by Rick Hautala
“Afraid I might do something stupid?”
“No,” Rebecca said mildly. “He said he was afraid you were going to follow through on your threat to divorce him.”
“Me divorce him?” Elizabeth shouted. She exploded with laughter as she brought her fist down hard onto the table, making the plate of food and silverware jump. “I’m not the one who wants a divorce!”
“That’s not what he told your father,” Rebecca replied. Turning her back to the stove and the food sizzling there, she came over to the table and placed her hands lovingly on Elizabeth’s shoulders. “So tell me, honey,” she said, staring intently into her daughter’s eyes. “What exactly happened between you and Doug?”
Elizabeth felt her gaze harden as she looked up at her mother. If this was how it was going to be, having to defend herself at every turn for what had happened and for what she had — and hadn’t — done, then coming back home hadn’t been such a great idea. Maybe she should have just taken off for someplace else. Biting her lower lip, she found it impossible to maintain eye contact with her mother, so she let her gaze drift back out the window.
“What happened between me and Doug ... ?” she echoed hollowly as she shook her head. “You know damned right well what happened between me and Doug! We’re separated, and he’s the one who’s filed for a divorce because — because of everything that’s happened.”
Rebecca smiled warmly and tilted her head to one side. “Yes,” she said, her voice almost a whisper as her eyes glazed over. “I know what happened, if that’s what you’re talking about. I know, and maybe I can even begin to accept the bare fact that Caroline is dead; but you’ve never told me how you feel, Elizabeth ... how you feel inside.” She patted her daughter lightly on the chest.
With a shuddering breath, Elizabeth shifted away from her mother, who took a few steps back. Sitting forward with her elbows on the table, Elizabeth pressed her hands over her face and shook her head. “How I feel about my daughter ... about Caroline dying? How I feel inside?” she said, between pain-wracked sobs. Uncovering her face, she looked up at the tormented expression on her mother’s face. “I have no idea how I feel inside! I suppose that’s why I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist. Don’t you think so?”
She saw and appreciated her mother’s surprise at this revelation. Reaching into her bathrobe pocket, she pulled out a small, brown prescription bottle and placed it squarely on the table in front of herself before she continued. “And I suppose that’s why I’m taking these. Because after everything that’s happened, after everything I’ve been through, I’m so ... so buried under it all that I don’t know how I feel. I’m not even sure I can feel anymore!”
... Or even want to feel, she added mentally.
With that, the stinging in her eyes intensified, and before she could try to stop them, hot tears were flooding down her cheeks. In an instant, she felt reduced in size until she truly felt as small as the freckle-faced, ten-year-old girl her mother probably saw her as. Thin, weak, and shaking, she again covered her face with her hands, and her shoulders shook as her tears poured out.
Rebecca moved quickly to her side and hugged her tightly. For just a second, Elizabeth resisted; then, looking up, she buried her face into her mother’s neck and let the pain out in one long, tortured wail. Within seconds, the collar of Rebecca’s dress was saturated with tears.
“There, there,” Rebecca said as she gently stroked her daughter’s hair, pausing with each stroke to cup the back of her head. “You just let it out. Let it all out. Tears water the soul, you know.”
A storm of emotions raged within Elizabeth, and she wished desperately that she could tell all of it to her mother; but she searched her mind and feelings, and found that she didn’t have a clue where to start. It was all so tangled and complicated.
“You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to,” Rebecca said soothingly as Elizabeth continued to cry into her shoulder. “You’re home now, and you know your father and I want you to stay here as long as you want to, until you’re back on your feet.” For several seconds, they stayed that way, mother and daughter embracing, each feeling comforted just knowing the other was there.
And maybe this is all I need, Elizabeth thought, through the turmoil of her emotions. Or, at least, maybe this is enough.
Suddenly, Rebecca stiffened and pulled back. Looking over her shoulder toward the stove, she hissed with frustration. Gently backing away from Elizabeth, she quick stepped over to the stove, where curls of thin blue smoke were rising from the frying pan.
“Oww — now I’ve gone and burned the bacon,” Rebecca said as she snatched the frying pan from the stove and then, grabbing a fork, hastily flipped the charred strips of meat onto the counter. Elizabeth took a napkin from the holder on the table and started wiping her watering eyes; then she roughly blew her nose. The sudden interruption of their embrace left her feeling embarrassed and disoriented. While her mother took care of the kitchen emergency, she just sat there.
“Oh, this bacon’s ruined,” her mother said with a huff as she held up a shriveled, black piece for Elizabeth’s inspection. ‘‘I’ll have to start over.”
Elizabeth shook her head, and, in a voice that sounded frail and watery, said, “That’s okay. Dad can have mine. I wasn’t really hungry, anyway. Toast will be fine.”
Elizabeth got up shakily and went to the refrigerator to pour herself a glass of juice. She sat back down at the table, silently lost in her own thoughts while her mother went to the door and yelled to her husband that it was time to eat. Before long the silence of the house was broken by the sound of heavy feet tromping on the back steps. With a hefty sigh and a solid slamming of the door, KendalI Payne, Elizabeth’s father, walked into the kitchen and slung his jacket onto the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He carried with him the strong odor of the barn.
“Mornin’, Ma ... ‘n’ Liz,” he said, gruffly nodding at Elizabeth as he hurriedly washed his hands at the kitchen sink. He reached for the half-full coffee pot on the counter and poured himself a cup. Without adding either cream or sugar, he took a slurping sip before going over to the table and sitting down. He took one bite of his breakfast, then wrinkled his nose and said, “These eggs’re cold. Should’a called me in sooner.”
As she nibbled on her toast, Elizabeth twisted away from her father, hoping he wouldn’t notice her pale, tear-streaked face; but she knew from having grown up with him that, although he said little at times, he never missed much.
“So, Elizabeth,” Kendall said, turning to her after taking another bite of eggs followed by a sip of coffee. “What’s your plans?”
Leave it to her dad to be so damned blunt and to the point, she thought. After giving her nose another blow into the napkin, she looked at him, not caring how red-rimmed her eyes might be.
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice hitching slightly. She noticed that her mother was slyly watching their interaction over her shoulder as she busied herself washing the frying pan at the sink. “I told you both last night that I just needed to get away. I was hoping I could .stay here awhile ... until I can start pulling things together. “
“I already told you, you can stay with us for as long as you want,” her mother .said quickly, before Kendall could reply in his slow, measured way. Elizabeth looked at her dad and felt thankful when she didn’t see a contradiction in his eyes.
“It’s just that, you know, after Caroline ... and all, and Doug going for a divorce and all, I just felt like my life was ... was — out of control.” She ended with a helpless shrug, painfully conscious that she hadn’t been able to say the word died.
Caroline had DIED!
Her lower lip began to tremble and — damn it all! — she could feel the tears burning in her eyes again. Looking down, her gaze landed and stuck on the bottle of prescription tranquilizers on the table in front of her. She hadn’t taken one yet this morning, and although she felt as though she should, she just couldn’t do it now — not wit
h her parents watching.
“You could’ve called ‘fore you come,” her father said. “Seems kind o’strange, you appearin’ on the doorsteps ‘round midnight, tellin’ us you left your husband ‘n’ askin’ if you can stay here awhile.”
“You know what they say about home, Ken; it’s where they have to take you in, no matter what,” Rebecca said mildly.
A tightness took Elizabeth by the throat, but she forced herself to speak. “Last night ... Doug and I had one hell of an argument. It wasn’t the first, but it was the worst. So I just packed and took off, spur of the moment. It wasn’t exactly something I planned or anything.”
“So you don’t know what you’re going t’do?” her father asked.
“I think what Elizabeth should do,” her mother said, addressing her husband before Elizabeth could speak, “is take as much time as she wants or needs to decide. Her bedroom’s been empty all these years. We can give it a fresh coat of paint, get some new furniture, and she can live here as long as she wants.”
“No, Ma,” Elizabeth said, glancing back and forth between her parents. “I don’t want to be a burden on either of you.” Her voice was still raspy from her recent crying jag, but she forced it to stay steady.
“You know you won’t be a burden!” Rebecca said sharply. “Will she, Kendall.”
Kendall rubbed the side of his face with the flat of his hand. His stubble of beard made a harsh sandpapery sound. “You ain’t forgot how to milk a cow, have yah?”
“I don’t think so,” Elizabeth said, chuckling faintly.
“Well then, ‘slong’s I get a bit of help out to the barn now ‘n’ then, I don’t spoze you’ll be overburdenin’ us.”
A trace of a smile flickered across Elizabeth’s face. She looked slyly at her father, trying to gauge his true reaction and wishing he would come right out and say something like, You know we love you. But he just sat in his chair, stone-faced, as he ate his breakfast while gazing out at the pasture. His eyes looked lost, unfocused, and if she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he hadn’t even been paying close attention to their conversation.
‘‘I’ll probably just stay here awhile, though,” she said softly. “Just until things get straightened out between me and Doug. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll end up getting a job in town so I can pay my own way —”
“T’ ain’t necessary,” her father said, his eyes still fastened on the view outside the kitchen window.
“Maybe not,” Elizabeth replied, “but I’ve got to do something with my time. You and Ma don’t want me moping around the house all day, now, do you?”
“I’ll tell you one thing, though,” her father said. For just an instant, his eyes flickered over to his daughter, but then his lower jaw tightened. “I’ve got a good mind to give Doug a call and tell him a thing or two ... ‘specially after what he said —”
“Kendall,” Rebecca said, her voice rising threateningly.
“What did he say?” Elizabeth asked, feeling a sudden, dark lurch in her stomach.
“Maybe I shouldn’t go repeatin’ things,” her father said gruffly, “but I’ll tell you som’thing.” His voice lowered with menace. “I never much cared for that man.”
“Ken-dall!” Rebecca snapped.
He flashed her an angry stare but went on undeterred. “No — I promised your ma years ago I’d never come right out ‘n’ say it, but, considerin’ what’s happened lately, I don’t see no harm. I always thought you could’ve done much better than Doug Myers, and I always thought it was wrong for you to drop outta school just so’s you could get married. Truth to tell, I always thought it was a mistake when you ‘n’ Frank Melrose broke up right after high school graduation —”
“Ken-dall!” Rebecca said, her voice rising with intensity.
Looking squarely at Elizabeth, he went on. “I told you then I thought it was a mistake. Still do.”
Elizabeth’s face flushed when she heard voiced something she herself, even years after she’d married Doug, had thought often enough to tickle her with guilt. It was almost funny how her father, who seemed at times so detached from what other people thought and felt, could usually get to the point so quickly once he started to speak his mind. When it came to nailing down what was important, leave it to good ole’ dad to do it the quickest and the best.
“No matter what you or anyone else thought at the time,” Elizabeth said weakly, “Frank and I had our differences that we just couldn’t straighten out. And I loved Doug when’ first met him.”
“I always thought you were foolish not to finish college. ‘N’ then to marry a high school history teacher! I worked hard so’s I could send both you and your sister to school, you know.”
“I know you did, dad,” Elizabeth said. “And I appreciate everything you and Mom did for me. But I really did love Doug, and I always intended to go back to school. , just never got a chance to, and then Caroline was born. And things weren’t so bad for us. Sure, we struggled, but you can’t tell me you and Mom haven’t struggled to get by. It’s just that Doug —” Her voice broke off for an instant, and she had the flashing fear that she was going to start crying allover again. “He seemed to-to change ... especially after Caroline died.”
There! she thought, feeling a small wave of triumph. I finally said it!
“‘N’ to think that after everything you’ve been through,” Kendall went on, “to think that he blames you for what happened!”
In spite of herself, Elizabeth stiffened. She clenched her hands into fists in her lap, just to keep them from trembling. Her throat closed off before she could say anything.
“He said jus’ this mornin’ that, far’s he’s concerned, you killed Caroline!”
Her father’s words hit her like the full-bore blast of a shotgun. Elizabeth heard her mother’s sharp intake of breath, but all she could do was look at her father through a pained haze. She was unable even to breathe.
Placing his fisted hands on the table in front of him, Kendall took a deep breath and made as if to stand up. Even through the astonishment she felt, it cut Elizabeth to the quick to see the flush of anger on her father’s face.
“He said that ... that I —” she stammered, but that was all she could get out. Stunned, she sat there, watching her own anger and pain reflected in her father’s face.
Finally, she reached the limit of what she could stand. Pushing herself away from the table, she got up and started toward the living room doorway. A whirlpool of panicked confusion threatened to suck her down. She had been hoping that the waves of grief and guilt she still felt whenever she recalled what had happened to Caroline that night a year and a half ago would stop once she was safely home; but now darkness, cold and numbing, swelled even stronger inside her mind. She reached for the wall to support herself, fearing she was about to black out.
“Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” she heard her mother say, sounding as though she were speaking from a great distance.
“Yeah, I — I’m just exhausted from last night and all,” Elizabeth replied, even though the backs of her legs felt like rubber and there was a loud whooshing in her ears.
“Maybe you should go back to bed,” her mother said. “I can call you down for lunch.”
“That might not be a bad idea,” Elizabeth said, her voice no more than a whisper. She turned and walked quickly through the living room, up the stairs, and down the hall into her old bedroom. With a shuddering sigh, she collapsed face-first onto the bed, feeling the clean pillow press against her face like a cool, rushing tide. She lay there, trembling as though wracked with fever, for what could have been ten minutes or ten hours. Never really drifting off to sleep, her mind filled with distorted echoes and memories of things she had been through and fears of things that she might yet have to face, and she was filled with the hollow fear that absolutely nothing had changed-except possibly for the worse.
And all the while she lay there, her eyes closed and stinging with tears, a hissing voi
ce whispered in her mind ...
He thinks you killed her! ... Doug thinks you killed Caroline!
4.
Around four o’clock, after spending most of the afternoon cleaning up and rearranging the furniture in her bedroom, and with her mother outside seeing how Kendall was doing overhauling the tractor, Elizabeth took the opportunity to call Dr. Gavreau, her psychiatrist in Laconia, New Hampshire. After briefly explaining to him that she had left Doug and was back home. she asked him what she should do about her ongoing therapy with him.
“Well. we can continue to work together if you don’t mind the commute,” Dr. Gavreau said. “I’d be, what — an hour and a half each way?”
Elizabeth grunted agreement.
“Either that,” Gavreau continued, “or else you can start working with someone local.”
Although she was intimidated by the idea of cutting off her work with Gavreau and starting fresh, Elizabeth was positive she didn’t want to go back to Laconia, where she and Doug had lived ... not for anything.
“Do you know anyone around here you could recommend?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Dr. Gavreau replied. “Just a few days ago at a conference in Denver I bumped into a colleague of mine, a Dr. Roland Graydon. He lives in ... South Portland, I believe he said. Have you ever heard of him?”
“Uh, no. The name doesn’t ring a bell,” Elizabeth replied, wondering how he could expect her to know anyone in an area she hadn’t lived in for almost twenty years.
“Years ago he and I went to medical school at Duke together,” Dr. Gavreau said. “When he told me he was living in the Portland area, I think I even might have mentioned your name. I knew you were originally from around there ... Bristol Mills is near South Portland, isn’t it?”
“It’s the next town over,” Elizabeth said.
“Well then, I don’t think it would hurt for you to give him a call and set up an appointment to meet him. I’d chance to say you might be able to work quite well with him. His name must be in the phone book.”
