Since the induction of the new drug regime, Meredith assessed—Claire had become more depressed and agitated. Getting her to eat—anything—of late—was difficult. She now became irritated at any change in routine. Even the suggestion of going outdoors, the activity she enjoyed most, provoked angst. It wasn’t that Claire spoke, but non-verbally, she fought; her body tensed and her glare intensified. The compliant patient of two months ago no longer existed. Meredith reasoned any change was positive, yet her heart told her otherwise. She truly wondered how much Emily knew, and how much longer she’d allow it to continue. Was it better to have Claire content in her own world or upset in the real one?

Today, Meredith’s shift began at 4:00 PM, which meant she’d deliver dinner. After a few days into the new protocol, Ms. Bali rearranged assignments, making Claire Meredith’s only responsibility. Although Dr. Fairfield wanted Claire responsible for her own feeding, nutrition was important, and any hope of her feeding herself was currently gone. Her sister wouldn’t allow her to go without meals. Without a doubt, Claire required more consistent care. It wasn’t Meredith’s qualifications that landed her this opportunity; it was Claire’s positive response to her. The people in charge were willing to do anything to avoid conflicts. Ms. Nichols didn’t like change; therefore, anything the doctor didn’t demand changed wasn’t—that included Meredith.

The more time Meredith spent with Claire, the more she feared Emily would discover her interaction. That’s why Meredith requested the later shift: 4:00 PM to 11:00 PM. On the days Emily visited, it was usually earlier in the day.

As Meredith approached the bank of employee lockers behind the kitchen, she saw Ms. Bali. It was obvious that she was waiting for her. Cautiously, Meredith asked, “Hi, Ms. Bali, is there a problem?” Looking at her watch, she saw that there were still ten minutes before the beginning of her shift. “I wasn’t scheduled until 4:00 PM, was I?”

Ms. Bali didn’t answer; instead, she tilted her head toward the offices and said, “I need to speak with you—privately.”

Meredith’s heart raced; perhaps her concerns about her children’s impending break were unwarranted. If Emily discovered her presence—or Everwood discovered her fake credentials—her investigative—or guilt-filled endeavor was over. Trying to contain her concerns, Meredith asked, “Do you want me to come right now, or can I put my things in my locker?”

Ms. Bali’s strained expression mellowed. Forcing a smile, she replied, “Oh, you can put your things in your locker. We’ve had a rough day, and I need to fill you in.”

Remembering to breathe, Meredith nodded, placed her purse and lunch in her locker, and fell quietly in step with her supervisor, walking toward her private office. Once inside, Ms. Bali shut the door and asked Meredith to sit.

The truth that makes men free is for the most part the truth which men prefer not to hear.

—Herbert Agar

They watched as Phil’s plane rose above the crystal blue sea and became smaller and smaller as it neared the horizon—eventually fading away. Watching him leave the island—this time—wasn’t as difficult for Claire as it had been the first time. Claire knew it was because now she wasn’t alone. She had the strength of Tony’s arm tenderly wrapped around her waist. Sighing, she tipped her head back to his shoulder and closed her eyes. The diesel fumes from the small propeller plane had faded as the combination of sea breeze and cologne dominated her senses.

Since Madeline wanted to be sure Phil ate before his trip, they all had eaten an early dinner. Now, with Madeline and Francis at their own house, for the first time in months, Tony and Claire were truly alone.

“Do you want to take a walk along the beach?” His baritone voice created the lyrics sung perfectly in tune with the melody of the waves.

“Hmm, that would be nice.”

With their fingers entwined, Tony stepped forward, leading Claire along the shoreline. Since their sandals were waiting near the path to the house, their bare feet sunk with each step. Claire glanced back and noticed how the reoccurring waves erased their footprints. For quite a while, they walked in silence. The birds sang and the sea whispered, yet neither spoke. When they finally did, it was at the same time, “Do you think it’s time...” Claire said, and simultaneously, Tony asked, “Are you ready to...”

Their walking stopped. Looking up to his handsome face, Claire reached toward his cheek. The slightest stubble abraded the tips of her fingers, and she momentarily imagined the sensation on other parts of her body. “I’m scared,” she admitted.