No one. She really was alone now.
Her hand went to the doorjamb, gripped it to steady herself.
Focus. Focus on what needs to be done ...
Tell her family.
Call for the pastor and the doctor.
Tell the workers.
Adjust schedules.
Start making funeral arrangements.
The list grew in her mind as she walked toward Granddad’s study. The locked cabinet in the corner called to her. She was the only one who had a key to it now. Granddad’s key. No one had even asked about it because there was no reason to.
No one else ever needed the relief she did.
She shut the door behind her and leaned against it. Granddad didn’t need his whiskey anymore. It was there for her now. She almost smiled. Granddadwasstill taking care of her.
It wouldn’t hurt to refill her bottle one more time. She rarely drank it anyway. Only when anxiety or pain threatened to overtake her.
Striding toward the cabinet, she pulled in a deep breath.
As she unlocked the cabinet, Granddad’s words from long ago, when he tried to explain why Dad drank, rang in her ears.“A lot of adults need to forget the bad things that have happened to them, and the bad things they’ve done.”
She nodded. She understood now.
Not that she was like her dad. Of course not! She used the tonic for medicine. Dr. Cameron had told her it was all right. The original tonic he’d given her had been more whiskey than anything else. He’d admitted as much.
She wasn’t doing anything out of order.
She poured the amber liquid into the dark glass bottle and replaced the corks. There. That should help her through the next few months. Just enough to take the edge off of everything she had to face.
Is it enough?
She stopped. Stared at the bottle. Of course it was. She was being silly.
Before she could change her mind, she placed the whiskey bottle back into the cabinet, closed the door, and slid the key into the lock.
Her head twinged.
She couldn’t avoid it any longer. She had to tell her family about Granddad.
Go ahead. Lock the cabinet.
But her hand wouldn’t cooperate. It just held the key. And shook. Maybe she should take Granddad’s large whiskey bottle back to her room––
No. There was enough in her pocket.
Setting her jaw, she turned the key. With the click of the lock, she jumped. Blinked her eyes. Felt a little like she was waking up from a deep sleep.
Shaking off the feeling, she went to grab her coat and boots. Then stopped. Why was she so jittery?
Then again, whywouldn’tshe be, considering what she was about to do?
Her trembling hand slipped into her pocket, drew out the bottle, and raised it for a sip. Just one, to steady up.
