“Mother, give me some credit. I’m not stupid.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what you are!” The rain was so loud that I had to plug my free ear with my finger. “You’re being incredibly stupid. How could you trust a man who’d have a secret affair with a girl half his age?”
“Because I’m not like you!” Maggie snapped. “I trust people. You don’t trust anyone. You don’t even trust Uncle Marcus. You’re going to end up alone forever and I don’t want that to happen to me.”
“I do so trust people,” I said, grabbing her bait. “I trusted your father completely.”
“Well, guess what, Mom. Turns out that was pretty stupid of you.”
“Maggie! Why would you say that?”
“Because he was cheating on you, that’s why.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “Don’t try to turn this into something about me,” I said.
“It is about you,” she said. “You think Ben’s so untrustworthy and you talk about Daddy like he was a saint. Well, guess what? He wasn’t. He was in love with Sara.”
“Sara?” Where in God’s name was this coming from? “Sara helped him a lot when you were little. Is that what you’re remembering?”
“Keith is Daddy’s son!”
I nearly laughed, it was so ludicrous. “Maggie, where are you? You’re scaring me.” I’d never heard her sound so vicious and desperate before. “I’m going to ask Marcus to come stay with you.”
“Mother! It’s Uncle Marcus who told me everything. Daddy confessed it all to him when they were on that boat the day he drowned. He was going to leave you for Sara and Keith.”
My mind spun as her words sank in. Impossible. “Even if this is the truth, why would Marcus tell you?”
“Because Keith knows and Keith told me.”
“What?”
“Uncle Marcus never wanted you to know. You play ice queen with him because you think he had something to do with Daddy’s death, but all this time he’s just been trying to keep you from finding out. He set up a college fund for Keith after Daddy died and Keith found the papers or something, so now he knows the truth. Uncle Marcus was going to wait until after the hearing to tell you.”
My car closed in on me, the rain sheeting down my windows like a second layer of glass. I felt the blade of a knife slip into my heart, then twist.
Maggie was crying.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” she said. “I didn’t mean it to come out that way. I know this is a bad time, but you pushed me about Ben. Please, please, just accept that he and I are together. Dawn’s jealous, that’s all. It’s not like he’s cheating on her. He told her he just wanted to be friends a long time ago. She’s angry that—”
“Maggie—” I wasn’t really listening to her “—I’m on my way home. It’s been a terrible day.”
“Why? What did the neurologist say?”
“We can talk about it in a few hours when I get home. It’s raining here and the wind’s blowing and I want to miss the worst part of the storm if I can.” I sounded remarkably calm to myself even though the knife was turning and twisting and cutting me deeper.
“Mom, just tell me you understand,” she pleaded. “That you believe Ben and I are together for the right reasons. I love him.”
“We’ll talk when I get home,” I said. “And don’t forget to pick Andy up from swim practice.”
“Have I ever once forgotten him?” Maggie snapped, and then the line went dead.
I flipped the phone closed, pressing my forehead to the steering wheel. Jamie had always been mine, I thought. Solid and supportive and loving. We had a few good years after I got sober. All those I love you’s. Tender moments with the children. With each other. They were excellent years, weren’t they? Had they been my imagination? Were those I love you’s meant for Sara, not me?
Sara?
Why wouldn’t Jamie have fallen for Sara? She was pretty, sweet and his helpmate. Her husband had been frequently absent and emotionally distant even when he was around, while for years I’d been drunk, slovenly and very, very hard to love.
And Marcus. Had he really been keeping the truth from me all these years, while I froze him out? I wanted to call him, to separate what was true from my angry daughter’s manipulation of things he’d told her. But I needed to get home and I couldn’t possibly drive in the pouring rain and talk on the phone at the same time. Not today. Not about this.
I turned the key in the ignition and pulled back onto I-40.
Chapter Forty-Six
Maggie
ANDY RAN TOWARD ME THROUGH THE RAIN as I got out of my car in front of the rec center.
“I’m getting good at butterflying!” he shouted to me in greeting.
“Good, Andy,” I said, opening my umbrella. “Wait in the car, okay? I need to talk to Ben. I’ll just be a minute.”
I ran into the building and downstairs to the pool. Ben was talking to the parents of one of his team members. He demonstrated a stroke, his arm arcing through the air. He was so amazing. Oh, God, please don’t let this be the end. I sat down on the lowest bench of the bleachers to wait for him. He spotted me and excused himself from the parents.
“Dawn told my mother,” I said when he was close enough to hear me.
“Damn.” He sat next to me. “I’m sorry. I was afraid she would. Your mother had a fit, I bet.”
“Yes, but there’s so much else going on,” I said. I’d tried to call Uncle Marcus to tell him I’d blown it with Mom, but he hadn’t picked up. I thought of texting him, but he was totally lame at text messages. Besides, I was afraid to tell him what I’d done. I’d been so mean to my mother. Part of me felt guilty about it, but another part loved every second of hurting her. I’d had the empathy of a rattlesnake. “You won’t believe it all.” I looked up to see another mother walking toward us. “I have to talk to you. Can you call me later?”
He stood up, turning his back to the woman who waited a few feet away. “I’ll try,” he said.
“Ben…” I got to my feet. “My mother said that Dawn told her you want to break up with me.”
He shook his head. “You know Dawn,” he said. “She’s just trying to make trouble for us. We’ll talk later, okay?”
Outside, a gust of wind nearly blew me off my feet. I put up my umbrella, hanging on to it while the wind tried to tear it out of my hands. I was soaked by the time I got to the car.
“You look like you fell in the pool,” Andy said.
“I feel like it, too.” I shivered as I turned the key.
“Did you bring my iPod?”
“I forgot it. Sorry.”
“The thing with the butterfly is you have to get the breathing right,” he said, as I pulled into the street.
“Just like everything else in swimming.” I knew I sounded snippy, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“I want to be the champion.”
“Andy, you don’t need to be the best at everything all the time.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“So I’ll be happy.”
I had to laugh. “Your life is pretty simple isn’t it?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Did he know about the hearing tomorrow? He sure didn’t sound worried about it. “It’s good that you try hard,” I said, “but part of growing up is learning how to lose gracefully.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know when Ben tells you to congratulate the winner on the other team?” I liked hearing myself say Ben’s name.
“I hate that.”
“That’s losing gracefully.”
“It’s still better to win, though, right?”
“I guess so.” I sighed. I couldn’t focus on the conversation any longer. “I’m in charge of dinner tonight because Mom won’t be home till later.” Oh, I dreaded seeing her! “What do you feel like eating?”
“Pizza!”
“I think there’s one in the freezer. I’ll make it while you get changed.”
I was sliding the pizza into the oven when the phone rang. I checked the caller ID. Uncle Marcus. He was going to kill me.
“Hey, Maggie,” he said when I answered. “Is your mom home yet?”
“No, and I blew it,” I said. “She called and I got mad at her about something and I told her.” I bit my lip, waiting for his reaction.
“Why, Maggie?” He sounded more shocked than angry.
“She was giving me grief, and then she said how Daddy was the only trustworthy man she ever knew or something like that and it just came out. I know I shouldn’t have. I couldn’t help myself.”
He was quiet, and I scrunched up my face, waiting for him to yell at me.
“Do you know how she made out with the neurologist?” he asked finally. “She left me a message, but I think her phone’s off.”
“I don’t know. She said it was a terrible day.”
“Damn.”
“It’ll be okay, though, won’t it? Tomorrow, I mean?”
“Not if Andy’s bound over to adult court, it won’t be.”
“But—” I was confused “—Mom said that probably wouldn’t happen.”
“She said that today?”
I tried to remember my phone conversation with her. “No. She told me the day Andy came home from jail. I was going off about it and she said not to worry. That it wouldn’t happen.”
Uncle Marcus was quiet again.
“Could it happen?” I asked.
“I think your mother was just trying to keep you from getting upset, Mags,” he said. “If she said it was a terrible day, it sounds like she either didn’t have any luck with the neurologist or else with the lawyer. And if that’s the case, then there’s a really good chance Andy will end up in adult court.”
“So…” What did that mean exactly? “When would he have a trial? He could stay home while he’s waiting for it, right?”
Andy came downstairs. I watched him walk into the family room and turn on the TV.
“No, Mags. Look, I know your mom doesn’t want to worry you, but here’s the deal. If he gets bound over, they’ll lock him up right away and—”
“What do you mean, lock him up right away?” I whispered, turning my back to the family room.
“I mean, after the hearing tomorrow, they’d take him back to jail. And it’s very doubtful he could get bail, so he’d have to stay in jail until his trial. And sometimes it can take a year or even longer for a case to go to trial. Then if he’s found guilty, he could end up in prison for the rest of his life.”
I couldn’t speak. This couldn’t be happening.
“So that’s why your mom’s been knocking herself out to find the right expert and why she’s been so worried and why you really were…you were cruel to her today, Maggie. She didn’t need that on top of everything else.”
“I can’t believe it,” I said.
“What part of it?”
“Any of it.” I looked into the family room. I could see the back of Andy’s head where he sat on the sofa. He had no idea how his world might change tomorrow. I’d had no idea. “I’m so sorry,” I said to Uncle Marcus. “I didn’t realize…I knew it was serious, but I didn’t get how bad it was.”
“It’s worse. That’s what I was calling to talk to your mother about.”
“How could it possibly be worse?”
“Here’s how,” he said. “Those empty containers from the landfill? One of them has Andy’s prints on it.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Laurel
I HAD TO STOP ONCE MORE ON THE DRIVE home from Raleigh, this time because of the blinding rain. Mine wasn’t the only car to pull over with its emergency blinkers flashing, but I bet none of the other drivers were in the sort of turmoil—the sort of emotional pain—I was in. I’d failed to get the necessary help for my son, and my daughter had been lying to me for the past year, turning into a girl I didn’t know. I thought of all the times Ben Trippett had talked to me about Andy’s swimming, all the while chortling to himself about the wool he was pulling over my eyes.
And then there was that knife beneath my breastbone, the most visceral pain of them all. My beloved Jamie had led a double life. My best friend had deceived me. I’d been blind to it. Why did I always lose people? My parents. My aunt and uncle. Jamie. And now even Jamie’s memory would be lost to me. And Sara! How could she? Even Marcus had betrayed me in the guise of protecting me—an act of nobility I could barely fathom, given the wrath with which I’d blamed him for Jamie’s death. Nothing was as it seemed. The only person in my life I felt sure about was Andy, and tomorrow, he could be ripped from my arms for being too naive, too defenseless against a world he didn’t completely understand. I started to cry. To sob so hard that, even as the rain let up and the other cars took off, I stayed on the side of the road trying to get a grip on myself.
By the time I got home, the nor’easter was in full swing. The sky was eerily dark for so early in the evening, and the thunder made a ripping, growling sound that reminded me of when the church roof caved in during the fire. The slender trees in my yard bowed toward the sound. I caught them in my headlights, and that’s when I realized that my headlights were the only lights near the house. The power must have gone out.
The garage door opener worked, though, and as I pulled inside, I noticed that Maggie’s Jetta wasn’t there. I let myself into the house, feeling even more unsettled. Something wasn’t right.
“Maggie? Andy?”
The wind rattled the windowpanes, but even so, I could hear the refrigerator’s loud hum. The power was on. I flipped the kitchen switch and the room filled with light. An uneaten pizza rested on a cookie sheet on the granite counter. Where were they?
I walked through the house, calling for them, afraid the police might have taken Andy away again. Why, though? And where was Maggie?
I sat on the family room sofa and dialed her cell phone, but she didn’t answer. She was probably afraid to talk to me after our conversation earlier. I tried Andy’s phone but, as with Maggie’s, I was dumped to his voice mail.
“Hi! This is Andy. Leave…leave me a message when the tone rings.” It had taken us an hour to get that message properly recorded.
“Andy, this is Mom,” I said. “Call me right away!” I tried Maggie’s phone again, this time leaving a message. “Where are you and Andy? I’m home and very worried!”
Then I dialed Marcus’s cell.
“Do you know where Maggie and Andy are?” I asked when he picked up.
“I spoke to Maggie about an hour or so ago,” he said. “She was home with Andy. She said they were making pizza.”
“Well, I just got home and the house is dark and empty and a whole pizza is on the counter. Her car’s not here. She was mad at me. We had a fight on the phone.” I ran my hand over the green fabric on the arm of the sofa, unsure how much to say about that conversation.
“Then you don’t know about the containers?”
“What containers?”
“The ones found in the landfill.” He hesitated. “At least one of them has Andy’s fingerprints on it, Laurel.”
“No!” I stood up. “Oh, Marcus, that’s impossible! It’s just impossible. I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“I’m coming over.”
“Could the police have picked him up?”
“I doubt it. I think they have other things to worry about with this storm, but I’ll call them on my way to your house to make sure.”
“Please do.” I hung up. I tried to make a pot of coffee, but forgot to add the grounds and ended up with a carafe full of murky-looking water. Sobs shook my shoulders as I tried again. I remembered the grounds this time, but the power died as the first dark drops poured into the carafe.
Fumbling in the darkness, I found my hurricane lanterns and flashlights. I lit the lanterns, setting them on the tables and fire place mantel in the family room.
If the police had Andy, could Marcus somehow get him out again? Or was t
his it, now that they had his prints on those containers? Would Andy be locked up tonight, then sent to jail after the hearing tomorrow, never to get out again?
It was nine o’clock when Marcus arrived. I heard the slamming of his pickup door and I raced to my front door, anxious to talk to him. He literally blew into the house, the wind lifting him off his feet.
“Damn!” he said, knocking into the small table in the foyer. “My pickup hydroplaned half the way here.” He helped me close the door against the wind. “We need to go out there again,” he said. “We need to get your patio furniture in the garage.”
I was usually a clear thinker in a storm. Tonight, though, I could barely picture the furniture he was talking about.
“Do the police have him?” I asked.
“No. I’m worried about tomorrow, though, Laurel. I mean, I thought maybe we had a chance till these containers turned up.”
“I don’t understand!” I said for the hundredth time.
“Let’s get things secured outside and then figure out what to do.”
“I don’t care about the patio furniture!” I said. “I don’t care if the house falls down. I just want to know where my children are!”
“You stay here, then. I’ll do it.”
I knew he was right. A nor’easter last year had sent someone’s trash can through my front window. I followed him outside and together we managed to get the chairs and patio table into the garage. My trash can was already gone, blown away who knew where. I cried in the windy darkness, letting myself break down unheard. I just managed to pull myself together before we went into the house again.
“Let’s think,” he said, as I relit one of the lanterns that had gone out. “How could Andy’s prints have possibly gotten on the container?”
“Someone set him up,” I said. “That’s the only possibility. Maybe Keith, since he was angry that…” I stopped, pressing my hands to my temples as all that Maggie had told me rushed back. “Marcus.” My voice cracked as I leaned against the stone of the fireplace. “I know about Keith. Maggie told me. Is it true about Jamie and Sara?”