he was on patrol.”

“A roadside bomb, that’s right. It broke a few bones that thankfully have healed well. The hearing in his left ear is still damaged, though, which you might have noticed.”

“I didn’t. I’m glad you mentioned it.” Audra hadn’t noticed much of anything during his time on her doorstep.

“Since Sean was the only one in the vehicle who made it through, we don’t know much else. Just that it’s been hard on him, not remembering what happened. Of course, as his mother, I’d prefer he not remember any of it—though that probably sounds selfish.”

“Not to me,” Audra said.

Judith smiled.

“How much of his memory has he lost, do you know?”

“Almost three years in all. Four months being his deployment, and about two and a half years before that. He gets bits and pieces now and then, so I’m sure the rest is locked in there somewhere. The doctors say it’s all pretty minor, compared to other traumatic brain injuries. But for Sean, it’s still made a big difference.”

Memory loss wasn’t anything Audra would ever dismiss as minor, not ever again. “I can imagine.”

“Now that he’s been back for six months, I’ve nudged him about getting a job. About getting out and reconnecting with friends. But I think my nudging is sounding more like nagging.” She smiled again, gave a shrug. “I guess I was hoping that . . . maybe you could help him out.”

Audra looked at the address in her hand, these days appreciating any clear destination. Careful, however, not to make an empty promise, she replied, “I’ll see what I can do.”





28


Intent on reaching her destination, Vivian hurried into the brownstone. She went straight up the stairs toward the safety of her room, unnerved by a sense of being watched. She felt it in the air after bidding Gene good night.

And those suspicions were confirmed when she opened her bedroom door.

“Luanne,” Vivian said, noting her friend’s knowing look. “You’re ... back from your trip.”

“So I am.” Parked on her bed, Luanne held a knitting project on her lap that she seemed in no hurry to finish.

At the window facing the street, the curtains gapped just enough for an incriminating view. “When did-how long have you been home?”