"I guess you'd better see how he's doing."
"I suppose so."
"I'll wait out here with Kate. See if you can get him to eat something."
"I will."
I found Noah's door, knocked twice, and pushed it partly open.
"Noah? It's me, Wilson. May I come in?"
In his chair by the window, Noah made no response. I waited a moment before stepping into his room. On the bed, I saw the uneaten tray of food, and after closing the door, I brought my hands together.
"Kate and Jane thought you might want to talk to me."
I saw his shoulders rise as he drew a long breath, then fall again. With his white hair spilling over the top of his sweater, he looked diminutive in the rocker.
"Are they out there now?"
His voice was so soft that I barely heard it.
"Yes."
Noah said nothing more. In the silence, I crossed the room and sat on the bed. I could see the lines of strain on his face, though he refused to look at me.
"I'd like to hear what happened," I said tentatively.
He dropped his chin before his gaze rose again. He stared out the window.
"She's gone," he said. "When I went out this morning, she wasn't there."
I knew immediately whom he was referring to.
"She might have been in another part of the pond. Maybe she didn't know you were there," I suggested.
"She's gone," he said, his voice flat and emotionless. "I knew it as soon as I woke up. Don't ask me how, but I knew. I could sense that she was gone, and when I started toward the pond, the feeling just got stronger and stronger. I didn't want to believe it, though, and I tried calling for her for an hour. But she never showed." Wincing, he straightened in the chair, continuing to stare through the window. "Finally, I just gave up."
Beyond the window, the pond was glistening in the sun. "Do you want to go back and check to see if she's there now?"
"She isn't."
"How do you know?"
"Because I do," he said. "The same way I knew she was gone this morning."
I opened my mouth to respond, then thought better of it. There was no use in arguing the point. Noah had already made up his mind. Besides, something inside me was sure that he was right.
"She'll come back," I said, trying to sound convincing.
"Maybe," he said. "Or maybe not. I can't tell one way or the other."
"She'll miss you too much to stay away."
"Then why did she leave in the first place?" he demanded. "It doesn't make any sense!"
He slapped his good hand on the arm of the chair before shaking his head.
"I wish they could understand."
"Who?"
"My kids. The nurses. Even Dr. Barnwell."
"You mean about Allie being the swan?"
For the first time, he looked my way. "No. About me being Noah. About me being the same man I've always been."
I wasn't sure what he meant but knew enough to stay silent while I waited for him to explain.
"You should have seen them today. All of them. So what if I didn't want to talk to them about it? No one believes me anyway, and I didn't feel like trying to convince them that I know what I'm talking about. They just would have argued with me about it like they always do. And then, when I didn't eat my lunch? Well, you would have thought that I'd tried to jump out the window. I'm upset, and I have every right to be upset. When I get upset, I don't eat. I've been that way my whole life, but now, they act like my mental abilities have slipped another notch. Kate was in here trying to spoon-feed me and pretending nothing happened. Can you believe that? And then Jeff and David showed up, and they explained it away by saying that she probably went off to forage, completely ignoring the fact that I feed her twice a day. None of them seems to care what might have happened to her."
As I struggled to understand what was going on, I suddenly realized that there was more to Noah's sudden rage than the way his children had reacted.
"What's really bothering you?" I asked gently. "That they acted as if it were just a swan?" I paused. "That's what they've always believed, and you know that. You've never let it get to you before."
"They don't care."
"If anything," I countered, "they care too much."
He turned away stubbornly.
"I just don't understand it," he said again. "Why would she leave?"
With that, it suddenly dawned on me that he wasn't angry with his kids. Nor was he simply reacting to the fact that the swan had vanished. No, it was something deeper, something I wasn't sure he would admit even to himself.
Instead of pressing it, I said nothing, and we sat together in silence. As I waited, I watched his hand fidget in his lap.
"How did it go with Jane last night?" he asked after a moment, apropos of nothing.
At his words--and despite all that we'd been discussing--I flashed on an image of him dancing with Allie in the kitchen.
"Better than I'd imagined it would," I said.
"And she liked the album?"
"She loved it."
"Good," he said. For the first time since I'd come in, he smiled, but it vanished as quickly as it came.
"I'm sure she wants to talk to you," I said. "And Kate's still out there, too."
"I know," he said, looking defeated. "They can come in."
"You sure?"
When he nodded, I reached over and put a hand on his knee. "Are you going to be okay?"
"Yes."
"Do you want me to tell them not to talk about the swan?"
He considered my words briefly before shaking his head. "It doesn't matter."
"Do I have to tell you to go easy on them?"
He gave me a long-suffering look. "I'm not much in the mood for teasing, but I promise that I won't yell again. And don't you worry--I'm not going to do anything to upset Jane. I don't want her worrying about me when she should be thinking about tomorrow."
I rose from the bed and rested a hand on his shoulder before turning to leave.
Noah, I knew, was angry with himself. He'd spent the last four years believing that the swan was Allie--he'd needed to believe that she would find a way to come back to him--but the swan's inexplicable disappearance had shaken his faith profoundly.
As I left his room, I could almost hear him asking, What if the kids had been right all along?
In the hallway, I kept this information to myself. I did suggest, however, that it might be best if they simply let Noah do most of the talking and react as naturally as possible.
Both Kate and Jane nodded, and Jane led the way back inside. Noah looked toward us. Jane and Kate stopped, waiting to be invited in farther, not knowing what to expect.
"Hi, Daddy," Jane said.
He forced a smile. "Hi, sweetheart."
"Are you doing okay?"
He glanced at Jane and me, then at the tray of food that had grown cold on the bed. "I'm getting a little hungry, but other than that, I'm fine. Kate--would you mind . . ."
"Sure, Daddy," Kate said, stepping forward. "I'll get you something. How about some soup? Or a ham sandwich?"
"A sandwich sounds good." He nodded. "And maybe a glass of sweet tea."
"I'll run down and get it for you," Kate said. "Do you want a piece of chocolate cake, too? I heard they made it fresh today."
"Sure," he said. "Thank you. Oh--and I'm sorry about how I acted earlier. I was upset and had no reason to take it out on you."
Kate smiled briefly. "It's okay, Daddy."
Kate shot me a relieved look, though her concern was still obvious. As soon as she'd left the room, Noah motioned toward the bed.
"C'mon in," he said, his voice quiet. "Make yourselves comfortable."
As I crossed the room, I watched Noah, wondering what was going on. Somehow, I suspected that he'd asked Kate to leave because he wanted to talk to Jane and me alone.
Jane sat on the bed. As I joined her, she took my hand. "I'm sorry about the swan, Daddy," she
offered.