His frown was deep. The lines carved in his face seemed to have no bottom.
“I’m sorry.” I tried again. “Ellen needs a place to stay for a while. I thought you and Mamie . . .”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this . . . saying this . . . ,” Ellen whispered. “You think you can steal my life and then give me back and walk away?”
I faced her. “Then come with me. We’ll work this out when you’re ready.” I held out my hand.
She pressed her lips together so tightly, they almost disappeared. Her shoulders hunched up around her neck, and her arms crossed in a defensive posture. Her hands were tucked securely out of my reach.
I moved toward her, and she began shaking. I stopped.
“Hannah,” Liam said, apparently waking up to the possibility that his daughter lived. “Is this really Trisha?”
I kept my focus on Ellen. “Roger will be happy to put you up for a few days. You know he thinks of you like a daughter. But I recommend you go to Elk Ridge and take this time to get to know your father.”
I turned to Liam. “Yes, she’s Trisha.” I closed my eyes, unable to look at Liam’s face as the truth dawned on him. “I know you will, but as her mother, I have to say it anyway—treat her well or you’ll deal with me.”
I walked away, yet I watched surreptitiously from the corner of my eye. Liam moved a few steps toward Ellen. He spoke softly. Her arms relaxed, her shoulders dropped, and she stood taller. She nodded.
I left.
I didn’t remember the drive home to Rose Lane.
Suddenly, I was just there, sitting in the car in my garage. The keys were in my hand. My purse was in the passenger seat. I grabbed it and hugged it to me. My arms felt empty.
Had it been right to leave her there? Did I have a choice? No.
In the house, I sat in the dark kitchen. Food and drink had no appeal. I went to the living room hoping to find comfort in the pottery made by my grandmother and her mother and hers. They were still beautiful pieces, I acknowledged as I stared at them, but when I touched them, I found them cold—made of old clay and antique glazes—and empty, literally and emotionally.
Rest. I needed rest. I tried lying down on my bed but couldn’t settle, so I wandered. I no longer felt connected to any of this. To anything. I puttered around the house. My nerves kept me from being able to relax, and by midnight I accepted Ellen wasn’t coming home and no one was going to call. Had I really thought she might? Apparently, because my disappointment was sharp and real.
Fitful dreams, nightmares, in which I admired the posts that Liam was carving, rocked my attempt at sleep. As I touched the figured wood, the abstract shapes reassembled into butterflies. Liam laughed, and suddenly, Ellen was there beside him, laughing, too, as Liam said, “Surprise, Hannah! It’s all about the butterflies!” They haunted my sleep. Not surprisingly, I left my bed and didn’t return.
This house had been for Ellen and me, our home together, after we’d fled the fire.
Ellen was at the Bridger house tonight. Liam had his recently discovered, long-deceased daughter, Trisha, back with him. Maybe together they could find some healing. Mamie was there, and Ellen had met her, so that was good. I was pretty sure Liam and Ellen wouldn’t be eager to spread the story. But Mamie? Only time would tell.
Was that why I threw a few things in a box? Was it because I couldn’t stand being here alone? Or was it because if the sheriff was going to roll up in his cruiser to arrest me, I didn’t want it to be here where neighbors would come out and stand in the street to watch and be concerned and curious?
I loaded the box and a pillow and blanket into the back of my car.
Ellen had always liked a nightlight. Me? I’d never been afraid of the dark. Sometimes darkness felt like protection, especially for the secrets dwelling within me.
I parked in the cleared area. Dawn had preceded me by an hour, but the trees blocked much of it, and the light was dim. Still, a couple of workers had gotten an early start as some trucks were parked in the lot. Not Ellen’s car.
Looked like today was another drywall day. I stepped out of the car. Bright lights were hooked up inside. The noise of the stapling was loud, and the rhythmic punctuations filled the air. I took my box from the back and carried it around behind the house and to the cabin.
Once inside, I could collapse. The sleep I hadn’t gotten during the night slammed me. I put the blanket in the corner chair. The chair was large and well stuffed, and I curled up in it. I thought briefly of securing the door, but it was only a half thought that briefly brushed my consciousness but then lost its grip and flitted by.
“Hannah?” Roger said.
His tone was hushed. I’d slept through whatever construction noises penetrated the cabin walls, yet Roger’s whisper woke me. I sat up abruptly, touching my face and brushing my hair aside. I put my legs on the floor but was tangled in the blanket and couldn’t stand right away. My neck hurt. The position had been awkward. My brain was fuzzy.
“What happened?” he asked. “Is something wrong?” He knelt at my feet, helping to work the blanket free.
Was something wrong? It all rushed over me, and I put my head back, unable to stand.
Roger pulled a stool next to the chair. “Talk to me, Hannah. Tell me what happened.”
I coughed and cleared my throat. Roger handed me a bottle of water I didn’t remember having. I’d brought it from the house? Or no, it had been in my car. Now, somehow, it was in the cabin with me.
“I . . . I . . .” I shook my head. “I don’t know where to start.” I tried to sit up, to lean forward, and my head spun. “How do you know something happened?”
“Well, you’re sleeping in a chair in a cabin on a construction site when you have a nice house in Mineral.” He tried to grin, but it was brief and grim. “I saw your car, and no one had seen you, but Liam . . . He suggested something had happened but wouldn’t say more. I thought this was the place—if you were here and you must be—then this was where I’d find you.”
“Liam’s here?”
“He was, but he didn’t stay.”
“Was Ellen with him?”
“No.” His eyes narrowed. “Why would Ellen be with him? Did something happen with Liam? Should I fire him?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t know how to start telling you.”
“You can tell me anything.”
I wanted to laugh, but it didn’t come out that way. It sounded like I was choking instead. Roger handed me the water bottle again. I tried to focus on him, on his face. Had his anger with me passed? Was he still angry? I couldn’t think clearly enough to figure it out.
“How long have you been here?” he asked.
“Only since this morning.”
“Maybe we should go get a bite to eat. It’s noon.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I’m really worried now. You always have an appetite.”
I knew he was trying to normalize the moment, to inject some levity, but he didn’t understand how far we’d traveled since yesterday. This was a strange new world.