You Can't Hide

by Theresa Sneed

  “Hi, Nance. It’s Wendy.”

  “Hi, Wendy.” At last, they’d hear about the manuscript.

  “Hey, I have some news for you.”

  “Okay,” she put the phone to her other ear. “Go on.”

  “I heard from Sofia.”

  Nancy sighed. “Great.”

  “I told her I would ask you first, anonymity and all, but she would like to hand deliver the manuscript to you.”

  Why didn’t she want to just send it in the mail? Although sending something like that through the postal service did cause Nancy some concern. “Hand deliver it? In Ireland?”

  “Yes.”

  “Um, okay. When?”

  “She can be there within the hour.”

  Nancy’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Only if it’s okay with you and your family.”

  Wasn’t it highly unusual, even wrong, for someone to come to your home from the women’s sanctuary? Her silence must have triggered Wendy’s next words.

  “She knows who you are, and you don’t have to fear her.”

  “Yes, I know that.”

  “But, if you’d rather not see her, I can have her—”

  “Oh, no. Of course, I want to see her.”

  “Good. I’ll let her know.”

  She hung the phone up and glanced around at her humble cottage, suddenly feeling like the home she had loved was not grand enough for a woman like Sofia—an heiress—one who came and went from the sanctuary by limousine.

  Elle picked up on her dismay. “What’s wrong?”

  She stared at Elle. “She’s coming . . . Sofia’s coming here, in one hour.” She should have expected Elle’s response.

  Elle clapped her hands together. “I finally get my manuscript back.”

  Sally had felt well enough to go on a walk with Breccan, and Sam was at work, so only Elle and Nancy were at home when the limousine pulled up in front of the cabin.

  Nancy met her at the door. She didn’t care for formalities and threw her arms around Sofia’s neck.

  Apparently surprised, Sofia backed up. “I had expected to find you upset,” she said, with a slight smile. “After all, I did run off with your manuscript.” She held it in her hands.

  “Silly. It was just a mistake.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” Sofia’s smile was gone. “It was a selfish move on my part.” She sighed. “Let me guess. Wendy told you otherwise.”

  Nancy was stunned. She stepped aside and let Sofia in. “I, um, yes. She told me she’d packed it in your suitcase accidently.”

  Sofia shook her head. “She’s always trying to protect me. I took it, Nancy.” She moved to the couch and sat. “It was just that good.” She smiled again, but this time, at Elle. “And I was just that bad.”

  Nancy didn’t know what to say. She sat down in the chair across from Sofia.

  Sofia didn’t take her eyes off Elle. “You must be the author of this masterpiece.” Her eyes followed Elle’s contour, and she frowned. “Not what I expected.”

  Nancy bit down on her tongue, afraid she might say something she shouldn’t. “Yes, this is Elle,” she mumbled.

  Sofia tilted her head, still studying Elle. “No. Much better,” she said, with a grin. “I pictured someone a lot older and plumper, but you are quite the beauty.”

  “Um, thanks,” Elle said. It was obvious she didn’t know what to make of Sofia.

  “There I go again. What do looks matter? Plenty of old, plump women are much better than I.” She gestured to herself with a delicately gloved hand. “I’m quite spoiled, actually.” She sighed. “If I could’ve chosen, I would rather have been born less wealthy. It’s so hard to understand things when one has everything they want anytime they want.”

  That would explain why she thought she could just take Elle’s manuscript.

  “Anyhow, I am here to ask for your forgiveness.” She looked from Nancy to Elle and then back to Nancy. Her voice softened. “I do hope I haven’t ruined our friendship.”

  “Oh, no,” Nancy said. She was still not sure how to act around this odd woman.

  “Thank you,” Sofia said. She looked down at the manuscript. “It’s quite good, you know.”

  Elle’s face brightened.

  “I must have it.”

  “What?”

  Handing the manuscript to Elle, she patted it once, and repeated her words. “I must have it.”

  “What do you mean?” Elle said, cautiously.

  “Will you let me publish it?”

  “Publish it?” The stunned look on Elle’s face echoed Nancy’s.

  Sofia nodded and pointed to the manuscript. “It’s fascinating and well written. I would be honored to put it in print for you—with, or without your real name as the author.”

  “You mean, like a pen name?”

  “Yes.”

  “Something that can’t be linked back to me?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  Elle leaned forward. “Do you have a name in mind?”

  “I do. How about Ashleigh.”

  Nancy listened quietly. Ashleigh was Sofia’s longtime friend—the one who’d stayed in the blue cabin—the one who’d passed away.

  “Ashleigh Oleste—or Ashley West, if you prefer.”

  “Ashley West,” Elle said. “I like it.”

  “Then it’s settled. Your name will be kept private, always, but your story will inform and entertain many others.” She turned to Nancy. “Bring her to the lake next time.”

  She knew that would be a no. Elle, Sam, and Sally were going to reunite with family when the lethal injection happened.

  She’d be at the retreat, though, both before the execution, to mentally prepare for it, and after, to emotionally recover from it. She nodded. You didn’t say no to Sofia.

  Sofia stood. “Thank you.” She turned to Elle. “You should know that Nancy is quite the writer, too. We are blessed to have her as a member of the Ladies of the Lake.” She strode over to Nancy and placed her gloved hands on her shoulders. “She is a gem and someone I look forward to getting to know better.” She stepped away. “I have informed Wendy that the blue cabin must stay empty for you.” She turned to go.

  Nancy swallowed. Sofia had done that for her friend Ashleigh, too. She followed her to the door. It was an honor to have Sofia take an interest in the story, but she knew she’d have to walk cautiously with their burgeoning friendship, if it even was a friendship. Everything about Sofia was a wonderfully complex enigma.

  Twenty-Nine

  Time to Go

  Nancy sat by an open window, a cool breeze blowing wisps of hair across her face. Pen in hand, she wrote.

  The days raced through autumn, barely rustling its leaves of vibrant color, zipped past the cold, harsh winter, and then finally settled into an early, spring thaw.

  She sat back and read through it, crumpled it up, and tossed it in the garbage. A deep sigh left her throat. Soon, the cabin in Kiltegan would be empty, everyone going to different locations. Elle and Sam were heading to Maine, along with Sally, where the FBI would secretly whisk Elle’s unsuspecting family from California, to Maine, for a reunion like none other before.

  Karen and Todd, and their young family, were going to California. It was questionable whether or not they’d leave Ireland permanently, but with two small children who’d never met family in California, it looked like they’d be there for several weeks. They were keeping their cottage in Kiltegan and planned at some point to return. Nancy considered staying in Ireland, too, but not unless Elle and Sam agreed to it. Mimi had said she’d keep their cottage unrented, until she heard from them.

  Nancy went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of hot chocolate. She returned to the chair by the open window and took a sip, continuing to think about what lay ahead in the near future.

  In Maine, the FBI would set up a satellite communication at the Hancock farm, where all family members could gather to witness the execution of the man that had murdered t
heir family. Grammie Gwen and Elle’s parents and her brother would be there too, as the FBI said they’d only set one satellite up for the event. Convenient for Elle, as she had requested to reveal her non-death status to everyone at the same time.

  The plan was that Elle, Sam, and Sally would arrive after everyone else had gathered at the farm. Elle had worried that it was much too sensational, but in the end, she’d agreed to it. She was going home.

  Nancy was going to go to the women’s sanctuary. She had planned on being there earlier, but never seemed to be able to pull away from Sally. She regretted that she wouldn’t be with her for the upcoming injection, and even questioned if Sally should see it at all. She thought back to an earlier conversation.

  “But I must,” Sally said. “I need to know for sure that he’s gone.”

  Nancy stared at her for a long time. “Yes, of course.”

  No one knew Nancy’s true intention. They assumed she would see the injection via satellite just like them, but in fact, she was going to be there. It was all set up. She’d be at the sanctuary a day before it happened—a day before the terror in her life finally came to an end.

  Everything was in motion now, running smoothly like a casual stroll, down a winding pathway—all starting in one place and eventually coming back together again, later on. They piled into Breccan’s daddy’s SUV. Breccan’s dad agreed to drive them to the airport, according to him, at the constant pleading of his son. Sam and he talked the whole way about their kids and university things.

  At the airport, Breccan gave Sally a peck on the cheek, to which Sam frowned, but Elle laughed. Nancy just grinned. They were all boarding the same flight to the states and would say their temporary goodbyes in Massachusetts. Eddie was picking up Nancy in Boston, for a long-overdue reunion of their own.

  But for now, it was time to say goodbye to Ireland. Sally waved to Breccan. “We’ll be back,” she said, a tremor in her voice. She turned and followed Sam and Elle. Nancy wasn’t sure of it, but hoped so as well.

  On the flight, Nancy pressed her head against the seat. With all the hustle and bustle of preparing for the trip, she was ready for a nap. But, Sally seemed quite agitated, and fidgeted beside her.

  “What’s wrong, Sally?”

  She sighed. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  Nancy sat up. “I’m sure it’s something.” She patted her on the knee.

  Sally’s voice trembled. “Is it normal to not believe that this is finally going to be over?”

  “Oh,” Nancy said thoughtfully. “You mean that the execution really won’t happen?”

  Sally nodded, obvious fear creeping onto her face.

  Nancy nodded. “Yes, I think so. When bad things happen, sometimes our brain just needs to see it resolved, before we believe it.”

  Sally was quiet for a moment. “That’s what Breccan said. He said that when his cousin died last year, he kept thinking it wasn’t real—that his cousin had faked it for attention.”

  “Oh,” Nancy said, “you mean that if Breccan didn’t allow himself to believe it, somehow it wouldn’t be true?”

  “Yeah,” she said, swallowing. “He said he had to see him in his coffin, before he believed he was really dead. That’s crazy, huh?”

  “A little,” she grinned, “but I think our brains go there sometimes, just because the truth is so hard to take.”

  “So, me thinking that Merrick is not going to be executed is normal?”

  Nancy nodded. “Yes.”

  She sighed. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Soon, it was time to land. Sam, Elle, and Sally had a connecting flight to catch and less than an hour to get to it. After quick hugs and a few tears, they parted ways. Nancy had only brought a travel bag with her, so she exited the airport, after seeing them board. She barely got to the curb, when a car pulled up beside her.

  Eddie beamed, as he jumped out of the vehicle, and opened the door. “Unbelievable,” was all he could say before tearing up.

  This time, he took her to his house. With the execution in three days, it seemed ridiculous to hold up in an uncomfortable hotel. Still, he made no announcements to neighbors nor friends, he just escorted his sister through the door.

  She looked around. “Oh, I’ve missed this place.”

  Eddie plopped down on the couch. “Y’know, Sis, you can stay here and watch it. They’re setting it up for me, because of you.”

  “I can’t, I um . . . I have something to tell you.” She sat down beside him. “I’m going, Eddie. I’m going to witness the lethal injection, and I’m going to look him straight in the eye when it happens.”

  “Wow.” He cleared his throat. “I think they maybe cover his head though, sis.”

  “Not this time. I requested his eyes be on me.”

  Eddie moaned softly. “Are you sure, Sis?”

  She nodded.

  “I can go with you . . .”

  She was silent. “I thought about that, too, but no, this is something I have to do all by myself.”

  “Alright, but, I’m going to be there, too, waiting outside.”

  “Eddie,” she said firmly, but then sighed, when he scowled. There was no talking to a stubborn McKechnie—neither one of them would win that argument.

  Later that evening, Eddie went to his vault. He removed a small wooden box and took out a stack of pictures that Nancy had sent to him over the years. “Finally, I get to see her again.” He tapped a photo of Sally taken that last winter.

  Nancy leaned against his shoulder. “Yes, it’s finally—well, almost finally over.”

  “I wonder if anyone understands the pain this man has caused us.”

  “You mean outside of the family?”

  He sat up. “Seriously, Sis, I’ve known about you all these years, but what about Sam’s family? And Elle’s? They have believed them dead all this time. That’s years and years of suffering.” He squeezed his knuckles so tight, they turned white. “I want to do more, than just look him in the eye.”

  “Me, too, Eddie,” she said. “Death is not good enough for him.”

  “No need to tuck these away anymore,” he said, and left the pictures strewn across the coffee table.

  The next morning, Eddie dropped her off in the Kmart parking lot as requested. After Eddie pulled away, Wendy stepped out of the shadows. She smiled warmly and handed her the pill. “Does Sofia have to take this, too?” she asked, but before Wendy had the chance to respond, Nancy was already out.

  She awoke in the same fashion, as she had those months ago, when she first visited, Lac Caché de la Beauté. But, this time she was met with quite the surprise. On her nightstand set a copy of Escape, by Ashley West.

  She grabbed it and flipped through the pages. It looked so different in print—so real. Beside the book was a check made out to Elle Hadlock. Nancy gasped. She couldn’t believe it. Elle was a published author, and from the looks of it—a successful, published author.

  She wasn’t sure how to get a hold of Elle to tell her the good news, but opted to wait until she saw her, after everything was over. She glanced back down at the check. Wow.

  She glanced over at the clock. 10:00 am. Monday—the Ladies of the Lake. She ran a brush through her hair and dashed out the door. Half expecting to see Millie coming toward her, she was disappointed to only see the empty golf cart. With the keys dangling from the ignition, she jumped in, and took off toward the lodge.

  She nearly ran up the steps and through the lodge to get to the courtyard, but once inside, slowed down and looked around. The women were in full writing mode, and she knew better than to disturb them.

  Three women sat at the long, white table. She hadn’t met any of them. They looked up and smiled at her, and then returned promptly to their letters.

  A folded note had her name written on it.

  Welcome back, Nancy. We’ve missed you. See you later today. Warmest Regards, Sofia

  P.S. Somebody Important wrote you this letter.

  An envelope lay under
the note addressed to Karin. She opened it.

  Dear Karin,

  Your words. Oh, my. They were just what I needed. I can’t say I’m cured, no, not at all, but I do feel so much better about myself. You’re right about what we say to ourselves—I am an important person, and thanks to you, I remember that now. Have a super great day, you wonderful person.

  Love,

  Somebody Important

  Nancy stared at the letter. She had to admit, it felt good to know she’d helped someone with her words. She sighed and then looked around. What do I do now? One of the women glanced up at her and gestured toward a basket with unopened letters. The slush pile, is what they called it, the last time she was there. Letters that needed to be answered, but hadn’t been claimed yet.

  Not wanting to bypass anyone, she took the first letter that grazed her fingertips. The return address, as in all of the others, only had a name written on the envelope—Too Young.

  She blinked. Too Young probably needed someone more her age who understood young women. Hold on there, Nancy, Sally’s young. With reluctance, she opened the letter and found a quiet place to read.

  To Whom It May Concern,

  I don’t know how to write this, but I’ll give it a try. I’m 13 going on 14. I’m a girl, but I’m not pretty. Everyone makes fun of me. They call me Fatty Patty, because my name’s Patricia. Eating makes me happy—they make me sad—eating makes me happy again—they make me sad again, and it goes on and on. I want out, I mean, I really want out.

  Too Young to be Fatty Patty

  Shocked, she jumped up. What did Patty mean by that? She turned the letter over and over in her hands. Was Patty crying out for help? What did she mean?

  She’d bring it to Sofia’s attention the second she saw her, in the meantime, she furiously penned an answer.

  Dear Patty,

  I’m at a loss for words, dear. What do you mean, you want out? I can only hope that you mean you want to get out of the vicious cycle you’ve settled into—eating when one is unhappy never ends, because being unhappy just happens. Look at it this way, if we didn’t have the unhappy times, how could we really appreciate the happy ones?