The Lost Hours by Karen White Page A

using the large lion’s head knocker. She simply turned the handle and walked inside, then followed Mardi up the staircase to the upper level. After pausing outside Tucker’s door for a moment, she threw it open. One of the advantages of being blind, she always thought, was that people forgave a lot of bad behavior. It also allowed them privacy when they were lying in bed stark naked.
    “Damn it, Helen. Why do you do that?” The words were accompanied by the rustling of bedsheets.
    She smelled the alcohol in the room and it made her want to gag. As she made her way to the window to pull open the curtains and slide open the sash, she asked, “Are you alone?”
    Her question was answered by a pillow being thrown at her back.
    “You shouldn’t throw things at blind people. It’s mean.”
    Another pillow followed the first, hitting her on the side of the head as she turned to face the bed.
    “Go to hell,” Tucker mumbled, sounding as if he were burying his face back into the mattress.
    She moved toward the bed and crossed her arms as Mardi leapt onto the mattress. “I could just follow you, couldn’t I? You seem to be well on your way already.”
    When he didn’t say anything, she turned away from the bed and felt her way to the bathroom to turn on the shower, then returned to the room to begin opening the rest of the windows. “It stinks like an ashtray that somebody poured bourbon on in here. At least you’re alone.”
    The bed creaked as she pictured Tucker sitting up, listening to the bristling sound of his hands running over his face.
    “I wouldn’t do that. My girls live here.”
    “Yeah, well, not really. They spend more time at the big house than they do here and they weren’t here last night. I thought you could at least show them the courtesy of having breakfast with them this morning. Malily and the girls just sat down, so if you hurry, you could make it.”
    With what sounded like a growl, Tucker stood and trudged to the bathroom. She followed him, pausing by the doorway. “Susan died, Tuck. Not you.”
    The steady beat of the water against slate tiles agitated the silence between them. “It’s not that, Helen. It’s never been that.”
    “Don’t you think I know that? Regardless of what people might think, I see an awful lot. But guilt will only carry you so far. And your girls need you.”
    She heard him turn on the faucet and drop the cap to his toothpaste tube in the sink but he didn’t say anything.
    “I’ll see you at breakfast, then.”
    He answered by shutting the door in her face.
    “I love you, too,” she shouted through the closed door before turning and leaving, allowing Mardi to lead the way.
    As Helen made her way back down the brick walk, she heard footsteps crunching on gravel approaching her. She stopped and smiled. “Earlene?”
    The footsteps stopped. “How did you know?”
    “You’re the only person I know of on the property right now who walks with a limp.”
    “Oh. Well. That makes sense, I guess.” Earlene’s voice was tight, like a dam had been built to prevent any words from tumbling out.
    Helen smiled gently. Earlene Smith was a mystery to her. Helen usually prided herself on developing images in her head of the people she met just by listening to their voices and the way they moved. But when she tried to picture Earlene, a blank canvas flickered through her mind. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. Being blind makes me notice things that seeing people deliberately overlook.” She quickly changed the subject, sensing Earlene’s discomfort. “You also sound out of breath. Did you walk all the way from the cottage?”
    “Yeah, I did. Everything seems a lot closer on the map you gave me.” She rattled the map in her hand. “I was looking for the old family cemetery. It’s supposed to be near this house.”
    Helen nodded. “You’re very close. This was the family home for a few years while the big house was being built. They needed a