Part 41 (1/2)
”I need to talk. I-”
”Yes, of course. Please, come in.” I stood back and held out a hand. ”Let me take your pack.”
She stepped inside, slipped off the backpack, and dropped it to the floor, her eyes never leaving my face.
”I know this is a terrible imposition, and I-”
”Kathryn, don't be silly. I'm glad to see you. I was just so surprised my brain locked up for a second.”
Her lips parted but no words came out.
”Would you like something to eat?”
The answer was in her face.
I put my arm around her and took her to the kitchen table. She complied meekly. I stacked the photos and report to the side and sat her down.
As I toasted a bagel, spread it with cream cheese, and poured orange juice, I stole glances at my visitor. Kathryn stared at the tabletop, her hands smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from the mat I'd placed in front of her. Her fingers arranged and rearranged the fringe, straightening each clump and laying it parallel to the next.
My stomach was tied in a granny knot. How had she gotten here? Had she run away? Where was Carlie? I held my questions while she ate.
When Kathryn had finished and declined seconds, I cleared the dishes and rejoined her at the table.
”So. How did you find me?” I patted her hand and smiled encouragingly.
”You gave me your card.” She dug it from her pocket and laid it on the table. Then her fingers went back to the place mat. ”I called the number in Beaufort a couple of times, but you were never there. Finally some guy answered and said you'd gone back to Charlotte.”
”That was Sam Rayburn. I was staying on his boat.”
”Anyway, I decided to leave Beaufort.” She raised her eyes to mine, then quickly dropped them. ”I hitched up here and went to the university, but it took longer than I'd figured. When I got to campus you were gone. I crashed with someone, then this morning she dropped me here on her way to work.”
”How did you know where I live?”
”She looked you up in some kind of book.”
”I see.” I was sure my home address was not listed in the faculty directory. ”Well, I'm glad you're here.”
Kathryn nodded. She looked exhausted. Her eyes were red and a dark crescent underscored each lower lid.
”I would have returned your calls but you left no number. When Detective Ryan and I visited the compound on Tuesday we didn't see you.”
”I was there, but . . . ”Her voice faded out.
I waited.
Birdie appeared in the doorway then withdrew, deflected by the tension. The clock chimed the half-hour. Kathryn's fingers worked the fringe.
Finally, I could take it no longer.
”Kathryn, where's Carlie?” I placed my hand on hers.
She raised her eyes to mine. They looked flat and empty.
”They're taking care of him.” Her voice was small, like a child answering an accusation.
”Who is?”
She pulled her hand free, rested her elbows on the table, and rubbed small circles on each of her temples. Her eyes were back on the place mat.
”Is Carlie on Saint Helena?”
Another nod.
”Did you want to leave him there?”
She shook her head and her hands slid upward so the palms pressed against her temples.
”Is the baby all right?”
”He's my baby! Mine!”
The vehemence took me by surprise.
”I can take care of him.” When she raised her head a tear glistened on each cheek. Her eyes bored into mine.
”Who says you can't?”
”I'm his mother.” Her voice trembled. With what? Exhaustion? Fear? Resentment?
”Who is taking care of Carlie?”
”But what if I'm wrong? What if it's all true?” Her gaze went back to the tabletop.
”What if what what is true?” is true?”
”I love my baby. I want the best for him.”
Kathryn's answers were unrelated to my questions. She was probing her own dark places, reworking a familiar discourse with herself. Only this time it was in my kitchen.
”Of course you do.”
”I don't want my baby to die.” Her fingers trembled as they caressed the ta.s.sels on the mat. It was the same movement I'd seen her use to stroke Carlie's head.
”Is Carlie sick?” I asked, alarmed.
”No. He's perfect.” The words were almost inaudible. A tear dropped to the mat.
I looked at the small, dark spot, feeling completely inept.
”Kathryn, I don't know how to help you. You have to tell me what's going on.”