“I guess, if it were me, I’d have...”
“You’d have what?”
“It’s none of my business,” the therapist said. “I’m in no position to judge.”
“No, tell me.”
Anna hesitated. “I think I’d have headed for Stratford, stopped on the bridge, and dropped that thing into the Housatonic.”
Charlotte’s chin quivered. She took several seconds before answering. “That’s exactly what Paul wanted to do. I should have let him.”
“You still could,” Anna said.
Charlotte nodded slowly, and said, “Maybe I just have to know.”
Anna let that sink in but said nothing.
Anna emerged from the office and wandered back to the island, where she stood beside a stool, not wanting to perch herself on it unless invited.
“I was getting his suit ready,” Charlotte said. “The pants are wrinkled, and there’s some kind of spot on the back of the jacket. Silly, right? Like anyone’s going to notice.”
“It’s not silly,” Anna said. “You need to get everything the way you want it. You want to do right for Paul.” Anna looked at the empty boxes.
Charlotte didn’t wait for the question. “I’m going to have to sort through Paul’s things sooner or later.”
“This is definitely sooner.”
“I was wandering through the house yesterday and everywhere I looked I saw him. His books, his clothes, his CDs. I know the mourning is just beginning, but these reminders, everywhere I turn, are going to make it go on and on. Better to rip the bandage right off.”
“I guess that’s one way of handling it, but you might be moving a bit fast.”
“You don’t approve.”
“I didn’t say that. I know people who’ve dealt with loss this way. I knew a woman who lost her teenage son in a car accident, and she stripped the house of everything that reminded her of him. A week after he died, you’d have never known he lived there.”
“Did it help?” Charlotte asked.
“If you’re asking did it make her forget, the answer is no,” Anna said.
Charlotte was quiet for a moment. Then, “That detective came by late yesterday. Arnwright.”
“He came to see me, too.”
“He was here two, three times, asking me about Paul, but I guess yesterday’s visit was his last. He had the official coroner’s report, which also meant that they were able to release his body to the funeral home. That Paul did die from drowning.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“He said they couldn’t officially rule it a suicide. I mean, we can’t know what was in his head, and it’s not like he left a note. But based on his behavior the last few weeks, it’s the most likely explanation. So they’ve called it something like ‘death by misadventure.’” Her eyes reddened. “Like it was some sort of fun outing that went wrong.”
Charlotte sighed. She raised her head and looked squarely at Anna.
“Why are you here?”
The question struck Anna with the force of a slap. She sought some reservoir of inner strength and said, “I’m here to say I’m sorry.”
“You said that five seconds ago.”
“This sorry... is different. I’m sorry I failed Paul. I failed him badly. You came to me. You told me. You were worried he might do something to himself. I should have done more.”
Charlotte looked at her, steely-eyed. “I guess you should have.”
Anna stood there several more seconds before she realized there was not much else to say. “I shouldn’t have come.” She stopped on her way to the stairs. “But I’d like to come to the service and pay my respects. It’s tomorrow?”
Charlotte nodded. “Two o’clock.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Wonderful,” she said with more than a hint of sarcasm. “Now, if you’ll forgive me, I have a suit to press.”
Forty-Nine
Anna had thought there would be more people.
About forty showed up for the funeral, which was held in a small church on Naugatuck Avenue. While Charlotte and Paul were not affiliated with any Milford church, the funeral home had found a minister who was not only amenable to hosting the service, but also willing to say a few words about Paul.
Paul’s mother, who lived in a nursing home in Hartford, had been driven down by one of the facility’s care workers. In her nineties with twiglike arms and legs, she was wheeled in and given a spot near the front, in the center aisle. She gave every indication of being oblivious to what was going on.
At one point, Anna was pretty sure she caught a glimpse of Arnwright at the back of the church, but then she lost sight of him.
Several of those attending were evidently from West Haven College. Anna walked in with a woman who, she learned after some brief small talk, was the college president. She introduced Anna to a few of Paul’s colleagues. Anna forgot the names as soon as she heard them. When anyone asked how she knew Paul, she said simply, “He was a friend.”
She felt ashamed to admit her connection. Everyone, she believed, would know how she had failed him. She felt doubly ashamed that she did not want to admit it.
Not that there weren’t people there who knew. Charlotte, of course, and there was Bill Myers, who had been huddled over to one side of the church, reviewing some notes. Anna recognized him from real estate signs she’d seen around town over the years.
Anna also figured out who Hailey and Walter must be. They were the couple with the crying boy. That he was Josh there was no doubt. Anna could see the resemblance. He was a miniature Paul in a brown suit, red tie, and shined-up shoes. He sat with his mother and stepfather in the front pew to the left of the aisle, while Charlotte sat on the right. They did not exchange greetings nor look at one another.
It struck Anna that Charlotte was very alone. She was on the aisle, so she could only have someone on her right. Anna figured that would be a spot reserved for family, but once he had finished reviewing his notes, Bill took that seat space on the pew. He seemed to know the two women and one man to his right, which led Anna to think they were others from the real estate agency. Bill gave Charlotte a comforting hug, followed by the others.
A work family seemed to be all Charlotte had in attendance. Maybe the trip out from New York was too much for Charlotte’s mother.
Anna came up the right side of the church and slipped into a pew at the halfway point. She ended up sitting next to a man in a gray suit who turned and nodded.
“Hello,” he said.
Anna nodded.
He extended a hand. “Harold Foster,” he said.
“Anna White,” she said.
Foster?
There were probably plenty of Fosters in Milford, but Anna was pretty sure that Jill Foster’s husband’s name had been Harold.
He must have sensed the question she wanted to ask but would not. “Yes,” he said. “ That Foster. My wife worked at West Haven.”
“Were you and Paul friends?”
“Not... really. But there is, I suppose, a connection.” He took a moment to form his thoughts. “My wife, and Catherine Lamb, and now Paul. All victims, one way or another.”
Anna could see the reasoning.
“Taking his own life,” Foster said, shaking his head. “One can only imagine the torment he was going through.”
Anna could only nod. She was relieved to see the minister heading for the pulpit. “It looks like things are about to begin,” she said.
The minister took his place. He read several passages from the Bible that Anna did not recognize but assumed were relevant. She’d never been particularly religious, and her parents had rarely attended church. The minister called on Bill Myers to say a few words. Bill stood, gave Charlotte’s hand a squeeze, and mounted the steps to the pulpit.