Leigh said, “I think her name is Sylvia.”
Terry’s children rose from their chairs, walked toward the latecomers, and greeted them warmly. Dana reached for Sylvia, but was shooed away, as the older woman tightened her grip on her husband. She tilted her head and whispered. He nodded and walked away slowly. A few yards from the gathering he raised a hand in greeting to Geneva, who was nearly hidden behind a tree. He offered his arm and they walked slowly toward the chairs circling the gravesite.
Dana shrugged and turned to the minister. “Let’s do it,” she said. “Everyone’s here.”
Geneva hesitated when her escort nudged her toward a chair. She looked around, smiled wanly at Leigh, then turned to the woman in the yellow suit, who now held her hand firmly in her own.
*
Leigh traced the bumps of Phil’s spine with her finger. He tightened and then loosened his grip on the corner of a pillow, but his eyes stayed closed. She quietly got out of bed, pulled on a T-shirt and tip-toed out of the room.
She tapped a key on her computer. It whirred back to life and soon the living room of the cottage was illuminated by its light. Two weeks to go. How much could she get done before she was kicked out of the cottage and lost her access to the big house and all of Terry’s journals and papers? There was no time to waste, even if it meant sneaking out of bed while her lover dreamed.
She started a new file. She’d need to change all the names of course, but she’d worry about that later. Just get it down now. Just get all of it down, no matter how rough. Just write the story, the twisting story, Terry’s story, Pepin’s story, Susan Turnbull’s story, the Little Girl story, the story that reached back to one Bancroft and his women and wound its way over the years toward another.
Leigh began typing.
Chapter 1. The Doctor Arrives.
Highlight. Delete. “It’s your story, Terry,” she whispered. “I promised.” She stared at the screen. What had Roberta said she did when she was starting a novel? Oh god, yes. Daydreaming.
Two weeks. Who had time for daydreaming? But there was something else, something about—one single image that’s clearer than the others. I start there.
Leigh smiled and typed.
Chapter 1. The Yellow Chanel.
Venom and the River Page 21
