“Hey, have you talked to William in the past few days?”

I wanted to ignore the question but felt obligated to explain myself since it was Mia who had introduced us. I had thought that at one time William and Mia could have made a go of it. They had spent a lot of time working together, huddling together on a private project, but apparently it was just work. I turned the oversize shower handles slowly, stalling for time. I reached my hand out for a towel, and Mia obliged.

“I’ve been meaning to call him, but I never do. I guess I don’t know what to say. I mean, what we had was nice. He was nice… I just don’t know. Something is just not quite what I need it to be.” I squeezed the water from my hair and wrapped my body in the pink, fluffy towel. I pulled back the curtain slowly. “I really like him, but on so many levels we…”

“Oh my God! What happened?” Mia’s dark eyes were fixed on my right foot.

I followed her gaze to a massive bruise on my right ankle. My tan skin was blue and purple and seriously swollen. Nausea swept over me, and I sat clumsily on the commode. I stared at the wounded area, then pulled up my towel to check for more bruising. I half expected to see welt marks along my legs. I stared at Mia. “I don’t know…” I couldn’t process what I was seeing.

“Don’t give me that. There’s no way you could not know. Look! It’s obvious that these are fingerprint bruises. Who’s been manhandling you? Was it William?” Mia’s dark eyes flashed angrily.

“No! Never, he’d never. I don’t really know…” I could feel swollen tears filling my eyes. I didn’t want to believe that a “ghost” from the past could actually reach me, touch me.

“Does it hurt?” She lifted my foot and examined it carefully.

I pressed on the skin. “It’s a little sore, but that’s it.”

“You want to tell me what’s really going on here?” Mia looked into my eyes, laser-like.

I sighed. “Sure. But this may take a while. Let me get dressed. We’ll grab some breakfast, and I’ll tell you what’s happened.”

She nodded, and I left her to get dressed. I opted for some purple jeans and a casual red top. I wound my wet hair up on top of my head in a perky bun and took a minute to tap my lashes with mascara and dab on peach lip gloss. I scribbled a note for Bette, asking her to check out the air conditioner, and left it on her door. Thankfully, she wasn’t home this morning. I would hate to refuse her company. I was relieved that she hadn’t gone to the trouble of making those biscuits she had promised me.

We rode in silence to the Golden Egg, a tiny breakfast shop I had spotted on my drive into Mobile. Sliding into the vinyl-covered booth, I felt calmer, even hungry. We ordered some bacon and eggs and thanked our young waitress for the basket of biscuits and butter she cheerfully deposited on our table. Mia sat looking at me expectantly.