Absence of Grace (37 page)

The bright sun reflected in the gleam in Maude’s eyes. Eyes as pitiless as those of a dead fish. Gerrum clenched his hands into fists to keep from slapping her silly. Right in the middle of downtown Wrangell with God knew who watching. And if she’d been a man, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Maude took another shuffling step away from him. In her place, he would have taken more than a step.

“You, Maude Tillotson, are a nasty, useless old gossip. Get out of my face and stay out.” Cold, his voice was, like snowmelt water.

Maude gave him one more glance, a peculiar combination of satisfaction and fear, and scurried away. He stood for a moment, breathing deeply, trying to still the flare of rage she’d ignited. Rage hot enough to set something ablaze.

After talking to Clen’s mother, his mind had spun like an unattached flywheel, not coming up with a single useful thought about Clen’s leaving, until Maude’s words engaged a gear. Marian. He needed to speak with her. After all, she was the last person to talk to Clen.

“What do you hear from Clen, Gerrum?” Marian asked when he arrived at the lodge.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Her mother’s fine, so that isn’t the reason she left. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to come up with another explanation, but I’ve been drawing a blank, until I ran into Maude. She said the most amazing thing.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. You and Hailey. Sitting right there, in front of God and man, holding hands. And you going to her house when Clen was tied up at the lodge.”

“What?”

“Lord, Gerrum, it can’t be a surprise. Maude’s told everyone in Wrangell. The old witch isn’t happy unless she’s stirring in someone’s pot besides her own. Clen didn’t pay any more attention to her than the rest of us do.”

Of course, he knew that. And yet... “Tell me about the last time you talked to Clen. The way she looked, acted.”

Marian frowned. “Well, let me see. I came in and found her starting dinner. When I spoke to her, she turned around looking like she’d just lost her best friend, but when she said she had a migraine, I figured that explained it.”

“That was Tuesday, right?”

“Right. I sent her off to bed. The next morning she said she was still feeling lousy, but she’d gotten a call her mom was ill. I drove her to the airport and that was that.”

“Did she take all her stuff with her?

“I’m not sure.”

“Could I take a look?”

Marian nodded and fetched a key. Together they walked down the hall to Clen’s room. They found the bed stripped and the sheets folded on the bedspread. Closets and drawers were uniformly empty. The only personal items were large bottles of shampoo and lotion and an easel and a stack of blank canvases, all things easily replaced.

“It doesn’t look like she expects to come back,” Marian said, looking around.

Gerrum walked slowly back to his house, trying to arrange the bits and pieces of evidence into a coherence that might explain something that felt inexplicable. He came up with only one possibility. On Tuesday, shortly after Clen left, Hailey had shown up. He’d stood in the hallway holding Hailey at least two, three minutes. During that time, Clen must have come back and seen them.

How long did she stand watching? A few seconds? Longer? And then what? According to Marian, she went to the lodge, started dinner, then complained of a headache. If he hadn’t had the unexpected trip, when Marian called to tell him Clen wasn’t feeling well, he would have gone to check on her. If she’d refused to see him, he would have insisted. Would have held her until she gentled. Until she realized she’d been mistaken in thinking him capable of betrayal.

A day of strong emotion. Blinding anger at Maude. Anger at Clen too, although he needed to cut her some slack since she’d been betrayed before. But it was still agonizing to know that when Clen was faced with the choice to trust or to doubt, she’d chosen doubt.

The thought brought bottomless, fathomless grief. Enough to drown in.

“Hell, Gerr,” John said. “You’re like a bear just out of hibernation, and winter hasn’t started. When are you going after her?”

“Not sure I am.”

“Now you know that’s pride speaking. If she did see you with Hailey, you’ve got to admit she didn’t up and leave for no reason. And what you two have, isn’t it worth the effort to see if you can save it?”

“If what we had was so great, how could one small thing smash it?”

“That was no small thing. If Marian caught me with a beautiful young woman in my arms, she’d want an explanation, and it would have to be a damn good one. I trust yours is. Go find her. Have it out with her, at least. You’ll regret it the rest of your life if you don’t.”

John was right. If he went after Clen and she believed him, the happiness they’d shared might return. If he did nothing, any chance at happiness would be lost.

But whether to go after Clen was a moot point. He didn’t know where she’d gone. Her brother finally answered his phone and said he’d neither heard from Clen nor did he have any idea where she might be. It meant her mother’s suggestion, Resurrection Abbey, was the only place left to check.

He asked John if he knew where Resurrection was located, and John dug out the letter Clen sent. There was no phone number, but the address enabled him to get the number from Information.

He asked the woman who answered the abbey’s phone if he could speak to Clen.

“Oh, we never disturb our retreatants. Not unless there’s a family emergency. Is this a family emergency?”

“Not exactly.” But of course that’s exactly what it was.

“I’m so sorry. I’m afraid I can’t disturb Clen.” Although the voice was light and wavering, the click disconnecting them was decisive. Still, he’d found her.

Going after her would be neither easy, nor would it be cheap, but what the hell. If money couldn’t be used to secure the heart’s desire, what good was it?

Resurrection Abbey -
Stowe,
Vermont

When Clen arrived at Resurrection, the portress, Sister Kevin, opened the door, gave a happy cry, and hugged her. “Mary John will be so glad to see you, dear.”

“I’ll be glad to see her too. You’ll tell her I’m here?”

“Of course. You’re staying with us?”

“If I can?”

Kevin smiled. “Your old room is free. Now isn’t that lucky?”

The small room welcomed Clen as if she’d been gone five minutes rather than nearly five months. The narrow bed with its white coverlet, the straight-backed chair, the fresh flowers in the vase on the simple desk—a stem of chrysanthemums signaling autumn was on the way. In winter, flowers would be replaced by sprigs of ivy or holly, and her sitting here, waiting through that season until daffodils, the first heralds of spring, appeared. Woven through it all, the nuns’ chanting, the routine, the quiet days. With no emotions, no drama, no more losses. Still, this time, peace would be harder to come by.

She’d had only a few weeks with Gerrum, but it would be a long time before she managed to banish the memory of his hands touching her, his lips kissing her, his body moving in synchrony with hers. An even longer time until she forgot the comfort of knowing Gerrum was nearby. Solid, steady. A foundation upon which she’d begun to rebuild her life.

She shook her head, trying to shake free of the memories. Memories she intended to push away until, eventually, a day might come when she wouldn’t think of him at all.

The Vigils chant awakened Clen at three fifteen. She lay listening as the peaceful notes faded and the silence returned.

After breakfast, she walked into the garden. With a faint rustling of skirts, Sister Mary John joined her.

“The Lord be with you, Clen.”

“And also with you, Mary John.”

The nun, solid. Like Gerrum in that way. With eyes that saw inside you—discovering a speck of memory here, an old worn-out theory that should be discarded there.

“Come, Clen. We’d better sit.” Her hand settled on Clen’s arm, steering her firmly.

Funny how they always chose the same bench. Territorial. People as territorial as any animal. Or it was just a habit...sitting in this spot with Mary John, who rubbed her hands to warm them that other time, too.

“I c-can’t bear it.” So cold.

“Can’t bear what?” Mary John, determined, calm.

“They. He.” She stopped, took a breath. “You see, I...I fell in love with a man. And I thought he loved me. But he...and another woman...” There hadn’t been enough time yet. It was still impossible to say it.

“He was unfaithful.”

It wasn’t a question, but Clen answered anyway. “Yes.”

“You’d better tell me about it.”

It took awhile to pull together the words. While she did, Mary John waited.

“His name is Gerrum Kirsey. He used to be an attorney. In Seattle. Now he’s a fishing guide in Alaska, and he writes mysteries.” All the surface, unimportant bits, but they were all she could manage.

Someday none of this would matter. Not today, though. “A few weeks ago, his boat was sabotaged, and he was missing for two days. That’s when I knew...I loved him.” She was like an engine winding down. Pretty soon she would stop, and maybe she wouldn’t be able to start again. “Being with him was...” But if she stopped, Mary John would just start rubbing again. “Until three days ago, I thought he was the most loyal, honest, and loving person I’d ever met and that I could trust him with my heart as well as my life. And I thought Hailey—” Clen never cried. Well, hardly ever. Which was why it was hard to stop once she started.

Mary John didn’t seem to mind, though. “That’s the other woman. This Hailey? You know her?”

The calm in Mary John’s voice steadied Clen. Propped her up. “She runs an art gallery in Wrangell, and she’s so...beautiful.” A completely inadequate word to describe Hailey, with her perfect skin and tawny hair. Her poise and elegance. Her intelligence and wit. Why would any man choose her if he could be with Hailey? “I liked her, but she was always...”

“What?” Mary John prompted.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t matter.” Nothing mattered beyond the one fact. The fact of Hailey and Gerrum.

“How did you find out about them?”

“I went to his house, unexpectedly, and they were there. In the hall. In each other’s arms.”

“Did you ask Gerrum to explain?”

“He doesn’t know I saw them.”

More quiet after that. Mary John used quiet the way most people used words. In that quiet, the thought drifted in. She should have had it out with him. Right then. Or at least the next morning. But he could have made an effort. Come to see her. To explain what was going on. But he didn’t...