Skye didn't respond to Mr. Penderwick right away. She stumbled back a step as she whispered, "What do you mean he's gone?"
The more time that passed, the more that Rosalind loathed herself. Tommy didn't understand a lot of things, but people he was proving to know well. She had been such a fool to listen to her panicked, broken sister instead of him. She shouldn't have let her fears about Skye persuade her. Who cared if she was angry with her for refusing to help? Rosalind had known what the right choice was, and she had consciously made the wrong one. She should have put Jeffrey first. She'd held her own desire to be appreciated above his wellbeing. Likely she wouldn't have been able to convince Skye to talk to him honestly, but she should have tried. At the very least, she shouldn't have gotten involved. If she'd walked out with Tommy, she wouldn't be feeling so responsible. Then Tommy wouldn't have left Arundel. Maybe Jeffrey wouldn't have.
"Where is he?" Skye demanded.
"We don't know," Mr. Penderwick said gravely.
"How can you not know?" Her panicked eyes made her look almost crazy. "No one followed him? He can barely walk, how far could he have gotten?"
The fact that Skye still wasn't quite getting it made Rosalind squeak out a little sob. She could tell that Jane knew, she clutched her hands tightly in front of her frighteningly white face.
Mr. Penderwick's shoulders slumped as he settled his glasses back on his nose. "He took his car, Skye. He drove off."
The reality of the situation finally hit her. She rushed to the front door where she could see that Jeffrey's car was no longer in the driveway.
"He can't drive," Skye gasped. She whirled to face them and loudly repeated herself. "His leg—he can't drive!"
Rosalind knew that as well as Skye did. Jeffrey's right leg was far too broken for him to safely operate a vehicle. Rosalind wasn't sure it was even legal for him to be behind the wheel like that. Wherever he was, he was at risk. He hadn't been home for a week yet, and already Rosalind again found herself wondering if he would come back to them alive.
Skye's voice drew Jeffrey's parents in from outside.
When Mrs. Tifton saw her, immediately she demanded, "What happened with him? He was doing—" Then she got a look at Skye's face. She paled and instead asked, "What happened to you?"
Skye covered her cheek with her hand and only shook her head.
Nick got up from the floor and approached the rest of the group. Batty hung back, observing in frightened silence. Rosalind held her arms out to her and Batty ran into them. Rosalind kissed her head softly.
"Jeffrey hit her," said Nick.
"I'm sorry?" Mrs. Tifton straightened, as if the idea offended her.
"Nick!" Skye snapped. "Not on purpose. He just—" Skye rubbed at her eyes and muttered, "Fuck."
"His nightmares were bad, Skye got too close," Nick finished.
Horror slowly crept over Mrs. Tifton's face. She looked up at Alec, then over at Skye. "How could this happen?" She said it stiffly, for that was the only way she could speak without crying.
Rosalind resented Mrs. Tifton for the amount of pressure she put on Skye to keep Jeffrey in good spirits. Whenever Jeffrey was upset, scared, angry – any of the many difficult emotions he so often felt, Skye was always the person that Mrs. Tifton enlisted to fix it. Rosalind could understand that, but she didn't like it. It drained Skye. She did that enough on her own, and she had her own recovery to worry about. Mrs. Tifton needed to find the confidence to trust herself to help Jeffrey too. Skye couldn't fix him. She could temporarily improve things – postpone his darker feelings and distract him, but they were still there, mounting more with each day. He'd finally cracked. Rosalind thought Mrs. Tifton was treacherously near blaming Skye for that.
"I tried to snap him out of it," said Skye. "I wanted to help, it was stupid."
"Yes it was," Mrs. Tifton agreed.
Alec put his hand on her shoulder. "Brenda."
Mrs. Tifton met his eyes and exhaled, pushing her anger out with her breath.
"You told me you hit herself," Mr. Penderwick said to Skye. He sounded lost.
"Yes, I lied. I don't know why," Skye said miserably. "And I lied to Jeffrey. I hid it from him all day. He just found out." She looked at Mrs. Tifton. "That's what happened with him."
Mrs. Tifton stared out the front door and down the driveway after Jeffrey. "We're in trouble, aren't we?" She said in a daze. She swayed on her feet and caught Alec's arm to steady herself.
Skye nodded. "Big trouble," she muttered.
Alec pulled his car keys out of his pocket. "He told me not to look for him, but—"
"Go!" Skye insisted, suddenly wild with fear. "He said we shouldn't have to put up with him, he said…" She looked desperately at Jane as she lost the ability to speak. Skye put her hands on her head to combat hyperventilation.
In a squeaky, small voice, Jane came to Skye's rescue. "He said he wants to die."
It was like a punch to the gut. Mrs. Tifton certainly looked like she'd been hit as she almost fell over.
"Oh my god," she said weakly. She took out her phone, but before she called anyone, she rounded on Alec. "You caught him leaving! How could you let him go?"
Alec was ghostly pale, but he set his jaw defensively. "What was I supposed to do? Drag him out of his car?"
"If that's what it took, yes!" Mrs. Tifton yelled.
"I asked him to stay. I begged him. He was insistent; I would have had to manhandle him and I will not touch him like that."
"He could die, Alec! What were you thinking?"
"He's not stuck here, if he wants to leave that badly, then he can go! I'm not keeping him anywhere against his will. He's had enough of that, hasn't he?"
"Oh—" Mrs. Tifton shook her head like she couldn't believe these words were coming out of Alec's mouth. She pointed an accusing finger at him. "You are so disgustingly self-righteous. He has broken leg, you don't let him drive like that. Jeffrey's not your friend, he's your son. Be a damn parent."
"I don't know how," Alec said quietly. "Not now. I couldn't do it. I couldn't look my abused kid in the eye and haul him from his car. I'm sorry, I had to let him go."
It didn't appease Mrs. Tifton. She stepped away from Alec like it pained her to be within five feet of him. "I just got him back. I will not lose Jeffrey because of you."
Skye's face was red and soaked from crying, but her expression was resolute. "It's not his fault. It's mine."
Briefly, Rosalind was horrified, because she thought Mrs. Tifton was going to agree. Then sobbed and she backed into the wall for support. She called Jeffrey a dozen times, but it always went to voicemail. Jeffrey's recorded voice on the other end made Rosalind cry.
"Should I call the police? Tell them he's suicidal?" Mrs. Tifton scanned each person's face for an answer.
It was Alec who, perhaps unwisely, gave her one. "Not yet."
"Not yet?" Mrs. Tifton repeated incredulously. "What would you have me do? Wait until he's dead? Then we could tell them for certain, couldn't we?"
Alec closed his eyes, blocking out her glare. "Brenda, I promise I'm not—"
"Will you please shut up?" Mrs. Tifton snapped. "He said he wants to kill himself, I don't know what else you could possibly be looking for."
"He said he wants to be dead," Jane spoke to correct her. "It could be different."
"I don't think it is," said Mrs. Tifton. "Maybe I'm wrong, but we can't speculate about what he meant. That is exactly how suicide happens, I should not have to tell you that."
"I'll go look for him," said Alec, already walking to the door.
Mrs. Tifton followed. "I'm coming with you."
"I would prefer if you didn't."
"I don't care. I don't trust you to look properly, not when he so explicitly told you not to. That's what you do, isn't it? Give him everything he asks for."
"Fine. Come, but don't talk to me." Alec stopped in the doorway and turned to face her. "And you know what? You drive." He tossed his keys at her and disappeared outside.
Mrs. Tifton dodged his keys and let them fall to the floor. "I do have my own car," she mumbled. Then she was gone too.
Once she was certain both of Jeffrey's parents were out of earshot, Rosalind said, "Those two are exhausting."
"That they are," agreed Mr. Penderwick.
"Why are you talking about them? They're not important," said Skye, right before she fled.
Iantha took a break from her phone call to ask her where she was going, but she didn't get a response. Jane went after her. Rosalind shivered from her dread and her guilt. She fumbled with her phone as she took it from her pocket. It dropped out of her hand, but she did manage to break its fall with her foot.
She bent to grab it and didn't bother to straighten back up. She seated herself in the middle of the hall and called Tommy. He answered almost immediately, like he'd been waiting for her to contact him.
"It's Jeffrey," she said before he could greet her. "I think…I think it's bad. We don't know where he is."
"I'm on my way," said Tommy.
Rosalind didn't remember hanging up, but when her mind refocused, the call had ended and her phone was in her lap.
Iantha had been talking to one of her colleagues at Cameron University, an abnormal psychology professor who specialized in crisis intervention. Iantha finished speaking with her, looking grim.
"She thinks we should alert the police," she said. "And that Jeffrey should see a counselor when he comes back. That all of us should, actually."
Rosalind was infinitely grateful that Iantha hadn't said "if" Jeffrey came back. The uncertainty of that didn't need to be spoken out loud.
"I'll call them," said Mr. Penderwick. "Tell Brenda."
They both went outside, and Rosalind looked over at Batty. She was standing frighteningly still without an emotion on her face.
"Do you understand what's going on, honey?" Rosalind asked gently.
"I'm not a baby, I know what suicide is," Batty said, a little angrier than Rosalind expected. She crossed her arms. "Why did all of you do this to him?"
Rosalind was shocked. "Do what?"
"You made him feel like a burden!"
She didn't have an answer. None of them had meant to. Rosalind hadn't known that Jeffrey felt that way. She should have, but she had allowed herself to get caught up in how happy she was that he was home safe – another mistake she could add to her ever growing list. Jeffrey's nightmares weren't the only things troubling him.
"You whisper about him when he's right there. He hears you, Rosalind. How do you think that makes him feel?" Batty accused.
"I didn't mean to," said Rosalind. "I only ever worry about him, I wasn't trying to…I'm so sorry."
"He said it makes him feel damaged. He just wanted to be normal!" Batty began to cry. "You're killing him. All of you."
She abandoned the hallway. Rosalind had nothing to say that would counter Batty's claim. It was useless to try to explain herself while Jeffrey was missing. She stayed where she was.
"It's no one's fault, Rosy," said Nick quietly. He chased after Batty before she could reply.
Now Rosalind was alone. She was impressed by her little sister's insight, but not in a way that pleased her. She wished that she could say that Batty was too young to understand all of what Jeffrey had suffered, and that was why she could so easily treat him as she always had, but she knew that was selfish ignorance. If Jeffrey had told Batty that he felt damaged, that meant he had opened up to her more than anyone – except for Skye, but she was different. She had been there to witness much of his abuse. Opening up to her was probably easier because she already knew half of his story. Batty was the only person he had felt comfortable not to hide from. Rosalind tried too hard to be in control of everything. She longed for a bit of Batty's sensitivity. She had no control over this.
She didn't get up from the floor – not when her parents came back inside, not when Nick returned to check on her, not even when her legs fell asleep and her tailbone started to ache. She was waiting for Tommy.
She jumped to her feet when the doorknob started to turn. She had a fleeting hope that it would be Jeffrey, but even before he'd entered, the timing of it told her that it was Tommy.
He crossed over to her without speaking and gently pulled her into his chest.
"You can say I told you so," said Rosalind.
Tommy didn't. He just stood there with his arms wrapped firmly around her neck.
"I will then. You told me so." Rosalind pulled back to look into his eyes so that he could see her remorse for himself.
He sighed. "I thought about it a lot. Honestly, I'm not sure it made a difference in the end. Don't feel guilty, alright?"
It was much too late for him to backtrack and attempt to tell her that this wasn't her fault.
"If I'd listened—"
"He'd probably still be gone," said Tommy. "Where's Skye?"
Rosalind wasn't sure, but she thought that the safest place to start looking would be the guest room Jeffrey had abandoned. After that, she would check his actual bedroom. If Skye wasn't in either of those places, then Rosalind was lost.
Her first guess turned out to be the correct one. Jane wasn't with her; Skye was alone and she was tearing apart the room, tossing aside sheets and pillows, flipping through books, and lifting plates and bowls to check underneath them.
"What are you doing?" Rosalind asked.
"Looking for something." Skye fanned through a notebook and threw it to the floor.
"For what?"
Skye stopped to send her a ferocious glare. "A fucking note, Rosalind."
A suicide note. That was what Rosalind had expected Skye's answer to be, but she had hoped desperately that it would be anything else.
"He would have made it easy to find," said Rosalind.
"You mean like this?" Skye unfolded her hand to reveal a crumpled ball of paper. She tossed it at Rosalind and continued her search. "It was on the bed."
Rosalind bent to pick up the paper. Tommy knelt beside her. She smoothed it out on the floor. All that was on it was a hastily scrawled "I'm sorry" – definitely in Jeffrey's handwriting. Rosalind trembled as Tommy took her hand and helped her to her feet.
"I think that's all there is, Skye," said Rosalind.
Skye shook her head. "It can't be. Not if he's—" She stopped, and she stopped hunting through the room as well. Her hands fell limp to her sides and she faced away from Rosalind and Tommy, heaving with heavy breaths. She spun around and Rosalind expected to find her in tears, but Skye was red with anger and her eyes sparked. She looked vicious.
"What the fuck, Jeffrey?" She said as if he was there to hear her. Skye kicked at the notebook she had previously discarded. A page crinkled and tore as it flew across the room. "What is wrong with him? What the fuck is wrong—" She swiped her arm across the bedside table and knocked aside a lamp, a book, and a (thankfully) unlit candle.
Rosalind stood frozen as she watched. For all of her recent confusion surrounding Skye, she had never been this uncertain of how she could help her.
"How can he do this to me?" Skye practically shouted. "After everything! Dexter…I was…it was all for Jeffrey. How can he think this is okay?" Her nose flared with each of her breaths. Her hands curled into tight fists and her furious gaze locked onto Tommy.
"You knew this would happen!" Skye yelled, advancing on him.
"Skye!" Rosalind protested.
"You fucking knew." Skye punched Tommy's shoulder. "Why didn't you stop me? You should have forced me to tell him. You could have told him."
Skye beat at his chest with both of her fists, and Tommy took it without a word.
"Skye, stop. Stop!" Rosalind begged.
When Skye swung at his face, Tommy caught her hand. He dragged Skye into him and hugged her until she calmed down. She finally gave in to tears.
"He said he doesn't want to hurt me," she cried. Her hands were still balled up against Tommy's chest, but she was no longer striking him. "And then he just takes off. How can he—what does he think he's doing?"
"He'll come back. We'll find him," Tommy assured her.
Skye stepped back, shaking her head. "Why I am hearing that again?" She looked over the mess she had created and sobbed. "He was here. He was safe. I can't lose him now."
All Rosalind could do was hope that wherever Jeffrey was, he knew that.