“Then let’s go, and I’ll let my niece get back to work.” Greta hugged Ruby. “I’ll see you later, dear.” Turning to Dahlia and Minnie she added, “I’ll come back and purchase one of those bottles of perfume you showed me. I love the scent.”
Keeping up their act, Claire slipped an arm under Greta’s, and led her to the S&W Cafeteria.
***
The ladies moved down the line in silence, only speaking with selecting their food to the staff behind the glass divider. The black assistant found a vacant spot and led them to a table for two in a less crowded corner of the dining room. Each woman slipped of a coat and sat down. The next few minutes consisted of each one opening a napkin and pulling out the silverware, which ended up neatly placed beside the plates.
Greta spoke first, surveying Claire from across the table. “Found you at last.” A light smile flickered across her face. “I’ve been wondering what happened to you.” Her voice had lost the higher pitched animated tone she’d displayed earlier in the store. She sounded more like the nurse back in the asylum.
Claire fidgeted with her napkin that she’d placed in her lap. She stirred her bowl of chowder aimlessly with her soup spoon. “Now you know. So, I’m busted, right?”
“Absolutely not.” Greta sat straight up, leaning on her elbows, hands folded primly under her chin. “I’d never dream of saying anything. We’ll simply call this our dirty little secret and move on with life. If you tell me exactly what happened, the truth, then I’m agreeable if you are.”
“Oh, I’m more than agreeable. And there’s really no dirty secret about anything.” She stared hard at Greta. “Can I really trust you, or does it really not matter, since I’ll have you and a hundred others against me if authorities had to choose?” Claire’s face turned cold in earnestness.
“Mrs. Wright, I would hope that you still remember how we were back in Hatchie River. Anne and I were supportive of you a hundred percent.” She shrugged lightly. “As best we could be in a place like that. As you well know, there are not many choices, and good can only go so far. Eyes and ears can only see and hear so much.”
The older lady cut a piece from her pot roast and placed a bite in her mouth. Claire managed a bite of her corn chowder.
When Greta had taken a few bites of her food, she sat back, resting her hands in her lap. “Tell me everything in great detail. I really want to hear your story.”
For the next several minutes, Claire shared the event once again with someone who demanded an explanation of how she’d escaped hell and left the devil dead, though not by her own hand.
“And that’s how it all happened.” Claire sank back in her chair, surprised at how much retelling the story left her drained and exhausted. “All I ask is that you believe me. Grace truly died by accident. I’ll add this. If she hadn’t slipped, I’m not sure I would have made it out alive. I had Providence on my side, I guess.”
Greta sat straight up, lightly wrapping her hand against the table. “Providence works wonders. We need miracles every now and then in our lives, lest we be swept away by an evil hand. Grace Neil was exactly that, the embodiment of all that is black and cruel in the world, the embodiment of evil. She lived it, breathed it, worked for it. It finally got her.” Greta leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Mrs. Wright, I say good riddance. And it’s really your word against the dead. The problem is that no one would believe you. When you passed our doors, any respectability you once had was gone.”
Claire stared down at her bowl. “Did they ever try to find me?”
Placing her hand on Claire’s, Greta said, “Mrs. Wright, they did their brief search. But rest assured, they didn’t spend lots of time on it. Once they decided you were not an immediate danger, they let it go.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Besides, we keep lots of secrets at Hatchie River. We don’t want the public frightened or thinking we can’t do our jobs properly.”
“But do you believe me?” Claire insisted on an answer.
“Of course, I believe you. And Anne will believe you. I have to tell her. She’s been so worried about you.”
“Really? Why would she be worried about me?”
“Mrs. Wright, we both were worried. We would have been saddened if something bad had happened to you.” Greta’s thick German accent kicked in harder, the more intense she became. “You want to know the real truth? We would have been more devastated had you returned. Your fate would have been much worse, and Anne and I would have been nearly powerless to stop it. Honestly, I don’t think we could.”
“Am I really safe here?” Claire searched Greta’s face.
“You’re safe as long as Anne and I have breath in our bodies. Sounds like you have a very caring brother-in-law.” Greta smiled. “Sounds like you have a new admirer too, from what Ruby tells me.”
Irritation shot through Claire. Her face clouded in a reflexive movement that had grown difficult to try and cover. “Yes. Dear Ruby. She’s persistent. Sometimes I look at her and see Gra …” Claire stopped, wide-eyed, pursing her lips together. She may have had her reservations about Ruby, but Greta seemed fond of her niece. No need to loosen her tongue and say hateful things to a doting aunt.
Greta clucked her tongue. “Come now, Mrs. Wright. You surely don’t mean that. To compare Ruby to someone so awful.”
“I’m sorry. It just slipped out. Just so you know, Greta, I’ve had to ward her off on several occasions. She’s a little too inquisitive for my taste.”
“I’ll allow you your sentiments, Mrs. Wright, but you have my word. I assure you that Ruby is a good girl. She means no harm.”
Claire narrowed her eyes and tipped her head to one side, gazing at the nurse. “A little biased, maybe?”
“Of course.” The old light grin slipped in on Greta’s face. “The truth is, I would have nothing to do with Ruby if she were anything but a good girl. She’s persistent. Has an odd way of showing how she really feels.” Greta swallowed a quick sip of tea from her glass. “Ruby’s not polished, I agree. A young lady who still has far to go. And Mrs. Wright, whether or not you believe it, she admires you so much.” Greta beamed at Claire with fondness. “She couldn’t have picked a better role model. I’ll be happier knowing you’re nearby. She needs that in her life, someone to whom she can aspire.”
“You’ll never say anything to her about what I’ve told you? It’s her … and anyone else finding out about my past that concerns me a great deal. I don’t want to be hauled off back to the crazy house because somebody has it in for me.”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of it.” Greta lifted her gaze briefly to the ceiling. “Again, your secret’s safe with me. Now, let’s talk about other things. Tell me what you’ve been doing here. I’d love to know.”
The two ladies spent the rest of the lunch hour in as much pleasant conversation as they could, under the circumstances. Claire, though she would always be grateful to Greta, still held on to a bit of caution. It may not be Greta, or even Ruby now, who would concern her as much, but the older lady’s presence had rudely stirred up a fear deep within her gut, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on why it wouldn’t let go. The longer she conversed with the nurse, the more dismal things seemed. If confession was good for the soul, why did she harbor such ominous feelings?
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Simply amazing.” George shook his head, taking Claire’s free hand in his. Both sat at the kitchen table sipping coffee that Edna had made after pulling a reluctant and tearful Anna away from Claire, promptly sending the little girl off to bed for the evening. “That’s why I had you over for dinner tonight. I just knew something wasn’t right after you came back from lunch with that woman . . . Ruby’s aunt.”
“You’re the third person I’ve told in detail what’s happened. And this is the last time I ever want to mention any of this again.”
“I don’t blame you. People are nosy and look for any way to knock you down. My lips are sealed.” George squeezed her hand in reassurance.
> “Did Mitchell ever say anything more about me once he got back to Ash Grove? I thought he would have. That’s why I never made a point to bring it up to you.” Claire managed a quick swallow of her cooling coffee.
“No, he’s not one to gossip like a chatty woman.” George smiled. “You know how we men are. No details. Just the quick down and dirty, and then carry on.”
“You do believe me, don’t you, George?” Claire’s eyes searched his face. “I despised Grace Neil worse than the devil, but I’d never deliberately kill her.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t. Listen, she slipped. Simple. Handy stroke of luck.”
Claire placed her cup back in the saucer. “But I know the others at Hatchie River think I did.”
“Who cares what they think. If they felt the same way as you, they probably didn’t care. Their only concern would be you harming someone else. You’re here. They’re done.”
“Since we’re talking candidly, I want to ask you something.”
“Go on.”
“Did Ruby ever try to get in good with you? Even lately? Because I swear I still have trust issues with her, though Greta adores her.”
George grinned. “I won’t lie. She flirted like everything before you came to town. And yes, she still tried a little after you started at the store. She’d knock on my office door and bring me a small bite of some cake she’d made. Or she’d bring me some coffee. She’s not done anything for the past few weeks, and she had cooled down a bit before that.”
“You loved the attention, didn’t you?”
“Claire! That’s a bold comment.” George wrinkled his brow, unable to totally stifle a light chuckle. “It’s always nice to get attention from someone, but she’s also young and somewhat impressionable. I’m not the kind of man to take advantage of that.”
“She saw us at The Bijou.” Claire drummed her nails lightly against the tablecloth.
“So what? She can see anything she wants. Maybe that’ll finish off whatever thoughts she had in her head.” George locked his gaze on Claire. “Over all, I’m in Greta’s camp where Ruby’s concerned. She stands toe-to-toe, but her bark is worse than her bite.” With a quick grin, he leaned over and kissed Claire lightly on the lips. “Don’t worry about a thing. I think you’ve cleared the air for the last time.”
“I’m hoping it’s the last time. I don’t know how much more my nerves can take.”
“You’ll be fine. You’re not alone, Claire.” He stared at his cup. His lips twitched as if he wanted to say something else, but couldn’t quite get the words out. He picked up the cup, swirled the remaining coffee, and downed it in one gulp. Claire reached for the coffee pot and poured him another cup, freshening her own cup too.
“Do you have something on your mind, George? You suddenly seem preoccupied.”
“I’ll just come right out and ask it, since we’re talking candidly, as you say.”
Beneath the table, Claire landed a light kick on George’s leg. “Quit stalling. Out with it.”
“What are you going to do about that husband of yours? Have you even spoken to Mitchell lately?”
“I keep thinking I’ll get a letter in the mail, or I start to pick up the phone, and then I get busy with something else.”
“So the answer is no.”
“Right. No.” Claire grimaced and sipped from her cup.
George shifted lightly in his seat. His face showed signs of one struggling with strong emotion. “Do you plan on being with him forever? I mean, after what he’s done to you? You’re here, miles away. You’ve started a new life …” He sank back in his chair.
Claire’s heart pounded in her chest. For George to bring this up surely was a sign that he’d been thinking in more detail about his future too. Why hadn’t she spoken to her brother-in-law? She couldn’t even pin down the reason for it. Perhaps the thoughts of having to deal with Adrian in any way exhausted her before she could even think of getting started.
“I’ll call him tomorrow. I promise.” Claire angled her head to the side, studying George. “Why the sudden concern for him?”
“Sudden?” His face hardened. “There’s nothing all that sudden about any of this. I’m thinking at some point you want that behind you too, don’t you?”
“Of course. You’re right about that.” She frowned a little. Not totally the answer she was expecting, but still a move forward. She would definitely make it a point to call Mitchell. At some point she needed the freedom to make any choice she wanted unencumbered.
George glanced at his watch. “I need to get you home. It’s late.”
“I’ll help you clean up first.”
Claire picked up the dishes and the coffee pot, carrying them to the counter. She quickly washed everything and placed them on the drainboard. From the living room sofa, she plucked up her coat and slipped it on. Outside the night was colder, the moon and stars brighter and shinier than she’d noticed before. Somehow it hit her senses that way as she gazed briefly at the black sky.
She breathed in a healthy dose of cold air, noting the burst of internal energy as opposed to the warm, sleepy lull creeping over her in George’s kitchen. If she had lacked propriety, she would have asked if she could at least sleep on the sofa for the night. But the cold had awakened her, and now that she’d be away from George and his cozy abode, it riled up the old fear she experienced earlier in the day while conversing with Greta. She didn’t want to go to her place. She wanted to stay with him where she was warm and at least felt safe.
The car rumbled down the street toward the stone house. As it came into view, an unexplained chill of uneasiness shot down Claire’s spine. She shivered. In the moonlight, the house seemed lonely, filled with something darker than the darkness. The pale shadows from the moon gripped the stone blocks like desperate ghosts. More than ever a sense of dread filled her, starting in the pit of her stomach and moving throughout her. Not understanding from where it came only intensified a certain beginning of madness if it continued for any length of time. That much she knew.
What if she simply came clean with George and said she wanted to go back to his place? No one else would know but him. Of course he wouldn’t say no, if she told him her nerves were getting the better of her. Claire turned in her seat toward him, but no words came out. He smiled at her quickly and turned his face back toward the road.
“Did you want to say something?” He asked.
“I . . . um . . .” Claire sat back in her seat, viewing the frosty night through the windshield.
“I’m glad I got to spend some time with you tonight.” He reached over and grasped Claire’s hand.
“Yeah, me too. I needed that. I really did.” She smiled lightly, hoping she’d get up the nerve to talk more about what was bothering her.
At last he pulled into the gravel driveway and stopped the car in front of the porch. Claire drew up her shoulders and reached for the door handle.
“Uh, uh, uh,” George said, waving a finger in mock admonishment. “You’re forgetting something.” He leaned toward Claire, wrapping a hand around her neck. Their lips met in a fiery kiss. Drowning in his kiss, she savored a moment of brief perfection. She tossed aside her uneasiness about entering the place she called home.
George finished the kiss and lightly pulled away. “Take care, dear.”
“I’ll do just that.” She forced a weak grin on her face and got out of the car.
He didn’t pull away until she’d entered the front door and shut it behind her, locking it. Glancing around her, she strained her ears in the silence. From the kitchen, the sound of the refrigerator whirred in monotone sounds. Strange. Where were Buzzie and Moo? They usually greeted her at the door, rubbing against her ankles and voicing their hellos with emphatic meows. Maybe they were napping somewhere else tonight. She jumped at the cracking sound of the house settling. The colder temperatures had set in. The stone comprising the house seemed to have trapped all the cold air, sending it straight inside.
The
chilly air held a certain thickness to it she’d not felt before. Or maybe it was simply her imagination. Part of her wanted to check out all of the rooms downstairs to make sure everything was okay. But she couldn’t deny that the desire to spring up the stairs and into her bedroom compelled her to do just that. Where were the cats? When she reached the top of the stairs, she called out to them. “Buzzie? Moo? Where are you two hiding? Come out, come out wherever you are.” She listened hard again. Nothing.
Walking down the hall, she passed by the phone sitting in its designated small recess in the wall. Mitchell was only an hour behind her in time. It wouldn’t be that late to call him. She could check in now, see how everything was going. Instead Claire quickly entered her room, shook off her clothes, and threw on a flannel nightgown. The rushed movements warmed her a little. Throwing back the covers, she crawled into bed, wishing the sheets didn’t feel so cold. The clock on the nightstand showed nine o’clock. Maybe if she closed her eyes and cleared her head, she might fall asleep.
Closing her eyes, Claire tried focusing on nothing. Instead of drowsiness, images of lunch with Greta popped up. As seconds passed, Hatchie River welled up, looming large and awful inside her mind’s eye. She flinched, struggling to see white like she always did for blotting out unpleasantness. To her horror, she saw Grace again, lips twisted up in a smirk, the flashing mockery in her eyes, which slowly morphed into glassy eyes of death. Claire tossed a little between the sheets.
After fifteen minutes, she finally settled into a comfortable position, sleep creeping over her. Heaviness in her body set in, and she felt herself sinking into the realms of sleep. Just as she drifted off and began dreaming, the lamp on the nightstand switched on. A rude light beamed down on her face. Her eyes fluttered open. Through the blinding light, she viewed the image of a man standing over her, staring down with a wild look in his eye. Claire let out a scream and scrambled to the other side of the bed.
“Adrian!” She threw the covers off and tumbled out of bed, wrenching her foot free from the sheets before she nearly hit the ground. Her breath came hard and loud in her throat, deafening in her ears. She grabbed the edge of the dresser for support. The surprise and fear had set of a wave of dizziness.
Escape From Purgatory Page 25
