All the Dark Places(39)

Jay wouldn’t have told anyone. Was it someone from back home? But I haven’t been there in twenty-eight years. Surely no one is thinking about it anymore or would be interested enough in it to harass me. But this is what I’ve always feared. Someone will find out. Someone will make it public again, dig out the story like some long-slumbering beast. Make me the focus of hideous attention again. And then my Graybridge life will crumble in the dust. I will be outed and be that girl again. My friends will always see me through that lens.

I need Jay. I can’t survive this alone. I start to dial Corrine but kill the call before it connects. The sun has just barely risen, and the morning is gray and damp. I get up, grab Sadie’s leash, slip into my coat, and head out the front door. It’s early enough that people driving to work have their headlights on, and the traffic is still fairly light. Sadie and I walk in a new direction, new for her anyway. We turn before we get to the gas station and head along a wide road. It’s busier than mine, with bigger, grander, older homes.

Sadie trots along with me. Sensing my purpose, she doesn’t pull to stop and sniff. Elise’s house rises up from the misty morning. It’s a huge place and has been designated a historical site. Some Graybridge bigwig built it nearly two centuries ago.

Her car is still in the driveway, as I’d hoped. Elise answers the door, a napkin clenched in her hand.

“Molly! What brings you by so early? Is everything okay?”

“Can I come in a minute?”

“Of course, Scott and I were just finishing breakfast. Can I get you some coffee?” she asks as Sadie and I trail her down the hardwood hallway.

I shiver. No coffee, Elise, don’t you get that? But I guess not. People aren’t going to automatically know my triggers, as Jay used to tell me.

“No, thank you.”

The kitchen is small for such a big place. There’s a little round table covered with a white cloth pushed against the wall. A plate of scones, toast, a coffee carafe, and mugs are set out in an orderly fashion. An open jar of jam sits in the middle, next to a knife and dribbled strawberries that look like blood against the tablecloth. Scott is standing at the sink, rinsing a dish.

“Molly. Good morning. You okay?”

He’s dressed in heavy work clothes. The delicate dish with its band of little blue flowers looks out of place in his rough hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I can run up this weekend and take care of that window.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I want him to leave so I can talk to Elise, and he seems to get the message.

“Just let me know. I’ve got to get to work.” He kisses Elise and heads out the back door.

“Sit, please,” Elise says, and resumes her spot at the table. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m okay.” My eyes sweep over their breakfast and the pleasantness of it all.

“So what brings you by so early?”

Now that I’m here, I’m unsure. Do I get into this with her? Maybe it’ll just open a can of worms that is best left closed. But if Jay told anyone, it would’ve been Elise.

“What do you know about me?”

She swallows her toast, sips her coffee. “What do you mean?”

I take a deep breath, glance at Sadie for support. “Did Jay ever talk to you about me and my past?” It comes out almost angry.

A nervous look drifts over Elise’s face. “Jay told me that you’d had a difficult childhood, traumatic.”

I don’t like this. Why did Jay say anything? I shake my head. “He had no business . . .”

“You were at our practice for treatment, Molly.”

“Well, yeah, okay. Did he say any more than that? Did he give you details?” Tears catch in my throat.

“No. Of course not.” She looks away, and I don’t believe her.

“He had no right to tell you about me.”

She squeezes my hand, then lets go. “He didn’t. He never gave me any specifics.”

I try to ratchet down my feelings, but I’m exhausted as well as angry. I work my right hand over the sleeve of my left arm.

Elise rises from the table and sets a cup of steaming water, tea bag submerged, in front of me. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

I dunk the tea bag and feel foolish. “It’s nothing. It’s just not having Jay.” Do I tell her about the man who called me? What would she know about that? What would that have to do with her? It was stupid to come here.

“You’ve been through hell, Molly. Why don’t you let me refer you to somebody?” She’s at the counter, digging through her purse. “Morgan Blanton is wonderful. You’ll be comfortable with her. I guarantee it.” She turns to me, lifts a business card in the air. “And you know you can always talk to me. Always.” Her cat has silently entered the room and twines around her legs. Sadie sits up but doesn’t seem too interested.

Elise sets the card next to my cup. “Why don’t you have some breakfast? I don’t have to be at the office for another thirty minutes. We can talk about whatever you want. Jay or not Jay or the weather.” She smiles.

I nod and sip my tea, but the man’s muffled voice flutters through my mind. I know who you are.