“No,” she replies. “I’d likeyouto come withme.”
“Pardon?”
“I’d like you to come and meet Laurie.”
A chill runs down my spine.
“Why?”
“Because I want you to meet my daughter. I want you to meet Anders’s wife. I think it’s the right thing for you to do. And I think it’s the very least youcando, under the circumstances.”
I swallow and shake my head.
“Call Anders,” she commands me. “Call him if you must. But I know he’ll agree to it.”
I stare at her in disbelief.
“Call him,” she orders. “I’ll wait here.”
My heart lurches as I push the door to, leaving it slightly ajar. I return to the spare room and pick up my phone, staring down at it for a moment before dialing his number.
“Wren,” he answers.
“Kelly is here,” I tell him.
“What?”He sounds perturbed.
“She wants me to go with her to meet Laurie.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I can hear background noise. It sounds as though he’s in his car and I’m on speakerphone.
“Anders?” I prompt.
“What do you want to do?” he asks me quietly.
“What do you mean, what do I want to do?”
“Would it help?” he asks. “To meet her, to understand?”
“Are you serious?”
“Please do whatever you feel is right.” He sounds both pained and resigned. “I am fine with whatever you decide.”
Cursing, I end the call.
Can I do this? Might it help to see Laurie? Might it help me to walk away? Do Iwantto walk away?
I don’t know the answer to any of those questions, but suddenly I’m stripping off my pj’s and pulling on my clothes.
I follow Kelly in Dad’s car, keen to have an escape route if it all becomes too much. She drives north through a leafy suburb where houses of all sizes and colors line the streets.
How many times does Anders make this journey? Every month? Every week? Every day?
I see a sign for Broad Ripple and wonder how close he and Laurie used to live to her parents.
It feels as though time is moving in slow-motion, but we’ve only been driving for about fifteen minutes when Kelly turns into a driveway outside a medium-sized white house with black window surrounds, a gray slate roof, and Doric columns running along the front of a small veranda.
My nerves are like snakes in my gut, writhing and coiling and twisting my insides into knots. I can’t actually believe I’m doing this and I’m still not exactly surewhyI’m doing it, but somehow I’m reaching for the handle, climbing out, and shutting the car door behind me.
