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When Mr. Parker woke up, the shower was already on. Shaking his head in resolve, he got up, went to the bathroom, and knocked on the door. "Who is it?" Amaranthine asked. "It's me," Mr. Parker said. "You know, Marcus." "I can hear you, Mr. Parker," Amaranthine called softly, and Mr. Parker could hear the shower curtain being drawn shut. He sat down in the hallway, and rested his back against the door. "Mrs. Allweather seems very nice," he said after a moment. "She is a very sad woman," Amaranthine said, squeezing shampoo onto her fingers to watch it slide off again. "I am sorry for her." Mr. Parker blinked. "What on earth happened to her?" he asked. "It is not my business to tell you," Amaranthine replied, rubbing shampoo into her short hair. "She will tell you when she is ready." He sighed. "You have intuition about these things, don't you?" he asked. "Sometimes," Amaranthine answered vaguely, wrinkling her nose as water splashed onto it. "Why?" "D'you ... d'you think she's going to feel happier anytime soon?" "Do you think she's going to feel happier anytime soon?" Amaranthine asked, smiling to herself and rubbing her thin fingers through her hair. Mr. Parker clasped his hands. "I hope so," he said. "She seems nice," he repeated, looking at the doorknob and how the ceiling light in the hallway reflected off of it. Amaranthine laughed noiselessly, but said nothing more on the topic. "When shall we begin looking?" she asked. "Today," Mr. Parker said immediately. "Mrs. Allweather is going to use the phone, since that's what she did back in New York, and we'll do what we did at the very beginning." The girl caught water in the palms of her hands, and splashed it on her face. "Just wandering," Amaranthine said. "Wandering, wandering." "It'll work this time, I'm sure of it." Mr. Parker and Amaranthine staggered through the front door, looking hot and miserable. Mrs. Allweather was sitting exactly where they had left her, with a phone book on her lap and a phone in her hand. "We found nothing. Absolutely nothing." "That doesn't matter," cried Mrs. Allweather, leaping from the sofa (the phone book flopped to the ground, forgotten) and waving the cordless phone, "because I found something!" Mr. Parker's gloomy mood vanished instantly, and Amaranthine shrieked and clapped her hands. "Where, how?" Mr. Parker asked in astonishment. "A man working at the pizza shop says that his brother's wife's nephew has the darkest eyes he's seen in his life, they're brown enough to be black." "Fantastic," Mr. Parker said. "Finally, Amsy, we've found you something." "Where does he live?" Amaranthine asked breathlessly. "That's the problem," Mrs. Allweather said awkwardly. "He lives in Alaska." Amaranthine blinked. "Where is that?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. "Way, way up north, honey," Mr. Parker said. "Hey, I've always wanted to go to Alaska." "I know," said Mrs. Allweather, "but what if we get all the way up there and it's not ... not him?" Mr. Parker stamped his foot. "That's not how we're going to find Ams' man," he said firmly. "If we dismiss every lead we find, where will we be? Leadless, that's where. We must go to Alaska and find him. What's his name?" "Leopold Anderson." "What a beautiful name," Amaranthine murmured. "We shall go and find Leopold Anderson straight away." "I already checked," Mrs. Allweather said. "There are no flights to Alaska for at least another week. Why are you smiling like that?" "Because," Mr. Parker said, "we don't need any airplanes. Vamos." The ladies obediently followed Mr. Parker outside and around the house to the largish garage. "I give you," Mr. Parker said, pushing the button to open the door, "Richard Vernon." Amaranthine clapped as the door lifted to reveal a massive, sturdy RV, parked at an angle so it would fit in the garage. "Isn't it remarkable?" Amaranthine asked, gesturing to the polished hulk of black metal and rubber wheels. "She named it Richard Vernon because she thought 'RV' had to stand for something," Mr. Parker said to Mrs. Allweather, and they smiled as the girl trotted over to the vehicle and opened the door. "I just got back from a fishing trip, so I have clothes and things packed already," Mr. Parker said. "Julia, have you unpacked yet?" "No, I didn't think we'd be staying long," Mrs. Allweather admitted. "Then we shall depart immediately!" Amaranthine cried, crawling into the little living room of the RV. She laid down on the couch and gazed up at the low ceiling, smiling wide. At last, at last! "Now, remember, you can't get your hopes up too high," Mr. Parker said over the intercom as they pulled out of the driveway. "He might not be the one. But we won't know until we get to Barrow. So hold tight, here we go...." Amaranthine pressed her nose against the big window that filled one wall of the living room. She laughed in delight as little cars drifted below the massive RV. Mrs. Allweather, after watching her for a moment, stepped up into the driver's compartment to talk to Mr. Parker. "Are you sure this thing will get us all the way to Alaska?" Mrs. Allweather asked, eyeing it as though she thought it would explode in a moment. "I've done it before," Mr. Parker shrugged. "I go fishing up there all the time. I'm a professional, you see." "A professional...?" "Fisherman. A professional fisherman. Honestly!" he exclaimed as Mrs. Allweather began to laugh. "Oh, I'm sure you have some lofty profession." "As a matter of fact," Mrs. Allweather replied, "I do. I'm a counselor for people with terminal illnesses." Mr. Parker raised his eyebrows. "No kidding," he said. "I'm sure that must be a rewarding profession." "It's where I met my husband," Mrs. Allweather offered, twisting the wedding band around her left ring finger. "That's a romantic place to be introduced," Mr. Parker snorted, focusing on the road and unable to see Mrs. Allweather's face. "Is he a colleague, what?" "Um," Mrs. Allweather said quietly. "My ... my late husband --" "Oh my God," Mr. Parker said, his face suddenly pale as he turned to stare at the woman beside him. "I'm ... I'm so sorry, I had no idea --" "It's fine," said Mrs. Allweather. "I'm the one who brought it up in the first place." Mr. Parker's mind reeled. He could think of absolutely nothing to say. "I think I need to use the restroom," murmured Mrs. Allweather, and she got up and bustled away. "Brilliant, just brilliant," Mr. Parker murmured, taking a turn a bit faster than he should have. "I won't be able to look her in the face for a week." "It is not your fault," said a soft voice, and there was Amaranthine. Mr. Parker jumped, and whirled around. "Goddamn, Ams, you scared me. I mean -- gosh ... darn--" Amaranthine smiled and sat down where Mrs. Allweather had been moments ago. "She is not angry with you," she said, "she is angry with herself." Mr. Parker grunted. "'S her problem if she wants to run around bringing up her dead husband all the time," he muttered, scowling at a car ahead of him that was going slowly. Amaranthine shook her head, and put her hand on Mr. Parker's arm. "Do not be upset," she said. "I said before, there is no fault on your shoulders. She wishes she had not brought him up. She hates herself for having done it. She believes that she has ruined any chance of friendship with you." Mr. Parker glanced over at the girl. "How do you know?" he asked. "I could see it in her eyes," Amaranthine replied. "She has sad eyes. Talking to you makes them happy, and she fears that she has lost that." "Well," Mr. Parker stammered, "well, you tell her. You tell her that she doesn't have to worry about it, because I don't mind. If she needs to talk about, she needs to talk about it. Just don't spring it on me like that!" Amaranthine smiled again, and took her hand away from Mr. Parker's arm. "I think that you should tell her that, yourself," she said. "Now, please, watch the street. I do not think you would be happy if you broke your dear Richard Vernon." "Right again," said Mr. Parker. "Right as always." And the three continued to drive. "What do you think Leopold Anderson is going to look like?" Amaranthine asked Mrs. Allweather. Mr. Parker was still driving, and the two women were sitting in the bedroom they were sharing. "I think," said Mrs. Allweather, "he shall be very, very handsome. Don't you?" "I don't care how handsome he is!" Amaranthine said. "If he has black eyes, I shall be content." "Of course, silly me," Mrs. Allweather chuckled. "Now, we should probably get some sleep. It's going to be a long day, tomorrow." "I suppose so," Amaranthine said, lying down on her bed. "Do you think Mr. Parker would like me to drive, a bit?" Mrs. Allweather inquired, reaching for the switch to the lamp that sat between the two twin beds. "I think that he would like that very much," Amaranthine said. "You shall have to ask him tomorrow morning." "I don't know that he wants to talk to me, much," Mrs. Allweather admitted. "He must think me a sad old woman, like my daughters do. Not a minute into the conversation and I bring up my dead husband. I can’t have any sort of proper talk with anybody without bringing him up. What, do I forget he’s dead? It must look like I’m just going around asking for pity…." "I do not think he is the type that would judge you so easily," said Amaranthine airily. "Now, turn off the light, we must get some rest." Mrs. Allweather did as she was told. She could hear Amaranthine nestling into her comforter, but she found that she could not get to sleep. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling until her eyes could stand being open no longer, and everything drifted into blackness. Amaranthine waited until Mrs. Allweather's breathing had evened before slipping out of the bedroom and into the empty living room. |