Page 13 of Graciously His

I’ll never see Nick again unless—

“Will I be able to see Nick soon?”

“Not a good idea, Grace.” He looks down at his folded hands. They’re big and square. Honest hands. “The coroner has strongly advised against viewing.”

“Have you seen him?”

“No, I have not.”

“Where is Mother?”

“She’s with my partner. She’ll also be answering some questions about her relationship with the deceased and yourself, respectively.”

“Because of what I said earlier?”

“That’s right. We take statements like that seriously, even if they’re made in the middle of distress. I’m sure you understand.”

“I just need Nate.”

His eyes sharpen, and I can tell he’s not sure what to make of my continual mentions of my dead husband’s brother. “You two are close, eh?”

“I haven’t seen him in five years,” I admit, “but he and Nick are in business together.” My heart clenches hard as I try to explain my emotions to myself as much as to the officer. “Nick thought Nate could fix anything, so maybe…”

Maybe he can fix me, I don’t say. Maybe he can help me manage Mother when she gets past the system here.

I think about what Mother must be going through. She had plenty of experience answering tough questions while I was growing up. She managed social workers, doctors, psychologists, and teachers with the same quiet smile, the same perfect composure—like she was doing them a favour by allowing their prying.

My stomach twists, wringing itself out like a dishrag. Life has changed, but the worn, familiar feelings seize me. Suddenly, all I want is to see her.

“Is she still asking for me?” I look down at my own hands, white-knuckled in my lap.

“I believe so,” he answers, raising his brows, “but you seemed to think you wouldn’t be safe with her earlier. You said she might kill you, and you implied that Nick’s will and wishes might be some sort of motivation.”

I can’t look at him now. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You were deeply disturbed, Grace, and with good reason. My partner spoke to Nate Hadley earlier, and we all agree there’s grounds to keep you and your mother separate for now.”

“I’m going to have to deal with her after all of this, no matter what you do today.”

“Maybe so, but let’s see if we can’t come up with some solutions together, eh?”

I nod as if this isn’t a terrifying prospect, and finally meet his eyes.

“What made you believe she might kill you, Grace?”

“I don’t know, I just—she’s cared for me forever, but sometimes I worry she doesn’t actually want what’s best.”

“I saw how she was about the chain on the door. That was a strong reaction, unless there’s a reason putting the chain on the door might compromise your health?”

He frames it as a question, one idea leading into the next. I try to keep up despite the way dread has started to settle into my gut.

“She worries I might be in too much pain to answer the door myself, so she’s never let me lock it with the chain.”

“Let you?” he asks, zeroing in on the words. “It’s your husband’s house, to my understanding,” he checks his notes again, “owned outright by Mr Hadley and yourself, as his wife of ten years. How would your mother enforce her preferences for your security in your own home?”

I give a half-shrug, wanting to exit the conversation. “She’s not the best with boundaries.”

“That much is becoming clear.” He studies me for another long minute. “Would you mind telling me more about your pain condition?”