Melville wondered if he should postpone the weekend. He wanted the night he proposed to Finch to be perfect.
By Friday, Finch had not come down with anything. Though he still seemed confused, he was looking forward to the weekend, so Melville didn’t cancel the reservation.
They had dinner at Mise en Place, a favorite local bistro, then walked down to Lake Winnipesaukee to get some coffee. Unsteady on the way back, Finch took his arm. Melville watched as some looks came their way. Perhaps he should have picked Provincetown, Melville thought, or at least someplace in Massachusetts. But no, Finch had always loved Wolfeboro.
When they got back to the B and B, Finch took his pills. Melville had bought champagne, and he poured each of them a small glass, just enough for a toast.
“What’s this?” Finch asked, taking a seat next to Melville on the balcony.
From the bandstand an orchestra played “When I Fall in Love,” its sound echoing over the water. It couldn’t have been more perfect.
Melville didn’t get down on his knees. That was a different tradition. Instead he turned and said quietly to Finch. “Will you marry me?”
Finch looked at him sadly. Though everyone had been talking about the landmark legislation that had just happened in Massachusetts, Finch seemed to have removed himself from the importance of this historic event.
“It’s far too late for all that,” he said.
41
WHILE JESSINA WAS FEEDING Finch his breakfast, Zee walked down to Walgreens to fill his new prescription.
When she came back, the kitchen was in shambles, there was broken glass on the floor, and Jessina was carefully picking it up. Everything had been dumped on the counters-even the canisters had been emptied.
“What happened?” Zee asked.
“Finch did this,” Jessina said. “I went to check the laundry, and when I came back, he had trashed the place. He claims he was looking for something.”
He’s looking for his pills. The thought alarmed Zee, but she knew she was right. Though she usually kept the pills on the lazy Susan, she had begun to lock them in the upstairs room. She wasn’t about to tell Jessina, but she had been expecting this. “Where is he now?”
“He’s asleep in the den. I tried to clean the flour off of him, but I couldn’t get it all.” Jessina was clearly shaken.
“It’s okay,” Zee said.
She helped Jessina clean up the mess, then opened the new prescription that Mattei had written and woke Finch to give him the first dose of the antidepressant. She hoped to God that it would work.
42
ZEE DIDN’T CALL HAWK on Saturday, and she didn’t call him all day Sunday. By Sunday night he had decided that if she didn’t call him by the time he finished work, he’d walk over to see her. It was after 9:00 P.M. when he found himself at her door. He saw the light on in her upstairs window, but he no longer felt comfortable climbing the ivy. Instead he knocked on the kitchen door.
She unlocked the dead bolt and let him in.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” she said. “I meant to.”
Hawk eased the door shut behind him, not wanting to let it slam and wake Finch.
“My father is having trouble,” she said.
“What kind of trouble?”
“Severe depression.”
Hawk could certainly understand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No,” she said. “But thanks for asking.”
There was a long silence.
“I’m glad you came by,” she said. “We need to talk.”
She motioned him to the kitchen table, then took a seat across from him.
He bumped the table as he sat, setting the lazy Susan in motion. He reached out and stilled it. “You look as if you haven’t been sleeping much,” he said.
“I’m a mess,” she said, suddenly self-conscious about her appearance.
“You look beautiful,” he said. “Just a little tired.”
“Weary,” she said.
“Good word.”
They sat in silence for a minute.
“I came back here to take care of my father,” she said.
“Yes.”
“And I’m not doing a very good job.”
“Because of me.” He already knew it was where the conversation was going.
“No,” she said quickly. “Because I’ve been having far too much fun with you.”
“We’ve only been on the one date,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Finch needs to be watched every minute,” she said. “Especially right now.”
He didn’t say anything.
“This isn’t going to work out,” she said.
“What isn’t going to work out?” he asked.
“This…Us.”
“Because of Finch?”
“I’m afraid he might try to hurt himself.”
Hawk understood only too well what that must be doing to her. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“I have to watch him every minute,” she said again.
“I understand,” he said.
“I just can’t do anything else right now.”
“What about Jessina?”
“Jessina is great, but she’s only here for five hours a day.”
“I’m here, too,” he said. “I can help.”
“That’s a really sweet offer,” she said. “But it’s too early in our relationship for you to take on that kind of responsibility.”
“So instead you’re going to break us up?”
She didn’t answer.
“It doesn’t seem very logical to me,” he said.
“It probably doesn’t,” she said.
“Is it what you want?”
“I don’t know what I want,” she said, her eyes filling up with tears. “I’m too tired to know what I want. All I want right now is sleep.”
“You should go to bed,” he said, touching the side of her face.
She looked toward the bedroom.
“I’ll go,” he said, standing up, starting toward the door.
“No,” she said. “Don’t.”
43
FINCH DREAMED OF THE python, the earth dragon of Delphi, which was tightening around his thighs and stomach. He was aware that he was sweating and hoped the sweat would make it easier for him to slide out of its death grip. Just as the pressure became unbearable, a sound from upstairs woke him, and he struggled to place himself. He was in his home, his bed. But even now, in his wakened state, the snake was tightening its hold, and it took him a moment to realize that this was not a snake at all, but his top sheet in which he had become tangled. His struggle to free himself from the twisted sheet had succeeded only in making its snakelike grip tighter.
Panic seized him now, and it took everything he had to keep from crying out. His limited range of motion was no match for the monster who held him so tightly. With no Apollo to slay the beast, he had to rely on the logic that had once come so easily to him. He was trapped in a tourniquet that was cutting off his blood supply until he could no longer feel his right leg at all or catch the air to breathe. The more he pulled against it, the tighter it snaked around and gripped him.
He fought for calm, forcing himself to think strategically, breaking down the steps he needed to take to save himself. “Surrender” was the word that came to mind. Surrender was counter to his body’s natural response, but it was what was needed here. With all his will, he stopped pulling away and moved toward the beast until, feeling his surrender, it loosened his grip on him and his sweat-covered body slipped free. As soon as he was out of its killing grip, he heaved the beast onto the floor, and in its flight it resumed the ghostly form of the top sheet it was and floated innocently to the floor as if it had no idea what it had been to him only moments before.
He wanted to call out for his wife, for Maureen. He could hear that she was home, in the room upstairs. But they hardly spoke now. He could feel his heart slamming his chest wall, could feel it in his leg as the blood rushed back to the appendage. The bottom sheet was wet, and for a moment he wondered if he had wet the bed himself, as a helpless child might do, and he felt the shame of it, but no, it was his sweat that had pooled on the base sheet in an effort to cool his burning body. He had never been so hot. It was unbearable.