Miller’s neck retracts on his shoulders, a scowl settling. ‘What?’
‘Did you know she was back?’ I shout, thinking how well he handled the situation. There was no shock. He fell straight into comfort mode, like he was prepared for it. ‘When I thought I was losing my mind and you talked me down, did you know?’
‘No.’ He’s adamant, but I don’t believe him. He’ll do anything to lessen my hurt. No one’s speaking. Ted’s shirked me, William has avoided me at all costs until now – now that I know for sure – and Miller virtually threw the phone off his desk to cut the call when Gracie’s name was mentioned. And then I’m thinking about the call from Sylvie, the one telling me about the woman looking for me. Her description. It matches Sophia perfectly, but it also matches my mother. Clarity is a wonderful thing.
Blood burns in my veins. ‘You told William to keep it from me, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, I fucking did!’ he yells, startling me. ‘And I’m not fucking sorry!’ Firm palms cup my face, almost aggressively, and squeeze tightly, his nose meeting mine, his eyes penetrating me deeply. ‘I. Didn’t. Know. What. To. Do.’
I can’t speak; his grip won’t allow my mouth to open. So I nod, feeling emotion take hold – all of the stress, worry, and fear ripping through my vulnerable being. He was trying to shield me from more hurt.
‘Don’t leave.’ He scans my face, his gaze drifting everywhere, and though it’s an order, I know he wants my acknowledgement. I nod again. ‘Good,’ he says simply, then smashes his lips onto mine and gives me a forceful kiss.
When he releases me, I step back and blink myself back to life, just catching his back disappearing out of the room.
The door closes loudly.
Then I cry like a baby, trying to suppress the sound so I don’t wake Nan. It’s silly; if she was to wake up, then she would have by now after that brief shouting match and the slamming of a few doors. My pathetic choked sobs won’t rouse her.
‘Everything OK, Miss Taylor?’
I look up, seeing Ted in the doorway of the lounge. ‘Fine.’ I rub at my eyes. ‘Tired, that’s all.’
‘Understandable,’ he says softly, making me smile a little.
‘You knew she was back, too, didn’t you?’
He nods, dropping his eyes. ‘Not my news to share, sweetheart.’
‘So you did know her.’
‘Everyone knew Gracie Taylor.’ He smiles, keeping his eyes on the floor, like he’s scared I might press for more should he give me eye contact. I’m not going to. I don’t want to know.
‘You’d better take up position.’ I indicate over my shoulder when he looks up at me, his rugged face a little surprised. ‘I’m sorry for going AWOL again.’
He chuckles. ‘You’re safe. That’s the main thing.’ He strides across the room and finds his position at the window, and I observe for a while, remembering his skilful driving.
It pushes me to press him. ‘Have you always worked for William?’
‘Twenty-five years.’
‘What did you do before?’
‘Military.’
‘You were a soldier?’
He doesn’t answer, just nods, telling me he’s done talking with me, so I leave Ted and drag my weary bones up the stairs to the bathroom, hoping a hot shower will soothe my aching mind and heart while it’s soothing my aching muscles. The different elements of pressure on each of us are becoming too much, both of us trying to shoulder everything. We’re going to give way under the strain soon.
After flipping the shower on, I stand before the sink, staring at my washed out face, seeing dark circles under my hollow eyes. Only a century’s sleep and waking to find every burden gone will remedy it. I sigh and open the mirrored cupboard, cursing when a load of cosmetics tumble from the shelves and clatter into the sink. ‘Shit,’ I grumble, scooping up pots and tubes one by one and placing them back. I’m nearly done, only the Tampax left to . . .
Tampax.
I stare at the box, my tongue thickening in my mouth. Tampax. I’m late. I’m never late. Not ever. I don’t like the feel of nervousness beating in my chest or the pulsing of blood in my ears. I try to calculate when my last period was. Three weeks ago? Four weeks ago? I hadn’t gotten it in New York. Shit.