Page 107 of Night Songs

I could use it to narrow my parameters, but I wasn’t optimistic. I’d noticed there weren’t many domestic disputes reported in these towns, and I assumed people kept such matters to themselves.

I leaned back against the couch, a wave of exhaustion rolling over me.Another day gone.

“Why don’t we play a little music? Maybe that’ll shake something loose,” Hess suggested. She picked up her guitar and started to tune it as she discussed song choice with Tima.

I stared out into the dark beyond the candlelight of the porch, waiting for my eyes to adjust. As the shapes of the backyard emerged, I saw a streak of white dash across the blackness, disappearing into a thicket of trees. I waited, unbreathing, to see if it would reappear.

But the darkness remained still.

Another wave rolled over me, and I couldn’t pretend any longer. I needed to be alone. I stood up abruptly. “I’m sorry, I have to go to bed.”

Phoebe went to protest, but Hess cut her off. “Of course. We’ll see you in the morning.”

In the guest room, I allowed myself to unravel, huddling under the covers and clenching my teeth as I watched the shadows in the corners and listened for strange noises.

I felt the deep vibrations of a guitar coming through the walls from the porch, followed by a rich vocal melody like butter melting in my eardrums. I let the warmth of the music wrap around me, and I was grateful that I could take its comfort on my own terms, without being watched.

I imagined it was like being in the womb—protected in my chrysalis, while life went on around me at a safe distance.

I could feel myself drifting off, and I suddenly clung to consciousness, afraid of what might happen if I fell asleep. I needed to stay awake. Alert. Ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

But the force of the music was too strong, and I found my body curling up of its own will like a wild creature in a hollow, and then I was floating away on the sensation, no longer strong enough to fight it.

And for the first time in many nights, I slept.

37rhea

2010

THREE DAYS LEFT

My burner phone blared from the side table, stirring me from a weighted slumber. I checked that the number wasn’t Micah’s and answered.

“Hello?” I said in a hoarse voice in case it might be the police.

“Rhea? Is that you?” came Clayton’s elegant rasp.

“Yes, sorry,” I said normally, pretending to clear my throat.

“I’m sorry for calling so early, but I had to phone you right away. I… I remembered the cave church you mentioned. A long time ago, when I was a boy, I heard talk of it around Amos.”

My heart pounded, and I sat up in bed. “Tell me everything.”

“I remember it was in this little town a ways away that people used to talk about—a real weird place where a lot of strange things happened. A friend of my mama’s came around gossiping about a church that was holding services in a cave like they were vampires.”

I held my breath. “Do you remember the name?”

“Yes. It was Craw Valley.”

That afternoon, Hess and I headed east in Belle’s Gran Torino. I kept the car at her house to use whenever I was in Nashville.

As we wound deeper into the mountains, it felt like a slow ascent into the unimaginable, haunted place of my origin, where all of my visions had come from. The place I’d been seeking for months. I didn’t know if the buzzing in my blood was elation or terror. I could no longer tell them apart.

Craw Valley.

Just a little town nestled in the backwoods and newly popular with tourists for its quaintness and autumn foliage. We still didn’t have Belle’s real name, but in such a small place, I figured it wouldn’t be hard to root out.

At a distance, the main drag of Craw Valley looked like it hadn’t changed since the day my mother left. There was an old-fashioned burger joint, a general store with a giant pencil for a sign, and a vintage movie house. Sprinkled amongst these were fast food places and abandoned storefronts, and as we got closer, I saw the true age of the place—it seemed to be slowly crumbling, returning to the nature that surrounded it.