Author's note: thank you very much for all the reviews; feel free to keep them coming, it's a pleasure to read and answer to them.
Chapter two
Rugby was a small town - a rather typical British one - and as Maura stepped off the train before taking a taxi, she realized that nothing had really changed since the last time she had come there.
The years had passed by on the buildings – bringing a singular shade to the bricks – but the shops were still the same ones; old, as if frozen in time.
Before the sudden reminiscence of her own past life, the scientist closed her eyes. Swallowed hard. She had walked through these streets, cried and laughed; shared a stolen kiss at the corner of High Street on a rainy winter day; such a long time ago that she wondered if the memory did belong to reality and wasn't just the product of some fantasy.
They passed Saint Andrew's Church and another series of images rushed to her mind. Darker ones that sent a shiver down her spine. The smell of wax, the abrupt sound of a wooden ruler landing on a desk as a nun whose face had become blurry with the passing of time asked for silence.
The New Testament being whispered in the coldness of the school chapel as menacing eyes stared at the assembly.
But even back then, Maura's fear hadn't been nourished by the adults. Some of them had been attentive and passionate enough for her to still remember them now. No. Trouble and insomnia came from the other pupils. Her classmates. A cruel game of mockery and humiliation. Some would have felt strengthened by such experience, others weakened by it. The honey blonde laid somewhere in between. She had got accustomed so much to the critics that indifference had ended up winning.
"Orando Laborando."
The taxi driver's voice resounded loud in the car as his comment surprised Maura. She intended a pale smile – more out of politeness than anything else – and nodded.
"Did you graduate from Rugby School yourself?"
If so, the man was probably the only one who hadn't embraced medicine – law – or politics. A laugh – and a thick Warwickshire accent – welcomed her question.
"Gosh nah. But one can't live in Rugby without knowing the motto of that school."
The driver pointed out at the school sign as they passed the gates of the prestigious educative center. Maura's heartbeats sped up – her hands getting moist – as a lump began to grow in her throat echoing the knot in her stomach.
If uncertainty had reigned until now, doubts had finally vanished to let her understand that she should have stayed in Boston instead of plunging head first in the exact reason of her social inabilities.
One more curb and the car stopped.
"Here we are, ma'am. Enjoy your stay and remember a pint is offered at The Arnold Arms for all the Rugby School alumni in honor of the 500th anniversary."
The taxi disappeared in a cloud of dust, almost too fast to the scientist's taste. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and stared at the building in front of her.
The Rupert Brooke House stood on Horton Crescent and was incidentally the place where Maura had spent her years as well. The school counted sixteen houses, non-mixed. But for the special occasion and since pupils had left for the summer - replaced by adults only - the honey blonde crossed a couple of men on her way inside the lobby.
"Welcome back home. Please fill this form while I register your ID. You are..."
A blonde in her thirties smiled at Maura from behind the reception desk; over the brouhaha of a group that had settled on the couches of the lobby to chat enthusiastically.
"Maura. My name is Maura Isles. Dr. Maura Dorthea Isles..."
She was taking her passport out of her bag when a high-pitched voice calling her name out loud in her back made her jump of surprise.
"Maura? Maura Isles?"
The scientist turned around. If she had owned Jane's outspokenness, she would have probably said that one of the meanest girls alive was standing in her front of her with a disconcerting smile but as usual, Maura didn't say a word. She just smiled back. Awkwardly enough.
"Leonore. What a pleasure to see you again. How are you doing?"
Leonore Whiteman was the daughter of a powerful British businessman. She had married her longtime boyfriend – after his graduation from Law School – only to see him become her father's associate. This kind of situation wasn't a cliched at Rugby. It was a mere, plain reality.
"Charles and I are doing fine. We have just moved to Belgravia, our house by Holland Park had turned a bit too small. You know how it is: three children and all of a sudden, you realize that you need a full time live-in au pair. How about you? Any... Anything?"
Unsure of the way she was supposed to take the question, Maura tightened her grip on her leather bag and surprised herself looking around for help; moral support. For Jane. But she was on her own this time.
Cruelly alone.
"I live in Boston, now. I am the Chief Medical Examiner of the State of Massachusetts which... Takes a lot of my time. It is a very demanding job."
She didn't miss Leonore's reaction. The way her smile froze as a veil of latent panic settled over her green eyes. Seconds slowed down and began to weigh heavily between both women, making them rather uncomfortable.
"Oh."
The exclamation didn't highlight the slightest bit of enthusiasm but a sentiment that laid more between disgust and incomprehension. Leonore made a step backwards – nodded – then left.
"Wacko..."
It might have been whispered, the scientist still heard the remark indirectly addressed to her. The words passed underneath her skin – ran through her veins – before settling down in her heart; making it ache.
"Room 207. Welcome back home, Maura."
Home. The honey blonde accepted the key in silence and took the elevators up to the second floor. This wasn't her home. She might have thought the contrary at some point but now that she had moved to Boston, she could say that Rugby School had only been a halt in her life. And nothing else.
A home rhymed with love – warmth – and care. This was hardly the definition she could give of Rupert Brook House.
To an extent and once the door was closed behind her, her dorm room could be considered as a shelter; the only place around where nobody came to humiliate her. And yet...
Suddenly, the time zone difference started kicking in and in a gesture of exhaustion – of slight distress – the medical examiner abandoned one of her suitcases in the small working area made of a desk, a coffee table and a sofa. She took the other one to the bed and let herself fall down on the mattress.
Her stilettos landed loudly on the hardwood floor. She grabbed her cell phone, smiled while pressing the button to Jane's number. Her friend's hoarse voice didn't take long to fill the space between them both. Now that was home.