The Lobotomist's Wife(58)

As she rounded the hedge with her shears and basket, she found a woman sitting on the stone bench. She was a buxom blonde, her fashionable shoulder-length hair perfectly curled, her cheeks rosy from a dusting of rouge. She wore a simple but fetching shirtwaist dress, festooned with roses that matched the pink of her lipstick. Could this woman possibly be a patient? If so, it was a bit odd for her to be lingering on the property. Perhaps she was the mother or wife of someone seeing Robert for a session? Yes, that made more sense. Ruth had been in the business of mental health so long she could tell a patient almost on sight, and this woman did not fit the bill.

Perhaps she should turn back, give the woman some privacy? But she did look quite low. Ruth might be able to offer her some comfort.

“Hello there. Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?” Ruth removed her wide-brimmed sun hat as she approached, so the woman could see her face.

“Oh my! I’m so sorry.” The woman jumped up and backed away from the bench as if she had been caught trying to steal it. “I was just collecting my thoughts and I—”

“Please, stay. It’s fine.” She reached out her hand. “I’m Ruth Apter, the doctor’s wife.”

“Margaret Baxter.” Margaret raised her hand but lowered her eyes, as if making eye contact with Ruth would be inappropriate.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Baxter.”

“Oh no, it’s Mrs.!” Margaret smiled. “I am a homemaker with three children, haven’t been a Miss in forever. And, please, call me Maggie, everyone does.”

“Three children! Sounds lovely . . . and quite tiring. Is one of your children seeing my husband now?”

Margaret looked at her furtively, like she had been caught at something.

“Don’t worry,” Ruth said comfortingly as she took a seat. “I can assure you I pass no judgment about his patients or their families. In fact, I am glad that you found a quiet place to wait. The lilacs smell wonderful, don’t they?”

Ruth saw a look of panic cross Margaret’s eyes and gently tapped the spot next to her on the stone bench. “Please, come. You’re more than welcome to sit back down. No point in standing around waiting.”

“I’m not actually . . .” Margaret hesitated. “I’m not actually waiting.”

“Oh. You’re a patient then?” Ruth said easily, sensing Margaret’s discomfort.

Margaret nodded her head, looking as ashamed as she felt.

“Well, Dr. Apter is a very fine doctor. The best. You are in excellent hands.”

“Thank you.” She smiled weakly and began fiddling with the strap of her purse before turning her gaze down the hill toward the water. “You have such an incredible home, Mrs. Apter. I’m sorry for trespassing. I had a lot to think about today and, well, I just kind of found myself sitting here. It’s such a beautiful spot, but I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed.” Margaret blushed.

“Don’t be! I understand completely. In fact, if you’d like, I can show you around the property. There’s a spectacular view of the ocean beyond the groves, and I find there’s nothing like it to get one’s thoughts in order. On a clear day like this, you’ll see all the way across the sound to Long Island.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Ruth sensed that this girl needed someone to talk to, and while she knew she shouldn’t get involved with one of Robert’s patients, she couldn’t see what difference a short walk would make. She used to walk with patients at the hospital all the time. It would be a welcome distraction from the anxiety that gnawed at her mind.

“I insist. Join me. It’s such a lovely afternoon and the sea breeze does wonders for clearing one’s head. I imagine it must be difficult to leave here and jump right back into life with three children.”

“Well, it certainly shouldn’t be.” Margaret’s whole face seemed to fall, and she looked down at her feet.

“And whyever not? I think the work you mothers do is astonishing. It’s impossible to give that much and never need a moment for yourself.”

“Do you really believe that?” Margaret lifted her eyes to look directly at Ruth. She yearned for some kind of acceptance, understanding. If Ruth knew her better, she would have given her a motherly hug, but that would be entirely inappropriate under these circumstances.

“I absolutely do. Come, let’s stroll.”

“Well, if it really isn’t an imposition. I have to admit I’ve been dying to see this place, Mrs. Apter.”

“Please, call me Ruth.”

Nearly an hour later, Ruth watched out the window as Margaret’s green Chrysler Saratoga slowly pulled away. What an odd and unexpected afternoon. She knew it wasn’t very professional to befriend a patient of Robert’s, but from what she had observed, Margaret couldn’t possibly be a patient for long. She had run-of-the-mill baby blues. Maybe a bit of insecurity. Nothing very serious. She wondered if this young woman had a mother to talk to or if, like Ruth, her mother didn’t understand her for who she was. She felt for this young woman, for the pain she seemed to feel about her life. A life that, from what Ruth could gather, was terribly typical. For the first time in a long time, Ruth had that old hopeful feeling. Margaret could be easily cured, and she could help. The ability to have such a clear and immediate impact on a patient, even a patient technically not hers, lightened her mood so much that she decided she would do what she could to be home on Tuesday afternoons, when Robert saw Maggie. She looked forward to walking with her again.