Agathe had escaped Tiluma minus a plan, which meant by five p.m., she sat alone on a bench at the edge of Albert Park Lake, the city’s most uninhabitable location on a cold day, the frigid body of water ahead matching her stricken mood.
A chill wind nipped at her face, and her hair slapped against already stinging cheeks. She couldn’t go home. Not yet. Her house held remnants of the best and worst of her life, and she couldn’t face either kind of memory just now. She should have moved years ago, but something of her daughter still lingered in those walls. Letting go of the house was a final step she simply refused to take.
Throughout her hours by the lake, light mists of rain scattered around her, and she huddled down, enduring the downpours. The lake’s pewter-gray water stretched out, a
