“Then why am I still so afraid?”
“Because of what’s in that little box you found last night. You’ve become so focused on the past when the future is what you’re really afraid of. You think that by committing to something or someone you’re dishonoring your sister’s memory somehow. By moving on you feel like you’re not shouldering your share of the blame. It’s survivor’s guilt, plain and simple. Everything, all your diagnoses—the anxiety, your OCD, the intrusive memories, all of it stems from what happened that night, and it holds power over you because you’re terrified of moving on.”
Clare stared at the floor between her feet. “I know you’re right. But knowing something and believing it are two different things.”
“Very true. Are you going to tell Dr. Connors about all this?”
“I don’t know. I’ve got a session next week.”
“You should. Listen, I’d treat you myself if it weren’t a personal conflict. But then I couldn’t drink when you came over.” She took a long sip from her cocktail and smiled evilly over the glass’s rim.
Clare laughed. “Just saying things out loud helps. Thank you.”
Lia smiled. “Take a little time, think about the future. About what could be. You are worth it.”
They sat quiet for a time, only the sound of a passing car breaking the silence. “I worry I’m too broken.”
“We’re all broken. The people who get better are the ones who admit it and get to work fixing what’s wrong. You know more than anyone how screwed up I was when I ran away from the cult that was my family. I made a vow afterward I’d never let my life be dictated by someone or something again. Haven’t looked back since.”
Clare nodded. The weight she’d felt on the drive over was less. Hearing Lia’s assertive viewpoint always cleared away some of the cobwebs in her mind that seemed to gather between their visits. She glanced at her phone and stood. “I’ll get out of here so you can get ready for your date.”
Lia rolled her eyes as she drew Clare into a tight hug. “I have that man on a short leash. I could be two hours late and he’d still be waiting for me.”
As they walked to the door a thought occurred to Clare. “The women I mentioned from Shining Rock—I gave them your card.”
“You know I’m booked solid.”
“They really need help. The girl couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve.”
Lia made an exasperated sound Clare knew was just for show. “I’ll try to find an hour for them if they call.”
“And I’ll take care of the charge.”
“You’re going to go broke paying for other people’s treatment.”
“And you’re going to get rich.”
“Bitch.”
“Tramp.”
Clare kissed her on the cheek and waved as she headed down the walk to her car.
Chapter Six
The brightness of the day gradually dimmed, as if a lid was closing over the world.
Clare noticed the encroaching clouds layering upon themselves to blot out the sun, but the colors washing out to gray did nothing to dampen her mood. As she drove back to Capeside Lia’s words bolstered the stability she’d failed to attain that morning. The disassociation she’d felt the night before still lurked behind her thoughts, but it was less tangible and more dreamlike than anything else. These moments of clarity and solidity were havens sometimes difficult to find on her own, and for the countless time she sent up a silent thanks for having Lia in her life.
When she arrived at the turnoff to their cul-de-sac she surprised herself by staying on the winding lane instead of swinging right. She wasn’t ready to go home yet—the thought of returning to the empty house, even in daylight, was unattractive. Instead she guided the SUV down through town, stopping at one of two intersections, then continuing on to a frontage road running parallel to the ocean.
A few minutes later she pulled to a stop in a roughly paved parking lot. Only one other vehicle occupied a spot at the very end of the area, a rusted Chevy pickup with an equally dilapidated topper that looked like it had been there for some time.
The salt breeze tugged at a few errant strands of hair that had come loose from her bun, tickling the sides of her face and neck. A low dune separated the lot from the actual beach and she strode up it, stopping once to pull off her flats.
Waves crashed on the shoreline and a half dozen gulls wheeled against the slate sky. Their calls sounded mournful, fitting in the flat light coating the beach. Clare moved to the tide’s border where the sand darkened with moisture, stopping short to let her toes sink into the dry silt. She gazed out across the expanse.
For her the ocean was a paradox. Despite its beauty and allure, the depths it harbored along with its ferocious and unforgiving power terrified her. She couldn’t imagine living somewhere with the sea not in view, but the thought of going out among its waves and becoming captive to its will always caused an unpleasant lurch in her center.
In a sense the ocean was her life. No matter how much she yearned to move forward and take pleasure in its small miracles, the fear of letting go and committing was overwhelming. Lia had asked if fully remembering those terrible lost days would free her. The true answer probably wouldn’t make sense to her friend, because the doubt she harbored was what stalked her like a prowling animal just beyond the firelight. Not knowing if she could’ve done something different to save her sister, or any of the others who perished, was a steel wall inside her. Uncompromising and unmoving despite any rational argument.
She sighed at the futility of her inner battle. Lia was right. There was no time machine, no simple answer to free her from the past. Only acceptance and the will to move forward. God knew she was trying.
It was the better part of an hour before she pried herself away from the ocean. The tide had continued to creep inward, seeking her toes as she gradually retreated. Clare said her goodbyes to the water and walked up over the dune, pausing at the parking lot’s edge to don her shoes. As she slid them on her phone trilled a text message. It was Adam.
Got your email. Do you think you could get the woman and her daughter to make a statement?
I don’t have their contact info, but they might be making an appointment to see Lia. I could contact them through her.
Okay. I’ll wait to hear from you. Heading to New York for a week’s vacay now but will be back in the area next week. If they’re able to give me a statement I might be able to get a warrant.
Sounds good. Thank you. Enjoy your vacation!
Thanks! Need anything from the city? Slice of pizza? Rat the size of a small dog?
She laughed. Neither.
Your loss.
Buoyed by the exchange, she tucked the phone away. Tonight she’d make an effort, she thought, walking toward her vehicle. She’d attempt to live only in the moment, no future, no past, just now. Eric would cook dinner from the fresh produce he’d invariably buy too much of at the farmers market, they’d share a bottle of wine, and maybe take a walk. Afterward he might try asking her the question he’d been planning on the night before. The thrill of her answer almost pushed itself out of her mouth and into the autumn air, but all at once the word died on her tongue. She stopped a pace from the SUV’s door, keys in hand.