“Goodbye, Robert,” she said. The pain of seeing him like this was overshadowed by all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.
He hung his head in defeat. “At least let me take my letters,” Robert pleaded as he crumpled before them.
Ruth picked up the shoeboxes at his desk, and handing them over, she looked at him one last time. “I wish it could have ended differently. I hope you find your way.”
And then she walked out of the carriage house and back along the stone path, while Edward ensured that Robert left without anything more than the letters Ruth had allowed him.
Inside the house, Ruth collapsed in her study in the first chair she found. She heard the sound of Robert’s tires on the gravel, leaving Magnolia Bluff forever. And then Edward came in and sat down beside her.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked, concerned.
Ruth shook her head.
“You are very brave. You know, you might have asked me for help sooner. If I had known . . . I hate that it came to this.” He motioned to her face.
“It’s nothing. You’re here now. Thank you for knowing me so well that you came when I really needed you.” She sighed. “The things he was doing, you can’t imagine . . . He will never practice medicine again.” She looked out the window. “But it’s not just him. I did this. I let this happen. My career is over too.” She sat stone-faced, overwhelmed by the enormity of what she had done.
Edward grabbed her hand.
“You are a great woman, Ruth Emeraldine. You will find your way. We will find your way.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
“Have you been in here all night?” Edward crossed the main room of the carriage house, where Ruth was sitting on the floor collecting and packing files. “You know you don’t have to do this yourself, Ruth. I’m sure your staff can pack all this up.”
“No. I need to do it. The first step of my penance.” Ruth looked at Edward, the sides of her lips curling down slightly in a pained half smile.
“I wish you didn’t feel that you needed to do any penance.” He put his hand tenderly on her back. “You didn’t know what was happening.”
“Exactly. I didn’t know but I should have. It was my job to know. I let the lines between my marriage and my work get much too blurred. I didn’t scrutinize Robert as I should have because he was my husband, and because I wanted success so badly myself. My foolish, single-minded desire was a big part of making this happen from the very beginning. And I never opened my eyes. My father would have been disgusted.”
“Ruth, stop, you—”
“No. It’s the truth. Not like you. You—you saw things for what they were and moved on, moved away from this hideousness.”
“I am culpable too. I chose to disappear quietly and let Robert continue on. I could’ve come to you back then, in ’46.”
“We both know I wouldn’t have listened.” Ruth sighed. “How could I have been so taken in by all of this? I was such a fool.” All her self-disgust, her pain, her sense of betrayal exploded in a rush of uncontrollable tears. She had never cried this much in her life.
“I did this.” She choked on the words as she held up the file she’d been reading—another patient who died from lobotomy. “I . . . let . . . ,” she gasped, her face red and soaked with tears, “people . . . die.”
“I hate that you feel you need to suffer for this.” Edward sat on the floor and took Ruth gently in his arms. “I think you already know that I do not agree. You’ve only ever wanted the best for your patients. For everyone, really. And you got caught up in something, with someone, who took advantage of that. I did too, for a time. Robert is an uncannily compelling man.”