something for Mother and me. We used to go all over the world on his vacations. They always took me with them. I remember one trip…'
Ray could not take his eyes off Nancy. He had never heard her speak in that tone of voice – animated, amused, a ripple of laughter running through her words. Was this what he had been blindly trying to find in her? Was it more than being tired of living with the fear of discovery? He hoped so.
Jonathan Knowles listened intently to Nancy, approving of the technique Lendon Miles was using to gain her confidence and relax her before asking about the details of the day the Harmon children had vanished. It was agonizing to hear the soft ticking of the grandfather clock… a reminder that time was passing. He realized that he was finding it impossible not to look at Dorothy. He knew he had been harsh when he spoke to her as she was getting into her car. It was his disappointment that had reacted to her deliberate falsehood – the fact that she had made a point of telling him personally about knowing Nancy as a child.
Why had she done that? Was it perhaps that he had indicated somehow that Nancy looked familiar? Had it been simply an attempt to keep him from the truth because she couldn't trust him with the truth? Had he perhaps been displaying what Emily used to call his 'Your witness, Counsel' manner?
In any event, he felt that he owed Dorothy an apology. She didn't look well. The strain was telling on her. She still was wearing her heavy coat, and her hands were jammed in her pockets. He decided that he wanted to talk to her at the first opportunity. She needed calming down. She certainly thought the world of those children.
The lights in the room flickered, then went off. 'That figures.' Jed Coffin propped the microphone on the table and searched for matches. Quickly Ray lighted the antique gas lamps on either side of the mantel. They threw a yellow glow that melted and blended with the vivid red flames of the fireplace, bathing the couch where Nancy was lying in a rosy glow and throwing deep shadows on the corners of the dark room. It seemed to Ray that the steady tattooing of the sleet against the house and the moaning of the wind through the pines had intensified. Suppose the children were out somewhere in this weather…? Last night he'd awakened hearing Missy cough. But when he went into her room, she'd been settled again in deep sleep, her cheek cupped in her palm. As he bent over to pull up her covers, she'd murmured 'Daddy' and stirred, but at the touch of his hand on her back she'd settled down again.
And Michael. He and Mike had gone for milk to Wiggins' Market – was it just yesterday morning? They'd arrived just as that tenant at The Lookout, Mr Parrish was leaving. The man had nodded pleasantly, but when he got into the old Ford wagon of his, Michael's face had wrinkled with distaste. 'I don't like him,' he'd said.
Ray almost smiled at the memory. Mike was a rugged little guy, but he had something of Nancy 's distaste for ugliness, and no matter how you sliced it, Courtney Parrish was a clumsy, slow-moving, unattractive man.
Even the Wiggjnses had commented on him. After he left, Jack Wiggins said drily, 'That fellow's about the slowest-moving human being I ever bumped into. He meanders around shopping like he's got all the time in the world.'
Michael had looked reflective. 'I never have enough time,' he'd said. 'I'm helping my dad refinish a desk for my room, and every time I want to keep working on it, I have to get ready for school.'
'You've got quite an assistant there, Ray,' Jack Wiggins had remarked. 'I'll give him a job any time; he sounds like a worker.'
Mike had picked up the package. 'I'm strong, too,' he'd said. 'I can carry things. I can carry my sister for a long time.'
Ray ground his hands into fists. This was unreal, impossible. The children missing. Nancy sedated. What was she saying?
Her voice still had that eager lilt. 'Daddy used to call Mother and me his girls…' Her voice faltered.
'What is it, Nancy?' Dr Miles asked. 'Your father called you his little girl? Did that upset you?'
'No… no… no… he called us his girls. It was different… it was different… not like that at all…' Her voice rose sharply in protest.
Lendon's voice was soothing. 'All right, Nancy. Don't worry about that. Let's talk about college. Did you want to go away to school?'
'Yes… I really did… except… I was worried about Mother…'
'Why did you worry about her?'
'I was afraid she'd be lonely – because of Daddy… and we'd sold the house; she was moving into an apartment. So much had changed for her. And she'd started a new job. But she liked working… She said she wanted me to go… She liked to say that today… today.. '
'Today is the first day of the rest of your life,' Lendon finished quietly. Yes, Priscilla had said that to him too. The day she came into the office after she'd put Nancy on the plane for school. She told him about still waving goodbye after the plane had taxied away towards the runway. Then her eyes had filled, and she'd smiled apologetically. 'Look how ridiculous I am,' she'd said, trying to laugh; 'the proverbial mother hen.'
'I think you're doing fine,' Lendon had told her.
'It's just that when you think how your life can change… so incredibly. AH of a sudden, a whole part, the most important part… is ended. But on the other hand, I think when you've had something quite wonderful… so very much happiness.., you can't look back and regret. That's what I told Nancy today… I don't want her worrying about me. I want her to have a wonderful time in school. I said that we should both remember that motto: 'Today is the first day of the rest of our lives.' '
Lendon remembered that a patient had come into the office. At the time, he'd considered it a blessing; he'd been dangerously close to putting his arms around Priscilla.
'… but it was all right,' Nancy was saying, her voice still hesitant and groping. 'Mother's letters were cheerful. She loved her job. She wrote a lot about Dr Miles… I was glad…'
'Did you enjoy school, Nancy?' Lendon asked. 'Did you have many friends?' 'At first. I liked the girls, and I dated a lot.' 'How about your schoolwork? Did you like your subjects?'
'Oh, yes. They all came pretty easily… except bio…'
Her tone changed – subtly became troubled. 'That was harder. I never liked science… but the college required it… so I took it…' 'And you met Carl Harmon.'
'Yes. He… wanted to help me with bio. He had me come to his office and he'd go over the work with me. He said I was dating too much and that I must stop or I'd be sick. He was so concerned… he even started giving me vitamins. He must have been right… because I was so tired… so much… and started to feel so depressed… I missed Mother…'
'But you knew you would be home over Christmas.' 'Yes… and it didn't make sense… All of a sudden… it got so bad… I didn't want to upset her… so I didn't write about it… but I think she knew… She came out for a week-end… because she was worried about me… I know it… And then she was killed… because she came out to see me… It was my fault… my fault…' Her voice rose in a shriek of pain, then broke into a sob.
Ray started out of his chair, but Jonathan pulled him back. The oil lamp flickered on Nancy 's face. It was contorted with pain. 'Mother!' she cried. 'Oh Mother… please don't be dead… live! Oh, Mother, please, please live… I need you… Mother, don't be dead… Mother…'
Dorothy turned her head, trying to bite back tears. No wonder Nancy had resented her remarks about being a surrogate grandmother to Missy and Michael. Why was she here? No one was even conscious or caring of her presence. She'd be more useful if she went out and made coffee. Nancy might want some later too. She should take off her coat. She couldn't. She felt too cold; so alone. She stared down for a moment at the hooked rug and watched as the pattern blurred before her eyes. Lifting her head, she met the inscrutable gaze of Jonathan Knowles and knew that he'd been watching her for some time.
'… Carl helped you when your mother died. He was good to you?' Why was Lendon Miles dragging out this agony? What point was there in making Nancy relive this too? Dorothy started to her feet.
Nancy 's answer was quiet. 'Oh, yes. He was so good to me… He took care of everything.'
'And you married him.'
'Yes. He said he'd take care of me. And I was so tired. He was so good to me…'
' Nancy, you mustn't blame yourself for your mother's accident. That wasn't your fault.'
'Accident?' Nancy 's voice was speculative. 'Accident? But it wasn't an accident. It wasn't an accident…'
'Of course it was.' Lendon's voice stayed calm, but he could feel the tightness of his throat muscles.
'I don't know… I don't know…'
'All right; we'll talk about it later. Tell us about Carl.'
