“Liza—” He sounded exasperated. “I can’t take calls at work right now. You couldn’t have chosen a worse time to do this.”
To do what? Take time for herself? “I don’t expect you to take calls.”
“I don’t understand. You worry about these kids every second of the day. You check they’ve cleaned their teeth, and taken vitamins. And now you’re refusing to be there in an emergency?”
“What I’m doing,” she said slowly, “is teaching them to problem solve and also take responsibility. Something I should have done a long time ago. If they turn to me for everything, they’ll never learn. Hope your meeting goes well.”
She ended the call and gazed across the fields to the sea, her mind battling between her needs and their needs.
With no to-do list and no people to make demands, the day stretched ahead, empty of everything except possibilities. Free time was so alien to her that she had no idea how she wanted to spend it.
Walk? Maybe she’d sit on the patio on her mother’s comfortable swing chair and read one of the books she’d been saving for her summer trip. Just because she couldn’t sip cocktails on the roof terrace of a swanky hotel in Chicago, didn’t mean she couldn’t spoil herself in other ways.
She picked up her book, made herself a coffee in the sunny kitchen and took it into the garden. The place felt strangely empty without her mother. Liza was used to seeing her bent over by the flower beds, weeding and deadheading.
Popeye wandered in front of her and she reached down to stroke him, but he whisked away from her, rejecting her attempts at affection before walking in the direction of the kitchen and his food bowl.
Was there anyone who wasn’t interested in only what she could do for them?
She fed the cat, then opened her book but found it difficult to concentrate.
She felt restless and on edge. Her instinct was to clean cupboards and dust shelves. Polish the sea spray from a few windows.
No.
She tightened her grip on her book.
She never did this. At home her reading was restricted to a few snatched pages before she fell asleep. Sitting in the sun with a book felt decadent and indulgent. It made her feel guilty. She needed to retrain herself to relax.
She struggled through a few pages and then stood up and pulled at her shirt which was already sticking to her skin. It was so hot.
The clothes she’d brought with her were scratchy and uncomfortable. She felt ready to teach a class, not sit in the sun.
Maybe there was at least something cooler in her bag, or something of her mother’s she could borrow. She went upstairs and rummaged through her mother’s dresses and was immediately transported back to childhood. Whenever Kathleen had vanished on another of her trips, Liza had sought sanctuary inside the racks of her mother’s clothes, allowing the scent to fill all the little gaps created by her absence. And here she was, doing it again even though she was past the age where she should be missing her mother.
She had her face buried in a vintage silk shirt when she heard the sound of footsteps in the kitchen.
She froze. Had she locked the back door when she’d come upstairs? Yes! She remembered turning the key. But despite that someone was in the house.
What was she going to do?
Hide? Here in the clothes? Under the bed? No, that would be the first place an intruder would look and then she’d be trapped.
She could jump out her mother’s bedroom window which faced over the fields, but then she’d probably break a leg.
Fear trapped the breath in her lungs. Her heart tried to hammer its way to freedom.
Could it be the same man who had broken in a few weeks ago? No. He’d been drunk and seeking shelter.
She stood up slowly. Her legs were shaking so badly she wasn’t sure she was capable of running anywhere even if the opportunity arose.
She heard the sound of a kitchen cupboard opening and closing.
Whoever it was didn’t seem to be making any effort to disguise his presence. Perhaps they hadn’t yet realized the house wasn’t empty.
She eased her phone out of her pocket and called the emergency services, then tiptoed into the bathroom and locked the door.
“Hello?” she whispered, terrified that any moment now the door would be smashed down. “There’s an intruder in the house. Help me.”
11
MARTHA
ST. LOUIS~DEVIL’S ELBOW~SPRINGFIELD
“Are you sure you feel up to traveling today? You’re quiet.” Martha loaded their bags into the trunk of the car. She’d learned that they had to be loaded in the exact same order or they didn’t fit. For someone whose underwear drawer was usually a tangled mess, she was proud of her achievement. The neatly packed trunk seemed to represent something, although she wasn’t sure what. Order?
“I can confirm my wish to travel.” Kathleen clutched the small bag that she kept with her in the car at all times. “We’re on a road trip and after those delicious pancakes for breakfast I’m full of energy.”
“You mentioned that you didn’t sleep well. Probably all that talk of scoundrels.” Martha still couldn’t believe that something similar had happened to Kathleen when she was young. Kathleen’s experience had been worse, in some ways. Hearing about it had made Martha feel a little less bad about herself. If it could happen to someone like Kathleen, it could happen to anyone.
Not that she knew many of the details. All Kathleen had told her was that she’d been engaged to a man who had then had an affair with her friend. Having revealed that, she’d then cleverly deflected all follow-up questions and instead encouraged Martha to talk about herself.
She’d done so willingly. There was plenty Martha didn’t know, as her mother was always quick to point out, but she knew when someone didn’t want to talk about something.
Kathleen handed her the last of the bags. “It’s true that I didn’t sleep well, but that’s a common occurrence and nothing that should alarm you.”
Martha squashed the bag into the remaining space, closed the trunk and glanced at Kathleen. There were no outward signs that her companion was flagging. She was wearing her usual floaty, elegant layers and had taken the time to apply lipstick.
Martha felt a rush of admiration and an even bigger rush of affection. She’d known Kathleen for only a few days, but she hadn’t felt this comfortable with someone since she’d lost her grandmother. Kathleen was so easy to talk to. Warm, hilarious and delightfully frank. But she was also supportive and greeted all Martha’s tentative suggestions with so much enthusiasm that Martha found herself becoming less tentative. It made her realize she’d been living her life in defense mode, constantly on edge and ready to defend herself against her mother, her sister and Steven. Not beginning each day braced for combat was a good feeling. The knot in her stomach had eased.