That seemed to reassure even Ellen.
The minestrone soup was as good as it smelled. Dinner talk shifted to other topics. Was it too early in the season for loons on the lake? Might they see a bear or a moose? What was the fishing like up here? Innocuous topics that had nothing to do with Hugh Parker or Maggie’s reasons for being here in the first place.
“I’ve decided to go back to Austin in the morning,” she said finally, as they cleared the table. “My urge to take a retreat has diminished. This place is beautiful, but I can’t stay here by myself now. It’ll never work.”
“Maggie…” Ellen sighed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. It feels good. Right.” She smiled, setting the bowls in the sink. There was no dishwasher. “In a way, being here has served its purpose. I have a new perspective on what happened eight years ago. I’ll have to think about that more. It’s still very fresh.”
“Think all you want,” Ellen said softly.
Maggie laughed. “I’m good at thinking.”
Ellen suggested she and Maggie share the bedroom with the two twin beds. Luke would stay in the master bedroom with the queen-size bed.
“I’m sorry,” Maggie whispered as she squirted dishwashing liquid into the sink. There was no dishwasher. Ellen carried the dishes from the table while Luke lit a fire in the fireplace. “If I weren’t here, you and Luke—”
“It would be the same sleeping arrangement if you weren’t here, Maggie.”
That she very much doubted, but she didn’t argue. “Ah. Of course.”
Chapter 7
Ellen watched ducks—she had no idea what kind of ducks—gathering in a small cove to the right of the dock. Maggie had awakened early and had breakfast ready to go when Ellen had crawled out of bed, yawning as she’d entered the kitchen. Maggie had always been the early riser. They’d brought breakfast outside. Toast, scrambled eggs, juice and coffee.
No sign of Luke yet.
“I was up for the sunrise,” Maggie said as she looked out at the lake, glistening in the morning sun. “It was incredible. I’ll come back here another time. I emailed my friends and told them I’m leaving. They understand.”
It was a bit cool outside, but it would be warming into a gorgeous day. Ellen felt a pang of regret for her sister’s change of plans. Whether or not Maggie had misinterpreted the intentions of the man she’d seen yesterday, the scare had made staying here alone impossible. Her retreat had lost its charm.
“I came here because of what happened to us eight years ago,” Maggie said. “I love the idea of a retreat, but I’d never had gotten around to figuring one out if not for wanting to deal with the past. I’ve never really put it behind me. It’s silly, I know.”
“It’s not silly, Maggie.”
“Why should I still be affected by something that happened when I was a teenager? I survived. I wasn’t injured. The man who kidnapped us can’t possibly come back to hurt us.” Maggie spoke as if she were reciting a mantra to herself. She smiled faintly. “What’s to be bothered about?”
“Have you talked to anyone about this?”
“You mean a therapist?” She shook her head. “Not since right after the incident. I don’t have post-traumatic stress disorder. I have some lingering effects that crop up every now and then. It can be hard when everyone assumes I’m over it. Maybe I should be.”
“It’s not a question of should.”
“While I was hiding yesterday, I realized that what I’ve been experiencing isn’t that bad in comparison to coping with a real-and-present danger.” A note of defiance had crept into Maggie’s voice. “Being here dredged it all up again. Can you feel it, Ellen? Has being here affected you?”
“Maybe. I don’t know for sure. I was so worried about you.”
“I’m sorry. I was an idiot.”
“You were not an idiot. Maggie, please. If I were here by myself and saw some strange guy, I’d have freaked out, too. Past trauma or no past trauma. I do remember what happened to us,” Ellen added. “I think about it sometimes. What did happen. What could have happened.”
“Do you think Dad and Mom do?”
“I know they do, but we don’t talk about it. They let me bring it up if I want to but they don’t bring it up themselves. Maggie, they’d talk about it with you if you think that would help. Maybe burying your feelings and telling yourself you shouldn’t have them exacerbates the situation.”
“You’re saying I’m trying to be like sensible Elinor Dashwood when I’m more like Marianne—”
“The ‘sensibility’ sister in Sense and Sensibility.” Ellen smiled. “I do remember. A balance between logic and emotion is great, but this is real life in our times, not a Jane Austen novel.”
“I don’t know,” Luke said, coming out onto the porch. “Can’t you see me dancing at a Regency ball?
Maggie burst out laughing. “Well, why not?”
Luke grinned. “I’d have to ditch the Texas accent, boots and hat.”