“Beautiful plant. Rosemary, is it?” she says inanely. Anything to break the silence.
He nods. “For remembrance.”
She looks at him with confusion and he shrugs. “A friend gave it to me. I don’t sleep much since . . .” He waves the fingers on his mechanical hand. “I never did, not really. I’ve always had crazy, intense dreams, like memories of another life. And they’ve gotten worse since the accident. Between the lack of sleep and the dreams, it can be hard to tell what’s real sometimes. To remember.” A shadow passes across those brilliant eyes. “I figured I’ve tried everything else, I might as well try this.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, and she is. It’s hazy, but she remembers what it was like after the crash. It felt as if it were years before she slept soundly, before she stopped dreaming of it. There are still nights when she finds herself in Robert’s sporty red car, the twins strapped in the back, and she knows what’s coming and can’t stop it. She sees the lorry veer across its lane and feels their car suspended in the air for a moment that holds all of eternity.
She wonders what it is that Christopher sees.
“Not your problem,” he says. “Besides, my therapist approves. Of the plant, that is. She’s not a fan of herbal mumbo jumbo, but she’s happy to see me invested. She seems to think I have some kind of subliminal death wish, that I can’t keep anything around me alive.”
His eyes are still serious, but he’s grinning again, and Holly’s heart gives an inexplicable skip.
“If I keep the plant going for a full year, she said I might be ready for a fish. I’m angling for a dog though. What do you think?”
He’s reaching for the door, to open it for her, but Holly beats him to it. With her hand on the knob, she turns back to him. She’s still thinking of the car, of the twins, of Jack and Eden and Robert, of the way her heart has suddenly stopped being under her control. The words tumble out before she can stop them.
“I think,” she says, “your therapist would have a field day with me.”
And then she flees, leaving him in the doorway staring after her.
Chapter Twenty
The house is empty when Holly gets home, which is just as well, since her meeting with Christopher has her rattled. Jane has left a note saying that Jack’s gone to dinner and then to a movie with the teens he met through her friends. Jane will also be out for dinner, and the note informs Holly not to wait up. There’s a covered casserole dish in the fridge, but Holly ignores it and makes herself some toast. All she wants for the rest of the night is to shower and crawl into bed, with that damn nursery window shut and locked for a change. But Jack’s still out. So after she bathes, she waits up for him. Around ten p.m. she retires to her room and tries to read, but she leaves her door open. She hears Jane come in around eleven but doesn’t go out to greet her. Jack’s curfew comes and goes. Holly tells herself not to worry, that it’s nothing more nefarious than a teenage boy pushing boundaries, that he’s in a group and perfectly safe. And at least it’s a movie, not something more physical like lacrosse or a gym session.
At 12:30 she tries his phone. It goes straight to voicemail. She goes downstairs to the kitchen to brew herself a cup of tea, and that’s where she’s sitting when at one a.m. she hears his key in the lock.
He startles at seeing her, then recovers, his stance in the doorway turning truculent.
“Hey,” he says. “Hope you didn’t stay up because of me.”
“I did, actually,” Holly says. She takes a sip of tea and forces herself to ignore his tone.
“Yeah, well, sorry. You weren’t here when I went out. And I’m not really in school, am I.” It’s not a question and he doesn’t sound sorry at all.
He starts to leave, but she’s not done. “Sit down for a moment,” she tells him, and hears echoes of Jane in her voice. Well, too bad. This is different.
He comes back into the room reluctantly, slides into the seat farthest away from her. She takes a deep breath, tries to hold on to her patience. “Look, I know this is hard, being away. But I have some important work I need to finish here,” she says. “I’m hoping we can go home soon, but I really need you to stay on track in the meantime. That means getting your work done and keeping to the plan. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, I get it,” he says sullenly.
“Good,” she says. “Next time, if you want to stay out past curfew, you need to check with me.” She stands up and walks around the table, thinking she’ll kiss him good night. But when she gets to him, she smells beer.