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thoroughly,” Marcella Williams said, interrupting Georgette.
    â€œJack, Mommy’s fine. We’re getting up.” I swung my legs around and, ignoring the wave of dizziness, leaned one hand on the arm of the couch for balance and pulled myself to my feet. I could see the look of protest on Alex’s face, the concern in his eyes. “Alex, you know how busy this week has been,” I said. “I simply need to get the movers to put your big chair and a hassock in one of the bedrooms and let me take it easy for a couple of hours.”
    â€œThe ambulance is dispatched, Ceil,” Alex told me. “You’ll let them check you over?”
    â€œYes.”
    I had to get rid of Georgette Grove and Marcella Williams. I looked directly at them. “I know you’ll understand if I just want to rest quietly,” I said.
    â€œOf course,” Grove agreed. “And, I’ll take care of everything outside.”
    â€œMaybe you’d like a cup of tea,” Marcella Williams offered, clearly unwilling to leave.
    Alex put his hand under my arm. “We don’t want to keep you, Mrs. Williams. If you’ll excuse us, please.”
    The wail of a siren told us that the ambulance had arrived.
    The EMT examined me in the second-floorroom that had once been my playroom. “You got kind of a nasty shock, I would say,” he observed. “And with what happened outside, I can understand why. Take it easy for the rest of the day, if that’s possible. A cup of tea with a shot of whiskey wouldn’t hurt, either.”
    The sounds of furniture being hauled around seemed to be coming from every direction. I remembered how after my trial, the Kelloggs, my father’s distant cousins from California, came to take me back with them. I asked them to drive past the house. An auction was going on at which they were selling all the furniture and rugs and fixtures and china and paintings.
    I remember watching them carry out the desk that used to be in that corner, the one that I’d used when I drew pictures of pretty rooms. Remembering how awful that moment had been for that little girl in the car who was driving away with virtual strangers, I felt tears streaming from my eyes.
    â€œMrs. Nolan, maybe you should come to the hospital.” The EMT was in his fifties, fatherly looking, with a full head of gray hair and bushy eyebrows.
    â€œNo, absolutely not.”
    Alex was leaning over me, brushing the tears from my cheeks. “Celia, I have to go outside and say something to those reporters. I’ll be right back.”
    â€œWhere did Jack go?” I whispered.
    â€œThe moving guy in the kitchen asked Jack to help him unpack the groceries. He’s fine.”
    Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded and felt Alex slip a handkerchief into my hand. Alone, desperately as I tried, I could not stem the river of tears that poured from my eyes.
    I can’t hide anymore, I thought. I can’t live in horror that someone will find out about me. I have to tell Alex. I have to be honest. Better Jack learns about me when he’s young than have the story hit him in twenty years.
    When Alex came back, he slid down beside me on the chair and lifted me onto his lap. “Ceil, what is it? It can’t be just the condition of the house. What else is upsetting you?”
    I felt the tears finally stop, and an icy calm come over me. Maybe this was the moment to tell him. “That story Georgette Grove told about the child who accidentally killed her mother . . . ” I began.
    â€œGeorgette’s spin isn’t the one I heard from Marcella Williams,” Alex interrupted. “According to her, that kid should have been convicted. She must have been a little monster. After she shot and killed her mother she kept on shooting the stepfather until the pistol was empty. Marcella says that it came out in court that it took a lot of strength to pull the trigger of