And what did he say?I left nothing of great importance. Everything changed the day I met you.
Which had beenyearsearlier, although he hadn’t told me any of that.Impressionism,I suddenly hear in Rupert’s voice from long ago,is not about expressing what you see, but how you see it.Truth is flexible. Open to interpretation.
And love is conditional.
“Were we happybeforeour marriage? Was I happy in Newlyn?”
Brilliantly so,was Rupert’s answer, but I read a different one on Laura’s face. “Happy is a choice, not a state of being.”
“I wasn’t, was I?”
She sighs. “As much as a tropical bird who’s had its wings clipped.” She looks me over. “You were always one part frantic, one part lost. You knew you didn’t belong, but you hadn’t anywhere else to go.” Her words ring with brutal honesty. They resonate deep inside, tickling my memory where I know there is more just out of reach. “And the day of the wedding…I’ve never seen anyone look as frantic as you did.”
“So you helped me get away then, too.”
“Drove you to the train.” A wry smile. “Bought you a third-class ticket to Gloucester.”
Gloucester. I’d remembered something and had been going back. To be with AJ? Or had my past self been reckless enough to confront him?
Then God himself had protected me from reaching my destination that day. “I never made it to Gloucester. I ended up in Cheltenham.” I feel the primal urge once again to lunge before the automobile. To save Cecil that day in a place I was never meant to be. That must have been divinely appointed as well.
“Most trains have a stopover,” she says. “Yours must have been in Cheltenham. You were switching trains.” The car swerves into the station and Laura lets the vehicle idle.
“Why did I leave the wedding, Laura?” My voice is quiet.
“It was the orange blossoms. The ones on your veil. You told me they sparked a memory, and you had to face what you’d remembered.”
My temples pound a beat.
“I didn’t ask if you planned to return, so naturally we didn’t go looking when you didn’t.”
“You were only too glad to see the back of me.” It isn’t a question.
“Not exactly. He needed you, and he couldn’t paint without you.” She stares ahead thoughtfully. “Though I did tell you tostay. But mostly because…well, the best way to get you to do anything, Merryn, is to tell you to do the opposite.”
I study her lean profile. “You do love him, don’t you?”
Her lips press together. “We’re all of us fond of one another. It’s how we live in this community.”
“Yes, but you areespeciallyfond. Of Rupert, that is.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Nothing has ever occurred between us, if that’s what you’re wondering.” She exhales. “You deserve to be more than some man’s muse, Merryn. You deserve your own life, not just the shadow of his. And one of these days, I hope all this running brings you to your destination. And that it’s a good one.”
Does she mean it? I study her face, this woman who I’m almost certain secretly does love Rupert, but I shove aside my doubts and instead focus on the fact that she did, in fact, take time to drive me out of Newlyn yet again…and did everything possible to give her beloved what he needed—even if that wasn’t her. I put one hand on her gloved one. “Thank you, Laura. You’ve rescued me twice now. And I’m not sure what else to do but keep running.”
A crooked smile. “If I had one man pining after me and another attempting to manipulate me…I’d run too.”
Manipulate? Yes, AJ has done that.
Cecil.Something’s wrong, he said, baiting me to return. But that can’t be so, can it? I nearly forgot he’d even said it, but now the doubt niggles. I move to open the door, but Laura tugs me back. “Speaking of stopovers, you’ll likely have one tonight, considering the hour. Here, you’ll need this.” She drops a few coins into my hand. “We’ll settle up when you come into that fortune of yours.”
But I do not make it back to my fortune.
This is the point at which Ishouldgo directly to Mr. Gould for guidance on Cecil, and to find out whether or not the ladtruly did attempt an escape. Ishouldhandle matters legally, for I cannot risk running afoul of the law just now, but I’m not one for following rules. So I board that train in Penzance and ride it directly toward Cheltenham College Junior School.
It’s precisely where Sabine St. Laurent will expect me to go, but if AJ’s claim is true, it’s exactly where I need to be. Even if it lands me in the asylum.
Once I stood between that precious boy and a Packard. Now it’s time, if indeed he is attempting to run, to come between him and the schoolmasters of that so-calledboys’ school.
