State of Wonder Read Free Page B

when they were alone. “No coffee,” Marina said. “Thank you.” It wasn’t a bright day but what light there was reflected off the snow and cast a wide silvery band across the breakfast table. Through the big picture window Marina saw a jungle gym standing on a low hill in the backyard, a rough fort gathering snow on its slanted roof. Pickles leaned up against Marina now and he batted her hand with his head until she reached down to rub the limp chamois of his ears.
    “I can put him up,” Karen said. “He’s a lot of dog.”
    Pickles stared at her, his vision unfocused by the ecstasy in his ears. “I like dogs,” Marina said, thinking it was vital that he stay. The dog would have to stand in for their minister if they had one. The dog would be Karen’s mother, her sister, whoever it was she wished was standing next to her when everything came down. The dog would have to be Anders.
    She glanced back at Mr. Fox again. Every second they were in the house without telling her what had happened was a lie. But Mr. Fox had turned towards the refrigerator now. He was looking at pictures of the boys: the two youngest ones a couple of washed-out towheads, the older one only slightly darker. He was looking at a picture of Anders with his arms around his wife and in that photo they were not much older than children themselves. There were pictures of birds, too, a group of prairie chickens standing in a field, an eastern bluebird so vibrant it appeared to have been Photoshopped. Anders took a lot of pictures of birds.
    Karen pulled off her hat and pushed her straight pale hair behind her ears. The flush that had been in her cheeks from the momentary burst of cold had faded. “This isn’t good news, right?” she said, twisting the rings on her finger, the modest diamond and the platinum band. “I’m glad to see you but I can’t imagine you’re just dropping by to say hello.”
    And for a split second Marina felt the slightest surge of relief. Of course she would know. Even if she hadn’t heard she would know in that way a soul knows. Marina wanted so badly to put her arms around Karen then, to give her condolences. She was ready for that if nothing else. The words for how sorry she was ached in the back of her throat.
    “It’s not good news,” Marina said, hearing the catch in her own voice. This was the moment for Mr. Fox to tell the story, to explain it in a way Marina herself did not fully understand, but nothing came. Mr. Fox had given himself over to the refrigerator photos. He had his back to the two women, his arms locked behind, his head tilted forward to a picture of a common loon.
    Karen turned her eyes up, shook her head slightly. “The letters have been crazy,” she said. “I’ll get two in a day and then nothing all week. They don’t come in any sort of order. I got one a couple of days ago that didn’t have a date on it but it must have been pretty recent. He sounded like he was half out of his mind. He’s definitely writing to me less now. I think he doesn’t want to tell me he has to stay longer.”
    “Karen, listen.”
    Pickles lifted his head as if listen was his command. He sat.
    “It isn’t his job,” Karen said, and while she looked at Marina she pointed her finger at Mr. Fox’s back. “He doesn’t like the jungle. I mean, the birds, he says the birds are spectacular, but the rest of it is making him crazy, the leaves and the vines and all of that. In one of his letters he said he felt like they were choking him at night. Where Anders grew up in Crookston there are hardly any trees at all. Have you ever been to Crookston? It’s nothing but prairie up there. He used to say that trees made him nervous, and he was joking, but still. He isn’t cut out for this. He isn’t some mediator who’s been trained to talk down the difficult cases. I understand why you sent him. Everybody likes Anders. But if Vogel has inflated its stock price then that’s Vogel’s problem. It’s not his