Rachel Alexander 09 - Without a Word

that, the picture, a pretty girl who didn’t look much older than her daughter was now.
    “How did this come about, Leon, you dating a student?”
    Leon held up one hand, as if warding off a blow. I let it go. I had agreed to try to find her because Leon thought it might help Madison. What had happened all those years ago wasn’t really the point. Or was it?
    Had Sally loved him back then, I wondered, when he was her teacher? Or was it the excitement of the forbidden, an older man, the aura of romance, the fact that it had to be kept secret? Those were powerful aphrodisiacs, but aphrodisiacs don’t last. Had she been happy to marry him? And then what? Somewhere along the way, as happens to so many of us, had she stopped loving him? If she ever had.
    And what about Madison? Had Sally loved her? Had anyone loved Madison back then? Did anyone love her now?
    “Do you have anything of Sally’s I could borrow, or look at? A diary, school papers, letters, computer files, anything at all?”
    “There are a few things I have put away.”
    “Would you rather we do that when Madison is in school?”
    “She’s not in school now. I’m keeping her with me for the time being.” Leon looked very uncomfortable.
    “Can you just do that?” I asked, wondering what he’d told them, if he’d said she had the flu or sprained an ankle, something that would explain the time out of school. Or had he told them the truth, that there was the possibility she’d killed someone and he didn’t want her running around loose?
    But all he said was, “They’re faxing me her lessons,” and I let it go. There were more important issues at hand.
    “Can she hear us?” I whispered.
    “I don’t know.”
    “You said she was a suspect. Then she hasn’t been charged?”
    “Not yet,” he whispered. “Doesn’t mean they’re not trying.” He looked toward the foyer again.
    “So they’re attempting to make a case, but they haven’t yet. Have they talked to Madison?”
    “They tried. They came again the next day. Madison was here and I didn’t know what to do.”
    “So you let them talk to her?”
    He nodded.
    “And?”
    “What you’d expect. She listened. She stared at them. Then she went to her room and closed the door.”
    “Slammed it?”
    “No. Closed it quietly. She didn’t seem in the least bit angry.”
    “What did she seem?”
    “I figured she didn’t want to...“
    I waited while Leon surfed for just the right words.
    “She wasn’t going to deal with it,” he said. “That’s how she is, since Sally left.”
    “She was only seven then.”
    “Correct. But that’s when it started. It was all part of the package, not speaking and this, this shutting down. She’ll almost always listen to what you have to say, but if Madison decides she’s not dealing, there’s no changing her mind.“
    “Did they ask to have a psychiatrist examine her?“
    “They did. But I said I’d have to think about that. When they left, I called a lawyer. He told me that unless there was a court order, I should refuse. So that’s what I did.”
    “And you’re keeping her with you...?”
    “To protect her,” Leon whispered. “She’s in a bad place right now. She’s in grave danger. And she’s my daughter.”
    I nodded. Leon had the yearbook on his lap, both hands pressing it down as if, but for that, it might fly away and disappear.
    “So how do you want to do this?”
    “I’ll get together whatever I have,” he patted the yearbook, “and call you when it’s ready.”
    I picked up the pen and pad. “How do you spell her doctor’s name?” I asked him.
    Leon looked surprised for a moment and then reached for the pad and pen, writing down the doctor’s name. “I’ll work on the things you need after Madison goes to sleep,” he said.
    I nodded. “I’d like to say good-bye to her, to Madison.”
    Leon got up, and Dashiell and I trailed after him past the bathroom to Madison’s door. Leon knocked and waited but there was no answer, nor was there any sound coming from inside that would make you think Madison might not have heard the knock. When he lifted his hand again, I shook my head.
    “Another time,” I said.
    There was a horseshoe hung over the apartment door, open side up to catch good luck. If any family needed it, it was this one.
    Walking home along Hudson Street, I thought about the chess players we’d passed in the park, hunched over the inlaid boards at the small square tables in the southwestern