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“Now you, my dear. What are you thinking? What do you hide from me?”
His intentions were impish, playful, expecting I divulge some silly secret or romantic hope, pillow talk that would lead us to a satisfied sleep.
You stupid girl.
My mother’s voice was clear as a bell, and I jolted, breaking from Callum’s arms to sit straight up, clasping the blankets to my chest, cold with the knowledge of what I bore. I couldn’t bring my lies into a life with someone else.
“Millie?”
He rose slowly behind me, resting on his elbow and caressing my bare shoulder with a tender touch that was like a knife in my heart.
“I need to tell you something. It will change your mind about all of this, and I am afraid to say it.”
“Have you murdered someone?”
“Callum,” I snapped, turning to face him with a scowl, unable to hold back the tears slipping down my cheeks. When he saw my countenance, he sat fully, cupping my face in his hands and wiping the wet away with his thumbs. I savored it.
“Tell me.”
“Two years ago, I woke up in Our Lady of Grace.”
“The hospital.”
“Yes.” I paused, anxiety consuming me, turning me inside out with a slow pain. This would be the beginning of the end of my bliss. “In the psychiatric ward.”
The concern smoothed from Callum’s brow, his eyes becoming two dull pools, void of expression. He said nothing and I barreled on, holding on to his hands, still cradling my face as though touching him would keep me from drowning in my shame. “I don’t remember how I got there. They told me I’d suffered a hysterical breakdown from a traumatic event. They had no other information for me, and there still aren’t any answers. I was eventually released to a women’s program, which is how I got the job with Mr. Helm. I’ve lost years of my life, and I don’t know what I did, with whom, or where. I don’t know if I’ve committed crimes. I could’ve killed someone and I don’t recall it. I could’ve been a madam at a downtown brothel and I’ll never be the wiser.”
My tirade grew feverish, I was nearly yelling, but at the last and final word, I simply stopped and waited, expecting to be rebuffed, or at least to be buried in an avalanche of questions I couldn’t answer. I waited to be pushed away, for his sense of betrayal to crush me. Instead, he took my desperate, grasping hands and kissed my knuckles.
“I know,” he said.
“You what?”
I analyzed his expression, searching for a lie, a terrible joke, but his solemn face proved his sincerity.
“Of course I know.”
“What do you meanyou know? How?”
“Don’t you think I’d make it my business to know everything about a stranger entering my home? Dr. Hannigan worked at that hospital. He recognized your name when he met you in Boston in the little bookshop.”
“He told me he hadn’t been there when I was!”
I felt lied to, unsure of how to proceed, my entire experience at Willowfield shifting, feeling foreign, as though the memories weren’t mine.
“You were a special case. Many of his old colleagues continue to share information with him concerning confounding illnesses, and it just so happened you were one of them.”
“You knew before hiring me and still accepted my application?”
“Who else has your qualifications? It was a damn miracle Dr. Hannigan even came across you. The fact your history is unfortunate had no bearing on the decision.”
“Why?”
“Millie, we can’t exclude people from life because of their struggles.”
The unspoken part struck me. His wife. His wife had been ill, fragile, and tormented. His genuine compassion had grown from his once loving a woman who had struggled. Why shouldn’t he be able to love another?
“I’mextremelyangry with you, Callum,” I croaked, new tears welling up. “How dare you keep that from me? I was so afraid. I…”
