such high priced baubles. The truth was baser. Cynthia didn’t deserve to inherit Lily’s jewelry, especially not if what April feared were true. In fact the very idea of owning any of it, of touching it, of wearing it, stole all breathable air from the room. She had to get out of there.
Lurching to her feet, April excused herself. She retrieved her parka from her bedroom closet and wrestled into it on her way down the back stairs. In the kitchen she came across Karl. He was alone, seated at the black and white table, drinking from a mug. Eyeing the dirty dishes scattered about him, she assumed he’d just finished eating his own dinner.
He gave his shockingly blond hair a shake and cast an assessing gaze at her. Then half-rising out of his chair, he asked. “You need me to fire up the ferry?”
“ No. I’m just going for a walk.”
“ In the dark?”
“ It’s not that dark.”
Karl shrugged. “You look like you could use a friend. I’m a good listener, if you want company.”
“ Thanks. Maybe some other time.”
Helga chose that moment to arrive with an armload of dishes. April turned toward the laundry room, but she could feel Karl’s eyes on her. As she opened the back door, she heard Helga say, “Karl, do you think you might help me with these?”
Outside, the brisk post-rain air stung her cheeks and filled her nostrils with its clear sharp scent. Her lungs reached for the sweet breath, and April felt her distress begin to disperse. Through the scudding clouds overhead, she could make out an occasional star, but the roiling black masses darted across the moors, blinking its illumination off, then on, in erratic sequence, bringing to mind a lighthouse beam searching the ground for survivors after a storm.
Over the years, she had survived may a storm. This time would be no different. Trying to ignore her niggling doubts, she pushed the deep collar of the red jacket against her ears, shoved her hands into her pockets, and set a course for the stand of firs at the left side of the house. She strode along the time worn path leading to the cliff above the bay, letting go of her tension with each step..
As she neared the source of the noisy surf, pungent salty air rushed at her from all sides, nearly drowning April in a gigantic wave of familiarity. How often had she walked this path, struggling to understand some new cruelty foisted on her by Lily? April ground to a halt, shook her head and expelled an exasperated sigh. God, how Lily had managed to hurt her. The old pain crowded into her mind as dark and agitated as one of the clouds overhead, carrying with it the sting of tears. Why had Lily been so afraid of growing old that she’d rejected the love of her only child, making her dress like a ten- year-old at the age of fourteen?
The memory provoked her to scoop a twig from the ground and smack the nearest tree trunk. April cursed out loud, then tossed the leafy whip away and picked up her pace as though she could outrun her thoughts. So, she wasn’t as immune to her mother’s behavior as she liked to think. At least now she understood the problem was Lily’s—an obsession—not something lacking in herself. But being unable to confront her mother left a lingering frustration she hadn’t quite learned to let go of.
She was breathing hard by the time she left the woods behind, but the anxiety stayed with her. Buried somewhere in the recesses of her mind was a possibility April still couldn’t face. Had she already confronted her mother—twelve years ago—at the edge of the basement stairs?
If only she could talk to Dr. Merritt. Yes, Nancy had said she was only a phone call away, however, April doubted the good doctor would qualify her present state as an emergency. They had already discussed her apprehensions, and until she regained some significant memory, there was nothing Nancy could do but reassure her. Maybe that was all she really wanted. Reassurance—that she couldn’t have done what
Lurching to her feet, April excused herself. She retrieved her parka from her bedroom closet and wrestled into it on her way down the back stairs. In the kitchen she came across Karl. He was alone, seated at the black and white table, drinking from a mug. Eyeing the dirty dishes scattered about him, she assumed he’d just finished eating his own dinner.
He gave his shockingly blond hair a shake and cast an assessing gaze at her. Then half-rising out of his chair, he asked. “You need me to fire up the ferry?”
“ No. I’m just going for a walk.”
“ In the dark?”
“ It’s not that dark.”
Karl shrugged. “You look like you could use a friend. I’m a good listener, if you want company.”
“ Thanks. Maybe some other time.”
Helga chose that moment to arrive with an armload of dishes. April turned toward the laundry room, but she could feel Karl’s eyes on her. As she opened the back door, she heard Helga say, “Karl, do you think you might help me with these?”
Outside, the brisk post-rain air stung her cheeks and filled her nostrils with its clear sharp scent. Her lungs reached for the sweet breath, and April felt her distress begin to disperse. Through the scudding clouds overhead, she could make out an occasional star, but the roiling black masses darted across the moors, blinking its illumination off, then on, in erratic sequence, bringing to mind a lighthouse beam searching the ground for survivors after a storm.
Over the years, she had survived may a storm. This time would be no different. Trying to ignore her niggling doubts, she pushed the deep collar of the red jacket against her ears, shoved her hands into her pockets, and set a course for the stand of firs at the left side of the house. She strode along the time worn path leading to the cliff above the bay, letting go of her tension with each step..
As she neared the source of the noisy surf, pungent salty air rushed at her from all sides, nearly drowning April in a gigantic wave of familiarity. How often had she walked this path, struggling to understand some new cruelty foisted on her by Lily? April ground to a halt, shook her head and expelled an exasperated sigh. God, how Lily had managed to hurt her. The old pain crowded into her mind as dark and agitated as one of the clouds overhead, carrying with it the sting of tears. Why had Lily been so afraid of growing old that she’d rejected the love of her only child, making her dress like a ten- year-old at the age of fourteen?
The memory provoked her to scoop a twig from the ground and smack the nearest tree trunk. April cursed out loud, then tossed the leafy whip away and picked up her pace as though she could outrun her thoughts. So, she wasn’t as immune to her mother’s behavior as she liked to think. At least now she understood the problem was Lily’s—an obsession—not something lacking in herself. But being unable to confront her mother left a lingering frustration she hadn’t quite learned to let go of.
She was breathing hard by the time she left the woods behind, but the anxiety stayed with her. Buried somewhere in the recesses of her mind was a possibility April still couldn’t face. Had she already confronted her mother—twelve years ago—at the edge of the basement stairs?
If only she could talk to Dr. Merritt. Yes, Nancy had said she was only a phone call away, however, April doubted the good doctor would qualify her present state as an emergency. They had already discussed her apprehensions, and until she regained some significant memory, there was nothing Nancy could do but reassure her. Maybe that was all she really wanted. Reassurance—that she couldn’t have done what
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