PART 9 – I Stopped Waiting for Scott to Explain Himself and Began Asking What My Husband Had Left Behind at Willow Creek

By Friday morning, I had decided I would no longer spend the whole day staring at my phone.

I still wanted Scott to call.

I still wanted him to explain why he had left me in a place I had never agreed to live.

But wanting an answer and waiting helplessly for one were two different things.

I was beginning to understand that.

I dressed carefully and made my bed.

Then I placed Frank's photograph beside the plastic cup and walked to the reception desk.

The young receptionist looked up.

"Good morning, Mrs. Dunmore."

"Good morning. Has Dr. Reyes had any news about my admission?"

She checked her computer.

"Not that I've been told."

I nodded.

"Would you please let her know I would like to speak with her again when she has time?"

"Of course."

I thanked her and returned to my room.

It bothered me that I had to ask permission to receive information about my own life.

I had spent forty-four years managing a household.

I had paid bills, organized appointments, kept track of repairs, and made sure my family had what it needed.

Now I had to wait for someone else to tell me whether I could return to my own home.

Or what remained of it.

I sat on the bed and looked at the suitcase in the closet.

The three nightgowns were still hanging together.

I had brought so little because I had believed Scott.

That thought returned whenever I looked at my belongings.

I had not been careless with my packing.

I had packed exactly what someone would need for a short visit.

He had known that.

At lunchtime, Gloria brought me a tray.

She placed it on the table and noticed that I had not touched the water beside my bed.

"Would you like me to bring you something else?"

"No, thank you. I'm just not very hungry."

She looked at me for a moment.

"Have you heard anything from your son?"

"No."

I tried to say it without anger.

Gloria pulled the chair closer.

"I wish I had better news."

"So do I."

I took a small bite of my food.

Then I put down the fork.

"Gloria, do you know whether the director has found anything about Frank?"

She shook her head.

"She hasn't told me."

I wasn't surprised.

Dr. Reyes had made it clear that she wanted to verify what she remembered before explaining it.

I respected that.

But I was tired of living inside other people's pauses.

"I don't want to make trouble for anyone," I said.

Gloria looked at me carefully.

"You're allowed to ask questions about your own situation."

I looked down at my hands.

"That should be obvious, shouldn't it?"

"It should."

Her answer was simple.

It made me feel a little less foolish.

After she left, I finished my tea and walked to the common room.

I wanted to sit somewhere other than my bed.

Several residents were watching television.

A woman near the window was knitting a blue scarf.

I chose a chair where I could see the garden.

The roses looked smaller from that angle.

A maintenance worker was trimming the bushes along the walkway.

I watched him gather the cut branches and carry them away.

For a moment, I thought about Frank working in our own garden.

He never liked paying someone to do a job he believed he could manage himself.

He would come indoors with dirt on his hands and a grass stain on his trousers.

I used to complain about the mess.

He would grin and tell me that the garden wouldn't take care of itself.

I missed those ordinary arguments.

They had seemed unimportant at the time.

Now I would have given anything to hear him come through the back door and ask what was for supper.

I returned to room 114 before dinner.

Frank's photograph was waiting on the nightstand.

I picked it up and studied his face.

"Whatever you knew about this place, I hope someone can explain it to me."

I put the frame back.

That evening, I called Scott again.

The call went straight to voicemail.

I didn't leave a message.

I had already told him what I needed.

I had already asked him to call.

Repeating myself wasn't going to make him care.

I called Heather once.

Her voicemail answered too.

I ended the call without speaking.

For the first time, I allowed myself to consider that they might not intend to contact me at all.

The thought was painful.

But it was no longer impossible.

I slept badly that night.

In the morning, I woke to the sound of a cart moving down the corridor.

I washed, dressed, and opened the curtains.

The sky was clear.

The fountain sparkled in the sunlight.

I stood there for a while, looking at the driveway.

No familiar car appeared.

I turned away before I could begin waiting again.

I had questions for Dr. Reyes.

I had questions about the papers Scott had signed.

And I had questions about the connection between Frank and Willow Creek.

I could not answer any of them alone.

But I could stop pretending that silence was the same thing as reassurance.

Click here to continue reading: PART 10: Dr. Reyes Asked More About Frank, and I Began to Wonder Whether the Man I Had Loved Had Kept One Important Promise Quietly