Cemetery Girl

“All the more reason for me to stay.”

 

 

Susan looked behind her, then turned back to me. “Tom, you and I have trust issues to work through, don’t we? You’re feeling angry because I wasn’t up-front with you the first time we met, and I understand that. Maybe if I can talk to Caitlin alone, we can make up for that.”

 

She fixed me again with her wide-open eyes, and they worked on me. Despite what I considered her betrayal over Tracy, I believed this woman when she said she wanted to try to help. And beyond that, even if I didn’t completely believe her, I didn’t have anyone else to turn to.

 

“What am I supposed to do?” I asked.

 

“You can wait on the porch. It’s a nice day.”

 

I looked at Caitlin, who was pretending to ignore us. “She likes to run,” I said.

 

“I’ve been there before, Tom,” Susan said. “I’ll keep a close eye on her.”

 

I broke away from Susan and stopped by Caitlin’s chair. “Is this what you want?” I asked. “Me outside and you in here?”

 

She nodded.

 

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll be outside if you need me.” Susan walked with me to the door, and I whispered to her, “There’s more to this story, you know.”

 

“There usually is,” she said.

 

“And you’ll find it out?” I asked.

 

She placed her hand on my chest, gently but insistently, and moved me back. “I’m going to do whatever I can, Tom.”

 

 

 

 

 

It took fifteen minutes for Rosenbaum’s office to call my cell phone. When I answered on the porch, it was the man himself speaking, not his secretary.

 

“Tom, we were just wondering where Caitlin is. She’s missing her appointment with me.”

 

“I don’t think we’re going to make it in today. To be honest, I’ve decided to take her to someone else, another professional, someone who I thought might have a better rapport with her.”

 

“You can’t do that,” he said, his voice rising. “It is not advisable to take a patient from one specialist to another. Who did you bring her to? Does your wife know about this? I know we haven’t made much progress yet, but a case like this can take a long time to work through.”

 

“I have to go.”

 

“Who have you taken her to? What’s the doctor’s name?”

 

“It’s not a doctor.”

 

“Not a doctor? Tom, I’m going to have to tell Detective Ryan. This case is at a critical juncture. If she’s not getting consistent care—”

 

I hung up.

 

 

 

 

 

I paced on the porch after I hung up with Rosenbaum, listening to the birds and watching the comings and goings of the students in the neighborhood. Soon enough, Abby called, and I knew I needed to reassure her.

 

“It’s okay, Abby. She’s with me.”

 

She sighed on her end of the line. “Did you really take her to another doctor?”

 

“No, not that.”

 

“Who then?” A pause. “Oh, Tom.” She didn’t sound angry. Instead, her voice dripped with judgment and concern. “That woman from the porch?”

 

“She works with the police department. She’s a counselor—a support system—for victims of crime.”

 

“Is she a doctor?”

 

“No, she’s not, but she’s trying to help,” I said. “She listens. She’s trained to work with people who are having crises. She doesn’t have an agenda. She just listens and works with me.”

 

“Caitlin’s my daughter, too. You need to tell me what you’re doing with her, especially now.”

 

“I didn’t plan this. I just did it.”

 

Someone spoke to Abby in the background. She muffled the phone with her hand and said something that sounded like, “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Then she came back on the line. “I feel bad that you think this woman was the only person you could turn to in a crisis. You’re so alone, Tom. I worry about you.”

 

“I have to go, Abby. Caitlin’s going to be ready soon.”

 

“Will you talk to me about this later? I don’t think this should be the end of our conversation.”

 

“I have to go, Abby. Good-bye.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Forty

 

 

 

It took another thirty minutes for Susan to come out onto the porch. Her face impassive, she made a beckoning gesture toward me, summoning me back inside. I followed.

 

Caitlin sat in the same seat, but she clutched a ragged ball of Kleenex. She’d been crying, but when we made eye contact, she looked away, apparently ashamed.

 

“What is it?” I asked.

 

“Sit down, Tom.” Susan pointed at an empty chair.

 

So I sat. My hands were clenched in my lap. I didn’t know what to do with them. I reached out to Caitlin, but she pulled back. Her rebuke felt physical, like a sting. When Susan was settled, I said, “Well?”

 

Susan rested her hands on the tops of her knees. “Caitlin has been through a profound experience, one beyond her very young years.”

 

“I can imagine.” Then I shook my head. “I can only imagine.”

 

“I’m not sure you can. I’m not sure any of us can, Tom.”