Someone Else's Shoes

  But Izzy didn’t really think her uncle had done that, and she could tell Oliver wasn’t buying it either.

  “Let’s go look in his room again. Maybe we can find a clue.”

  The minute they walked into Uncle Henderson’s room, Izzy saw the piece of paper on the bed. Oliver probably hadn’t noticed it earlier because he was only looking for his father, not an explanation for his disappearance. He saw it now, though, and got to it before she did.

  As he read over the paper, Izzy could see the blood drain from his face. He looked like he might throw up or even pass out.

  “What is it? Let me see!” Izzy grabbed the sheet from him, but it took her a minute to make sense of the words on the page. What was this? A letter of some kind? And then she realized what she was looking at. It was the note that Aunt Felicia had left for Uncle Henderson before she killed herself.

  Dear Hen,

  Nothing works. No one can help me. I’m in such a dark place. I love you and Oliver, but you’ll be better off without me dragging you down. I’m sorry, Hen. I know you would have saved me if you could. You were always tender.

  Felicia

  Oliver’s legs couldn’t hold him up anymore, and he slumped to the floor beside the bed. The empty look in his eyes scared Izzy. Why wasn’t her mother here to deal with this?

  “Didn’t you tell me you saw this note already?” she asked her cousin.

  Oliver had to lick his lips and swallow before he could answer. “Once. It was out on Dad’s bureau right afterward, but then he put it away somewhere. Why do you think it’s out now?”

  Izzy had no idea, but she sure didn’t like the fact that Uncle Henderson had been rereading this note and then had suddenly vanished.

  “What about your car? Is it still here?” She crashed down the stairs, Oliver close behind her. As they ran across the lawn toward the closed garage door, Izzy was terrified. What if they opened the door and…she remembered reading in the paper that some woman in Greenstead had killed herself by turning on her car in a closed-up garage. Uncle Hen wouldn’t do that, would he? But maybe it wasn’t too late! Maybe he wasn’t dead yet. Maybe—

  Izzy pushed up the door as quickly as she could, and it clattered across the ceiling of the garage. The car was not running, and Uncle Henderson was not in it.

  Her head was pounding, but she didn’t want Oliver to know. “Okay, well, the car’s here,” she said. She was a little breathless, but she tried her best to sound normal. “He couldn’t have gone too far.”

  Oliver scrutinized her face. “You thought he might be in here, didn’t you? You think that’s what it means, the note on the bed. You think he’s going to—”

  “No! I mean, I don’t know what to think, but I don’t think that. The car’s here. That’s good, right?”

  Oliver was quiet for a minute and then he said, “He hitchhikes sometimes.”

  “He does?” It had never occurred to Izzy that so many people she knew stood by the side of the road with their thumbs out.

  “Dad says some of his best songs come to him in buses and other people’s cars. He says you meet good people on the road, and even if you don’t, you meet yourself. What do you think he means by that?”

  Izzy didn’t know, but she didn’t like the sound of it. “Let’s call my mom.”

  * * *

  Izzy called, but her mother didn’t answer her phone. Izzy left her a message and then sat at the kitchen table, waiting. Oliver was too nervous to sit and kept bouncing around the room. After fifteen minutes, which felt much longer, her mother banged into the house. The three of them did another thorough search before Izzy’s mom was convinced that Uncle Henderson was truly not there.

  “Well, I’ll admit it’s odd that he went out by himself, but I don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” Izzy’s mom said. “I’ve been trying to get him to leave the house for weeks.”

  When her cousin went back up to his father’s room to look for more clues, Izzy said to her mother, “Oliver’s really scared. Because of the note. He thinks Uncle Hen is going to, you know, do the same thing his mother did.”

  “It’s probably my fault he thinks that,” Izzy’s mom said, sighing. “It scared him when I had Ben break down the door. I panicked that time, but I know my brother. He would never hurt Oliver. He’s grieving, and he’s upset, and obsessing over that note probably isn’t a good thing, but he’s also playing his guitar again, which is a positive sign.”

  “I don’t know,” Izzy said. “He doesn’t talk much anymore. And when he stares at stuff, you can tell he’s not really seeing it.”

  “Henderson isn’t Felicia, Izzy. He’s upset, but he’s not suicidal. He’d never…do that. I’m absolutely sure of it.”

  The thing about mothers, Izzy thought, was that they were always absolutely sure of things. But even mothers didn’t always get it right. Just because her mother knew how to stitch up a cut or bandage a sprained ankle didn’t mean she knew what was going on inside a person’s head. And besides, when it came to her own family, Izzy thought her mother sometimes didn’t see the most obvious things.

  Oliver came running down the stairs. “His guitar’s gone too!”

  Izzy’s mother stooped down and put her arm around his waist. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it? I think your dad probably just needed some time alone to think things through. I’m glad he’s gotten out of the house for a little while, and if he’s taken his guitar, I’ll bet he’s working on a new song. He’ll probably be back by dinnertime, and if he’s not back, he’ll call.”

  But Uncle Henderson was not back by dinnertime, nor had he called. Izzy’s mother tried calling his cell phone, but her call went straight to voice mail. That wasn’t surprising—he probably hadn’t remembered to charge it all month. The three of them were sitting at the dining-room table—although Izzy’s mother was the only one actually putting food in her mouth—when Ben walked in. Izzy was surprised at how glad she was to see him. One disappearance a day was enough.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Ben said to Izzy’s mother without really looking at her. “I went home to pick up a few things, and I guess I fell asleep on the couch.”

  Izzy raised an eyebrow. Liar.

  Her mother didn’t seem to suspect his excuse wasn’t true. “I put your dinner in the microwave to keep it warm,” she said.

  Ben grabbed the plateful of stir-fry and joined them at the table. “Where’s the big guy?” he asked.

  Oliver burst into tears.

  “Whoa! Dude, what’s wrong?”

  “My dad’s gone!” Oliver said between sobs. “We looked everywhere, but we can’t find him!”

  “Hey, Oliver, we’ll find him. Don’t worry.” Ben got up and got two glasses of water, one for himself and one for Oliver. He put a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. “You’re not alone. It’s gonna be okay.”

  Izzy’s mother told Ben what they knew, giving him her point of view on the situation and trying to soothe Oliver at the same time. “Sitting around this house day and night wasn’t good for Hen. I think it’s encouraging that he’s gotten out a little. He needed to do that. He took his guitar, so he probably went to visit some of his old musician friends in the area.”

  Ben didn’t voice an opinion, but he looked hard at Oliver. It was pretty obvious that Oliver didn’t share his aunt’s optimism.

  Ben and Izzy cleared the table and stacked the dishwasher in silence, the better to eavesdrop on Izzy’s mother’s phone calls to people she thought Uncle Henderson might have gone to visit. Oliver didn’t pretend to do anything but listen.

  The first two calls were dead ends, but the third raised their hopes.

  “He was?” she said. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear that.”

  “Where is he?” Oliver interrupted. “Is he okay?” His aunt held out her hand to him while continuing the conversation. “Uh-huh. So you gave him a ride? Oh, good.”

  When she finally hung up, she told them what she’d learned. “Good news. Henderson went
to see Fred Dumont over in Barrington. Fred’s a musician too—they used to play together years ago. He says he talked to Hen for quite a while, and he seemed okay.”

  “Okay” didn’t sound all that encouraging, but at least they knew he was alive and speaking to people. Izzy and Oliver peppered her with questions. “How’d he get there?” “Why did he go to see Fred?” “Is he still there?” “When’s he coming back?”

  “Slow down.” Izzy’s mom smiled. “He hitchhiked to Fred’s house to get a copy of a CD they’d made together years ago. Hen didn’t have one anymore, and he wanted to listen to it for inspiration, Fred said. Apparently, a producer at Hen’s record label called him a few days ago about putting together another album—isn’t that great? He told Fred he wanted to be alone for a while so he could, quote, ‘hear music in my head and maybe make some.’ Doesn’t that sound hopeful? He wants to write songs for a new album!”

  “Why can’t he write songs here?” Izzy asked.

  Oliver had a more important question. “Where is he now?”

  “Fred loaned him some money and gave him a ride to the bus station. He said Hen got on the Buffalo bus, so he’s probably headed back to Wilton.”

  “Without me?” Oliver looked stunned.

  Izzy’s mom gave him a worried smile. “He knows you’re safe here with us,” she said. “I’ll bet he wants some time alone to get back to work. I really think this is good, Oliver. Your dad is writing music again. Music has sustained him before, and it will this time too.”

  “What does that mean, it sustained him before?” Izzy wanted to know.

  “When Henderson was young, he dropped out of college and drifted around aimlessly for a while,” her mother explained. “He didn’t know which way to turn. But then he started to play music and write songs, and that straightened him out.”

  That was also when he met Aunt Felicia, Izzy thought. Maybe she was what straightened him out.

  Oliver’s face was twisted with fear. Izzy could tell he was not buying the story her mother was selling.

  “Oliver, wanna come downstairs with me?” Ben asked.

  Oliver nodded gratefully. Ben was about to close the basement door behind them when Izzy grabbed it.

  “Me too,” she said. It wasn’t a question. She knew what they were going to talk about, and she wasn’t going to be left out of it.

  Ben glared at her. “I don’t think so. It stinks down here. Like my pitted-out T-shirts.”

  Wow, Izzy was surprised at how much that insult had gotten to him. But she wasn’t going to be put off. “And you said I looked like Big Bird and smelled like salad dressing.”

  A smile flickered across Ben’s mouth, and he glanced at her head. “Your feathers are a little droopy.”

  “Ha, ha. Let me in. I want to help Oliver too.”

  After a few seconds Ben let go of the door, and Izzy followed them down the stairs to Ben’s hideout. It was messier than the last time she’d visited. Dirty clothes were piled next to the unmade futon. Soda bottles and half-empty bags of chips lay scattered on the floor.

  “I guess you don’t mind having mice as roommates,” Izzy said, picking up a chip bag and folding down the open end. “If I see one in my room, I’m telling Mom whose fault it is.”

  “I’m hoping to lure some cockroaches too,” Ben said. “I’ve made them all little maps so they can find your room after I leave.”

  “If you ever do leave. If your dad ever comes back for you.”

  “Stop it!” Oliver’s bark surprised them both. His hands were curled into fists at his sides, as if he were clutching heavy bundles he couldn’t put down. “You said you wanted to help me, but all you do is argue with each other!”

  Izzy’s eyes bounced off Ben, who was giving her a sideways glance too. “Sorry, Oliver,” she said.

  “Yeah, okay, Captain Hook is right. We need to figure this out,” Ben said. He flopped on the futon, opened his computer, and typed something into it. A map came up that showed the route between Barrington, Massachusetts, and Buffalo, New York. Oliver sat on the futon and huddled into Ben’s tattooed arm, while Izzy, who didn’t want to sit next to Ben, tried to see the screen by looking over their heads.

  “So this is where he was,” Ben said. “And this is where the bus is going. Where’s Wilton? Is it on the way to Buffalo?”

  “Not really,” Oliver said. He pointed to a spot north of the likely bus route. “It’s up around here.”

  “So, he’d get off the Buffalo bus somewhere and transfer to a local one,” Izzy said.

  “He’d probably just hitchhike from wherever he got off,” Oliver said.

  Ben typed “Coolidge” and “Wilton” into the search engine. “This says it’s about a six-hour drive to Wilton, which means on a bus, with stops and changes and maybe hitchhiking, it would probably take him most of the day to get there. Or most of the night, if he just left.”

  “I don’t think he’s going to Wilton,” Oliver said, his forehead knotted. “He wouldn’t go home without me.”

  “Oliver,” Izzy said gently, “maybe my mom’s right and your dad wants to be alone.”

  Oliver shook his head. “He wouldn’t want to be alone in Wilton, though. That’s not where he’s going.”

  Izzy could see his point. How inspirational would it be to go back to the place his wife had died? “Well, where else would he go?” She wondered how this was helping Oliver. Even if they knew for sure where Uncle Hen was, they couldn’t follow him.

  Oliver stared at the map on Ben’s computer screen. Suddenly he brightened. “Move it to the left,” he said.

  “You mean west?” Ben asked.

  “Yeah, west. Way west, almost to Lake Erie. Zoom in on that!”

  Ben scrolled the map and zoomed in until they were looking at the area Oliver had requested—the far western corner of New York State, where it bumped into Pennsylvania. There wasn’t a whole lot out in that part of the state, no towns whose names Izzy recognized. But Oliver was excited.

  “There!” He pointed to a narrow strip of blue on the map. “That’s where he’s going. I know it!”

  “Lake Chautauqua,” Ben read.

  “Yes! Lake Chautauqua! That’s the place!” Oliver was ecstatic.

  “Why would he go there?” Izzy asked.

  “He loves it there. He used to go there to write songs all the time. We all went once. It’s this pretty lake where people go to fish. He’s got an old trailer hidden in the woods where nobody bothers him.”

  “I never heard about that,” Izzy said.

  “He doesn’t tell people, because it’s not exactly legal. He doesn’t own the land the trailer’s on. But it’s all woods around there. Nobody cares.” Oliver was jumping up and down now. “That’s where he’s going! I know it! Let’s go find him! Then, in case music doesn’t save him, we will.”

  “Find him?” Izzy laughed. “All the way across the state of New York? How would we get there? And anyway, you don’t know for sure that’s where he’s going. Even if we could get there, he’d probably come back while we were out trying to find him.”

  Oliver frowned at her. “You always act like you’re not scared of anything, Izzy, so why are you afraid now? If we don’t go get him, who will?”

  “I’m not afraid. I just think we should…” Should what? Wait around here until Uncle Henderson showed up again? If he showed up again. Oliver was already coming totally unglued. Izzy was pretty sure if he had to wait for his father to decide to come home, he’d crack up completely.

  Excitement sparkled in Ben’s eyes. “Come on, Dizzy. Don’t you want to have an adventure?”

  “But how can we—?”

  “Ben’ll figure it out!” Oliver yelled. “Won’t you, Ben?”

  “I’m making a plan as we speak.” The two of them high-fived, and Oliver hooted.

  Izzy couldn’t believe it. They seriously thought they could chase across two states to find her uncle in the woods by some lake. It was impossible. On the other hand
, she didn’t have a better idea. And she certainly wasn’t going to let the kid take off with Ben by himself. “Well, if you’re going, I am too. Oliver is my cousin!”

  Oliver clapped his hands. “Yes! But you can’t tell Aunt Maggie. You know she won’t let us go.”

  “Are we really doing this?” Izzy whispered to Ben as Oliver danced around the room.

  “Yeah, I think we are. Oliver’s afraid he’s going to lose his dad too, and nobody else is doing anything about it, so, yeah, we’re gonna go find the guy and make sure he’s okay.”

  “And bring him back,” Oliver said.

  “How are we supposed to do this?” The scheme seemed outrageous to Izzy. “First we’d have to sneak out of the house and then take a bus or something. I don’t have enough money for that, do you?”

  Ben smiled mysteriously. “Leave it to me. You two go upstairs and do your homework, or whatever you normally do in the evening, so Dizzy’s mom doesn’t get suspicious. Go to bed at your regular time, but don’t go to sleep. Pack a backpack with a few things.” He gave Izzy a look. “A few things. Don’t take everything you own. Bring whatever money you’ve got too. Your mom is always in bed by ten thirty, so meet me outside the back door at eleven and be ready to roll.”

  “But how—?”

  “Trust me, would you?” Ben said. “For once, just trust me.”

  Izzy’s hands shook a little as she tucked four dollars into the side pocket of her backpack. She’d spent her birthday twenty on the silver shoes and then had to pay Cookie and Pauline back the money she’d borrowed from them. And all the hair dye stuff was expensive too, so four dollars was all she had left. Unless Ben had a secret stash, she didn’t see how they were going to get across the whole state of New York on a couple of bucks.

  In fact, she couldn’t imagine how this was going to work at all, but she’d told Oliver she’d go with them, and she couldn’t chicken out now. He’d been so terrified ever since he realized his dad was missing. She tried to imagine how she’d feel if all of a sudden her mother disappeared. Just the thought of being so alone made her feel sick to her stomach. No wonder her cousin was such a wreck.