Honeymoon

Chapter 79

NORA STEPPED OFF the elevator on the eighth floor of the Pine Woods Psychiatric Facility. She took a swig of water, finished it off, and tossed the empty bottle in a trash barrel. As she always did, she walked to the nurses’ station. Except no one was there that afternoon. Not Emily. Or Patsy. What an apt name that is. Not anyone.

“Hello?” she called out.

There was no response, just the echo of her own voice.

Nora hesitated for a moment before deciding to continue on down the hallway. It wasn’t as if she had to sign in after all these years.

“Hello, Mother.”

Olivia Sinclair turned to her daughter, who was standing in the doorway. “Hello,” she replied with her usual blank smile.

Nora gave her a kiss on the cheek and pulled up a chair. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I like to read, you know.”

“You do,” said Nora. She placed her purse down on the floor and reached into the plastic bag she had with her. Out came a copy of Patricia Cornwell’s latest novel. “Here you go. I didn’t forget this time.”

Olivia Sinclair took the book and slowly ran the palm of her hand over the cover. With her index finger she traced the embossed lettering of the title.

“You’re looking a lot better, Mother. Do you realize how much you scared me last time?”

Nora watched as her mother’s gaze remained on the novel’s shiny cover. Of course she doesn’t realize anything. The walls she’d built around her world were too thick.

But that fact, usually the cause for Nora’s pain every time she visited, was now cause for relief. From the moment her mother suffered the seizure, she worried that she’d been responsible. Her tears, her emotions, the sudden compulsion to admit her sins—everything she had no business bringing with her into that room—had triggered the reaction. The more Nora thought about it, the more she was convinced that’s what had happened.

Not now, though.

To look at her mother—so removed, so totally oblivious—was to know that the incident had nothing to do with her. Strange as it seemed, the idea that she could’ve been responsible for the seizure would have been reason for hope.

“I think you’re going to enjoy that book, Mother. Kay Scarpetta. You’ll let me know next time, okay?”

“I like to read, you know.”

Nora smiled. For the remainder of her visit she spoke only of positive things, fun things. Occasionally her mother looked at her, but most of the time she stared at the turned-off television.

“Okay, I think I’m going to be leaving now,” Nora said after about an hour.

She watched as her mother picked up the plastic cup sitting on the bedside table. It was empty.

“Do you want some water?” asked Nora.

Her mother nodded as Nora stood and reached for the pitcher.

“Whoops, that’s empty, too.” Nora took the pitcher and headed for the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”

Her mother nodded again.

Then she waited. As soon as she heard the sound of the faucet, Olivia reached beneath the bedcover for the letter she’d written. It explained so many things she’d wanted to tell her daughter for so many years but knew she couldn’t.

Now she felt she had to tell Nora the truth.

Olivia swung her bare feet off the bed and reached down to Nora’s open purse, the letter clutched tightly in her hand. She let it fall inside. After all this time, it was as simple as letting go.