Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

LAKE CITY STATE HOSPITAL AUGUST 1947

Eliza rolled over and the twin cot creaked. Two days ago, Dr. King hadn't been able to stop the therapy—how could they call it that?—and her head pounded like wild mustangs racing across the open land. The visual was beautiful. The feeling was not.

Her skull licked with residual flames and her body ached like every muscle had gone through an extreme workout. In a sense it had. She was quite surprised she'd survived. If she had to go through that again, she would surely die.

Her safe home was no longer safe and she had to figure out how to get out. A knock on the door stilled her. She had no energy to get up and greet whoever it was; however, when Dr. King slipped inside, she found the strength to sit up. "Where's William? Why hasn't he come for me?" Why wouldn't her mind work properly? The look in his eyes didn't bode well. "What is it?" she whispered.

"Betsy found William, remember?"

And just like that, a bolt stronger than any stupid therapy session zipped through her. "Is he coming to get me?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm so sorry, Eliza. You don't remember this conversation?"

"No."

"Betsy found William and he was in a horrific car accident. That's why you haven't heard from him."

"What? No." She stood and wobbled.

Dr. King hurried to her, grasped her arms, and gently lowered her back to the bed.

"He's dead?" she whispered.

"No, no. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you think that. He's alive, he's just injured."

"Oh." She pressed a hand against her racing heart. "Oh my word." The memories came crashing back into her brain. The therapy must have blocked them for a brief time. What else had it taken away? Eliza sucked in a breath, then gripped the doctor's fingers. "You must discharge me immediately. I have to go to him. I have to."

He nodded. "I knew you'd want to, and I've been doing nothing but thinking how to make that happen."

"Can't you just discharge me?"

"And have you go where? Back to your father's home?"

"No, of course not, but I do believe Betsy would let me stay with her." He hesitated and she frowned. "What is it?"

"Betsy would love for you to stay with her."

"You've talked about this?"

He nodded.

"What is it?"

"Your father went to Betsy's father and told him of your delicate constitution and that if somehow you were to be released and showed up at his home, he was to be notified immediately."

"And, of course, her father agreed. They're two peas in a pod. Thick as thieves."

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

She dropped her face into her palms. What was she going to do?

His gentle hand on her shoulder lifted her chin. "Don't worry, Eliza, I'm going to figure something out."

"Before my next treatment?" She grimaced.

His jaw hardened. "Yes, before that."

"I ... I need to see William, Dr. King. I must."

He paused. "I must admit, I've been thinking of a way to release you without your father pulling strings to move you to another place. A place where you'd have no help whatsoever. At least here, you have me."

"I believe the Lord arranged for that."

"Exactly. Which means he's also arranged for me to help you. I've thought of going to the authorities, but I'm afraid I don't know who to trust in that department. Nor do I have any proof of any accusation I may levy."

"No, he has the police in his pocket. Not all, of course, but a lot."

"I thought he might. So, it comes down to this. How are your acting skills?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Could you pretend to be submissive, apologize to your father, promise never to see William again, and go home without letting on how you're really feeling?"

Eliza pressed her fingers to her lips as she thought. "For how long?"

"For as long as it takes for William to heal."

"I don't know. I just know I need to see him. I can't stay away while he needs me."

"Once he wakes up, I can get him a message. He can focus on healing and you'll be out of here, out from under the threat of more therapy that you don't need, but you must convince your father."

Could she? Did she have a choice? She'd been dodging her father for years, avoiding him and his abuse. The thought of William straightened her spine. "Yes. Yes, I can do it."

"You're sure? It could be very dangerous for you. If he truly tried to kill you once ... He knows you, Eliza, and if he thinks you're faking—"

She lifted her chin another notch. "If that's what it takes to be with William, then I can do it."

He stood. "Very well. I've been communicating with your father since you were admitted, of course, and once I realized your situation and connected all the dots, I let him believe that he's convinced me you tried to kill yourself. I'll contact him and ask him to come see you so you can convince him. It will have to be his decision to allow you to come home."

"Yes, it will have to be his decision," she murmured.

Dr. King said his goodbyes and left her alone with the other empty bed. She still didn't have a roommate despite the overcrowding, and she wondered if that was her father's doing. Keeping her isolated, unable to tell anyone her story. Protecting himself. Keeping her from William.

A flicker of doubt sent a shudder through her. Could she do this? Convince him she'd seen the light, so to speak?

She pulled her journal and pen from under the mattress and wrote page after page, detailing everything. Not that she was likely to forget, but if she had to tell this story to anyone, she wasn't sure she'd be able to. And if she didn't live to tell it, then maybe one day, her words would find their way into the hands of someone who could tell it for her.