ANNASOPHIA
Tuesday—10 a.m.
Rachel Hamilton rises from behind her desk, a frown marring her placid face. My imagination or does she look older after taking Alexandra’s case?
“What’s wrong?”
“Didn’t sleep.” I tell a partial truth to rationalize glossing over the whole truth. In my mind, Alexandra is not ready to learn Stefan Lefevbre died at her father’s hand.
She’d demand to know why. A logical question. More logical than the inevitable question I can’t escape. What if Stefan was not dead before he was dumped into the incinerator?
Rachel arches her eyebrows, but the need to protect my child overrides my guilt for keeping yet one more secret—this one truly unspeakable.
Rachel takes the armchair opposite mine. “I know you want to tell Alexandra about Jennifer. Alexandra wants Westbrier at the top of our session today.”
“Bring it on.” Can Rachel see my pulse stampeding? Can she guess I’ll risk arguing about boarding schools instead of disclosing Jenn’s murder? “You and she know my views.”
“Just as you and I know her views.”
“Are you on her side or mi—” I clamp my mouth shut, but my tongue thrashes around in my mouth ready to lash out, taunting, I’m her mother.
Rachel’s sad smile offers comfort I don’t want. “Take a deep breath.”
“I can hyperventilate on deep breaths, and I still won’t agree to Westbrier.”
“What about any of the other schools?”
“No to all the boarding schools—therapeutic or not. The kids and I—we’ll move somewhere as a family.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.” My voice goes up on a defensive note. I swallow and soften my tone. “Somewhere no one knows about Michael. Or Maverick. Or Alexandra.”
Rachel sighs. “Alexandra will know. She’ll spend half her time with a shrink. The other kids in her class will figure out what’s going on. They’ll get suspicious. They’ll gossip.”
“That’s better than living 24/7 with girls whose mental disorders defy DSM-classification.” How many times have I lashed out at Rachel in the same hostile tone Alexandra spews poison at me? Has that tone kept her from mentioning borderline personality disorder ?
Rachel exhales with the deliberateness that comes with self-discipline.
“I’m her mother.” My inflection leaves little doubt my self-discipline is unraveling, but I make no effort to moderate my tone. “I know what’s best. I want her close to me.”
“I accept two of your assertions. I disagree you know what’s best.”
Tears sting my eyelids, but I refuse to look away from her steady gaze. “I’m not ready.”
“That point I also accept. But I’m not sure Alexandra can wait until you grow up.”
The pressure about to collapse my lungs rushes into my ears, muting her indictment. Maybe I’m not grown up. But Alexandra will have to wait to learn the horrors of Stefan Lefevbre’s and Jennifer’s murders. No one can force me to bring up her father’s letters.
Rachel breaks our silence. “Like most kids, Alexandra has a vivid imagination. Hers works overtime because of all the secrets you choose to keep. Her father and the murdered boy Maverick come to mind, but I’m certain there’s more you’re hiding.”
“If you’re right, how does attending boarding school help her deal with those secrets?”
“In ways your heart can’t accept at this moment.” Rachel’s smile flickers and disappears. “At boarding school, she won’t see you every day and face your refusal to let her grow up either.”