Free Silent Retreats by Philip F. Deaver

sad, I think. There is the sign that they are not happy on the other side. They will be, but they have died young and they aren't happy yet. I'm sorry." She broke hands with Rhonda and Kelly and leaned forward and blew out the candles.
    "Or else," she said, "something's distracting you ladies and keeping us from fully communicating."
    Abruptly Rhonda went out the door. I suddenly realized where she might be going. Kelly followed me out but ran by me very fast, disappeared on the lane ahead. She wanted to stop Rhonda. I was having a hard time believing Rhonda was really going where it looked like she was. At one point I came around a bend in the path, and could see that Kelly had caught up to her. The two of them were talking, Rhonda waving her arms—she was pretty upset. Kelly had her hands on Rhonda's shoulders—trying to talk sense, it looked like. Then in a moment Rhonda was coming back toward me, and Kelly was heading on back toward the car parked in the corn.
    "What's going on?" I asked when Rhonda was close enough.
    "Kelly's gone bushwhacking," she said. "She's going to get a ride home for her and Ghost-woman." Not knowing I knew what I knew, she lied for my benefit: "I guess Kelly knows those people or something." She looked at me to see if it was going to fly. I let it. "Anyway, I've got Kelly's keys, in case there's a problem," she said. Now she was running back toward the barn with me right behind her. "Give me your keys," she said to me, "so Kelly can get back out here in your car. Then we can go dancing and she can go to West Ridge."
    "I don't get this," I said.
    "Hang in there," she said.
    The windows on Kelly's car had misted up in the night air. The woman was standing next to it. The moon was just up, red and looming low in the east. "The car broke," Rhonda said.
    "It what?" the woman said.
    "Kelly says it won't start. But you wait here—Kelly's going to get you to the train on time. Him and me . . ." Rhonda indicated me. "We're going to hide from the people in the other car, then stay and guard Kelly's car until Kelly gets back. How's that?"
    "You mean she's gone to—er—interrupt those kids parked back yonder?" the woman said.
    "Yeah. So you can get to the train. Give these to Kelly," Rhonda said, handing my car keys to the woman.
    "Well, what are those kids going to think of me and Kelly out here alone?" she said as the Starfire headlights glanced high off the side of the barn and changed the shadows.
    We were retreating into the standing corn. "What are you worried about?" Rhonda shouted. "You've got a whole bag of money."
    Later we were near the swimming hole, in a stand of oaks, sycamores, and river willows. Rhonda was munching on a pickle. There were hedge apples on the ground, and I lobbed a few into the river. Maybe she seemed a little shorter than I imagined she was. I'd never stood near her before.
    "Pretty strange evening," I said.
    She didn't answer. After a while, though, she turned and stood there looking at me. "We paid her seventy bucks." She kept looking at me. I did my best not to react.
    The moon was up brighter now, and it gave enough light for me to see the rope I thought I remembered being there, attached high in a sycamore, for swinging out over the water. The night was muggy and hot. Rhonda said nothing.
    "Try to tell me what was going on back there."
    "You mean Ghost-woman? Just something completely insane," she said. "Kelly gets these great ideas. Kelly's mom knew this nurse up in Champaign who does this stuff—reads palms, all that. I forgot this was the night. That's why I messed you over. Forgot."
    "Oh. I thought I was the front man. So you could get out of the house."
    She said nothing to that. She was sitting on the riverbank. I sat down next to her.
    "My mom's having an affair with the local veterinarian." She looked downriver into the dark. "Jesus. I'm coming apart," she said. She was quiet for a minute. "I feel so sorry for Dad. I can't think about it,"