Page 82 of Symphony of Salvation

Emotions clogged my throat. My cheeks flushed. “It’s a long story. I’m working on it.”

She took her phone back and typed.I like Mr. Edwidge.

“Me too.”

Minutes ticked by. Neither of us moved. I motioned to the building. “Shall we?”

Constance nodded, but her enthusiasm appeared to have waned. She didn’t move to get out of the vehicle, instead peering into the distance as though lost in thought. Troubled. Of course she was. Here was where fantasy and reality clashed, the latter prevailing, the former a childhood whimsy.

I played dumb. “What’s up?”

For all her bravado, for all the time she’d spent feigning unaffectedness, I could have sworn Constance didn’t want to go in. Two months moaning about not getting to see her mom. I knew it was a bad idea.

“You can change your mind. We can go home.”

She shook her head.

“It’s okay to be angry.” The last time she’d seen her mother, Chloé was in handcuffs, being loaded into the back of a police car.

Constance wouldn’t look at me.

“None of this is your fault. You know that. I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I can call that doctor again. The therapist you were seeing. If you want to—”

Constance cut a hand in the air and scowled. Without another word, she exited the car and headed toward the building.

This was a mistake, and I was going to pay. With a steadying breath, I got out of the car and followed.

The festivities took place in a common area. With its shiny decorations, enormous Christmas tree, and treat-laden tables, it presented a joyous atmosphere free from strain. It masked the true nature of the facility, letting guests pretend they were visiting relatives in a homelike setting. Rock Glen patients, in their plain clothes, geared for comfort and not celebration, stood out among mingling family members. No amount of glimmer and baubles erased the truth. If you looked closely, the illusion was surface deep.

Smoke and mirrors. It did not affect me, but I hoped it helped Constance settle.

I spotted Chloé near the Christmas tree, sipping juice from a paper cup and nibbling a cookie. She waved upon seeing us, offering a heartfelt smile I didn’t return.

“Go ahead.” I nudged Constance, who seemed hesitant. “You have about thirty minutes. I’m going to check in with a doctor and see how things are going.”

Mother and daughter greeted each other with long, emotion-drenched hugs, tears, and smiles. Where was Constance’s anger now? Why did I get the attitude Chloé deserved? Why was I being punished for someone else’s mistakes? I stuck around long enough to be sure Constance didn’t change her mind, thenbacked out the door into the grand hallway, disgusted and in no mood to witness their happy reunion.

The interior of the mansion was as striking as the exterior. Clients paid a lot of money for comfort, care, and rehabilitation. It could have passed for a high-class B&B or a shared vacation home. The main difference was that the guests couldn’t freely come and go, and their mental and physical health was closely monitored.

The door to the office, located near the main entrance, stood open. I poked my head inside, finding Ruth Christie at a desk, chatting with a male nurse. Since Constance and I had signed in less than ten minutes ago, she queried, “Is everything all right, Mr. Castellanos?”

“Everything is fine. My daughter is visiting. Is Dr. Pembrook or one of the other physicians available?”

“Not today, I’m afraid. Dr. Duchess is on call for emergencies. Otherwise, we have minimal staff around with the holiday. Is there something I can help with?”

Chloé had given me medical power of attorney in the event she became incapable of making decisions, and since I was also her sole emergency contact, I was privy to regular updates should I request them.

“I wondered how things are going.” Taking a recovering addict’s word for truth was foolish. Chloé had spent almost a decade deceiving everyone until she put our daughter’s life at risk and wound up being arrested. A lifetime of lying made her untrustworthy.

Ruth couldn’t communicate as much as a doctor, but she found Chloé’s file and translated what she could. “Dr. Pembrook has marked a significant change in the past few weeks. I would guess the worst of the withdrawal symptoms have calmed, and Chloé is working the program rather than fighting against it, but addiction is a lifelong disease, Augustus, so…”

“I know. Time will tell.”

“Yes, and although we only want what’s best for our patients, some end up back here multiple times before they find their feet. I don’t say this to be discouraging, but I know how hurtful it can be if you get your hopes up.”

I was well aware. It was Constance I worried about. “Is she still scheduled to be released at the end of January?”

“Um… No. There’s a note here that says March first. Is that not what you were told?”

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