The Right Time (38 page)

“Of course. Take whichever car you like. I’ll have someone come pick it up if you can leave it in Cambridge.”

“I think this is hot enough,” Hennessy said. She poured the milk into a mug, then added the double shots she’d pulled. “Let me know if it tastes okay.”

Miranda’s eyes lit up as she took the mug and lifted it to her lips. “Mmm,” she said, nodding. “Maybe a little stronger. Do you mind?”

“Of course not,” Hennessy said, noting that Townsend had disappeared. People thought her family was screwed up, but the Boudreaux clan had nothing on the Bartleys. Not one question about anything that mattered, but great focus on a damned cup of fancy coffee.

Hennessy had to concentrate on her driving, since traffic was fairly heavy and she didn’t know the way. But after the car was on the ferry to Woods Hole, there were no excuses for the complete silence that reigned.

Standing at the rail in the bow of the boat, Hennessy let the chop of the waves and the dip and lurch of the craft soothe her. Nothing tranquilized her like the sea, even though she knew this respite wouldn’t last long.

“How angry are you?” Townsend asked after staring at the water for many minutes.

“Angry? I’m not angry.”

“Bullshit. Anyone in her right mind would be angry with me. Come on, be honest.”

Irritated, Hennessy shook her head. “I
am
being honest. Don’t try to put emotions onto me that I’m not feeling.”

“Fine.” Townsend walked to the stern and stood alone, not moving until it was time to reclaim the car. The whole process took quite a few minutes, but they didn’t break the tense silence. Just moments after leaving the ferry, Hennessy pulled the car into a parking lot and turned off the engine.

“Come on, let’s go for a walk. We need to talk a bit.”

“We could have talked on the ferry,” Townsend grumbled.

As soon as they were both out of the car, Hennessy took Townsend’s hand and looked deeply into her eyes. “I care about you, and I care about your privacy. I would never have a private discussion aboard a crowded boat. Now come on, have a little more self-respect.”

“I didn’t even consider that,” she mumbled, looking away from Hennessy’s penetrating stare.

“Let’s take that walk. We need to clear our heads.”

As they walked along, Hennessy spoke in a quiet, reflective voice. “I have an uncle—my mother’s brother Cletus—who’s schizophrenic.” At Townsend’s curious look, Hennessy laughed softly. “I don’t think I have the best genes for procreating.”

“You have wonderful genes.”

“Don’t know that that’s true, but I hope I got some of the good ones. But back to my uncle: he does fairly well most of the time, but every once in a while he starts acting crazy. Sometimes it’s because he’s forgotten to take his meds for a couple of days, and sometimes he’s done everything right, but his meds need adjustment.”

“Why are we talking about this? Are you taking me to a psych ward?”

Hennessy let out a long sigh. “I’m trying to explain why I’m not angry with you for having a slip.”

“Go on,” Townsend said warily.

“Both you and my Uncle Cletus have a disease. You both have to be very vigilant to make sure you’re taking care of yourselves and monitoring your medication. But even when you do that faithfully, you’re going to have a long period of trial and error until you get it all sorted out.”

“My medication?”

“Your medication is working your program faithfully. Your meds got screwed up when Sharon had her slip. It’s easy now to see we shouldn’t have gone on vacation together right after you’d lost your sponsor. That was a set-up, and I regret I didn’t recognize it before it happened.”

With her voice breaking, Townsend said, “But it meant so much to me to see you.”

“I know that, but look what happened. You had a major slip, you got arrested, and now you feel like shit about yourself. Was it worth it?”

Townsend stopped, took both of Hennessy’s hands in her own and looked into her eyes. “It’s worth anything I have to do to be with you. Anything.”

Squeezing her shoulders, Hennessy said, “I had a feeling you’d say that.” She dropped a soft kiss on the crown of Townsend’s head. “We’ve got a long drive to Vermont. We’d better get shakin’, huh?”

Townsend didn’t move immediately. Instead, she draped her arms around Hennessy’s waist and peered up at her. “Are we going to be all right?”

“Yes,” Hennessy said, forcing herself to smile. “We’ll be fine.”

When they got back onto the road, Hennessy focused hard, slipping through traffic in the powerful car. After a while, Townsend commented, “Are we in a hurry?”

“Yeah,” Hennessy said, quickly checking her watch. “I want to stop in Cambridge for a meeting. It’s at seven.”

“I can’t take a bunch of sad sacks moaning about alcohol tonight,” Townsend said. “I’ll go tomorrow, but not today.”

“My meeting,” Hennessy said, sparing a quick glance her way.

“
Your
meeting? After I’ve drunk Martha’s Vineyard dry,
you
need a meeting?”

“Uh-huh. I truly do.”

Townsend was silent for quite a while, taking in the impact of Hennessy’s words. “Can I go with you?”

“No,” Hennessy said immediately. Townsend flinched, clearly stung by her quick response. “I’m sorry, but I need my privacy. I’m sure I could find a meeting for you if you want to talk.”

“I’ll…” She paused for a minute. “Can I wait in your room?”

“I’m not sure,” Hennessy said, thinking of what trouble Townsend could get into. “I guess I’d prefer it if you waited close by. We need to get on the road as soon as the meeting’s over.”

“I won’t rob you,” she snapped.

“I don’t think that, Townsend. But I’m not sure all of my roommates are gone.” She took a look at her. “I don’t think you’re in shape to socialize.”

“No one’s going to hold you responsible for the way I look, Hennessy.”

“I know that,” she said softly. “I only care that people think the best of you—for you.”

Townsend leaned her seat back and turned to the window. Hennessy could hear her quietly begin to cry again. Whether from shame or embarrassment or frustration, she had no idea. And she wasn’t in the mood to ask.

After Hennessy’s meeting, they met back at the car, which she’d used all of her weekly spending money to park. Townsend was still moody and weepy, probably, at least in part, from dealing with what had to be a horrible hangover.

Once they were in the car and buckled in, Townsend said, “Do you talk about me at your meetings?”

Hennessy thought for a moment about how to answer. They had a good two and a half hour drive in front of them, and she didn’t want to fight the whole time. But hiding things wasn’t smart, so she told the truth. “I talk about whatever’s bothering me. So, yeah, sometimes I talk about you.”

“I bet you gave everyone an earful tonight,” she grumbled, leaning her seat all the way back.

“No, I didn’t, if you want to know the truth. Someone had a very, very tough week and she took up a lot of the time. I mostly kept my mouth shut.”

“Her week was worse than yours?” Townsend asked suspiciously. “I didn’t hear about any horrible tragedies in Boston this week.”

“Most people’s tragedies don’t make the news,” Hennessy said. “They just quietly destroy people’s lives.”

“I guess that’s true.” She was quiet for a minute. “Want to talk about it?”

“No, no thanks. I can’t talk about people from the group.”

“Between your group and mine, we won’t have a damned thing to talk about,” Townsend grumbled.

Hennessy let that comment lie there. Sometimes not talking was nice. Soothing, actually.

When they crossed the Vermont border, Townsend said, “Where are we going, anyway? I was thinking Woodstock. There’s a nice hotel there, and the town’s big enough to have AA meetings.”

“We’re going to your school,” Hennessy said, flinching against the tornado she knew would sweep through the car.

“My school?” Silence filled the car for several long minutes. “You’re just dumping me?”

“I’m not leaving, Townsend. I want to make sure you’re steady and settled before I head back.”

Townsend’s gaze was burning in its intensity. “You’re staying, but not with me.”

“Right. We need to…” She swallowed. “Step back. Reassess.”

“Reassess.” Townsend didn’t say another word. She let that one take center stage, unmolested.

Hennessy thought of what she wanted to say, then took a breath and got it out. “Our relationship has gotten to be more important than your sobriety, and that can’t continue. We’ve got to pull back and get the focus right.”

Townsend sank down into her seat, not responding. That was probably better than having her throw a fit, but you never knew with her. Sometimes silence was deadly.

Hennessy pulled up in front of the stately, grey stone main building of the perfectly lovely school Townsend called “the reformatory.” It looked like it could have once been a courthouse, a hotel, even a big church. Newer buildings dotted the landscape behind the big one, but the mammoth building dominated the site. “Is this the right place to let you out?” Hennessy asked.

“Yeah. I’ll have to go check in.”

“Call me when you get up, okay? We’ll go have breakfast.”

“Where are you going?” she asked, sounding miserable.

“I’ll find someplace. Don’t worry about me. Just try to get some sleep. You’ll feel better if you do.”

“Yeah,” she said, with a harsh chuckle that sounded like it came from an older, wizened person. “Sleep fixes everything.”

“It can’t hurt,” Hennessy said, gripping her arm.

Their eyes met, then Townsend’s gaze slid to the floor. “I’m not going to bother asking for a goodnight kiss. I know I don’t deserve one.”

Hennessy grabbed her, pulled her close, and hugged her as tightly as she could. “You don’t
earn
kisses. You have my love, and that’s not going to change.” She kissed her cheek, wet with tears. “Promise.”

Townsend opened the door and got out, still looking pale and thin. As Hennessy backed up, the headlamps caught her, making her ghostly white. Hurriedly, Hennessy drove away, refusing to look in the rearview mirror. It was too painful to see her so lost and alone, but staying together was asking for trouble, and that’s the last thing they needed. They had all the trouble they could handle.