The Lost Apothecary(75)
My knees went weak; they couldn’t arrest me now, surely. One of the officers raised his brow, and a look of boredom fell over his face, like his hot lead had just gone lukewarm.
“Are we done here,” James asked, “or do I need to sign a statement?” Frustration and fatigue were clear on his face.
The lead officer reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a small business card. He made a show of tapping the card against the table at the front of the room, then headed for the door. “If anything changes, Mr. Parcewell—or if you want to share something with us confidentially—call the number on that card.”
“Right,” James said, rolling his eyes.
Then, without so much as an apologetic glance in my direction, the officers left the room.
With the agony of the preceding hour now lifted, I lowered myself gratefully onto the edge of James’s bed. “Thanks,” I mumbled, “and good timing. If you’d waited much longer, I might have been calling from a jail cell.” I glanced at the monitors next to him, a blinking screen of scraggly lines and numbers I couldn’t decipher. But his heart rate looked steady, and no warning alarms flashed. I hesitated to admit it, but I set my pride aside and said it anyway. “I thought I might lose you. Like, really lose you.”
James’s mouth turned upward in a soft smile. “We’re not meant to be apart, Caroline.” He squeezed my hand, an expectant look on his face.
A long pause passed as both of us held our breaths, our eyes locked. It seemed the entirety of our future depended on my response—my agreement with his statement.
“I need some air,” I said at last, tearing my gaze away. “I’ll be back in a bit.” Then, gently dropping his hand from mine, I stepped away and out of the room.
After leaving James’s hospital room, I ventured down the hall to the empty waiting room and settled onto a sofa at the far corner of the room. A vase of fresh flowers sat on a table next to an oversize box of tissues. I’d be needing them; tears had begun to prick my eyes like needles.
I leaned back against a pillow and let out a small sob, pushing a tissue into my eyes to soak up not only the tears, but all the other things pouring out of me: relief at James’s wellness, coupled with the continued sense of betrayal about his infidelity; the unfairness of the officers’ questioning, and the knowledge that I didn’t tell them the full...truth.
The truth.
I wasn’t exactly blameless.
Was it really just last night that I’d dug my way into the depths of Back Alley? It felt like a lifetime ago. How did James manage to hide his infidelity for months? I’d kept my secret from James, Gaynor and two police officers for only a matter of hours, but it had proved almost physically impossible.
Why did we suffer to keep secrets? Merely to protect ourselves, or to protect others? The apothecary was long gone, dead for more than two hundred years. There was no reason for me to stand guard over her.
Like two guilty children in a playroom, there they stood, side by side: James’s secret, next to my own.
As tears continued to soak through the tissue, I realized my grief was richer and more nuanced than what lay on the surface. This was about more than the burden of the apothecary, more than James’s infidelity. Intermingled in the mess was another, subtler secret that James and I had hid from each other for years: we were happy, yet unfulfilled.
It was possible, I understood now, to be both at the same time. I was happy with the stability of working for my family, yet unfulfilled by my job and burdened by the things I hadn’t pursued. I was happy with our desire to someday have children, yet unfulfilled by my achievements apart from family life. How had I only just learned that happiness and fulfillment were entirely distinct things?
I felt a gentle squeeze on my shoulder. Startled, I lowered my soaked-through tissue and looked up. Gaynor. I’d almost forgotten that we’d left her alone in the small interrogation room. I composed myself enough to force a weak smile and take a few deep breaths.
She handed me a small brown paper bag. “You should eat something,” she whispered, taking a seat next to me. “At least a bite of the biscuit. They’re quite good.” I peeked inside the bag and found a neatly wrapped turkey sandwich, a small Caesar salad and a chocolate chip cookie the size of a dinner plate.
I nodded in appreciation, tears threatening once again. In a sea of strange faces, she had proved a true friend.
Not a crumb remained once I finished. I drank half a bottle of water and blew my nose with another tissue, steeling myself. This wasn’t how, or where, I imagined sharing everything with Gaynor, but it would have to do.
“I’m so sorry,” I began. “I didn’t want to drag you under with me. But when I was with the police and you called, I thought you might be the only person able to help me.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “Don’t apologize. I would have done the same thing.” She sucked in a breath, choosing her words carefully. “Where has your husband been the last few days? You haven’t mentioned him once.”
I looked down at the floor, concern about James’s health now replaced with shame over everything that I’d hid from Gaynor. “James and I have been married ten years. This trip to London was meant to be our anniversary trip, but last week, I learned he’d been unfaithful. So, I came alone.” I closed my eyes, raw with emotional fatigue. “I’ve been running from the reality of it, but James showed up yesterday unannounced.” At Gaynor’s look of surprise, I nodded. “And as you know, today, he unexpectedly fell ill.”