She saw Plum, clearer and brighter than many others, and Sadie wondered if it was because her introduction had been more recent. She was reclining on a couch with the tiered candy plate, her hand extended the way she’d held it out to Ford at their meeting. She was chanting, “Show momma you love her, just like your brother, show momma you love her, just like your brother.” The tone was grating but tenacious, the phrase “just like your brother” echoing after Sadie as she moved away, like a song lyric that sticks in the mind.
Sadie had sensed that Plum’s words had left an impression on Ford, but it was incredible to actually see the impact materialized.
The hall of mirrors ended at a lake, on a beach fringed with pine trees and bordered by a series of boulders that formed caves. This wasn’t a fantasy creation, it was a real place that Sadie knew. It was called Pirates’ Cove and was popular because it was a little hard to get to and secluded from passersby.
An image of James, literally a shimmering golden boy, was sitting on the edge of a lake, skipping rocks. He smiled at her when she walked over. “I haven’t seen you before,” he said.
Sadie sat down next to him. He looked a lot like he had in the photo from Ford’s graduation, but taller and slightly less handsome. As though in Ford’s psyche he was both larger than life and clearly flawed. “I’m just visiting.”
“That’s what you think. There’s not much leaving once you’re inside. Maybe some dream work, but other than that we’re pretty much on lockdown these days.”
“What do you mean?”
“Things have been static around here for a while.” James eyed her. “Although today’s been strange. What’s going on out there? This afternoon there was more traffic shuttling in and out of here than there’s been in months, and now you show up.”
The session with Rondy, the social worker, Sadie thought. “Maybe things are changing.”
“What do you say you take me out with you? When you go?”
Sadie shook her head. “I’m not sure I can do that.”
“I know where a lot of Ford’s secrets are buried,” James offered. “Juicy ones.”
Since he was actually a piece of Ford’s mind, Sadie figured that was true. “Like what?”
He cocked his head to one side. “I haven’t decided if I’m going to tell you.” Then a smile. “Maybe you’ll make it worth my while.”
Was part of Ford’s subconscious flirting with her? “Do you always hit on Ford’s friends?”
“Every one,” James affirmed. “Had to sample all his girlfriends to make sure they were worthy.”
Sadie frowned. “Does he know?”
“I’m here telling you, aren’t I?” he answered. “I know everything he knows. Of course, what happens between here and there”—he pointed up, presumably toward Ford’s conscious mind—“that’s a different story.”
Sadie thought back to the night Ford met Plum. Ford had said he and James hadn’t shared any girls, but his claim had been followed by that strange sticky sensation that Sadie knew meant humiliation. He had known. He’d just chosen to deny it. Lock it away in his subconscious.
Fascinating.
James said, “He never wants to see me anymore. Never even calls me up for a dream, nothing. Sometimes he’ll pull out some memories, but those aren’t really me, just representations of me he’s cleaned up.” He got quiet before adding, “I suppose he’s angry at me.”
Sadie hesitated. James was the one person Ford’s anger was never directed toward, even in his mind.
Unless Miranda was right, Sadie thought excitedly. What if Ford had a guilty conscience about something involving his brother, so he was repressing all but the most superficial memories. “Why would he be angry at you?”
“Leaving. Dying.” He shook his head. “It’s not fair, you know. I did it for him as much as anyone.” His eyes looked around restlessly. “Let’s take a walk,” he said, getting to his feet.
“Did what?” Sadie prompted.
“I promised I was going to change our lives, you know.” He gave a little laugh. “Sure did, didn’t I? My life, his life. But not the way I meant. He knows I didn’t mean for this, it’s just sometimes…” His voice trailed off.
“What did you two fight about before you died?” Sadie asked.
“That I wasn’t home enough. Where was I, why was I always out, why wouldn’t I introduce him to her, was I embarrassed. He felt left out and jealous about Plum. I told him to drop it, that he didn’t know what I was doing.” Sadie saw that he’d picked up a length of rope and was now coiling it over one arm. It reminded her of the rope she’d caught glimpses of in Ford’s mind.
“What were you doing?”
“Getting myself freaking killed,” James said with a weird high-pitched laugh. “Making up some stupid plan and getting my ass handed to me on a platter.”
The anger was real, and it reminded Sadie that this wasn’t James, this was the James that lived in this part of Ford’s mind. James as Ford really felt about him. A James Ford was angry at.
“Why did you do that?”
“I don’t have to tell you,” he snapped. “Stop asking.”
Of course, Sadie thought. This James couldn’t explain what he had done or how he was killed, because Ford didn’t know. It was the limitation of the projection Ford kept in his subconscious. But that was the question Ford wanted answered more than anything. What had James done, and why?
James pointed into the distance, where she saw a two-story house with a porch. “That’s where we lived when Ford was born. Mom used to make the best cinnamon raisin cookies.”
Was that why the scent of cinnamon stood for hope? Sadie wondered. Next to the house was a squat gray factory with a smokestack. “What’s that?” she asked.
James seemed to be ignoring her, so her eyes moved to a white clapboard house built on a layer of ice that sat improbably on the surface of the otherwise clear lake. It reminded her of the memory Ford had near the playground where James had been killed, when the boys had all been talking about what they’d do with their “fortune.”
“Tell me about the icehouse,” she said to James. “What happened there?”
He whooped and ran over toward it. “Only one of the best days ever. Guy I knew told me about a wreck in the lake right here, boat from Prohibition that went down with a ton of gold heading to Canada. We didn’t want anyone to know what we were doing, so we decided we’d dive for it in the winter, use the icehouse for cover.” He rubbed his hands together happily. “Didn’t find the treasure, but man, did we have a great time.”
There was a pile of beer cans near the door, each crushed in exactly the same way, and he was winding up to kick one when a voice yelled, “Get away from there.”
James pulled back and made a face. “See? Won’t let me near anything.” He loped off, childishly angry, and Sadie jogged to catch up with him.
Why wouldn’t Ford want his memory of James near the icehouse? she wondered. What had happened there? Was it related to the hand with the glove reaching for—
The rope. She’d seen James coiling it earlier, but he wasn’t holding it when they were standing at the icehouse.
“What did you do with the rope?” she asked when she caught up with him.
“Dropped it,” he said with a shrug. He was staring intently into the distance. Sadie followed his gaze and somehow without moving they were standing back at the edge of the hall of mirrors.