“Of course not. You went with ‘Cora’ at the hospital, Bob. You stay with ‘Cora’. Ah, Alice is talking with the doctor. With Dr. Minnow. I think they should be almost done. You come right in.”
He took off his hat as he stepped in. “How’s Alice doing, ma’am, since you brought her home?”
“I really think better. I do. Ma, look who’s here.”
“Why, Bobby Tate.” Setting aside some knitting, Miss Fancy patted the cushion on the couch beside her. “You come sit down and give me all the local news and gossip.”
“I wish I could, Miss Fancy.”
“Well, I’m going to get you a cup of coffee.”
“Please, don’t trouble, Miss Fancy.”
“The day I can’t get a cup of coffee for a good-looking man when he comes calling is the day I meet my Maker.”
The shirt she wore said:
WOMEN BELONG IN THE HOUSE
AND THE SENATE
Miss Fancy believed both statements with equal fervor.
“You’re going to have to wait a few minutes anyway,” she added. “Alice is talking to the head doctor upstairs. You sit down, and I’ll get that coffee.”
“We’re looking for things to do,” Cora said when her mother left the room. “Trying to keep busy. I guess you’d have told me right off if you had anything to tell me.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bodine—Cora. We’re doing everything we can.”
“I don’t doubt it. Oh, Dr. Minnow. You’re finished?”
“We had a good talk. Sheriff.”
“Dr. Minnow. Is she up for more talking?”
“Give her a few minutes. She’s doing very well, Mrs. Bodine. I think your instincts, Maureen’s instincts, about bringing her here were right. It’s just the start, but she’s calm.”
“Can you tell me if she remembers anything about her abductor, her captivity?”
“She avoids it, and that’s natural, Sheriff. She’s struggling with what he indoctrinated in her, and this reality. This reality she remembers in some part of her mind, and this reality is where she feels safer, even happier. She did talk about the house, and when I asked her if it was bigger than her bedroom—the one upstairs—she said it was about the same, but now she has windows and pretty walls.”
Celia turned another smile to Cora. “Painting it the way it had been makes her feel comfortable, gives her a sense of ownership, though she doesn’t recognize it as such.”
And now Celia turned toward Tate. “Her captor didn’t live in the house with her. I’d say it was more the size of a shed than a house. She wasn’t ready to talk about what she could see when she went outside. She mentioned a dog, a mean one, but she closed off on any other details.”
“An outbuilding and a dog’s more than I had.”
“Here you go, Bob. Oh, Dr. Minnow.” Miss Fancy carried the coffee to Tate. “Can I get you some coffee?”
“Thanks, but I have to get back. I’ll be here the same time tomorrow. For now, don’t push her about Rory. We’ll give her some time there.”
“I’ll get your coat, walk you out.”
Tate stood with his hat in one hand, the coffee in the other. “Miss Fancy, I’m going to go up and see her, if that’s all right.”
“The nurse up there is…” Miss Fancy rubbed her temple. “Hell, her name’s slipped my mind.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll see you before I go.”
He assumed they’d used her old room, and knew where to find it. For a few months long ago he’d pined outside her bedroom window. And sometimes she’d climb out of it to meet him.
Now, with the years between sitting heavy on her, she sat by the window, working yarn with a hook.
The woman in the second chair read a book, but rose when he came in. “You have company, Alice.”
Alice looked up and smiled shyly. “I know you. You came to the hospital. You were very nice and came to visit me. You…” Her eyes twitched. “You can walk on your hands.”
“I could once.” His heart knocked a little as he remembered making her laugh when he’d walked over the grass on his hands. They’d been sixteen, he thought, and he’d been wildly in love with her.
“Not so sure I could do it now.”
“I’ll leave you to talk. I’m in the next room,” the nurse told Tate quietly.
“You’re drinking coffee. I’m not supposed to drink coffee, but Bodine does. She’s the sister’s daughter. She’s nice, too.”
“I know Bodine. She’s a fine young woman. Can I sit with you?”
“The man doesn’t have to ask. The man does.”
“A polite man asks. Could I sit with you, Alice?”
She actually flushed a little. “You can sit. I’m making a scarf. It’s for Rory. It’s for my son. He has green eyes. He’s so handsome. He grew so tall.”
“How long’s it been since you’ve seen him?”
“We had breakfast. Clementine made biscuits. I … I like her biscuits.”
“I mean before breakfast. How long since you’d seen him?”
“Oh, he was just a year old. Just one year. Such a sweet baby. I could keep him and nurse him and bathe him, and teach him to clap his hands. I taught him to walk and say ‘Mama’. Because he’s the son.”
“You had daughters.”
“Baby girls. Cora and Fancy and Lily and Maureen and Sarah.”
“Did you teach them to clap their hands?”
“I couldn’t. Sir had to take them. He has no use for girls and they can fetch a good price. Maybe you can find them.”
“I can try.”
“But not Benjamin. God took him to heaven before he came out of me. And not Rory. I found Rory right here. I’m happy I came here.”
“Did you have your children in your house? I mean to say were they born in your house?”
“Only Lily and Maureen and Sarah and Benjamin. Sir provided the house because I gave him a son, as a woman is meant to do.”
“Where did you have Cora and Fancy and Rory?”
“In the room downstairs.” Her lips pressed together. “I didn’t like the room downstairs. I didn’t like it. I liked the house better.”
“It’s all right.” He touched her trembling hand. “You won’t ever go back to that room.”
“I can stay here with Rory. With the mother and the sister and Grammy … Grammy. Grandpa has M&M’s. He smells like cherries, and he has a beard.”
“That’s right.” It occurred to Tate she wouldn’t know her grandfather had died, so he trod carefully. “Does Sir have a beard?”
“All over, all over.” She rubbed a hand over her cheeks and chin.
“Does he smell like cherries?”
“No, no. Like the soap that stings at first. And sometimes not. Sometimes like whisky. Sometimes like whisky and sweat. I don’t like it. I like making the scarf, I like making the scarf, I like making it, and the window and the biscuits. I like the pink walls.”
“They sure are happy walls. What color were the walls in your house?”
“Gray with white spots and lines. I like these better. I’m ungrateful, I’m ungrateful for what Sir provided.”
“No, you’re not. You’re grateful to be home with your family. Can you tell me something, Alice?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you tell me where you were when you met Sir, the very first time?”