Before the Storm (25 page)

friend. Why didn’t I know that she’d confided in Marcus? Why

didn’t I know that Marcus cared enough to talk to her about

Keith?

“Well, maybe
Keith
set the fire,” I said. “Why else would he

be trying to blame it on someone else? Someone who can’t

really defend himself?”

“He’ll be questioned, but let’s face it, why would he set a

fire and get trapped by it?”

“Why would
Andy
set a fire and get trapped by it?” I snapped.

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“Well, he didn’t get trapped, did he?”

I stared at him. “It was just lucky he found his way out.”

“Or he wanted to be seen as a hero, and he’s the only one

who seemed to know the safe way out of the building.”

“Marcus!”

He held up his hands as if to ward off a blow. “Devil’s

advocate, Laurel,” he said.“I’m just trying to think the way the

investigators will.”

“Of which you’re one.”

“Hi, Uncle Marcus.”

I looked up quickly at the sound of Andy’s voice. He stood

in the doorway between the family room and the porch in his

pajamas, his eyes squinty with sleep. I changed my expression

from angry to benign.

“Hey, Andy.” Marcus got up and pulled Andy into a hug.

Judas,
I thought.

“Are you fighting with Mom?” Andy asked.

“We’re having a noisy talk,” Marcus said. I was glad he could

find his voice. Mine was trapped somewhere behind my breastbone. “You ever have noisy talks with people?”

“Sometimes.” Andy smiled.

“Go back to bed, sweetie,” I managed to say.

“I’ll take him.” Marcus put his hand on Andy’s shoulder.

“Come on, Andy.”

I thought of stopping him, concerned he would say something to Andy that would worry or confuse him, but I seemed

to be frozen to the glider. And, anyway, Marcus wouldn’t want

Andy upset any more than I would.

I listened to their footsteps on the stairs inside the house.

I remembered the agent interviewing Andy at the hospital,

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how he’d needed me as a translator of sorts. If they talked to

him again, I had to make sure I was present. I imagined him

being questioned by interrogators not so much
smarter
than

him, but more adept at thinking and reasoning. People with

an agenda. I couldn’t let that happen.

When he returned to the porch, Marcus surprised me by

sitting next to me on the glider. He gave me a hug and for a

moment, I was too stunned to pull away. But only for a

moment.

“Marcus, please don’t.”

He let go, then leaned forward with a sigh, elbows on his

knees.

“I know Andy’s innocent, and that’ll come out,” he said

quietly. “But there are a lot of people who don’t know him.

Who don’t see what you and I see when we look at him. They

see an uncool kid who wants desperately to be cool. To be a

hero.”

“It’s…it’s ridiculous.” I still felt unsettled by the sudden

hug. I’d forgotten how he smelled. It was a scent I would

always associate with longing. With the sea. With deceit.

“I’ll go,” he said, standing up. “Stay here—I’ll let myself

out.” But he didn’t make a move toward the door. Instead, he

put his hands in his pockets and looked toward the dark water

of the sound and the lights on the mainland. He wanted to say

something more to me; I could see the war inside him.

“What?” I asked.

He looked down at me, letting out a sigh. “They want to

search Andy’s room,” he said. “Look into getting a lawyer,

Laurel.”

WHEN I GOT HOME FROM LAUREL’S, I made a Coke-andpeanuts cocktail, then climbed to the roof of my tower to

think. There were a couple of old lounge chairs up there, but

I liked sitting on the oceanside edge of the roof itself, my feet

hanging over the side of the building. A couple of women I’d

dated refused to sit on the edge with me. One was so afraid of

heights that she wouldn’t sit on the roof at all.
You’re a fool if

you don’t install a railing up here,
she’d told me. Didn’t bother

calling
her
again.

Laurel and Jamie once sat up here with me. It was a hot

summer night when I was still doing the renovations. I must

have spoken to Jamie on the phone, telling him I was wiped.

Next thing I knew, they’d gotten a babysitter and showed up

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with a bowl of gulf shrimp and a bottle of sparkling cider. We

sat on the edge of the roof for an hour at least, talking and

eating, dropping shrimp tails onto the patio below for me to

clean up the next morning. Maybe Laurel had been uncomfortable sitting between Jamie and me, but she hadn’t been at

all afraid to sit on the edge of the roof.

I shook my head now, thinking of her. Man, I’d kicked a few

holes in my ethical boundaries today. Taking it upon myself to

talk to Keith before anyone else could. Telling Laurel about

the search. But she had to know how serious this had become.

I pictured her after I left, going into Andy’s room, watching

him sleep. He might have a little smile on his face. I’d seen him

sleep like that a time or two.

In my mind’s eye, Laurel reached out, pulling the covers

over Andy’s shoulders. I saw them both—two people who’d

always have my heart—and I wished I could protect them

from what I was afraid their future held.

1990

I SLEPT NEARLY NONSTOP FOR DAYS AFTER JAMIE and Maggie

left. I can’t say I was happy they were gone, because nothing

made me happy, but with Jamie gone, I could sleep all day if I

wanted to without feeling guilty. With Maggie gone, I didn’t

have to feel her disdain or listen to her cry or worry about

plunging a knife into her heart or throwing her into the sea. I

didn’t have to feel Jamie’s helplessness. So, while there may not

have been happiness, there was at least relief in my solitude.

But after three or four days, I awakened to find Marcus

standing near the end of my bed, silhouetted against the

evening sky. His arms were folded across his chest. I was so

dopey with sleep that I wasn’t even startled to see him there.

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“I’m supposed to check on you,” he said.“Make sure you eat

and all. Have you been out of this bed since they left?”

I had to think. “To use the bathroom,” I said.

“How ’bout to eat?”

I knew I’d had water and apple juice, but I couldn’t

remember eating anything. “Not really.”

Marcus shook my foot beneath the blanket. “Get up and

come next door. I picked up some shrimp, and I’ll make grits.

You’ll feel better with some food in you.”

“No, thanks.” It was so much easier just to dig deeper under

the covers.

“Do you know it stinks in this room?” he asked.“This whole

house?”

I nearly laughed.“I bet you vacuum every day,” I said. Marcus

lived in Talos like the irresponsible, alcoholic, twenty-oneyear-old bachelor he was.

“Yeah, well, my house doesn’t stink.”

I recalled the stench of stale beer and cigarettes from my

last visit next door, but I was too tired to argue. “Go away,

Marcus.” I rolled on my side and put the pillow over my head.

The next thing I knew, he’d pulled the covers off me and

was dragging me in my underpants and T-shirt toward the

bathroom. “You’ve been sleeping in the same clothes for days,

I bet,” he said.

I didn’t fight him as he pushed me, still dressed, into the

shower and turned on the faucet. I screamed as the cold water

spiked against my skin. He leaned against the shower door

when I tried to push it open.

“I’m going to get pneumonia!” I shrieked.

“It’ll warm up soon enough.”

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“Marcus, you bastard!” I backed into a corner of the shower

to try to avoid the cold spray.

“You got shampoo in there? Soap?”

I looked at the bottles on the little ledge built into the tiled

wall. “Yes,” I said, giving in.

“Water warmin’ up?”

It was. I ducked my head under the spray and felt it thrum

against my scalp. “Yes.”

“All right. Got any clean towels? The one out here’s growing

fungus or something.”

“In the little closet.”

The closet door squeaked open.

“I’ll put this old one in the hamper, then I’ll wait for you in

the living room.”

He was stripping the bed when I came out of the bathroom

wrapped in a clean towel.

“These sheets are revolting,” he said, bundling them into his

arms.

“Oh, shut up.” I clutched the towel tightly around me and

leaned against the wall.

“I’ll start a wash and then meet you at my house. If you’re

not there in twenty minutes, I’m comin’ back for you.”

I closed my eyes, waiting for him to leave. I heard him walk

out the front door and clomp down the stairs to the laundry

closet on the beach level. Resigned, I pulled the curtains closed

against the darkening sea and began to dress.

I supposed having Marcus check up on me was Jamie’s way

of making his brother work for a living. Marcus had come over

to the house one day, shortly before Jamie left with Maggie,

and the two of them got into another of their heated battles.

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“You need a job!” Jamie’d shouted at him. Marcus was the

only person I’d ever heard him raise his voice to. I was in bed,

and I pulled the pillow over my head but could still hear him.

“All you do is surf, party, sleep, screw and drink!”

“I
don’t
need a job,” Marcus countered. “Neither do you.

We’re rich. Did you forget?”

“We weren’t raised to be slugs,” Jamie said.

“Let’s face it, bro,” Marcus said. “You were raised one way

and I was raised another.”

“You live off the income from family properties,” Jamie

said. “Don’t you think you could manage a few hours a week

on repairs and maintenance?”

“I suppose you’d expect me to be clean and sober while I

worked?”

“Damn straight,” Jamie said.

“Not interested,” Marcus had answered.

Climbing the steps to the front door of Talos nearly did me

in. I had no wind and my muscles felt f laccid and shaky. I

opened the door without knocking and saw him standing at

the stove, spatula in hand.

“Much better!” he said, appraising me. He wore the cute

grin that had so captivated me when he was sixteen. “And

you’re almost smiling,” he added.

Was I? I’d thought the muscles in my face had forgotten how.

The sharp smell of shrimp filled his kitchen. He pulled

out a stool at the breakfast bar. “You better sit down before

you keel over. What do you want to drink?” He was already

well into a bottle of beer, and some empties littered the

counter.

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“Juice?” I lowered myself to the stool and put my elbows on

the breakfast bar as Marcus opened his refrigerator.

“No juice. Beer?”

“Ugh. Have any wine?”

“No, but I do have these.” He pulled out a wine cooler and

set it on the counter. “I keep them around for the ladies.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Just water,” I said.

He opened the bottle. “Try it.You’ll like it.”

I took a sip. I could barely taste it. Although my sense of

smell seemed overly developed, my sense of taste was shot,

but the drink was cool and wet and I figured it would do.

Marcus set a plate of grits topped with shrimp and cheese

in front of me. I liked shrimp and grits—at least, the old me

did. The before-Maggie me. But I had no appetite at all

anymore. My stomach was concave. When I woke up each

morning, I could see the little mountains of my hipbones

below the covers.

“It looks good, Marcus. I’m just not really hungry.”

“Girl, you’re wasting away.” He circled my wrist with his

hand. “Just eat as much as you can.”

I’d been through all this with Jamie. With Sara. And I’d

remained stubborn and unyielding with them. There was

something about Marcus cooking for me, though. The second-

best brother. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I slipped my

fork into the grits and ate a bite. They might as well have been

little bits of Styrofoam, but I managed to eat half of what was

in my bowl. It was more than I’d eaten in months.

“Stay here for a while and we’ll just veg,” he said once we’d

eaten.“I’ve got a couple of movies. Gotta get lonely over there

by yourself.”

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I thought of telling him how much I liked the solitude, but

it seemed cold and horrible to admit I liked being separated

from my child and husband.

As soon as I stood up, I realized I had a bit of a buzz, and it

was not at all unpleasant. I carried another wine cooler with

me to the living room. Jamie and I rarely drank, and since

Marcus moved out, there’d been no alcohol in the house at all.

Marcus knelt down in front of the VCR, two tapes in his

hands. “Do you want to see
When Harry Met Sally
or
Born on the