Page 34 of Vanishing Point
The inspector took them. “I’m not your enemy, guys. I hope you realize that.” Then she scooted past him,againsthim, and out the door.
“She’s right,” Thomas muttered in frustration, irritation. He might not like her on a personal level, but it wasn’t like they were on opposite sides. They were both looking for the truth. He just had a vested personal connection. “We’re all on the same side. I’ve got to stop acting like I’m the only one who can protect Vi.”
Laurel patted him on the back. “You’re doing all right, Hart. We’ll get there.”
He wished he believed it.
VI THOUGHT HERtherapy session went well enough. She talked about the postal inspector’s questions, and the comment aboutlettingEric happen.
She worked through her feelings on that, why she might be touchy about word choice, and how some people projected their own issues onto others. Whatever the inspector thought didn’t have anything to do with Vi.
So she had to let it go.
Easier said than done, but at least she had an action plan. When Thomas got home, Mags in tow, her heart filled.
Who else’s opinion could matter when she had these two?
But that joy quickly petered out when they sat down to dinner, and Thomas started talking aboutsocializing.
“The baby shower is Saturday at noon. Kids welcome. It’s basically just a barbecue and we’re all bringing baby gifts. You know, Hilly is a nurse. Just started last year. She could give you information if you were still looking in that direction.”
“Thomas, I don’t know that Mags and I should go.”
He didn’t say anything at first. There was a kind of heavy silence that might have reminded her of her past if it wasn’tThomassitting there.
“Okay.” He took the last bite of food from his plate, put it in his mouth, then got up and moved to the sink. Without anything else.
Vi looked helplessly at Mags, who’d made a mess of herself as usual. And like he often did, Thomas came over with a washcloth and wiped her up.
But he didn’t say anything, and he didn’t smile. And it made her feel…small. Like her stomach was tied in a million knots. She couldn’t finish her meal.
“Thomas. Talk to me.”
“About what?” He went over to the sink, dropped the washcloth in it. Turned on the sink.
She got up, frustration and some other emotion she didn’t quite understand brewing deep inside her. “You can’t be afraid to tell me what you want just because I have this…trauma sitting there. This won’t work if you treat me with kid gloves.”
“I did tell you what I wanted. You said no, and I said okay.”
“And now you’re mad.”
He shook his head, and to his credit, he didn’t actually seemmad. He turned off the sink, turned to her. “I’m not mad. I’m…confused and disappointed.”
“But you said okay.”
“What am I supposed to say?”
“That you’re confused and disappointed.”
“I’m not going to manipulate you into going to this with me. If you don’t want to, that’s your choice. And I’ll live with it. The end.”
“It’s not the end, because it’s not…manipulatingto explain to me how you feel about something I’ve done.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. Therewassome anger, but it was carefully guarded. “What aboutyourfeelings? What aboutyourdecision? You want me to unload, but you won’t even tell me why you won’t go.”
“I just…” Maybe it was because she’d had her therapy session this afternoon that she found the courage to say it. “I hate the idea anyone I meet has to eventually know the truth about me. They’ll know what happened to me and it colors who I am.”
He didn’t say anything to that, didn’t drop his arms, but that carefully guarded anger turned into something else. Something too close to pity for her liking.
