Without a firm plan she got out of the car and walked to the front door. Sometimes it was just best to see what was needed. Anyway, it was entirely possible that Charlotte would politely and firmly boot her back out the door before she had a chance to probe.
She rang the bell and listened to the electronic Westminster chimes resonate through the foyer and up the curving staircase. Charlotte took her time, but she answered the door herself. She opened it and stood back to let Analiese inside. She wasn’t smiling, but she didn’t look as if she regretted the intrusion.
“I have iced tea,” she said. “And juice. Why don’t we get something to drink and sit out by the pool? It’s turned into a beautiful day, hasn’t it?”
Analiese agreed but asked for iced water instead. In a few minutes they were sitting on a flagstone patio with the kidney-shaped pool sparkling just beyond them.
“Is this how you get your exercise?” Analiese asked. “With the weather getting warmer, swimming must be something to look forward to.”
Charlotte played with her glass of tea, rubbing the accumulating moisture with her palms. “I hate to say this, but I almost never use it. I used to swim every single day when I moved in, but over the years…?” She shrugged.
Swimming was a communal activity for Analiese. She couldn’t remember ever being in a pool alone, and she wondered if that bothered Charlotte, too.
“How did the memorial service go?” Charlotte asked, before Analiese could think of a way to say what she needed to.
“The best services leave people feeling better because they can start to put the life and death in perspective. I think we began that yesterday. The stories about Minnie went on almost an hour. There was a lot of laughter. That’s always good.”
“I never met her.”
“I didn’t think you had.”
“When Falconview realized we had to have her property, I sent other people out to talk to her. They brought back reports. They did all the legwork. I only saw the house once, just before it was torn down. I never saw…” She shook her head, staring at the pool. “Do you ever look back at your life and wonder how you could have been so wrong when you were so sure at the time you were right?”
Analiese didn’t know what to say. She had known Charlotte Hale for nearly a decade, but this was not the same woman.
She realized something personal was called for. “You know I used to be in television news? I can’t tell you the number of times I pushed people to reveal something on the air that I knew would come back to haunt them. I told myself the public had a right to know the truth. That’s what we always told ourselves, but when I look back on it now? It doesn’t seem to help.”
“You’re being kind.”
“I’m being truthful.”
“I have so many regrets.”
Analiese felt as if she’d stepped into another dimension.
Charlotte turned to look at her and saw her confusion. “And now you’re wondering if Charlotte Hale’s been the victim of body snatchers.”
“No, I’m thinking that I’m glad I’m sitting here with you. Being here today won’t be one of the things I regret.”
Charlotte sighed. “I’m dying.”
For a moment Analiese wasn’t sure she’d heard her right. She leaned forward and rested her fingertips on Charlotte’s arms. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe I’m being dramatic. I have leukemia, an acute form, which means the news is very rarely good. I got sick a couple of months ago—in fact, I nearly died. The doctors say it’s still theoretically possible I won’t die at all. Not from leukemia, anyway. But even the most optimistic say it would have improved my chances to make an earlier diagnosis. I let myself get right to the point of no return because I was too busy to pay attention to the way I felt. Too busy changing the Buncombe County landscape. Too busy making money and trying to get the world to see things my way.” She smiled a little. “Too busy to wonder why I never recovered from what I thought was a drawn-out winter cold.”
“I am so sorry.”
“You and me both.”
“But you could beat it?”
“I did a serious round of chemo at Duke and I’m in remission, waiting for my strength to improve and my counts to go up high enough to start the next phase. But while the bone marrow looks good, the counts don’t, so my doctors are being cautious.”
“How did you pull this off without people knowing?”
“I told anyone who mattered that I was in Europe with a group of investors, then off to Saint Martin on a well-deserved vacation. Trust me, chemo was no vacation.” She touched the top of her head. “I didn’t lose too much of my hair, so that was a bonus, and I could afford a good haircut and products galore to make it look thicker. I’m trying to gain back some weight.”
“Why didn’t you tell me then? Was there somebody…?”
“To help? No, you’re the first person I’ve told, and maybe the only one for a while. The last thing I want is anybody to feel sorry for me. I don’t want anybody trying to be nice because they don’t want to feel guilty when I die.”
Analiese already felt this secret weighing her down. All the things she knew that might help wouldn’t, not unless Charlotte was willing to let people know she needed their support.
“Why are you telling me?” she asked at last.
Charlotte laughed a little, and to Analiese the sound seemed real, not a bit forced. “You mean you don’t think I need you to absolve me of all my sins?”
Analiese smiled in response. “I would, if that were in my power.”
“I know. You take your job very seriously.”
“I’m afraid it’s a serious job.”
“Especially at moments like this one.”
“Not my favorite part.”
“Do you feel burdened?”
“Who’s helping whom?”
Charlotte was quiet for a moment, as if she needed to put her words in order. “You know, if you were some kindly older man, with thirty years of ministry behind you and a beatific smile—”
“This would be easier,” Analiese finished for her.
“That’s actually not what I was going to say. No, I was going to say this would be impossible.”
“Really?”
“Here’s the truth, and I’ve given it a lot of thought. No matter our differences, I know I can trust you. And I know you’re going to give helping me your best shot. You’re going to be sensible and thorough, and you’re going to dig deeper than somebody who thinks he has all the answers at his fingertips because he’s too tired to look for more.”
“That may be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about my ministry.”
“And now you’re waiting for the punch line.”
“Something like that.”
Charlotte set her glass on the table and wiped her hands against her beige capris. “I should die more often. It makes for great repartee.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“I think you mean that.”
“I think so, too.”
Charlotte was silent again, and Analiese sat quietly.