Brunonia Barry - The Map of True Places

“I can’t do that,” she said.

THE LAST DAY SHE CALLED, when she told him she was going to jump, he’d gone after her. Tried to talk her out of it, to get her to meet him somewhere, but she was already headed to the bridge. He’d gotten her to pull over for a while, into the McDonald’s parking lot on the Lynnway. He’d told her to wait for him there, that he was on his way. She tearfully agreed. But then she got scared. Said she couldn’t wait. Someone was after her, she said. There was nothing anyone could do.

He drove so fast. He would have called the cops, but he didn’t want to get off the phone with her.

When she jumped, he was only six cars behind her.

“I can see you,” he said. “Pull over and I’ll pick you up.”

She did pull over, but she didn’t look back. When she went up and over the side, he was still on the phone with her. He could see the phone fly out of her hands as she went down. It all happened so fast.

He wondered every day what he could have done differently. He went over it and over it in his mind. It bothered him so much he had considered seeing someone to talk it through. But then he met Zee, and everything seemed different. The fact that she felt as guilty as he did about Lilly’s death had actually helped him feel a bit better. She hadn’t told him how she felt, of course-she was far too professional for that. But he knew.

HAWK TOLD ZEE THE WHOLE story. At the end of it, she told him what she’d told the Marblehead police.

Hawk’s blood chilled. He didn’t move. Lilly had been troubled, he’d always known that. But her jump up and over the railing had begun to make sense to him in a way it hadn’t before. He knew that Roy was a dangerous guy, an abusive guy, and he also knew that the most dangerous time for a victim is when she tries to break up with her abuser. He’d read an article about it in the Salem paper just last week, something that the local shelter had put out, or maybe it was that woman on Yellow Dog Island, May Whitney. He couldn’t remember.

Hawk sat very still. He looked directly at Zee in a way that made sure she wouldn’t look away. He didn’t reach out to her, just said as calmly as he could, “I never slept with Lilly Braedon… And I sure as hell never threatened her. I was trying to do the same thing you were,” he said. “I was trying to save her.”

He’s not who you think he is. Ann Chase’s words came quickly back to Zee.

THEY DROVE THE REST OF the way to Salem in silence. Hawk pulled Zee’s Volvo into Finch’s driveway and shut off the engine. He turned to her. “I need you to believe me.”

No one spoke for a long time.

“I do believe you,” she finally said. “But I can’t see you anymore.”

THE INVITATION TO MATTEI and Rhonda’s wedding still sat on the lazy Susan where Zee had left it. She had told Mattei she was coming, but she called the office now, just to confirm that she would not be bringing anyone. At some point Zee would have to go to town to get a wedding present, but not today.

It was cold for the end of August. Channel Five had promised a warming trend by Friday, which would be good for Rhonda, since the ceremony was outside on Sunday night. The reception was at the Boston Harbor Hotel, something Zee would not have predicted. Though everything about this wedding seemed to be much more traditional than she expected, the hotel was a great location for Zee, who could just catch the ferry from Salem and walk across from Long Wharf to Rowes. It also gave her an excuse to escape early. The last ferry of the night left for Salem at ten.

The office would be closed all month, but she knew that Mattei would be checking messages. She hadn’t told her what had happened, that she’d stopped seeing Hawk, or even that Hawk was really Adam. The story was too complicated and coincidental to be believed, much less understood. Mattei was already worried that Zee was preoccupied with Lilly Braedon. If she told Mattei that Hawk was Adam, she was afraid that Mattei’s alarm bells would go off and she would believe that this was something Zee had known all along, something she’d pursued. Zee would tell Mattei eventually-she would have to-but not yet. Not until she figured out how to frame it. She was glad the office was closed for the traditional month of August. She didn’t want to talk.

What Zee did instead was to look into nursing homes. During the last few weeks, Finch had lost a lot of ground. More often than not these days, he called her Maureen, something he’d done on occasion since she arrived but that he was now doing with alarming regularity. Zee knew it was time. She wanted to be proactive, to pick a good place, a facility that treated both Parkinson’s and the Alzheimer’s crossover he was experiencing more and more lately. She interviewed and rejected at least six places before she found one that she actually thought Finch might tolerate. It was a combination of assisted living and nursing home, with a special unit dedicated to early dementia. Finch had taken two falls in the last few weeks. It was clear he needed more care than he could get at home. Unfortunately, the place she liked had a long waiting list. Even full-paying patients like Finch could expect to wait almost a year.

In one sense she was relieved. She knew that it was the right thing to do, but it still made her sad to think of Finch in a home. Zee added his name to the waiting list, but then she took another tack, hiring Jessina full-time and augmenting Finch’s daily care with more help on nights and weekends. Though she was still having doubts about her choice of career, Zee knew she had to get back to work. This new plan would allow her to commute back and forth to Boston.

She’d met Melville for dinner a few times since her breakup, at Nathaniel’s and at 62 on Wharf or at the Lyceum or the Regatta Pub. Melville was still a foodie at heart, and she was glad to join him for a delicious meal when invited. The night Finch fell for the third time, they had been together at the Grapevine, sitting in the outdoor garden and eating their famous chowder when Jessina called Zee’s cell.

By the time they got back to the house, the EMTs were already there. Jessina was crying, and Finch was lying flat on the floor in the hallway, his walker upended. His breathing was irregular, and he was in and out of consciousness.

The EMT suspected a broken rib, maybe a punctured lung.

Zee rode in the ambulance, and Melville followed behind. It took eight hours before they admitted Finch into a room, and Melville waited in the lobby all night.

Finch had two broken ribs. He looked as if he’d been beaten. He had a bump on his right temple.

“He has a scalp hematoma on his right temple, and they were worried about hemorrhage,” Zee said when she finally came out to send Melville home. “He seems confused. But now they’re convinced that his confusion is from the dementia, so they can give him the painkillers he needs.”

Melville went home, but he returned the next morning. He didn’t come into the room but hung back in the hall, waiting for Zee to see him and come out.

“You look terrible,” he told her. “Why don’t you go home for a while and get some sleep.”

“What if he wakes up?” Zee said.

“When did he get his last shot?” Melville asked.

“About an hour ago.”

“I’ll sit with him. If he starts to wake up, I’ll get out of the room quickly and give you a call.”