The Secret Friend

74

For the rest of the day Walter worked on his client websites. His thoughts kept drifting back to Hannah, trapped alone in the dark.

Hannah had finally spoken to him and then the doorbell rang and he had panicked and now everything had turned to shit. Now Hannah thought he was a monster. He needed to figure out a way to fix this and start over.

Walter went downstairs into the kitchen and found the phone book. The closest florist was in the next town, Newburyport. He called the number. The man who answered the phone said it was too late for a delivery, but the store was open until five. He thanked the man and hung up.

Walter didn't like to leave his house. Thanks to the wonders of the internet, there was no need. Clothes, medicine, movies and books, even groceries, were delivered to his doorstep. The only time he left the house was to see Mary.

Mary knew how lonely he was. She told him to be brave. He had prayed for months for strength. Then one day Mary told him to drive to Harvard Square. She didn't tell him why. It was a surprise, she said.

Walter sat in his car and from behind the tinted windows watched the college students. It was spring, sunny and warm. He wished he could be outside, mingling with the crowds. If he got out of the car, people would see his face in the unforgiving light. People would stop and stare. Some would laugh.

The piercing loneliness Walter had felt for as long as he could remember stirred inside him, awakened, and then disappeared, replaced by Mary's love. His Blessed Mother told him he was beautiful and made him look to his left.

A sexy woman with long blonde hair was crossing the street, heading in his direction. She wore heels, a short skirt and a tight-fitting shirt. Her face was flawless. Men were eyeing her, turning their heads to watch, and she knew it. She was the most beautiful woman Walter had ever seen.

This is my gift to you, Mary had said. The spirit of the Blessed Mother moving through him, Walter started the car and followed the woman he would come to know as Emma Hale. Mary said Emma was a special woman. In time, Emma would grow to love him. Mary told him what to do.

He had tried everything to make Emma love him, and when that failed, Mary told him to drive back to Boston and introduced him to Judith Chen.

Now Walter had Hannah and she refused to speak. He needed to make it right. He grabbed his car keys and headed out.

The heavyset man working behind the counter and a young woman doing floral arrangements stared when he opened the door, tracked him as he walked to the refrigeration unit and examined the roses. Walter could feel their gazes, as hot as fire, on his neck.

He decided to go with a colourful bouquet of mixed flowers. A chime as the door opened behind him. Flowers in hand, Walter turned and saw a boy no older than five standing in the aisle.

'Are you a good monster?' the boy asked.

The boy's face became a great, bright white blur, like a star staring down on him from space.

Walter put his hand inside his pocket and gripped the small statue. His Blessed Mother shrouded him with her love.

'I'm not scared of monsters,' the boy said. 'My daddy reads me a book every night about the monsters that live inside my closet. They're not scary. You just have to be nice to them.'

The boy's mother apologized and whisked him away. The man behind the counter smiled thinly as he wrapped the flowers. Walter thought of Hannah while he waited, remembered her skin, so warm and soft, pressed against his scarred body.

When he arrived home, Walter immediately went downstairs. First he turned on the electricity for Hannah's room. Then he placed the flowers inside the rolling food carrier, pushed them through and looked through the peephole. Hannah lay in her bed. Her back was to the door.

'I brought you a gift,' Walter said.

Hannah didn't answer, didn't move.

'Hannah, can you hear me?'

She didn't speak.

'I was hoping we could talk.'

No answer.

'Hannah, please… say something.'

No answer.

'If you want to eat, you need to talk to me.'

Walter waited. Minutes passed. She wouldn't speak.

Walter stormed upstairs and paced around the kitchen, hands shaking. When he'd calmed down, he went to the closet to pray to Mary for guidance.

His Blessed Mother's voice was faint; he could barely hear her. Mary's voice grew fainter, as though she was dying, and finally she stopped talking.

He needed to go to Sinclair. He needed to pray in front of Mary – the real, true Mary, the one who had saved him. He needed to get down on his knees, press his head against the chapel floor and with his hands clasped together and tucked against his stomach, pray until his Blessed Mother spoke and told him what to do.