“You did all this in one day? Including finding a spot in a rehab place?”
“That was the toughest part,” said Rachel. “We got a list off the Internet and started calling and there were no openings, including this New Beginnings outfit you mentioned, but then they called back later and said they could take him. I think somebody may have decided not to go at the last minute, which is why—”
“I can do it, but we’ll have to leave early. I’m driving to Boston tomorrow for Ed Franklin’s funeral.”
“Well, that’s great, Lucy. Hank’s sleeping here at Miss Tilley’s tonight. We’ll have him up and packed bright and early.”
* * *
When Lucy arrived at Miss Tilley’s little Cape-style house on Saturday morning, Hank was waiting by the door, every bit as nervous as a kindergartener on the first day of school. Rachel gave him a big hug,
Miss Tilley took his strong young hand in her age-spotted and blue-veined arthritic claw and gave it a pat. “You’ll do fine, young man, and don’t forget to write.”
Hank was puzzled. “Write? You mean like Twitter?”
“I mean letters. You take a pen and paper and write down everything that’s happening. I’ll be looking forward to hearing from you.”
Hank was thinking hard. “Wouldn’t I need stamps for that?”
“E-mail will be fine,” said Rachel, giving him a pat on the back and a little shove toward the door.
“That Miss Tilley’s a funny old bird, isn’t she?” he asked as he walked down the brick path with Lucy, dragging a wheeled duffel behind him.
“A word of advice,” said Lucy, opening the rear hatch on her SUV. “Don’t underestimate her and don’t disappoint her, or you’ll be sorry.”
Hank loaded the bag inside, then turned to her. “You’ve done so much for me. Not just you, but Miss Tilley and Rachel and my folks and the Harvest Festival ladies. I really don’t want to let anybody down.”
“Well, don’t,” said Lucy, yanking the driver’s side door open and climbing inside. She waited until he was seated beside her with his seatbelt fastened, then started the car and began the three hour drive to Portsmouth.
Hank was very quiet and when Lucy glanced at him she noticed his eyes were closed as if he had dozed off. Just as well, she thought, relieved that she didn’t have to keep up a conversation.
It wasn’t until they were going over the Piscataqua Bridge linking Maine with New Hampshire that he woke up, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “We must be almost there.”
“Pretty close, according to the GPS. Did you have a nice rest?”
“Sorry about that. I haven’t been sleeping much lately.”
Lucy remembered how her son, Toby, when he was Hank’s age, used to sleep for twelve hours at a stretch. She and her friends used to be amazed at the amount of sleep their teenage boys needed, and how difficult it was to get them up in the morning in time for the seven o’clock school bus. “How come?” she asked, wondering if insomnia was a side effect of addiction.
“I keep thinking about Alison,” he said. “I keep seeing her dead, you know, drowned and all wet and ghoulish.”
“I saw her body,” said Lucy. “She looked just like herself. Not ghoulish.”
He was silent, looking out the window as they drove down a main avenue dotted with stores and houses. Some of the buildings looked ancient, perhaps dating from the eighteenth century. “She wasn’t on drugs. They say she was, but I know for sure that she wasn’t. I tried to get her to use with me, but she wouldn’t. She used to get mad at me, tell me to get clean or get lost.”
“Was she dating anyone?” asked Lucy, thinking of Matt Rodriguez.
“Maybe. I don’t know,” he answered. “We were good friends for a while. We both have kind of messed up families, but we kind of drifted apart when I stopped going to classes.”
“Do you know why she didn’t want to live with her mother?” asked Lucy. “It seems kind of odd that she chose to live with her father and his new, young wife.”
“She hated her mom, and she really hated her stepdad. She called him a weasel. She didn’t always agree with her dad, she told me, but at least he was honest, even if all he really cared about was having a lot of money.”
“You have reached your destination,” the GPS informed her in a crisp British accent.
Lucy spotted a small, discreet sign announcing NEW BEGINNINGS on a patch of grass in front of a large Federal-style brick building. “We’re here,” she said, noticing that Hank seemed to have lost all the color in his face. “Are you okay?”
“I will be,” he said, opening the door and climbing out.
Lucy popped the rear hatch and he pulled out his duffel, then he came around the car to her door. She hit the power button and lowered the window, expecting him to say good-bye.
But there was something else on Hank’s mind. “Alison was really excited about having a little half sister or brother. She loved kids.” He swallowed hard. “It’s too bad she never got to have any of her own.”
Lucy reached out the window and squeezed his shoulder. “This is about you,” she told him. “Time for you to concentrate on getting well.”
He nodded, looking very serious. Then he walked around the car and started up the brick path, dragging the duffel behind him. As Lucy watched him mount the stairs, she saw someone opening the door for him, greeting him with a
