Chapter Ten Raine
Chapter Ten
Raine
When I left for Hale House, the adrenaline was gone. Replaced with something colder. Heavier.
Grim determination.
I hadn’t slept well in months. The divorce.
The lawsuit. The attack. The weight of it all pressed down.
Interstate gave way to back country roads and finally the entrance to Hale House.
The property’s long narrow graveled driveway wound past hundred-year-old oaks.
The sun dipped low, casting oranges and yellows on tall grass. So quiet.
Hale House rose ahead. It was two stories tall, with a small attic and a deep stone basement. Regal. Weathered. Crumbling. The brick facade, gabled roof, and handblown glass windows were all relics of the past.
My father had believed the house and our family were one. When one fell, the other would, too.
So far, he’d been right.
Beyond the house, a freshly cut patch of grass tunneled toward the cemetery’s wrought iron fence.
Inside were the graves of Hales who’d lived on this land for two centuries.
My father had had the fence expanded twenty-five years ago.
He’d said he’d wanted more room for himself, Mom, me, and my children.
I’d watched the contractors lift the old fence and extend it out twenty feet. After they’d gone, I’d lain down in the spot Dad had selected as my final resting place. Light had filtered through the oak branches. I didn’t love it. Too shady in the summer meant too many leaves in the fall.
Two years later, my father dropped his and Mom’s massive headstones in place.
Three years later he was dead.
After that, I’d decided I’d be cremated. My ashes spread so the wind would carry them away.
I studied Hale House. Fragile, beautiful, brittle, so drafty. This winter’s heating bill would be brutal.
My contractor, Brad Lawson, was coming tomorrow. Anybody’s guess how it would go. Getting a bid from him was my way of showing due diligence. Not a promise to save anything.
I sat on the top step after climbing the stairs. Bronzes and yellows burnished the mountains’ ridgeline.
This had become my favorite spot. Sunsets were my way of notching off another day I’d survived.
The sun remained vivid. The land endured, as my dad used to say.
But the house—like the family—was crumbling. Resurrecting Hale House was a commitment I didn’t want.
I dialed Edith’s number.
It rang three times before a breathless “Raine” drifted over the line.
“Edith, how are you doing?” We hadn’t spoken directly in years. I used work and marriage to justify my absence.
“Holding up.” Edith’s voice was clipped. “How is Maria?”
“She was stable when I left the hospital. Have you spoken to Gabe?”
“No. I’ve called him a dozen times. He’s holed up in one of his funks.”
Gabe’s sullen stares had been sexy and attractive when we were teenagers. But moody pouts didn’t age well.
“Judson is looking for him,” she added. “I told him the truth: I don’t know where Gabe is.”
“He was at the hospital this morning.”
“Judson thinks Gabe hurt Maria.”
I hoped that wasn’t true. “Remember how I used to talk him down?” He’d get angry, frustrated, and take off. And when I’d find him behind the school or in the woods, I’d coax him back.
She sighed. “The Super 8 on Route 60 has been his spot lately.”
“Did you tell that to Judson?”
“No. I want Gabe to come home on his own.”
I checked my watch. “He’s been missing a few hours?”
“You remember how he could vanish for days at a time.”
“It doesn’t look good, Edith.” I’d had clients go MIA on me. My talent for delivering compelling excuses to the judges was legendary.
“He’ll show up,” Edith said.
Tipping my head back, I closed my eyes. “How’s Molly doing?”
“She’s fine. Watching back-to-back movies all day and eating ice cream.”
“That’s not sustainable.”
“I know.” Edith sounded weary. “But I don’t want her to worry.”
“Her mother is in the hospital. She needs her father.”
“He’ll be back.”
“Judson can show up at your house with a social worker and question her.”
“He can’t do that.”
“If he suspects something other than natural causes prompted Maria’s heart attack, he will.”
“What’re you saying?”
I’d been chewing on this theory for several hours. “What if Gabe did something accidentally that set all this off?”
“Like what?”
I didn’t answer, letting the silence hang between us. Stretches of stillness often teased out more than questions or statements.
“You saying Gabe did something to her?” Edith challenged.
“Only by accident.”
“You sound like Judson.”
I’d worked with cops like Judson for most of my public defender days. His methodical, quiet approach was more effective than anything boisterous and aggressive.
When Maria, Gabe, and I had run together in middle school, I’d always thought Gabe was hot. But when I’d confessed this to Maria, she’d made it clear Gabe was all hers.
Maria and Gabe had always been a solid couple. So were Judson and I. Even Ken had briefly paired with Amy. Maria once joked that Ken had chosen Amy because she looked like me.
“I want to see Molly,” I said.
“Today’s not a good day.”
“I understand. It’s late. Tomorrow then?”
“She has Sunday school tomorrow.”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea now?”
“She needs her schedule.”
“Her routine has been shattered, Edith.”
If Maria survived, Dr. Webber had hinted at permanent heart damage. Her recovery would be slow and steady. The daily routine would change drastically. Another reason Gabe needed to step up.
“Okay. Fine. I’ll keep Molly home for a few days.”
“Good. I’ll stop by and see her tomorrow.”
“Call before you come.”
“Of course.”