Page 27 of On Thin Ice

“Yes.” It wasn’t entirely untrue. There was some residual pain—but not due to an infection.

“Hmm. I could pick up—”

“Would it be possible to see a gynecologist? I’ve never had this before and I’m not sure what’s happening.”

Edna nodded. “Of course. I can make an appointment.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“Do you have your insurance card? Did Mr. Whittier give that to you?”

“Yes.” He’d given me all that information during our second Sunday meeting.

“All right. I’ll be back.”

I hated the idea of Edna having to walk up and down the stairs constantly—and, besides, I had another mission I wanted to accomplish. “You can send me a text—just let me know what time.”

“It might not be for today,” she said, picking up the much-lighter tray off the dresser where I’d set it, along with the teapot and sugar. “But we could always go to urgent care.”

No…I needed a gynecologist. “As a last resort.” If my idea didn’t work, I’d have to figure something else out—and maybe even involve Sinclair.

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do and let you know.”

“By text?”

“Yes.” Soon she was out of the room, and I walked in bare feet over to the door, hoping to hear her progress. But today she wore shoes with rubber soles that didn’t make much noise. And I needed my phone anyway, in case she texted me when I was wandering around. I went back to the nightstand and grabbed it, checking messages like a lovesick girl, wishing Sinclair would text me.

But, of course, he wouldn’t.

I knew there were more reasons for not sending me a message than for it, but I still wished inside he would. I wanted some reassurance that he felt the same way I did even when I knew that was silly and probably stupid. Although I believed with all my heart that what we had shared last night was genuine, it didn’t mean Sinclair had the capacity to love or care.

In fact, all signs pointed away from it.

When I had assured myself that Edna had had plenty of time to make it down the stairs and into the kitchen, I opened my door. I knew, though, that she might leave the kitchen at any time and, if she did, she could easily spot me.

So, as I crept down the stairs, my ears perked for any sounds, I decided that I’d use the excuse I’d thought of before. I wanted tea or water or something and should have asked for it before but didn’t think of it. Walking down the stairs, it was less evident that it hurt to move my legs, at least to me. It looked almost normal.

When I got to the bottom of the staircase, I let out a soft breath. I only had a few feet until I got to the downstairs door.

And then I realized how stupid this had been. If I’d gone to the other side—down the east stairs and the newly fixed stairs to the dungeon, I’d have been less likely to have been spotted by Edna. That too was foolish, though, I thought as my hand wrapped around the doorknob heading downstairs. If she’d caught me on the second floor landing next to the forbidden east wing, I’d have even more trouble. Because, even though she’d never said it, I knew Sinclair would have told her about my transgression. How else could he have explained that offensive maid’s uniform at the dinner party?

Finally, the knob was twisted as far as it would go and I slowly pulled the door open. It wasn’t until then that I heard Edna’s voice coming from the kitchen—but it was muffled, so I didn’t know if she was in the pantry or the main area. Regardless, I knew I needed to move, because she was talking to someone who might leave the kitchen at any moment.

Once the door was closed, I hustled down the stairs—but, not wanting another injured ankle, I held onto the smooth railing as I descended.

The laptop was on top of the filing cabinet, just where I’d left it. The thing didn’t like to hold a charge, so I took the cord as well and wrapped it up, holding them both in my arms.

What would I say now if I were caught? What would be a good excuse?

Boredom?

At the top of the stairs, I slowly turned the doorknob, holding the laptop and charger in my left arm. Once I slowly cracked the door, I strained my ears, but I couldn’t hear anything. Finally, I stuck my head out and looked all around—down the main hallway both ways and peering over, trying to see down the west rear hallway where the entry to the kitchen was located. But I didn’t see a thing.

I couldn’t hear anything, either.

So I moved rapidly, closing the door quietly behind me and then all but running to the stairs. It wasn’t until one of my feet touched the first tread that I heard Edna’s voice again. But it was still muffled, although I imagined it getting closer. So I took the steps two at a time, not looking behind me until I reached the top. Once there, I glanced back down the hall, into the antechamber below, and up to the east side, even to the third floor. But I couldn’t see a soul.

Back inside my room, I let out an even bigger sigh of relief, realizing I’d broken a sweat. Wiping my brow, I moved over to the bed and sat down. Then, when I felt my phone vibrate in my pajama pants pocket, I pulled it out. It was a simple message from Edna.

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