“Yes.”
He held her for long minutes, neither saying a word. “I'd better check my guys,” she said finally. She brushed her lips against his very briefly, then slipped into the Subaru and pulled out without looking at him.
A cool breeze swirled around him, making him aware of dampness on his shirt.
Tears.
He smiled sadly to himself as he went back indoors. He had avoided looking directly at her because of the drops that had rolled from his own eyes. He was sad, joyous, and afraid, all at once. Sad that so many years were wasted, joyous that they could be over, but afraid that pursuing anything might ruin their friendship.
He locked up and stopped in the office to talk to the cats. After a few moments, they let themselves be lured out of hiding, so he rewarded them with slices of leftover chicken breast, staying in the kitchen with them until they were done.
“So are you guys coming to bed tonight?”
They stared at him.
“Bed?”
They didn't respond to the word eagerly like they normally did, so Will went to bed alone. But five minutes after he climbed in, the Orange Boys joined him. Pleased, Will turned off the light and Freud lured him to sleep with his purr.
56
“You're late,” Kevin said as Will approached the reception desk.
Will consulted his watch. “Three minutes. And you, Kevin, look like you had too much to drink last night.”
“Don't rub it in.” Kevin touched the dark shadows beneath his eyes. “If I'd known you were going to be late, I could have used my ice mask and reduced my puffiness.”
“I know you have a spare one in the little freezer in the group therapy room. Go ahead and put it on.”
“In public?”
“Why not? Tell people you're the Caped Crusader's little buddy.”
“Don't be bitchy, Will. I'm bitchy enough for both of us.” He looked down at the sign-in sheet, then back up, a grin spreading across his face. “We really rocked your world last night, huh?”
“Yes, I have to admit, I was impressed.”
“I guess you believe in ghosts now.”
“No.”
“Howâ” Kevin cringed at the sound of his own voice. “Too loud. Sorry. How can you not believe in ghosts after last night? Seeing is believing.”
“I saw something. It might have been a holograph someone's tricking you with. It might be a mass hallucination brought on by I don't know what.”
“Something in our water?”
“Possibly. You know, Kevin, that's not a bad notion. Caledonia has well water. Maybe it's been contaminated with a hallucinogen. We need to have samples tested. Or maybe it's something in food that's in the local market right now. It would mean it was something we had at dinner since we all saw it. Let's start with the water. How fast can you run to your house and get a sample?”
“If we close for lunch and you go with me, we can get it then. I'm not going there alone.”
Will saw the terror in Kevin's eyes. “Okay. Let's do that. We can drive through CharPalace on the way.”
Kevin's expression changed. “As long as you don't tell Gabe. I'd love a burger.”
“Sure, but why not tell Gabe?”
“Because his cholesterol is too high. I have to set a good example or he'll wolf them down like you do.” He paused. “How's your cholesterol, Will?”
“Just fine. Who's up first?”
Kevin handed him a file. “Here you go. You've got five minutes, okay? It's another day of twenty-minute appointments.”
“Okay.” Will poured himself a coffee and headed for the spare office. Once inside, he sat down and opened the file, relieved to see it was a regular with bipolar disorder. Sipping his coffee, he scanned the file in thirty seconds, then let his thoughts drift to his morning beach meeting with Maggie. They had met in the parking lot. She had picked up two bear-claws and two coffees on her way down, and they sat at the picnic table again, but today, all they talked about was animal behavior. The birds outside the picture window were gone, but Will found several others in the yard, two dead, three that appeared uninjured. Maggie told him about Charlie and Rose's cockatiels. Rose phoned early and said the birds had “gone batty” for about twenty minutes the night before, and that she and Charlie had feared they would kill themselves while trying to escape their large cage. He had thrown a cover over them, and things improved slightly.
Maggie's cats seemed nervous, and her dog was excited, but she thought it might have been due to the marching treats that continued to invade the kitchen. She hadn't seen any birds on her property this morning, but last night, driving home, she'd seen small groups of three to six birds sitting on sidewalks.
After they finished their breakfast, they walked onto the beach and they found a few dead fish washed up on shore and several seagulls that appeared to have dashed themselves against the rocky cliffs, as well as half a dozen pigeons, a little dazed, roosting a foot or two off the sand on the bluffs. Maggie thought they had probably fallen out of their nests high above.
Will had followed Maggie around the outcropping hiding the half moon cove, dreading what he might see. Sure enough there were seals, but only two, and although they seemed a little sluggish, Maggie declared them normal enough for government work. Five minutes later, the animals slipped into the ocean and swam away.
As Will had always feared, he and Maggie, left without animals to talk about, experienced awkward silence for the first time in all the years they'd known one another. Will wanted to touch her, but wasn't sure he should. He wanted to ask her what she was feeling, but Maggie was usually outspoken and if she wanted to tell him, she would. A few minutes after the seals left, they started back down the shore, silence heavy between them. At the cars, they bid one another good morning. Will bent and kissed her cheek like he always did, and then they finally looked at one another, both coloring in embarrassment.
“We have to talk,” Will said.
“We do,” Maggie agreed. “This is. . . hard. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. We've spent our whole lives as friends. Do you think we can take it to the next level?” Her eyes searched his. “Maybe we should leave things as they are. I mean, last night, it was just a kiss. We'd been drinking.”
“We weren't drunk, Maggie. And if that was just a kiss, then why was it ten times better than the best kiss I've ever had before that one?”
Maggie's eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
“Without tongue?”
“Either way, ten times better.” He nearly pulled her to him then, was pretty sure she would have let him, but he stopped himself. “No matter how good it was, we can't risk our friendship. As it stands, it was a kiss. That's all. We can still back off safely.”
“Can we?”
“Probably. If we decide not to let it go any further, memory will fade. We should both think about it long and hard before we. . .” He wanted to kiss her too much to even talk about it. Maggie's lips, slightly parted, looked like they had the night before. He made himself look at the ocean instead.
“You're right,” she said, “but Will, I feel like Eve after taking a bite of the forbidden fruit. I want more.”
“Kevin would find your calling me âforbidden fruit' hysterical.”
“I know.”
“If I look at you, I'm going to kiss you again.”
“I know. Don't look at me because I'll kiss you back. Get in your car and go to work. I'll do the same. Do some thinking. We'll talk later.”
With that, they had parted. Just thinking about it now caused gave him reason to wish he'd worn loose, pleated pants to work today.
A rap on the door. Kevin's voice. “Doctor, Mr. Hardwick is here to see you.”
Will started to stand to open the door then thought better of it and crossed his legs and said, “Come on in.”
57
The day raced by for Maggie, who could barely get a moment to breathe. She put a record number of dogs and cats on mild tranquilizers, and frequently, she thought their owners needed them just as badly. Several told her they had seen or heard strange thingsâtwo used the word “ghost” without hesitationâin their homes, and that the animals had corroborated the phenomena, keeping their humans from thinking themselves crazy. Maggie believed them.
Each story made her think of the awful visions lurking in Gabe and Kevin's home, and how strongly Will had reacted. She had been the only person near enough to him know he'd said something in addition to his oldest brother's name. The words that followed were strangled, but she was almost sure he'd said
I killed you.
That was why she had tried so hard to get him to talk once they were alone.
Does he even know he said it? Does he know he said it once before?
She doubted he remembered the first time. It was the night of Michael's death, and Maggie had crossed the street to his family's house and gone upstairs to see him at his mother's request. She was worried about him because he had locked himself in as soon as the first tumult had died down, and now refused to speak to anyone or eat any supper.
Once he knew it was her, he undid the little slide bolt Michael had helped him install the summer before. As soon as she was inside, he locked it again. She knew why: He didn't want to deal with Pete, who was downstairs hovering around his parents like a good son. Maggie didn't buy his act because when he'd opened the door for her, she saw the gleam in his eye and realized he was probably happy his big competition was dead. Now he would be the number one son.
Will sat down on his bed and she climbed on next to him. She still remembered how he looked, a youthful version of his adult self, tall, with a cuteness that would mature into handsomeness similar to Michael's, same hair, same half smile. His eyes were red, but he had regained control quickly, as he always did, so his face looked almost normal, not red and swollen from crying. The air in the room, thick and heavy with emotion, hurt her stomach, so she got up and opened a window, hoping the bad vibes would fly away on the breeze. Of course, they wouldn't, not as long as Will's emotions churned, but the breeze felt good anyway.
Sitting on the bed, she watched the curtains flutter like ghosts, and waited for him to show her what he needed. Finally, she saw his hand creep toward hers. Not looking at him, she met his hand and took it. They sat like that for long minutes. Finally, she felt a tremble. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw tears falling from his down-turned face, dropping into his lap like rain. That was her cue to move close to him and pull him to her, holding him against her so he could cry.
That was the thing about Will. He never felt safe because Pete always swooped in at the first sign of weakness. But, locked away in his room, in her arms, he'd cried almost silently for nearly an hour. When the tears were over, but he still had his head buried against her shoulder, she asked softly, “What happened?”
“I thinkâI think it was my fault. I killed him.”
“What?”
“I can't remember exactly,” he said, the words coming at halting intervals. “He was climbing theâthe fence. I was right there. His shotgun. It went off. There was all this, this blood. I can't remember.”
“Why do you think you killed him? Wasn't it an accident? Pete said his gun just went off.”
Will pulled away and looked at her, eyes fierce with some emotion she didn't understand. “Maggie, it's like I blacked out or something. I saw
through
him. He stood there for like a millionth of a second, just staring at me, and his stomach was gone. I saw
through
him. Then he fell and I fainted I guess because the next thing I remember was that I was holding his shotgun. Michael let me carry it, you know? I gu-guess it went off. I did it. Killâkilled him.”
“But Pete didn't say you did it.”
“He said he wouldn't tell.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I gu-guess he felt sorry for me or something. Well, probably sorry for Mom. He said she didn't need to know, then he kept telling me it was just an accident and to picture Michael holding the gun while he climbed the fence and it going off. He said picture it and believe it and it would be true.”
“Willâ”
He looked at her, his eyes dark pools of sorrow. “What?”
She had been going to tell him she didn't believe Pete would be that nice to him, but looking at Will, seeing and sensing the inutterable sadness, she changed her mind. She didn't really think Pete would be nice to him just because he felt sorry for him, but she did think he might say those things to keep their mother and father from centering their attention on Will. They weren't the kind of people who would hate him for it. They wouldn't blame him, rather, they'd see the hurt and try to comfort him. So, it was better for Pete to be the brave son, the hero who held the family together. “Nothing, Will,” she said finally. “It was an accident. Just a horrible accident. Remember it the way Pete said. That's the truth.”
Silently, he nodded, and it became the truth. He quickly forgot that he'd held Michael's gun; that detail joined the others in some swamp in his unconscious, and she hoped he'd never remember. Before too long, she forgot, too.
Until last night. She shivered now, knowing the secret was bubbling back up to the surface.
“Maggie?” Annette said from her office door.
“Yes?” Quickly, she wiped a tear away before it could escape her eye.
“Your next patient is here.”