by Ann Gosslin
The document she stowed in her bag. The letter and photo she held in her hands, prepared to tear them into pieces. But then she remembered Ray’s downcast look, and the regret in his eyes as they sat together in the car. At the sound of a dog’s excited bark, they had both looked up to see Tim standing on the front porch next to Lulu, his face tilted towards the sun.
She put the letter back in the envelope and tucked the photo in her wallet. It wouldn’t hurt to hang onto it. Perhaps in six months, she’d be ready to look at it again.
49
Lansford, New York
September, Present Day
At the top of the stairs, a letter awaited her, helpfully taped to the door by Erin’s landlady. But after everything she’d gone through in the past few months, the sight of a strange letter had lost the power to set her heart racing.
Following her meeting with Ray, she’d taken a week’s leave from the Meadows and headed straight for the Canadian border. In a small village on the shores of a placid blue lake, she had checked into a modest inn, hoping the quiet landscape would heal her body and salve her spirit.
Home. A sour smell greeted her as she stepped through the door. The cracked cornice moulding and dark, poky kitchen, once so charming, looked shabby and sad. Whatever spirit had animated the flat when she first moved in, caught up with her new job and the frisson of returning to America, had evaporated like mist in the sun. Through the window, she could see her Honduran neighbour playing with her baby on the grass. Celestina she was called. Later, when things settled down, Erin would stop by their flat with a gift.
She sank into a chair on the balcony and examined the envelope, front and back. A creamy oblong addressed in an elegant cursive. A printed label provided a return address. Mrs KG Hartley, 57 Old School Road, Carvill, Massachusetts. Erin had no idea who that might be. She slit open the envelope and extracted a single sheet of heavy paper embossed with the Meadows’ logo.
Dear Dr Cartwright,
I hope this finds you well. If you’re feeling up to it, would you be so kind as to meet me at the Meadows on Sunday afternoon, September 19th, at 3.00 pm? There’s an important matter I would like to discuss with you. No need to send a reply, as I shall be there in any event to take care of some other business. As you may recall, the staff and patients will be away on their end-of-summer camping trip to Lake George, so we shall have the place to ourselves.
Yours sincerely,
Katherine Hartley
Erin dropped the letter in her lap. She hadn’t the slightest idea who Katherine Hartley was. A member of the board, perhaps? If that was the case, the important matter likely meant a public dressing-down before they tossed her out on her ear. Surely, they wouldn’t keep her on staff when the lies about who she was became known. But it didn’t matter. She’d been planning to resign anyway. Where she would go wasn’t clear, though back to London seemed the obvious choice. If she were lucky, or begged, the Thornbury Clinic might take her back. Though she dreaded the thought of working for Julian again.
Her fingers sought the quetzal around her neck. It wasn’t there, of course. Lost at Stern’s farmhouse in the storm. The chain must have broken during her struggle on the roof, or shortly afterwards, only to be trampled in the mud by the police and paramedics. She’d briefly mourned the loss. But whatever power it once had to protect her from harm seemed no longer necessary.
Lying in the hospital bed in Burlington, with her arm taped up and her body bruised, she’d composed her resignation letter in her head. How could she teach her young patients that leaving their childhood behind to step boldly into the world was something to celebrate, when, in truth, it was full of betrayal, loss, and death? Who was she to teach them about courage when she’d been hiding in the shadows of her own childhood fears? Whatever strength she now felt, or how much she’d grown, she had yet to come clean about masquerading behind a new name and invented history, with her past locked in a vault. She was a fraud. Not fit to tell others how to live.
At least Tim was safe. Lydia called yesterday to say that things were still going well at the group home. After Erin had given her statement to the police, and the investigation into Stern’s death was closed, Tim was exonerated of all charges. In a week or so, Erin would drive up to Albany to see how he was getting on.
As for the matter of her father, the shock of knowing he was alive was something she had yet to grapple with. Why he’d made no attempt to find her after all these years was a question she would like to ask him. But he must have changed his name long ago and tracking him down would be difficult, if not impossible. And the truth was, a part of her preferred they never find each other. Dead or alive, the man she’d built up in her mind, loving and wise, was nothing but a figment, best left in the past. It might be kinder for them both to leave him undisturbed in his fictitious grave.
*
At the Meadows, the gardens shimmered like a moving tapestry in the amber light. The clumps of lavender bordering the drive hummed with the murmur of bees, and the great drifts of blue delphinium glowed like cobalt against the yew hedge.
As Erin passed through a gate in the boxwood, a vision of the house and grounds as they’d once been rose before her eyes. Sylphlike women twirled in sequinned gowns as stylish men with brilliantined hair sipped champagne from slender flutes. At the edge of the terrace, a dark-eyed woman in a green dress kicked off her silver slippers and ran barefoot on the grass. Erin blinked and the vision was gone.
She entered the clinic through a side door and made her way to the staffroom. By the fireplace, a pot of orange asters heralded the end of summer. A creamy white petal from a bouquet of late-blooming roses drifted to the floor. Erin waited, but no one came to greet her. Whoever this Katherine Hartley was, she had yet to arrive.
Upstairs, Erin’s office was shrouded in darkness. She pulled up the blinds and flung open the windows. Without the buzz and chatter of the girls, the manor was oddly quiet. She ran her fingers across her mahogany desk, trying to imagine sitting there again, writing up her case notes.
Sunlight filtered through the chestnut trees, and the graceful river shone like pewter. It was a view she would sorely miss. She slipped her resignation letter under the desk blotter. First thing tomorrow, she would hand it to Niels.
As she descended the broad staircase, scattered notes from the music room drifted into the hall. Sonorous and slow, a refrain from a distant age. She followed the sounds and peeked through the gap in the door. The woman who played for the girls was seated at the piano, her fingers moving gracefully over the keys.
Without lifting her hands, she turned her head and smiled. ‘Please come in.’
Embarrassed, Erin hung back, as if she’d caught the woman in a private act. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you.’
‘Do you know this piece? It’s one of my favourites. Beethoven’s Pastoral. The sonata, not the symphony.’ She played a few more notes, clear as drops of water from a mountain stream. ‘So fitting on a day like this, don’t you think? With the gardens awash with flowers and the lawns so deliciously green.’
Behind the piano, the tall windows framed the majestic pair of copper beeches. A blue jay splashed in the fountain and darted away.
‘When the Meadows was still a private home,’ she said, playing a few more bars, ‘this used to be the morning room. When I first came to this house as a young bride, I would get up just after dawn and run down here to look at the gardens. There were rabbits in those days, perfectly tame and white as snow, hopping about on the lawn, nibbling the grass. I was nineteen, just a girl, and thought they were enchanting.’
Erin’s palms tingled. ‘I’m sorry, but did you say you lived here?’
In a single, graceful motion, the woman rose and floated across the floor, her hand outstretched. ‘I’m Katherine Hartley. Though everyone here knows me by my maiden name, Gillman. Kay Gillman. And, yes, I used to live in this house, once upon a time. It’s a pleasure to meet you properly at last.’
Eri
n clasped the woman’s hand, her confusion complete. This was Katherine Hartley? So, their music teacher was, what, a member of the board? And the name, Hartley. Wasn’t there a foundation…? She gasped as it came to her. ‘You’re the anonymous benefactor.’
Katherine’s eyes were merry. ‘Is that what they call me?’ She squeezed Erin’s hand before letting it go. ‘I’m afraid I’ve given you a shock. Let’s go into the staffroom and make a pot of tea. It’s not too hot for tea, is it? We can drink it on the back terrace and revel in the view. Just like in the old days.’
Erin’s mind raced ahead as she followed Katherine into the great hall, their shoes clicking like castanets on the stone floor. The identity of the person whose money made all this possible, the first-rate medical care and the exquisite surroundings, was a carefully guarded secret. Why would she reveal herself now?
Katherine plucked a box of loose-leaf tea from the back of the cupboard and filled the kettle with water.
Erin shook herself awake. ‘Here, let me do that.’
Katherine tossed her an amused look. ‘Don’t be silly, I’m perfectly capable of making a pot of tea. And, for what it’s worth, that’s one of the reasons I prefer to stay anonymous. I shudder at the thought of special treatment, or having anyone bow and scrape before me like I’m some kind of saint.’ She waved her hand to take in the room. ‘I married into this, and most certainly am not to the manor born.’ Her smile was infectious. ‘Truth be told, I come from the other side of the tracks, as the saying goes, and have never been a stranger to hard work.’
As the kettle boiled, Katherine arranged the tea things on a tray. A quick rummage through the cupboards turned up a box of vanilla wafers.
‘Come. The gardens await,’ she said, lifting the tray with a practised flair.
In the shade of the greened-striped awnings on the terrace, they settled into a pair of lounge chairs. The heat from the flagstones warmed Erin’s feet through the soles of her shoes. She would have liked to kick them off, but perhaps Katherine would think it impertinent if she exposed her bare feet. This was meant to be a formal meeting, and she was expecting to be made redundant. When Katherine announced she was being relieved of her duties, Erin wanted to have her shoes on.
But Katherine seemed not to have business on her mind. She poured out the tea and added a splash of milk. Her smile was sympathetic as she handed Erin a cup. ‘How are you getting on?’ She slipped off her shoes and flexed her pale freckled feet in the sun. ‘I hear you’ve been through quite an ordeal.’
Did everyone know? She’d told only Niels, and the barest of details at that. But perhaps Katherine kept a close eye on the goings-on at the clinic. It was her domain, after all.
‘I don’t mean to pry,’ Katherine said, ‘but I overheard Dr Westlund say something about an emergency leave of absence, and I put two and two together. I have a summer home in the Berkshires, and the news about Warren Stern’s death made it into the local paper.’ Her brow creased. ‘I’m so terribly sorry.’ She touched Erin’s hand. ‘That patient, Tim? He was lucky to have you in his corner.’
It was too much to take in at once. Erin’s head throbbed in the afternoon heat and from the buzz and whir of the gardens, alive with bees and beetles, and the chirp and rustle of birds.
‘I do get wind of things on occasion,’ Katherine said, shifting in her chair, ‘but you mustn’t think I’m pulling strings behind the scenes. It’s true the money comes from me, but I have nothing to do with how the clinic is run. The board sends me an annual report by way of the Hartley Foundation, but that’s all.’ She added more milk to her tea. ‘As far as everyone’s concerned, I’m the sweet old lady in the cardigan and loafers who plays the piano twice a week. It’s a perfect set-up. I get time with the girls and the added assurance that this house, and the money I inherited from my late husband, is being put to good use.’
She paused to refill their cups.
‘I do hope you’ll feel well enough to return to work soon.
I hear such good things about you. Though I’m no expert, the girls seem to blossom under your care.’
Return to work? If Katherine wasn’t the messenger, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to confess her plans. ‘I’m not coming back.’ Erin pulled the sleeves of her blouse over her wrists. ‘Tomorrow, I’ll be handing my letter of resignation to Dr Westlund.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Katherine turned her head to look at the fountain. ‘Where will you go, back to London?’
‘I’m not sure yet.’ Erin watched a dragonfly, iridescent as a jewel, as it hovered above the fish pond.
‘For people like us,’ Katherine said, ‘our first instinct is always to flee, isn’t it?’
Erin was taken aback. Katherine didn’t know the first thing about her.
‘Before the board approves a new staff member,’ Katherine said, taking a delicate bite from a vanilla wafer, ‘they undertake a rigorous vetting procedure. It’s the only time I’m ever involved in the business of the clinic. A file is created for each potential candidate and a copy forwarded to me.’
Erin found this hard to believe. If that were true, how did Greta make the cut?
As if possessing unusual powers of perception, Katherine didn’t miss a beat. ‘You’re thinking of Dr Kozani, I presume? It’s true she’s a bit of an odd bird, but for a certain type of patient, I understand her no-nonsense approach is exactly what they need.’ She paused. ‘Partly due to my own difficult history, the safety of the girls has always been my first concern.’ She sought Erin’s eyes. ‘People aren’t always who they seem to be. So, I’m sure you’ll agree, we can’t take any chances.’
Erin’s teacup slipped from her hand and smashed on the flagstones. ‘You know who I am?’
‘It’s one of the reasons I thought you’d be a perfect addition to the staff.’ Katherine met Erin’s eyes, ignoring the smashed teacup beside them. ‘You have personal reasons to fight for these girls.’
Personal reasons. That could only mean one thing. ‘So you know about Danfield?’
Katherine nodded.
‘And that my real name isn’t Erin Cartwright?’
‘That too. But I don’t know the name you were born with.
Danfield wouldn’t release that information, of course. They only acknowledged that a girl from New Hampshire with the initials EM was a patient there in the late 1970s.’
A flood of anger threatened to choke her. Who was this woman to rummage through her past?
Erin collected the broken pieces of porcelain and dropped them on the table. ‘I don’t know what your game is,’ she said, preparing to stalk away, ‘but digging into someone’s medical history is a major violation of trust.’ Her ankle, still bruised from the desperate scramble across Stern’s roof, throbbed as she struggled to her feet and stumbled inside.
50
‘I didn’t mean to upset you,’ Katherine said, following her into the staffroom. ‘You’d better sit. I can see your ankle is painful.’
She helped Erin over to the sofa.
‘What I was trying to say, clumsy though it was, is that you and I are birds of a feather. And I tend to believe that people like us recognise each other. Even across space and time.’ Her face was flushed from the heat, and she clasped Erin’s hand. ‘The memory of that early abandonment, the sadness and the terror… it stays with us always, doesn’t it?’
Erin looked away, unsure of where this inquiry was headed.
‘The girls will be coming back soon,’ Katharine said, glancing at her watch, ‘so I’ll get right to the matter I mentioned in my letter. Effective immediately, Dr Westlund has been removed from his position as medical director of the Meadows.’
At the shock of this announcement, Erin’s head jerked up. Niels, fired? ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Dr Westlund was arrested for forging prescriptions,’ Katherine said. ‘Narcotics, I believe.’ She paused, as if debating how much more to say. ‘In lieu of jail time, he’s been ordered to enter
a rehab facility for three months. When he gets out, the board will vote on whether or not to reinstate him in his current role. In the interim, they would like you to take over as director. If things work out, and I have no doubt they will,’ Katherine said, with the hint of a smile, ‘it would become a permanent appointment.’
Niels, a convicted felon. It was impossible to take in.
‘Due to mitigating circumstances,’ Katherine continued, ‘and Dr Westlund’s exemplary record to date, the judge was willing to be lenient. The board may be as well, but I don’t believe they’ll reinstate him after he gets out of rehab. It wouldn’t do to have a convicted felon at the helm of the Meadows. Regardless of the circumstances that brought it about.’
‘Circumstances?’ Erin sat up straight. ‘I don’t understand’.
‘It’s not my place to say anything, but I suppose it will all come out anyway, as these things tend to do.’ Katherine twisted the gold ring on her finger. ‘Dr Westlund had a younger sister who was diagnosed with schizophrenia as a teen. About three months ago, she was found dead in a run-down house in Los Angeles. I don’t know the details, but it must have hit him very hard.’
Her ankle began to throb again. Erin had trouble taking it all in. She had no idea that Niels had a sister. Or much of anything about him, beyond what he cared to show. Perfectly bland and largely unruffled, with a happy family life. That’s what she’d always thought.
‘Please tell me, you’ll think about it,’ Katherine said, touching Erin on the arm. ‘It would be a wonderful opportunity. Not just for you, but for the girls, as well. With you at the helm, I have no doubt the clinic would soar to new heights.’
In spite of herself, Erin’s mind buzzed with excitement. The chance to head up a clinic like the Meadows was more than she’d ever imagined. She studied Katherine’s face, and absorbed the kindness in her eyes. There was no malice there. What harm would it do to tell her who she was?