The Hidden Read Free Page A

He felt all right, not too fatigued. Nothing to be gained in shifting the burden to her.
    They passed through a handful of widely spaced little towns and villages, all of which had an abandoned aspect like illuminated ghosts. Hardly any tourists this time of year, on a Sunday in weather like this, and the residents forted up for the night. Most of the roadside businesses were closed, taverns and a few restaurants and lodging places the only ones open. Night-lights, neon signs, leftover Christmas decorations—all shone fuzzy and remote through the curtain of rain.
    Macklin checked the odometer again. Not much farther now—another ten miles to Seacrest, the nearest village, and another three beyond that to the cottage. He’d memorized the landmarks and mileage distances Ben had given him, but when they got to Seacrest he’d go through the mental checklist again to make sure he had them all.
    Shelby hadn’t said a word since their conversation after the rain started. He glanced over at her again. She was sitting motionless, hands resting palms up on her thighs. Asleep? No. Her head moved slightly and in the dash lights he could see the faint gleam of one opened eye. Brooding, maybe, about some of the same things that had been on his mind lately. About the coming New Year, their financial problems, their life together and all that had gone wrong with it.
    It wasn’t that she was easy to read—everybody had depths that no one else could fathom—but after twelve years he was familiar with her moods and the way her mind worked. Until recently she’d been more or less open about herself, her feelings, her needs and concerns. The exact opposite of him. All his life he’d been a closed book, not only to her and others but to himself. Not by conscious choice; it was as if the pages in the Jay Macklin book were glued down and he couldn’t pry them loose no matter how hard he tried.
    Part of the reason was his childhood—his weak-willed mother, his coldly indifferent father, the fact that he hadn’t made friends easily and wasn’t popular, at least not until his high school peers found out just how good a baseball player he was; and even then he’d remained the kind of kid who mostly hangs in the background, noticed by a few but ignored by most.
    But there was more to it than that, a part of himself he’d never been able to understand or control—an almost pathological need to keep essential pieces of himself hidden away, even from the woman he loved. It wasn’t a matter of privacy, or a safety mechanism, or fear of revealing too much or too little of himself. It wasn’t anything that he could define. A genetic quirk, a birth defect. Bad wiring. Every time he tried to put meaningful thoughts or feelings into words, it was as if his brain short-circuited and rendered him mute.
    He knew this was what had laid the foundation for the wall between Shelby and him. His inability to give her children, the business failure, the job loss six months ago, the days spent apart because of the demands of her EMT job—they were just bricks stacked on top of the foundation. You can’t hide from the person you live with, much less from yourself, and expect a relationship to roll smoothly along and outlast the succession of crises that had plagued theirs.
    Well, he wouldn’t be hiding this latest load of bricks much longer. Four days from now, five at the most, he’d gird himself and dump it all over her because he had no other choice.
    The rain seemed to be letting up a little, though the cloud ceiling was low and gouts of heavy mist rolled in from the ocean close by on their left. A road sign ahead indicated a series of sharp descending turns that shouldn’t be taken at more than twenty-five. He was into the second switchback when he saw the sweep of oncoming headlights. The other driver was going too fast for the conditions, crowding the center of the highway, his headlights on high bright. Shelby jerked erect, bracing herself