“Yes, yes!” Claire perked up, nodding in agreement. “He didn’t always used to be that way, always pretty easy-going and a sharp wit. We basically got along, had a great time together. But once we started having the babies, it seemed to fall apart then. I thought he was mad at me because of what happened, losing them.”
“No, Claire, I don’t think it was you at all.” Mitchell gave her a pointed look. “You know the hazards of the hatting business, don’t you?”
“I’ve always heard of it. I hadn’t given it much thought. Living for the moment, I guess.”
Mitchell shook his head. “I don’t know how much longer he’ll be able to do this kind of work. He’s been in the environment long enough. It’s finally taking its toll. It’s toxic, being around all the chemicals and working on creating those hats the way he loves to do.”
“You think he knew what he was doing to me?” Claire took a quick sip from her cup, never taking her eyes off her brother-in-law.
“I don’t know, but I think in his mind, twisted as it may be, he believed he was doing the right thing.” Mitchell furrowed his brows.
She sat up straight and leaned forward in her chair. “He hurt me, Mitchell, more than anyone will ever know. I’ll never forgive him for what he did. I don’t care what the reason is.” She gazed in earnest into her brother-in-law’s face. “Honestly, a big part of me hates him now. And of course, I’m scared of him.”
Mitchell pursed his lips together, nodding in agreement. “I don’t ever believe in putting a woman away like that, not someone who’s perfectly sane. Not sure I’d do it to someone even if they were a raving lunatic. I don’t share a lot of the views most men have about women, you know.” He glanced over at Claire and grinned. “Maybe that’s why I stay single. Easy to keep your nose clean and your life simple.”
“Aw, Mitchell. You’d make a great husband for some nice girl out there.” Claire smiled back, kicking him lightly under the table. “You sure you haven’t given it enough thought?”
“Don’t know. I think I’m just a confirmed old bachelor. Like it that way. I can come and go as I please, and no one to give me any lip over it. There’s something to that, I’ll say.”
Claire lost the smile and gazed at Mitchell. “What’s going to happen to me? What do I do now? I don’t have anywhere to go. And I haven’t even told my family about all this.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You may not believe me, but after our talk, I did do some thinking. I’ll be honest. I have talked to a friend of mine, who’s also one of our valued clients.”
“Who’s that? Have I heard of him?”
“George Parker. He owns a nice department store in Knoxville. G. P. and Sons. Been in his family for forty years and still going strong.”
Filled with alarm, Claire shifted in her chair, her brow wrinkling into a frown. “What did you tell him? I hope you didn’t say too much.”
“Easy, Claire.” Mitchell held out a hand. “George is one of my best and closest friends. I knew if anyone would understand and could help with a solution, he could.”
“And?”
“Here’s the deal.” He cleared his throat and took a sip of tea. “I don’t advise you to stay here. This town’s too small for hiding. Let’s face it. Like it or not, you’re going to turn up missing at Hatchie River. They’ll call Adrian. You can depend on that happening.”
Claire blanched at the thought. Of course, they would. “That’s true.” The knot in her stomach tightened.
“He’ll most likely tell me about it, and after that, I’m not sure. They could also notify the authorities, too. I don’t know how much effort they put into searching for patients who escape. From the sound of things, it doesn’t seem like much, which makes it easier for you.”
“I don’t know how that makes it easier for me.” She sank back in the chair, staring down at the empty teacup.
“Listen, I have it all figured out.”
“Great, and when had you planned on filling me in about it? I didn’t hear back from you.” She scowled.
He sighed, grimacing. “I know you thought I’d abandoned you, but I didn’t. I had to work out the details on dealing with this situation. The big part, too, was how to deal with my brother.
“Mitchell, I was desperate. You don’t know how desperate.”
“I know. I know. You told me. I believe you. The good thing is, I’ve found a solution. Parker says he has a vacant house he can let you use for a while, until we think of something more permanent.”
“Really? He has spare houses sitting around?” Claire shrugged a little. “Well, he must make some mighty good money in that department store of his.”
Mitchell shot her an exasperated look. “The house actually belonged to his wife. She passed away three years ago. It’s just sitting there vacant. He was only too glad to put it to use.” He studied Claire as she sat in thought. “What do you think about us taking the next train out of Memphis and getting you out of here as fast as we can?”
Claire still didn’t say anything. Her brother-in-law began drumming his fingers on the table.
“Well? Do we do this or not?”
“No, no! I’m not saying I don’t like the idea. I’m just trying to make sense of it all. I’m leaving my whole life behind. I don’t have any clothes, or my things. I’m not prepared for this.”
“Were you prepared when you left Hatchie River?”
Silence.
“See? You saw an opportunity and, like you said, jumped for it. Did you take time to plot and plan, think about what you were going to take?”
Claire shook her head, blinking. “Not like I had anything to take.”
Mitchell pounded the table with this fist. “There you have it! You made a run for it. That’s what you’re doing again here. Why? Because there’s really no other way out of this, and the more distance you can put between you and this town, the better.” He dipped his head down a little, following Claire as she lowered her face and stared into her cup again. “Look, you stay here tonight. I’ll go first thing in the morning and buy some clothes, and we’ll leave for Memphis just in time to take The Tennessean all the way to Knoxville.”
“The Tennessean?”
“You heard me. We’ll be taking the newest train on The Southern. She’s a beauty. Caught a look at her in the paper.”
“Didn’t have access to a paper, so I didn’t hear about that.” Claire squared up her shoulders, lifting her head. She grinned at Mitchell. “So why are you so willing to help me?”
His face softened, and he reached over and placed his hand over hers. “I like you, Claire. Always have. You’re a good lady, and I hate seeing a nice person unjustly punished for something they can’t control. Like you, I don’t condone Adrian for what he did, regardless of his state of mind. And if that place was a bad as you told me, it’s a wonder you didn’t wind up dead.”
She flinched at his last word. “What Adrian did to me was like a knife through my heart. But you’ve saved my life. I owe you a lot.”
He waved her away. “Just glad we’ve got something figured out so we can get you on your way.”
The two sat together for a few minutes, lost in thought, neither saying a word. Her stomach rumbled, and now she thought about food. As if reading her mind, he spoke up. “Tell you what. Let’s eat a little, and then you can take a nice hot bath. I’ll find something for you to wear for the night. How about that?”
“I’d love nothing better.” Claire flashed him an easy smile. The anticipation of eating normal food and taking a ‘nice hot bath,’ struck her as foreign. Would she ever be able to look at a tub the same way again, after her horrid memories of the asylum? What would a clean, comfortable bed feel like again, with a man nearby who vowed to help rather than harm or take advantage?
After gathering up the cups, Mitchell spent the next thirty minutes putting together a light dinner. As they conversed about the latest news in the community, about friends, and the business, the kitchen had taken
on a warmer atmosphere. Smells from hot food stirred up her hunger. As enticing as a hearty meal seemed, she wanted a bath and a change of clothes.
She got up from her chair and help set the table. He placed a small piece of steak on each plate, followed by a modest portion of green beans and boiled potatoes. When the glasses had been filled, each took their place and began eating. Claire closed her eyes, savoring each fresh bite. The taste of spices hit her palate in the most delightful way, flirting with her tongue as she chewed.
“Is everything all right?” The brother-in-law put his fork down for a moment and waited for a response.
“I don’t know what to say. This so delicious, the best I’ve eaten since the last day Adrian and I ate together.”
Mitchell lowered his eyes in silence.
“At Hatchie River, we grew fresh vegetables and killed our own cows and pigs for meat, but we never saw any of the goods on our plates. All we got were the leftovers, and the worst of it.”
During the meal, Claire reflected on how Mitchel had now become a generous kindred spirit. Kindness seemed at the heart of this man who’d once struck her as distant, one she didn’t understand. After dinner, she washed dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. Mitchell spent time preparing the bathroom and finding something suitable for her to wear. He led her down the hallway and pointed to a doorway. Once the door closed, she found herself in a tiny room with the toilet, sink, and tub all within touching distance.
She stared at the neatness, clean bright porcelain, sparkling mirror, and a fresh fluffy towel and washcloth on top of a dark cotton robe. A fresh white bar of soap rested in the soap dish. The steel knobs and faucet in the tub winked at her in the light, and she eyed them with wonder, as if seeing these for the first time. Even now they elicited a certain fear.
Had she been away so long that she’d forgotten the simple luxuries of everyday living? The thought of undressing unleashed a confounding renewed sense of modesty she didn’t understand. She surveyed the room again, making sure the blinds covered the windows. Slowly she removed all her clothing, stepped toward the tub, and twisted the knobs. The sound of water ran loud in her ears like it did in the tub rooms. She forced herself to remain calm and focused.
While water splashed into the tub, she relieved herself in the toilet, happy for cleanliness and plenty of toilet paper. Within minutes, she stepped gingerly into the tub, acclimated to the warmth, and sat down. She waited for an attendant to lock her under the horrid canvas, but no one came. For the first time, her eyes scanned over her body, on down to her feet. Nothing had wrapped her skin in such comfort as the clear warm water, and all she wanted to do was concentrate on how she felt right now.
A good meal, the first in months, and a clean bath free from her own waste had already begun a positive influence on her psyche. Her thoughts turned back to Mitchell’s earlier suggestions of not remaining in Ash Grove. The suggestion had not totally surprised her. Under different circumstances the mere notion of it all would have struck her as romantic, the stuff of movies.
She reached for the wash cloth and soap. For the next several minutes she ran the cloth over every part of her body, including her hair, digging her fingers into her scalp like her life depended on it. Soon her hair would grow back, and she’d use pretty hair pins and scarves like she’d done before. Maybe she’d grow her hair longer this time, so long until it nearly reached her ankles, with nothing more to do than simply plait the strands in one thick, long braid. Ducking down under the water, she rinsed all the soap from her hair and off her skin. For good measure, she emptied the tub and stood under the shower until her skin glistened and strands of hair squeaked when she ran her fingers through them. Claire smiled. That’s what a bath should be like for everyone! After drying off, she slipped on the robe and stepped out into the hallway.
“You done? Do you need anything else?” Mitchell walked around the corner.
“That was the best bath I’ve had in a long time.” Claire grinned and shook her head a little to fluff out her hair. “Not having fifty other people around was the nicest of all.”
The gentleman smiled, nodding in affirmation. “Did you want to stay up a bit and talk some more, read a book, or do you just want to head off to bed?”
“I think I’ll go to bed, try to get some sleep. I’m exhausted. Haven’t had a peaceful sleep in forever.”
Mitchell led her back down the hallway to a room on the left. The light from a small lamp resting on the nightstand cast the room in a soft lazy glow. “This is my guest room. I’ll be right across the hall if you need me for anything.”
“Thanks so much.” Claire turned and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t know how much I appreciate all this. I don’t have anyone else in the world on my side right now, someone I can rely on anymore.”
“I’m only too happy to do this for you. Get some sleep, and we’ll take care of the rest of this in the morning. I’ll think of something to tell Adrian.”
Claire shut the door of the guest room behind her. She took a deep breath, inhaling nothing but clean air. Her eyes surveyed the room. At last, a real bed, with fluffy pillows, pristine linens, and a fresh-laundered smell she’d learn to appreciate from this point forward. Sleek maple furnishings lined the white walls. Next to the bed lay a woven tapestry-style rug depicting a renaissance couple kissing under a pear tree. Everything neat and in order. Even the hardwood floor struck the bottoms of her feet with a surface so clean she swore she could almost eat off them.
She slid between the sheets and turned off the light. As she lay there, the darkness swallowed her up, overwhelming and suffocating, leaving her almost gasping for breath. Other than the occasional settling of the house or stray cricket chirping outside the window, the house held the quietness found in a mausoleum. How delicious the quietness played against her ears, the noise of no noise, so quiet she almost heard her own heart beating in her chest.
With each passing minute, she grew more comfortable. So many thoughts and a brain too weary to process it all. She closed her eyes while her mind drifted between consciousness and dreaming. Just when she’d nearly dropped off to sleep, the image of Grace’s death-filled eyes and lifeless face jarred her awake. She sat upright, clutching the covers around her like she had done many a night at Hatchie River.
Claire took a few deep breaths, adjusted the sheets, and dropped back down. Would she ever be rid of this hateful vision? A stab of uneasiness washed over her. Someone would find Grace and discover, too, that an inmate was missing. Adrian would know. Even through his own cloudiness, he’d understand well enough that his wife now roamed free somewhere, free against his will. What more could she say about what happened on those stairs, hidden away from patients and staff? In her situation, wouldn’t anyone else had done the same? Of course! She wasn’t the first to escape the asylum, nor was Grace the first staff to have suffered an ill stroke of luck there. Mitchell spoke the truth: she seized an opportunity and took it.
Chapter Nine
It was the voices. Always the never-ending sound of voices, angry, pleading, insistent, consoling. The voices never stopped. Claire opened her eyes, dazed. She glanced over, expecting Ruth, only to see a wall with a fine chest of drawers in front. The voices persisted, trailing down from the farthest distance, penetrating through the door into this room.
The voices weren’t staff fighting with pleading female inmates. These voices were male, and one of them belonged to Adrian. Her eyes widened with fear, and she sprang out of bed for a peek through the window. Outside sat a parked car sparkling in the morning sun. Time hadn’t dimmed her memory of Adrian’s 1941 Chevrolet Business Coup. She’d helped him pick it out brand new from the car dealer earlier this year.
Clapping her hand over her mouth, Claire frantically reviewed the room for a hiding place. She spied the bed. Perhaps she could squeeze under it? The closet door caught her attention for the first time. She refused to go over and open the door, fearful something may fall out. With quiet, d
eliberate steps, she made her way to the door of the room and pressed her ear against the wall. The voices had died down, ending with the sound of the front door closing.
Claire ran back to the window and peeked through a small opening behind the curtain panel closest to the nightstand. Keeping herself hidden, she viewed Adrian making his way down the walk. When he stopped and turned as an afterthought, and stared toward the window, her heart nearly stopped. She backed away, closing her eyes a second, and peered out again. He had reached in his pocket for a handkerchief, and now swabbed it over his mouth. Eyeing him harder, she detected a shakiness in his hand, which disturbed her. He bobbled as he turned back around, and held out his hands, steadying himself. Had he been this wobbly when she’d last seen him?
Nevertheless, he was still attractive, with neatly combed hair parted on the side, trousers and shirt hugging a well-built frame, and a face, though somewhat tired in appearance, outlining the same aristocratic features as Mitchell. Under normal circumstances, the sight of him would have sent her dashing from the room. She would have thrown her arms around him, kissed his lips, stroked his hair, promised to make all the bad things disappear so he’d be the same strong, adoring husband she had fallen in love with. Maybe once he laid eyes on her he’d have a change of heart. But all she felt now was pure fear, mingled with strong loathing.
The car door slammed shut. The engine sounded, and Adrian sped away, the tires squealing as he headed down the street. Somewhere in her heart, she knew this may be the last time she’d ever see her husband again. Fighting off a surge of weakness, she collapsed back down on the bed, the first waves of real fear inciting a horrid clenching sensation in her stomach. The asylum staff had found Grace; Adrian had been notified. Footsteps echoed down the hall, and the door flew open.
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