“There is no best,” Henry had said in the dream. He didn’t know either.
Janie, alone in the world, is the only one who knows the real choice.
10:11 a.m.
She calls Captain.
“Komisky. Hey, Janie, how you doing?”
“Hi, Captain—okay, I guess. You have time to talk today?”
“One sec.” Janie hears Captain’s fingernails clicking on her computer keyboard. “How’s noon? I’ll grab takeout, we can have lunch in my office. Sound good?”
“Sounds great,” Janie says. She hangs up.
Feels the butterflies in her belly.
And then.
She shakes her head and starts packing.
Packing up the things that she brought over here, smashing them into her suitcase to make it all fit. Hoping to carry it all in one load.
She’s going back home.
If it weren’t for Cabe, she’d probably just risk it. Stay isolated. In case she’s dead wrong about what really happened to Henry.
But she’s pretty sure she’s right.
It’s a gut thing.
So.
There it is.
Janie grabs a handle shopping bag from under Henry’s sink and fills it with all the stuff she couldn’t fit in her suitcase. Shakes her head from time to time.
Still can’t believe it.
Before she leaves, she calls Henry’s landlord to let him know that Henry died. Then, she closes down Henry’s online shop for good, schedules a pickup for the last remaining item, and leaves the snow globe gift outside with a sign so Cathy doesn’t miss it.
She sets her suitcase down. Closes the door behind her, leaving it unlocked, just as she found it.
Takes a deep breath of country air and holds it in, lets it out slowly.
Glances at the certainly potent sun tea, still resting on the station wagon’s hood.
Picks up her suitcase. And sets off.
Crunches down the gravel driveway like a homeless person, carrying all her crap.
Doesn’t look back.
When she gets home, she puts her things away in her room, and from the bag she pulls the shoe box, all the letters untouched. Janie, medal pinned to her backpack and ring on her thumb, carries the box to the kitchen and sets it on the counter next to the lure of Rabinowitz’s fruit and cake.
1l:56 a.m.
Janie greets the guys as she makes her way through the department to Captain’s office. She stops at Rabinowitz’s desk to thank him again for the sweets, but he’s not there. Janie smiles and scribbles a note on a piece of scratch paper instead.
Then she knocks on Captain’s door.
“Come!”
Janie enters. The smell of Chinese food makes her stomach growl. Captain is setting out paper plates and plastic forks. She opens up the food containers and smiles warmly. “How are you?”
Janie closes the door and sits. “Oh, you know,” she says lightly. “Crazy as usual.” She takes the napkins and peels one off the small pile, setting it next to Captain’s plate.
“Help yourself,” Captain says. They dish out food.
It feels awkward, the silence, just the two of them. Eating. Janie fingers the new ring on her thumb and accidentally dribbles brown sauce from chicken cashew nuts on her white tank top.
Tries desperately to clean it with her napkin before it sets.
Captain reaches into her drawer—the drawer that seems to have everything anyone could possibly need—and pulls out an individual packet of Shout Wipes. Tosses it to Janie.
Janie grins and rips it open. “You have absolutely everything in that drawer. Snacks, Steri-Strips, food stain wipes, plasticware . . . what else?”
“Anything and everything a person needs in order to live for several days,” Captain says.
“Sewing kit for button emergencies, hair clips, toiletries, screwdriver set, SwissChamp Army
Knife and no, you may not borrow it, it’s the super-expensive one. Let’s see, dog whistle, dog treats, police whistle, anti-venom, EpiPen, water bottles . . . and the traditional mess of rubber bands, paper clips, and outdated postage stamps. A few pennies.”
Janie laughs. Relaxes. “That’s amazing.” Takes a bite.
“I was a boy scout.” Captain’s serious face never wavers.
Janie snorts, and then wonders if Captain wasn’t joking. One never knows with her.
“So,” Captain says. “We have a lot of catching up to do.” She adds cream to her coffee. “My brilliant assessment is that your little family emergency last week had something to do with your father dying. True?”
“True,” Janie says.
“Why in hell did you not tell me what was up before?”
Janie looks up sharply. “I—”