Sorrow Road (Bell Elkins #5) - Julia Keller Page 0,50

reminiscence that often comes, Bell knew, when people talk about the past and its most precious elements. Once again, she was knocked off balance by Ava’s behavior.

“I’m very calm,” Ava went on, as if she had read Bell’s mind. “Restrained. I have to be. My work requires it.” She said nothing about the challenge of being a woman in a field dominated by men, but Bell was sure it was not easy. “Darlene, though,” Ava said, “was a hothead. She had a fierce temper. And she needed to be in motion all the time.”

Ava looked meaningfully at Bell, who by now had taken her own seat behind the desk.

“You knew her,” Ava declared. “You know what I mean. She couldn’t sit still.” She sampled the coffee. Nodded. “We never talked about it, but if I had to guess, I think that’s what alcohol did for her—it settled her down. Smoothed her out. She didn’t drink to feel good. She drank to feel normal. Like the rest of us.”

“You said I knew her. I have to be honest—I don’t think so. I never knew about her alcoholism.” Or about you, she wanted to add, but held back.

“No one did. I didn’t know myself, until we moved in together.”

Bell gave her a surprised look.

“It’s true,” Ava said. “Once she trusted me, she told me the story. She realized she had a problem when she was still an undergraduate. Joined AA right after she started law school. There were…” She was trying to decide how to phrase it. “There were times when she went back to it. She fought it with everything she had, but sometimes it got the better of her. When she read stories about problems back in West Virginia, for instance. I think she always felt a bit guilty about not going back and helping, once she had her law degree. Or when her father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Emotions—she had a hard time with those. Facts in a court brief, she could handle. Feelings—not so much.” Ava’s voice grew more thoughtful, with a baffled-sounding awe at the back of it, like the wind in the sail. “She was a very different person when she drank. Completely transformed. I still loved her with all my heart—but I barely recognized her.”

Bell let a brief period of silence settle over the room. She considered the things she might say to this woman—about how no one ever really knows another soul, no matter how much you try or how close you are to each other—but the words, even unspoken, sounded inadequate to her, and far too glib. Almost insulting in their assumption that a relationship could be summarized in slogans, and that grief could be assuaged by homilies and aphorisms.

The great mystery at the heart of the world, Bell reminded herself as she regarded Ava’s impassive face, was why people did what they did—not only the bad things, when they seemed driven by demons, but also the splendid things, the lovely, mysterious things, such as when and whom they chose to love. Psychology and probability could only take you so far. After a certain point the science broke down and simple magic took over. How else to explain how Darlene Strayer, a driven and haunted lawyer from Barr County, West Virginia, had fallen in love with Ava Hendricks, a brilliant and accomplished neurosurgeon from Boston, Massachusetts?

The truth, Bell believed, was that it could not be explained. And even if it could—would you really want it to be?

Truth. The word lay like a lead weight on Bell’s mind. On her way back into town she had checked in with the Raythune County coroner, Buster Crutchfield. Time to tell Ava what she’d learned, as hard as it might be for this woman to hear about the partner she had cherished and respected.

“I know Darlene was active in AA,” Bell said, “but the investigating officer believed alcohol was a factor in her accident. The coroner confirmed it. Her blood alcohol level was twice the legal limit.”

“Yes,” Ava said. “I know.”

“How do you—?”

“I spoke to your coroner this morning. At length. Don’t look so shocked. I’m a physician, Mrs. Elkins. And so is he. There’s a thing called professional courtesy. Anyway, he told me about the blood work and toxicology report. Darlene was obviously impaired. Getting behind the wheel of a car in the state she was in—well, it was reckless and irresponsible. No question.”

“So if you know all that, what makes you think her death was