“Why do you squint your eyes like that?” she asked, which I thought was a strange thing for her to notice, considering she had the freakiest-looking eyes I’d ever seen on a person.
“Maybe Daphne needs glasses, Chantal,” Mrs. Bobbie said in a singsong voice like I was a kindergarten baby. “Your mama ever take you to an eye doctor, Daphne?”
I shook my head no. Just then, a hulking man in an embroidered button-up shirt passed by the room. He stopped, lifted a hand, and beamed at me.
“Greetings, princess.” Two dimples slashed his pudgy, whiskery cheeks. I smiled back. I couldn’t help it.
“Mr. Al, come say hey to Daphne,” Mrs. Bobbie said.
The man bounded up to me and shook my hand with one of those long complicated secret handshakes. I tried to keep up. “Daphne-Doodle-Do, how do you do?”
“Fine.” I giggled softly.
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Eleven.”
“Well, I’m thirty-two, so I guess I got you beat.” He winked at me.
“Bedtime,” Mrs. Bobbie announced, before Mr. Al could say anything more.
I was to share a room with Chantal, down the hall from the Super Tramps. It was a tiny room with a bunk bed and one dresser. Chantal told me I got the top drawers and the top bunk. I used the bathroom, changed into a ratty, pilled-up Strawberry Shortcake nightgown that Mrs. Bobbie had given me, and climbed the ladder. I hung my backpack over one of the posts, then felt a jolt underneath me.
I peeked down. Chantal was lying on her back, mermaid hair fanned out on her pillow, her hands folded over her chest, her feet jammed against the bottom of my bunk. She grinned up at me, and I could tell her front tooth was chipped.
“Earthquake,” she said.
I hadn’t meant to tell Glenys so much. In fact, when I was finished, my stomach was in knots. Storyteller’s remorse.
I looked down—over the sheer cliff that dropped out from under my feet—and backed a couple of steps away. It seemed I couldn’t stand that close to the edge without being bombarded by images of a small body tumbling over the cliff.
I forced my eyes down to my watch. “Oh, wow. Lunch in half an hour. I’m sorry, talking your ear off like that.”
“Nonsense.” Glenys folded her arms and lifted her face to the breeze. “I enjoyed it.” She cracked one eye. “Did you find it really horrible to tell me those things?”
I laughed. “A little, I guess.”
“Feel any lighter?”
“I do.” In fact, I was feeling kind of buzzed now, high from the atmosphere of secrecy and the thin mountain air.
“Would you like to walk back down?” I asked. “We can split up halfway, so nobody knows we were fraternizing.”
She smiled. “I think I’ll stay a little longer, if you don’t mind. I’d like to spend a little more time alone.”
“Of course.”
“I’m so glad to have met you, Daphne,” she said.
I smiled. “Me too.”
“And I’m always happy to listen, if you find the need to talk.”
I didn’t reply, but I had the feeling that didn’t bother her. She was a strange woman—who didn’t seem to mind stretches of silence or expect to be told anything but the unvarnished truth. I allowed myself a brief moment to consider what it would be like to tell her everything. To open the door I’d shut all those years ago and let the rest of the story pour out at last. I felt a stab of something in my throat and realized it was a sob. I backed a few steps farther away and started back down the path.
I wondered if she watched me go. If she noticed I was dashing tears off my face with the sleeve of my sweater as I clomped over the rocks and roots. I hoped not. I’d cried more in the past hour than in the past ten years, but I’d be damned if I let anyone see it.
My face was red and raw by the time I returned to our deserted room. I guzzled a bottle of water from the minifridge in the corner, then I twisted up my hair and splashed my face with cold water. At twelve thirty, I heard a sharp knock and opened the door to find Heath holding our elegantly appointed lunch tray, complete with a bud vase containing a single branch of red maple leaves.
“Oh, wow.” I grinned. “The waitstaff is really hot around here.”
I set our table near the fireplace. There was a tiny white worm crawling on the pale underside of one of the maple leaves. I eased it onto the edge of my spoon and gingerly dropped it in the crackling fire. I watched it writhe, then sizzle, and I turned away, feeling sick. Heath sat across from me, unfolded his napkin, and started in on the meat-and-black-bean stew. He looked utterly normal—so normal, it was hard to believe he’d just been in a session with the doctor.
“How’d it go?” I asked lightly.
“It was revelatory.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yes. I’m absolutely insane. One hundred percent. There’s no saving me.” My jaw unhinged and he broke into a grin. “Daphne, take a breath already. We just talked. It was no big deal.”
I jabbed my fork into the concoction of rice and beans and tender pork. Lifted it to my mouth and told myself to chew. It was only day one—Heath wouldn’t have made any major progress with Dr. Cerny. There was still time to learn something from Heath’s ex-girlfriend, Annalise. Maybe not enough to wrap up every last thing with a bow and convince Heath we should go home, but maybe a start.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Mm-hm.”
“You seem . . .” He studied me. “Nervous.”
“Really?” I shoveled a forkful. “I feel fine. It’s probably the house. I’m just not comfortable here yet. And I’m not comfortable with all this free time.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t go journal in the bird garden.” He snorted.
“I hiked to the top of the mountain.”
He put down his fork. “You did?”
I nodded.
“How was it?”
“Nice. Beautiful, actually.”
“And better than spying on our neighbors.”
I laughed, and we ate the rest of our lunch in silence, then Heath washed up and brushed his lips against my temple. “Gotta go.”
“But you already had your session,” I said. “It’s our free block. Remember, the free block you were so excited about?”
“Oh, God. Yes. I’m sorry. I’ve got to fill out some paperwork. Personality assessments. Aptitude and diagnostic tests and stuff like that. And the releases—I’ll pick yours up too, while I’m at it. You going to be okay up here by yourself?”
“Sure. Of course. I may head down to the library. Find a book to read.”
He caught my fingers. “Thank you. For doing this. I know what you’re sacrificing.”
I squeezed his hand. “Well. I’d rather be here for you than assembling shared workspace pods. That much I can promise you.”
He grinned. “That’s not really much of a compliment.”
“Always us.” I kissed him.
After he left, I slipped on my shoes and headed downstairs. I circumnavigated the foyer, listening for anyone, opening cabinets and pulling out the drawers of every big sideboard. No one happened along, and the furniture yielded nothing—not a set of keys, not even the smallest scrap of paper. There were no keys in the library either. Reggie must’ve stashed them in a more secure place: the doctor’s sunroom office or maybe even up in his suite. I’d have to wait for a more expedient time to find out, when his office was empty. For now I’d have to find something else to occupy my mind.
I drifted to the carved bookcase. Most of the dust-coated books looked like they hadn’t been read in ages. Which stood to reason. I was probably the only person who came to Baskens who actually had time to read. I perused the shelf. All the oldies but goodies. Dickens, Shakespeare, Hawthorne. Every last one of the Bront? sisters’ titles: Jane Eyre, Shirley, Villette, The Professor, Agnes Grey, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, and Wuthering Heights.