Caroline smiled. She didn’t know if they were referring to the pressures every mother had or the particular troubles she suffered in addition to these. But how could they know?
“And the holidays can be so stressful,” Ruth said. There was something in the woman’s gaze beyond concern. Something Caroline had recognized so often in the faces she’d found across from hers, something she dreaded more than anything else: pity.
Caroline’s mind rattled.
Could Ben have said something? Maybe at one of those town-council meetings. The kind of joke a man tells about his wife to get a laugh and a little sympathy. She tried to imagine Ben talking to these people about her.
Paranoia—something I must always be vigilant for.
“Are you all right, dear?” Mary asked.
Caroline realized she was massaging her temples. An ache had set in behind her eyes. She must look every bit the crazy woman they now knew her to be.
“Fine,” she said. “Thank you so much for your offer. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. And if you two need a break from your kids, I’d be happy to help you out, too. Sometimes an afternoon to ourselves is all we need to recharge our batteries, you know?” she said.
“Exactly, exactly,” Mary said.
Caroline sat around the island with them, chatting and smiling and sipping. Saying all the things she was supposed to say in just the way they were meant to be said. But she was thinking of Ben. She thought of him splattered with blood, sweating with the other men on those frozen fields. She tried to imagine him betraying her, telling them all her problems. Yeah, she seemed a good purchase at the time. I just wish I’d sprung for the ten-year warranty. Ben could always get a chuckle from a crowd when he wanted one.
When Caroline asked herself if it was possible Ben could betray her, she found that the answer was yes.
By the time the ladies finally finished their coffee, Caroline’s headache hummed like a drill. Luckily, Mrs. White had a treatment for this, too. It required an entire garden’s worth of herbs for the crazy woman between the mountains to maintain a grip on herself.
“So good seeing you, Caroline,” Ruth said on her way out. “You keep up your strength, now.”
As soon as she shut the door, Caroline fumbled through the drawer where she kept the salves. Shopping for fabrics in Gracefield was the last thing she wanted to do, but she was determined to be strong. She had to be strong, for Bub, for Charlie. Even for Ben. She’d be strong for Ben, even if just to spite him.
Finally she found the jar she’d been looking for. As she watched the women’s cars descend the gravel path, she dabbed a pat of ointment on each temple.
When the ladies were out of sight, she dumped the pie they’d brought into the trash.
29
When Ben returned from dropping Charlie at school, Caroline’s car was gone and Jake’s pickup was parked by the shed.
He spent the hours before his meeting with Lisbeth calling for Hudson and searching the south woods. He didn’t have any luck, and he was beginning to admit to himself that he hadn’t expected any. When he told Jake about Hudson running off, the kid had managed to smile, but Ben could tell it was forced. A beagle was not going to survive a December night in the forest, the look on Jake’s face told him. Now that Ben thought about it, Charlie’s face had held much the same expression.
To think of Hudson alone or dead in the cold made Ben’s insides hurt. But he had no idea what else he could do.
Hudson would have fought to be included on this trip to Lisbeth Goode’s home, but Ben pulled up to her house alone. She lived in an old Victorian not far from the village’s overgrown square. It might have been a handsome house once, but time had caught up to it. The paint was well maintained, but the roof was patched with mismatched shingles. The wooden steps to the house felt soft under his feet.
Lisbeth answered the door almost immediately.
“Hello, sugar; you come on in,” she said. Her voice was welcoming, but Ben did not miss the strained smile on her face.
“I’m sorry, bad time?” he asked. A part of him would have been grateful to reschedule.
“It’s been a day for the devil, but I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “Now, let me take your coat. Oh, you need a much thicker coat. Tea?”
“That would be great, thank you.” Her home had a nice-size foyer and living room, but they were so cluttered with furniture and their walls were so heavily laden with photographs that the space felt constricted.
Lisbeth walked down the hall toward what Ben assumed was the kitchen.
“Was over at the Kirkwoods’—you know them?” she called over her shoulder.
“No,” Ben said. He chose one of the armchairs in the living room and sank into it. Its fabric was worn, but it was comfortable. A battered butter churn was on display in the corner of the room, and ancient oil lamps were arranged carefully in the breakfront.
Lisbeth’s voice came from the kitchen. “Bank finally had it with them. Looked like they were going to get another month, but someone somewhere figured another month wouldn’t matter any. Not to anyone but the Kirkwoods, that is.”
She bustled into the room with a silver tea service. The tray and its vessels looked freshly polished. Biscuits, milk, sugar, and lemon slices were arranged carefully around the teapot.
“I wish you hadn’t gone to such trouble,” Ben said.
“Any excuse to use the thing,” Lisbeth said. “Makes me think of my grandmother. Now, what was I saying? Oh, the Kirkwoods. Shame, too, because Lord knows the bank will never sell that land to anyone else. Makes more sense to let the Kirkwoods have it and pay what they can when they can, rather than leave the place empty. But, then, I didn’t ever really have a head for business.”