I stared at the repeated lines, then entered the room. "Patrick, what are you doing?"
He kept writing.
"Patrick, stop."
When he didn't, I reached out and turned his face toward me. He blinked, but there was no recognition. I uncurled his fingers and took away the chalk.
He gazed at me blankly.
"Wake up, Patrick. You're not in bed. Wake up." I gently shook his shoulders.
He blinked again and turned his head away from me to look around the room. He was awake now.
"Patrick, how did you get here?" I asked.
He continued to look around. "I don't know."
"Do you remember climbing out of bed?"
He shook his head.
"Did you hear something? Maybe you heard a noise and got curious?"
He thought for a moment and shook his head again.
"Were you talking to Mrs. Hopewell?"
His eyes grew wary. "Where is she?"
"She's in bed now. I thought you may have seen her earlier."
"No."
I pointed to the sentences on the board. "You wrote this. Who wants to hurt you?"
He rubbed his eyes. I don't know. I forget."
I took a deep breath. He was exhausted, and he really might not remember. I reached for his hand. "Do you think you can walk with me back to your room?"
"Yes."
We went by way of my bedroom and the back steps. He climbed into bed willingly.
"Would you say it?" he asked as I tucked him in.
"Say what?"
"Left and right and starlight," he prompted.
I swallowed hard. "Of course." I leaned down to kiss him on his forehead, and then, as my mother used to, placed a kiss on each eye, saying, "Close your eyes, left then right. Good night, starlight."
Sunday morning I checked on Patrick as soon as I awakened. He didn't remember the events of last night-l asked him directly. A few minutes later, Emily came into his room and chatted about what they were going to do together that day. When Patrick realized that it was my day off and I wouldn't be spending it with him, he put up a fuss. Emily's mouth drooped, her feelings hurt. Patrick's fuss turned into a tantrum, and I exited quickly, knowing he would keep it up as long as I was there.
I had planned to show Adrian the writing on the blackboard, but he wasn't available. Uncertain about how Emily would react, I decided to talk to Adrian alone when I returned. I didn't want the others to see the board-they might be inspired with new ways to upset Patrick-so I wiped the slate clean before leaving Mason's Choice.
At Amelia's bed-and-breakfast I had seen an ad for Tea Leaves, a bakery and cafe on High Street. I drove into town and parked at the top of the street, where I found two spaces together, making it easier for me to slip in from the "wrong" side of the road. As I walked down the town's main street, my heart grew lighter than it had been since I'd arrived at Mason's Choice. Everything was so normal and cheerful.
People walked dogs and carried fat Sunday newspapers under their arms. On the steps of a church, families poured out, adults and children bursting to talk, their breath making clouds in the cold air. Shops were closed, so pedestrians strolled the sidewalks like patrons at an outdoor museum, pausing at store windows to see what they framed.
As I neared the cafe, I caught sight of a familiar figure across the street. Trent stood at the door of an old hotel, the Queen Victoria, talking with a woman dressed in a businesslike red suit-the hotel manager, I thought, the one Robyn deemed beneath Westbrook standards. The woman and Trent were so intent in their conversation, they didn't notice me. I studied them as I walked, my head turned sideways.
"Umph!" My ear banged against somebody's chest.
"You walk worse than you drive," Sam said.
I stepped back quickly. "Sorry. You might have stepped out of the way," I added.
"And let you crash into that tree?"
I glanced at the sycamore behind him, part of the row that lined the brick walk.
"Okay, next time," he said agreeably, then gestured toward the cafe. "They make the best doughnuts in the world. You should try some, Kate."
It was the first time he had called me by my name. I heard the way he said it-and I felt it, too, somehow.
"That's where I was going," I said, taking a step toward the door.
"Me too."
I hesitated and he laughed.
I think there is room enough in there for both of us," he said, "even if you can't stand me."
That wasn't why I'd hesitated. Now that he had been nice to Patrick, it was doubly dangerous to be around him. I didn't want to meet his dark eyes and nurture this lunacy inside me.
He reached for the door and held it open, waiting for me to go through.
I can open my own door."
He walked through and let it slam in my face.
I took a deep breath and entered. There was a mob around the glass cases, so I didn't have to stand next to him. He took a number, then I took a number. We went to opposite ends of the bakery shelves, but both of us gravitated toward the center, to a seductive tray labeled "cheese pastries." There were six left.
I hope there are more of those in the back," Sam said, glancing sideways at me.
"How many do you eat?"