by Adam Zorzi
He waited in the kitchen. “Do you want to walk? Stretch your legs?”
“Yes, I would.” She'd enjoy it, and Mark needed to clear his head further. Mark took her hand and led her outside. This time, he led her away from the barn toward the pastures. She saw two mares grazing in the distance. A stallion was posed magnificently under a tree two pastures away.
They stopped at a nearby pasture and rested their arms on the weathered wood fence. Bella looked straight ahead and whistled softly. She didn't want to startle the stallion. “Who is that bad boy?”
Mark laughed. “God. Or so he thinks. He was bred here. He's Carlton's baby. Big, secret plans.” He spread his arms wide.
“He's majestic, certainly.” She knew horses, and this one was exceptional. “What's his barn name?” she asked.
“Macho,” Mark said as he rolled his eyes.
Bella laughed. “It fits.” Carlton knew what he was doing. He was smart and didn't mind getting his hands dirty. The complete opposite of Mark's father, who was bright enough but didn't like heavy lifting, according to her sources.
They walked for about a mile in silence until Mark realized she was barefoot. He'd changed into someone's old shoes and hadn't thought about her. “I'm sorry. I didn't think about shoes for you. I'm sure there are plenty of women's shoes here. I'm an idiot.”
She leaned into him. “No, just a man getting out of his head for an afternoon. I don't mind. I can recognize poison ivy. I doubt there are any other dangers.”
The sun was low in the sky. Mark took her hands and faced her. “Would you mind if it weren't just for the afternoon? We could spend the night, laze around tomorrow or go into Middleburg, and drive back in the afternoon.”
She didn't say anything. She always thought it best to let the man come to her.
“Bella, I didn't plan this. I didn't plan to bring you here overnight. I need to clear my head. I knew the old boys were corrupt and there was very little they wouldn't do, but I didn't think they'd do it to me.”
She let him think about what he'd said. He'd been cut from the herd.
“Why do you think they bugged Tom's office and not yours? Surely, the debutante could point them in the right direction.”
“That bothered me too, but she probably was told just to let people in when Tom and I were both out. They wouldn't tell her what they were doing. She's a woman. She didn't need to know details.”
“Hmmm.” Bella sighed. He was probably right.
“Do you mind staying overnight?” He stopped abruptly. “You must think I'm truly an idiot. Of course, you have plans. You agreed to a drive, not an overnight. If we leave now, it won't be too late when we get back.”
She kissed him lightly. A feathery touch on his lips. “No plans. I'm happy to stay.”
He seemed relieved. He really did need some time to adjust his thinking. Those old boys weren't just political manipulators. They were dangerous when thwarted. It was startling to him. Spending some time with his uncle who'd rejected that life wouldn't hurt. Carlton knew what it was to be an outsider and didn't seem to mind.
When they started back toward the house, Mark told her about Carlton. His father's younger brother. Married until his wife ran off with one of the owners of the horses he trained and boarded. Not good for a trainer's reputation. She left the kids—two boys and a girl—with Carlton. The brick house was unimaginatively named Redstone and had been in the family for generations. Mark’s dad, Carlton, and another uncle had spent their summers here as children, but Carlton was the only one who’d stayed. The rest of the family visited on occasion. Very low key. No fraternal rancor about ownership.
Carlton was grilling fish when they returned.
“Smells divine. Dill, is it?” Bella asked.
Carlton looked surprised. “Yes. Doesn't usually go with fish, but I like it. You two are staying for dinner and overnight, aren't you?”
“Yes, if you don't mind,” Mark said.
“Yes to the second for me,” Bella said. “I had a breakfast meeting this morning that was too much. What I'd like now is a bath and a soft bed. My feet are filthy. Do you have some socks I could wear so I don't track dirt through your home?”
She looked at Carlton. She didn't flutter her eyelashes. That would be too much, but she’d still managed to charm him.
“No, go right on up. Here,” he handed Mark the grill tongs, “I'll show you your room.”
He grabbed what was essentially her briefcase full of human accoutrements. She took an apple and a glass of water for show and silently followed him through a long hallway, up a classic wood staircase, and to the back of the second floor. He opened a door into a lavender room overlooking a pasture to the east.
“This is my daughter's room. She's on the show circuit now. She's taller than you, but she must have something that will fit you. Night clothes and such.”
“It's lovely, Carlton. I'll be comfortable here and able to see the sun rise. Thank you.”
He hesitated. “It's nice that he brought someone here. It's been too long.”
Bella lightly touched Carlton's arm. “My father always used to say there's no time schedule for overcoming loss. Sometimes, it never happens.” She didn't know what Mark's loss was and didn't ask. Bella needed his head in the game. If Mark needed an overnight or two in the country, fine with her.
Carlton nodded. “Good night, Bella. Holler if you need anything.”
She smiled and shut the door. Being visible for a full day was a lot. She needed a break.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bella needed to see Daniel. She loved him and wanted to at least see, if not talk, to him. She also wanted to make sure his recovery was progressing. She and Mark had returned late Saturday afternoon. He seemed more relaxed and focused after a getaway from Richmond and its old boys and politics. She loved the feeling of flying in the roadster on the way back more than on the trip to Redstone. How she wished she could fly. Being a ghost should have perks beyond being invisible.
Daniel lived with his mother Selma in an attached villa in a pastoral gated retirement community with jogging paths, a swimming pool, and a fitness center. Although he was probably the youngest resident, Daniel needed someone to supervise his schedule of medication and meals. Living with his mother made sense. After two stints in Commonwealth Psych, he was probably happy to be anywhere that was pleasant and comfortable with a kind person for company. He also had a dog and cat. Bella suspected he had a special affinity for the dog.
Bella had inspected Selma's villa while Daniel and Selma were out, so she knew the layout. Tonight, she had to remain invisible to everyone, including Daniel. That took concentration, but the house was too small and open to hide. It was a single-story house with a master bedroom at one end, two small bedrooms at the other, and a family room/kitchen between them.
Bella had followed Daniel's affairs while he was at Petersburg. Selma and Daniel's brother Rob had despaired of him ever being well enough to be released from the hospital to return home. The house he'd shared with his wife and daughter was empty. Daniel's daughter boarded at St. Margaret's in Richmond and spent summers at camp or in Charleston with her maternal grandparents. Should Daniel ever be released, the house was too large for one man and a girl who would rarely visit. In the meantime, maintenance was expensive. Rob had held an estate sale for the furnishings and sold the house, although he'd probably stored a box of keepsakes for Daniel. Rob always chided Daniel about being a packrat, but he was kind enough to know his brother might want something from his previous life, especially photographs, should he ever be released from Commonwealth Psych.
Selma's villa was new and modern and decorated in tones of blue, white, and an occasional splash of yellow. Both bedrooms had identical furniture—a maple single bed, dresser, and yellow chair. Selma had obviously let the girl decorate her room, but the only personal touches seemed to be a quilt probably made by her mother and a scraggly stuffed rabbit on the bed. The poignant touches were photographs of
the girl with Holly and Ivan; the girl, her mother, Daniel, and the family dog Abbie; and the girl with her mother the Christmas before Bella killed her mother. The girl's maternal grandmother had been excised from the photograph. A rolling acrylic desk was tucked neatly in a corner.
Daniel's room could have been in a mental health center. The furniture was a duplicate of the girl's room. Nothing personal. Nothing. The top of the bureau was empty. The bed had built-in end tables and lights. Nothing was on either of the tables. No book, no phone charger, not even a box of tissues. Bella wondered if Daniel was allowed to have a phone. There was an extra coverlet folded at the end of the bed. Daniel must still get chilled with panic and need extra warmth. Bella hated Daniel living in a place so devoid of any sentiment.
Bella double checked her cloak of invisibility before taking up her post just inside the front door. Daniel might sense her if she wasn't careful. She was surprised to find the girl visiting the first weekend of the school year and that they were home on a Saturday night. Daniel and the girl were in the family room. Selma was in her master bedroom.
Poor Selma. Eighty years old and still responsible for her adult son. Bella had read the custody agreement in its entirety. Rob and the maternal grandparents shared custody, but someone had to be with Daniel and the girl at all times.
Subsequent filings showed the mother-in-law to be a harpy determined to ruin what was left of Daniel's life, even going so far as to try to block the sale of the house Daniel owned because she felt half of the proceeds should go to her as Daniel's late wife's mother. Whatever lawyer had filed such a frivolous motion should've been sanctioned. Houses are indivisible in the case of one spouse predeceasing the other.
Daniel rarely saw the girl. Rob had fought and won at least one week of vacation in the summer and one or two days during a to-be-determined holiday. Tonight, Selma must have decided Daniel and the girl called Kate could watch a soccer game on TV one room away from her without incident.
At the first commercial, Kate muted the remote.
“Dad, what does depression feel like?” She wore jeans and a tee shirt with a beaded choker and sat curled on the sofa. Daniel was at the other end of the sofa sitting erect with his feet on the floor. He was thin, but appeared to be slightly more muscular. The white hair still startled Bella. His eyes were blank. He hadn't been watching TV. He'd been staring blindly in that direction.
The girl caught his attention and he became alert.
“What kind of depression, Kate?” he asked and turned to look at her.
She gave him the exasperated look only a sixteen-year-old girl can give a parent. “I didn't know there were different kinds. I want to know what it feels like inside. I've read about it on the internet, but I can't find any stories by people who have it. Do you just feel really sad?”
He released a long sigh. Bella ached for him. He'd had years now of people asking him how, when, and for how long he’d felt Mørk. He must be tired of answering questions and answered by rote, but the person asking now was his daughter. He'd be honest with her.
He looked at the floor. “Everyone's different, Kate. For me, a basic episode makes me feel down. Everything loses its color. Not a lot. Just faded. I feel like the rest of the world is going at a faster speed than I am. Everything people do seems exaggerated. Like they're laughing too loud or talking too fast or making fools of themselves. I don't feel out of it. More like under it. I wake up to rain and feel relieved when the weather matches my mood. People expect less of me on rainy days.”
“How do you know it's just not a bad day?”
“It feels that way every day for at least two weeks. Like a slump. Then it either gradually gets better or gets a lot worse.”
Ivan trotted in from the kitchen to sit on Daniel's feet. This must be painful for Daniel to discuss. He probably had no clue why she was asking. Bella realized the girl was starting to feel it herself.
“Mom said you named your episodes.”
Daniel flinched at the word mom. “I did. I thought if I could name it, I could control it or at least manage it. I named it Mørk—a shortened version of the Norwegian Mørketid, or Dark Night.”
“Why? We're not Norwegian.”
This would be interesting. Daniel shifted in his seat. Of course, he'd told this story repeatedly to doctors, therapists, and groups, but telling the girl would feel different. Maybe.
“Bella, the woman who broke my heart, named it in college. I remember feeling really sad twice for about two weeks—always in late fall, but she pulled me out of it. She'd studied Nordic literature and there were a lot of references to the endless nights at the Arctic Circle during winter. It was the time of dark nights. Some people chose to call it blue nights or blue time because of the Aurora Borealis colors. Either way, it fit what I felt.”
The girl stroked the grey and white cat Holly as if pondering the next question.
“How do you feel in the worst?”
“Kate, do you really want to talk about this?” He looked pained.
She sat straight and raised her voice. “Yes, I do. No one told me anything truthful for a long time. Now you're here, and I can ask you directly. I want you to tell me the truth.”
The girl wasn't stupid and she wasn't going to let Daniel get away with anything.
“Look at me, Dad.”
Daniel turned toward her and sat quietly. His arm rested on the arm of the sofa. He spoke so softly Bella could hardly hear him from her post by the front door.
“The very worst was when I didn't follow.” He stopped. Apparently, he couldn't say Bella's name easily. “I didn't follow my girlfriend to Paris after college. I stubbornly refused to go with her to where she said I'd find great resume-building opportunities. I insisted on going to business school in Miami. It was awful. Miami Beach wasn't like it is now. No clean beach. Just drug dealers, nursing homes, and vacant buildings. I didn't like school. I didn't speak Spanish and felt at a real disadvantage. I hated it.”
“Did you speak French?”
“What? No.” He looked confused.
“Why would you have been better in Paris if you didn't speak French?” She sounded puzzled.
“Sweetheart, I'd have been with her. She made everything wonderful and exciting. She was fluent in French and would insist I learn something. Italian. Spanish. Russian. Anything so I'd be bilingual if I was going to have an international business.”
The girl sighed. She'd probably tired of hearing about Bella. Maybe not. Maybe this was the first she was hearing about Bella from Daniel.
“So, you were sad and lonely in Miami. Then what happened?”
Yes, Bella wanted to know that too.
“She kept writing me, urging me to come to Paris, to quit school, or even come for a visit. I didn't want to admit I was wrong. She finally sent me a letter that said she'd been offered several opportunities after the Sorbonne and if I wasn't planning to come, then she'd have to move on without me. I thought she'd met someone else.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because depression clouded my thinking and deep down I didn't believe I deserved her.”
“Why not?” The girl frowned.
“I couldn't believe someone like her could love me. I just couldn't.”
“That's pretty pathetic. What did you do?”
Daniel paused a moment. Even his sixteen-year-old daughter knew his reasons for not following Bella were lame. “I just sort of stopped living. I didn't go to class or meals or the library. I stopped leaving my room in the graduate student dorm. I cried all the time. I tried to commit suicide by taking a bottle of ibuprofen.”
“Dad.” The girl jumped to her feet. “You tried to kill yourself? You never told me. Does everyone else know but me?”
Daniel flinched at her sudden movement to stand in front of him. Hands on hips. Outrage on her face.
He spoke softly. “Yes, I tried to kill myself. That memory is buried deep. Gran, Suzanne, and Rob know, but no one else. I nev
er told your mother.”
“You lied to her?” She was waffling between being angry and incredulous. She turned away from Daniel.
He didn't call out and continued to speak quietly. “I didn't lie. I told her about Mørk. She didn't ask for details other than what it meant to us as a couple. I didn't think she'd care about a suicide attempt in grad school.”
The girl sat. She didn't say anything as though she was processing this news. She decided to continue what was a startling conversation with her father. “You tried to kill yourself and then what?”
“Someone, maybe the resident assistant, called 911. I woke up in a hospital. My dad was there. He drove me in my car back to Richmond when I was released. I don't remember officially withdrawing from school. I just went home and lived in my childhood bedroom for almost three years.”
The girl looked stunned. “That's a long time. What did you do there?”
Bella empathized with the teenaged girl. Young adults usually couldn't wait to be rid of their parents after college.
“Mostly slept at first. I was so tired. A lot of it was grief. I'd lost her, and I felt like my life was over. I just couldn't see myself ever leaving my bedroom. My parents had a friend of a friend who was a psychiatrist who agreed to visit me at home. He didn't think I needed to be hospitalized. He didn't think I had energy enough to hurt my parents or myself. He was right.
“He prescribed medication, and the first one didn't work. I couldn't find the strength to stand up. I felt like the distance from my bed to the door was about the length of a football field. It really looked that far to me. I didn't believe anyone who told me it wasn't.
“The second medication sort of worked because I stopped crying, but I couldn't get out of bed or leave my room. Mom brought me meals on a tray. I didn't go downstairs for probably six months. I didn't want to do anything other than lie in my room with my dog.”
Kate didn't answer immediately. Bella imagined it must seem unbelievable that her father couldn't leave his bedroom to go downstairs to eat dinner with her grandparents. From what Daniel had told her, the girl enjoyed Daniel’s parents and was devastated when his father died.