“Thank you.” Kate smiled.
“But given your credentials, you understand my predicament, being a psychiatrist yourself. Doctor–patient confidentiality continues after death.”
“But not for close relatives,” she countered politely. “And not if you think your patient would’ve approved of such a disclosure.”
He nodded. “And I have no reason to believe your mother would’ve objected to you finding out some things about her. However, there were a few… situations she would’ve wanted kept confidential, which I must respect.”
“Whatever you can tell me, I’d be grateful.”
Holley nodded slowly. “Julia came to us with several complaints upon admission. She was obviously suffering from depression and experiencing a sense of paranoia. She was having trouble sleeping. She’d been self-medicating at home—alcohol and marijuana. She was hearing voices and experiencing acute visual hallucinations. She was also convinced she’d contracted an STD, which turned out to be true.”
“She had an STD?” Kate repeated.
“Which we treated with antibiotics.”
Kate blinked. “Wait. So my father gave her an STD?”
“No. It wasn’t him,” Holley said gently. “Your parents weren’t sleeping together at the time, according to Julia. She didn’t want him to know about it. And due to the precarious nature of her depression, and also since your father wasn’t at risk of contracting the disease, I complied with her request to keep it secret. The laws were different then. We didn’t have to dot every i and cross every t.”
Kate bristled with outrage on behalf of her father. “And this was before she met Stigler?”
Holley nodded.
“So who was the jerk who was banging my mom?”
Holley smiled indulgently and shrugged. “Julia was a free spirit. Her partner was from out of state. I’ve forgotten the name, but I doubt it would be helpful to you.”
Kate was forced to rethink everything she knew about her parents. Mom slept around. Mom wasn’t faithful. Bram had been the injured party all along.
“Her life was becoming increasingly chaotic,” Dr. Holley continued. “She had poor impulse control and suicidal tendencies. She imagined ‘shadow’ people were following her around. She was convinced that some of her jewelry had been stolen. She believed her cat had been killed.”
“Phoebe. Our long-haired Persian,” Kate affirmed. “She was poisoned.”
“No.” Dr. Holley shook his head. “Julia believed that, but your father explained to us that the cat had been sick and most likely died of a virus.”
Another myth shattered. The “poisoned cat” was one of those childhood legends that was deeply ingrained in Kate’s psyche. She and Savannah used to wonder which of their neighbors had killed the cat. They both suspected Henry Blackwood.
“Her marital problems were more than sexual in nature,” he continued. “Julia complained about your father’s controlling and obsessive behavior. Bram didn’t like it when she socialized without him or visited old friends. She felt it was impossible to live up to his exacting standards. Anyway, she presented with symptoms of psychotic depression, and I prescribed medication, along with regular counseling. We adjusted her meds, and after six months of gradual but steady improvement, we released her. Looking back, perhaps it was premature, but Julia seemed ready to resume her normal life. I had no idea she’d fallen in love during her stay at the asylum. I found out about it later on.”
“So my mother never mentioned Stigler to you?”
“No. There were rumors, of course. But I make it a rule never to listen to idle gossip.”
“What else can you tell me about him?”
“Professor Stigler? He was a postdoc at the time. A bright, ambitious young fellow, looking for test subjects for a study about the offspring of at-risk families. Julia volunteered.”
“You didn’t worry that it might interfere with her therapy?”
“On the contrary. I saw it as a useful adjunct.”
“And you didn’t realize they’d fallen in love?”
“They kept it hidden from everyone.”
“But you said there were rumors?”
“You know how it is, Kate; nurses like to gossip. I always take it with a grain of salt. By the time I found out about the affair, your mother was dead, and Stigler had gone to work at the university. We bump into one another professionally, but he’s much more of a political animal than me.”
When Julia came home from the asylum, she had seemed to Kate like a changed woman. She couldn’t stop smiling. Her skin glowed. Her eyes sparkled. But after a few weeks, the cracks in her marriage began to show, and then one day, Julia left. A few weeks later, she was dead.
Dr. Holley smiled sadly. “During her brief stay at Godwin Valley, I got to see a small slice of a rich and complicated life. Consider me one of seven blind men describing an elephant, while holding its tail. I couldn’t tell you about the trunk, or the ears, or the tusks. Your mother’s life was far grander than my summation of her illness. You understand?”
“Of course.”
“I hope our talk was helpful.”
“Thanks for your time.” Kate got up to leave.
Dr. Holley walked her to the door. “I didn’t tell you everything, but I told you enough.”
She looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”
“Some things you’re going to have to find out on your own, I’m afraid.”
37
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, KATE pulled up in front of Nelly Ward’s mid-century modern house in Wilamette. No matter how upset she was because of this morning’s revelations, she had to set all that aside. She’d had a message from Yvonne to let her know that Maddie was acting out because Nelly once again hadn’t come to the hospital as she’d promised. She had an obligation to the girl to visit the Wards and convince Nelly to see her.
The neighborhood was quiet. Sunlight sparkled off the icicles. Nelly’s Toyota Camry was parked in the driveway. Kate craved a cigarette. She rummaged in her bag and settled for a Tic Tac.
She unbuckled her seatbelt and headed across the front yard. Kate noticed a set of tire tracks belonging to a large vehicle, a pickup truck or an offroader, arcing across the snow, as if someone had left in a hurry. The windows were a lacework of ice. The front door stood open. That was odd.
She glanced around the neighborhood. Snow was piling up on the curbs. It was a typical suburban day, with most kids at school and their parents at work. She climbed the porch steps and wiped her boots on the welcome mat. “Hello?” she called through the open doorway. “Anybody home?”
No response.
She rang the bell. “Nelly? It’s me, Kate Wolfe.”
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She was tempted to call 911, but what if she was overreacting? Maybe the Wards were in the habit of leaving their front door open? Or maybe they’d had an argument, and Derrick had stormed off, and Nelly was downstairs doing laundry? She’d be furious if Kate called the police. You have to stop making assumptions about my life!
Kate decided to go inside, just for a second, to check it out. She held her phone in her hand, just in case. “Hello? Anyone home?” She glanced around the front hallway, at the haphazard collection of umbrellas and winter boots, a few empty QVC boxes, and the muddy welcome mat. “Nelly? It’s Dr. Wolfe.”
Still no response.
She headed down the hallway and peered cautiously into the living room, scanning the TV dinner trays and discount flatscreen.
“Hello?”