Free Bay of Souls by Robert Stone Page B

she told him. "No wonder you can't sleep."
    He turned in surprise, stared for a moment and laughed at her.
    "Think that's it?"
    "I'm sure of it."
    As she watched he put the two drinks he had been making on a tray and poured a straight shot for himself in the nearest available glass.
    "In for a penny, in for a pound."
    She shook her head in mock sadness as he drank it.
    "I'll be your cure for insomnia," Lara said.
    He looked quickly through the kitchen door, checking, she had no doubt, for the supervisory presence of Kristin. Lara turned and followed his glance. They were in the clear.
    "You were spying on me," she said. "You tried to break my password. You were observed." He looked amazed.
    "Couldn't resist, Lara."
    "You mustn't." This time it was she who turned to watch their backs. "Don't!" The stern look she gave him was darkened by anxiety.
    The sweet singer of Schubert walked into the kitchen for ice water. Lara had a respectful smile ready.
    "You have an admirer," Lara told Norman as they drove home.
    "Oh yeah?"
    "But sure. Kristin Ahearn."
    "Get outta town."
    "I am not mistaken in these matters, my friend. I'm surprised you haven't noticed it."
    "But she's completely a one-man woman," Norman said.
    She turned and watched him peer into the freezing night. Columns of tiny flakes whirled beyond the headlights.
    "Not interested?"
    After a moment he said, "I wish I could believe that."
    "Norman,
cher ami.
Believe it."
    He laughed to cover his confusion.
    "Hey. Kristin? I don't think so."
    When they arrived at her house he made no move to go in with her.

6
     
    O NE DAY they drove as far as the Hunter's Supper Club in Lara's car, so that Michael could get his bottle of Willoughby's and Lara could see the territory. Lara drank Coors from the bottle and played Johnny Cash songs on the jukebox. It was a Saturday afternoon and the place was filling up with locals who had come to watch college basketball. They seemed to huddle at the far end of the bar from Michael and Lara, as if she had reduced them to comic peasants from a Hollywood horror movie. Their mood was restive and hostile but they behaved. For one moment Michael thought he recognized the man he had seen in the November woods among them.
    "Honky-tonk," Lara observed, setting her empty beer bottle down decisively. "Charming."
    Though Michael had hoped for a glimpse of her, Megan, the barmaid, was not to be seen. An obese woman with thinning hair sold him the Willoughby's. As they walked to Lara's Saab a middle-aged man with fierce sideburns and mustache appeared in the doorway. His face was swollen, pale where it was not florid. He stared at them, licking his lips urgently, at the point of giving voice to some observation. None occurred to him. Lara waved prettily.
    "So this is where you come for inspiration, Michael?"
    He was driving. The Saab was a treat for him.
    "It's where I come for whiskey."
    It was farther into the local countryside than Lara had ever been. On the way back he drove a country road, partly unpaved, that ran through Harrison County's scrubby hills and sunken meadows. The day was sunny, snowy and bright.
    "My God," she said. "It's so desolate. Desolate, desolate. So far from anywhere."
    "You're in Flyoverland, my dear."
    "In what?"
    "You've never heard the middle of the country called that? Flyoverland. That's what they call our little corner of nothing much. On the coasts." He shifted down as they approached dirt. It was a shame to muddy the car. "At least," he said, "that's what they tell me. No one ever called it that to me."
    She laughed. "Flyoverland. And what would you have done if someone had called it that to you?"
    "I don't know," Michael said. He thought of the fat thug they had left drooling in the doorway. He remembered the man in the woods with the useless wheelbarrow. "Nothing much." Then he added, "It's how we think of ourselves. We don't expect much."
    "But all Americans have the right to happiness, isn't that right?"
    "How long have