Chapter Eight—Chris #3
Relief makes me lean against the car.
“She almost said no,” Willa adds.
That straightens me again.
“You’re staying in the guesthouse. You don’t enter the lodge unless she invites you. You tell nobody where she is. Not your office, your attorneys, Fenton, a driver, or anybody else.”
I nod quickly. “Understood.”
She takes a step closer. “If she tells you to leave, you will immediately. That’s my caveat, and I’m armed.”
My eyes widen, but I nod again. “Agreed.”
Willa studies me for a moment. “This is her decision. Don’t make her regret it.”
“I won’t.”
She turns toward her SUV.
This time, when I follow her, Willa doesn’t try to lose me. Lorna knows I’m coming, which makes me sweaty with nerves.
The drive takes a little more than three hours. My phone buzzes twice during the first forty minutes, but it’s not Willa or Lorna, so I leave it in the cupholder.
The interstate gives way to narrower roads and long climbs. Hardwood forest crowds closer at the higher elevations, the first autumn color showing along the upper branches.
The roads are familiar in a way that makes my chest constrict. Three years ago, I made this same drive with Lorna, back when she chose to share it with me.
I remember the long climb, the sharp bend where the pavement narrowed, and the gravel road hidden behind the trees. I remember thinking the lodge looked more remote than it really was.
I know where we’re going before Willa turns. Eventually, she takes the unmarked gravel drive. Trees hide the property until we’re almost there.
The lodge appears beyond the bend, exactly as I remember it. I was here once before, and the memories of that week steal my breath.
Lorna stands on the porch.
I stop behind Willa’s SUV and sit there for a few seconds before turning off the engine.
She’s wearing jeans and a gray sweatshirt. Her hair is pulled back. There is more color in her face than when I last saw her, though she’s thinner.
My attention goes to her wrists before I can stop it. The sleeves cover them. I hate that I’m looking now. If I hadn’t been so certain of my amateur diagnosis, I would have been with her within hours of the attack.
Willa gets out first. She speaks quietly with Lorna before glancing toward my car.
Only then do I get out. I stop beside the Audi rather than approaching the porch.
Lorna stays where she is. Her expression is impassive. “The guesthouse is behind the lodge. It has a bed and a bathroom. A kitchenette too, so you can feed yourself.”
“That’s enough. Thank you.”
She crosses her arms. “Willa is staying upstairs in the lodge.”
I know better than to protest the arrangement. “Okay.”
“You aren’t coming inside.”
I nod. “I understand.”
Her gaze stays on me for several seconds. “She told me you followed her.”
“Yes.”
“After she told you I didn’t want to see you.”
“Yes.” I don’t explain it. There isn’t an explanation that improves it. I was acting on what I needed, putting that above Lorna. Again.
Lorna folds her arms. “Why did you do it?”
“I wanted to see you, and I put that ahead of what you asked me to do.”
Her mouth tightens.
“I’m sorry. I understand I was being selfish.”
She looks away toward the trees.
The apology isn’t enough but isn’t supposed to be.
When she looks back, she asks, “What did you see?”
“The service corridor. Someone used my alarm code, entered the penthouse, stayed about ten minutes, then left.”
Lorna absorbs that without moving.
“I believe you,” I say. “I should’ve believed you before I saw it. I’m sorry.”
She blinks briefly but maintains her closed expression. “Okay.”
Nothing in the word forgives me or tells me what she’s thinking. I don’t deserve forgiveness yet. I have to earn the chance to get her to even agree to let me try.
“Willa showed you her report?”
“Yes.”
“And you really didn’t get it?” She sounds skeptical and doesn’t hide it.
“No. I got the summary.”
Lorna looks down at the porch boards. “I thought you’d seen everything.”
“I thought I had too.”
For the first time since I arrived, some of the anger in her face gives way. “It doesn’t fix anything.”
“No.”
“You still let somebody else control what reached you.”
I resist the urge to walk closer. “I did.”
She looks at me again. “When I called you, I got Fenton.”
“I know.”
She doesn’t need to say more, and I’m smart enough to keep my mouth shut right now.
After a few seconds, she rubs one hand over her opposite sleeve. “I’m not doing the rest of this today.”
“Okay.”
“You being here doesn’t mean we’re fixing anything.” Her lips firm. “I don’t even know if I want to try.”
It hurts, and I let her see my reaction. “I understand.”
“It doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
“I heard you.”
She studies me, then gives a slight nod. “The guesthouse has terrible water pressure.”
The change in subject catches me. “So does the main lodge.”
“Not anymore.”
I remember promising to replace the showerhead three years ago, during that first visit. “You finally replaced it.”
“I got tired of waiting.”
That one needs no answer. Just another way I’ve let her down.
Lorna glances toward the door. “Willa and I eat around six. If you want dinner, you can come to the porch.”
“Okay.”
“Not inside.”
“I know.”
“There’s a grocery store in town.” Her tone indicates she strongly prefers I choose that option.
A few seconds pass before she turns toward the door.
“Lorna?”
She stops but doesn’t look at me.
“Thank you for letting me come.”
“I almost didn’t.”
“I know.”
She opens the door. “I said yes because I wanted to hear what you had to say.”
I wait.
“I’ve heard it.”
“Okay.”
She goes inside.
I take my overnight bag from the car and follow Willa around the lodge.
The guesthouse sits behind a stand of trees about twenty yards away. One room, a bathroom, a narrow porch, and a window facing part of the lodge.
Willa unlocks it.
“Key is on the dresser.”
“Thanks.”
She starts back toward the lodge, then stops.
“She invited you here. Pay attention to what she actually offers.”
“I will.”
Willa leaves.
I sit on the porch after she’s gone.
Through the trees, I can see part of the kitchen window. Lorna crosses behind it with a mug, pauses near the counter, then disappears from view.
My hand goes into my jacket and closes around her rings.
Twenty yards separate us.
Lorna told me where to stay, so I listen to her this time and do.