Chapter 8: The Vow

On Tuesday night I packed a bag on Bea's living room floor.

"Passport," Bea said, crossing items off a list on her phone. "Birth certificate. Good boots. The mug."

"I'm not taking the mug."

"It says World's Okayest Teacher on it. It's a treasure."

I put the mug in the bag.

The apartment was small and warm, and Bea's cat sat on my open suitcase to make sure I would not leave without permission.

I'd decided on Chicago.

It was far enough that Roscoe would need a plan to follow me, and close enough that I could drive it in four hours.

Bea had found me a one-month sublet from a friend of a friend.

"And here's the letter," I said.

I took it from my coat and held it up.

It was one page, folded in thirds, with his name on the front.

I had written it three times and thrown away the first two.

"What does it say?"

"That I'm sorry for the people who came." I swallowed. "And that I'm not coming back."

"That's all?"

"That's all he's owed."

Bea laughed, and then she stopped and wiped her eye with her wrist.

"I'm going to miss you in the staff room," she said. "It's going to be so quiet."

"I'll call every night."

"You'd better."

My phone buzzed on the carpet.

Roscoe: Dinner at Mom's tonight at 7. Family only. I have something for you. Wear the blue dress.

I looked at the time.

It was a quarter to six.

"He has something for me," I said.

"Oh, no," said Bea.

Judith's dining room had not changed since I was nine.

It had the long mahogany table, the china cabinet, and the portraits of Maddox ancestors on every wall.

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