Before the Storm (39 page)

puppies, and the sun was beginning to set on the other side of

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The Sea Tender. In a couple of weeks, the mosquitoes would

make it impossible to eat outside, but that night was one of

those magical June evenings. It was warm but not hot, and the

sea was calm—a pale opaque blue—swaying like gelatin. I

thought, how can he possibly resist?

Marcus took a long swallow of iced tea, as if mulling over

the question. “I don’t know,” he said, setting the glass down on

the picnic table.“I do miss it. Being back here…it’s part of me,

you know?” He looked at his brother. “I love the mountains,

but it’s not the same as living on the water, and it’d be great

to see y’all all the time.” He smiled at Maggie and Andy, who

was pulling apart catfish with his fingers. “It’s very tempting.”

“So what’s holding you back?” Jamie asked. “There’s an

opening coming up at the Hampstead fire station.”

“Move here! Move here!” Maggie jumped up and down on

the bench and I put a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re rockin’ the boat, sweetie.” I smiled at her enthusiasm.

“I’ll think about it, Mags,” Marcus promised.

Jamie got the kids ready for bed later that evening, while I

cleaned the kitchen. Marcus came in and began to wipe the

counters with a sponge. He’d been with us five days, but this

was the first time I’d been alone with him.

“How would you feel about me moving back here?” he asked

quietly as he wiped the breakfast bar.

I kept my eyes on the soapsuds in the sink. “Jamie really

wants you here,” I said. “And the kids are crazy about you.”

“But how do
you
feel, Laurel? Would you be okay with it?”

He lowered his voice. “Comfortable with it?”

“I’d like you to be part of the family again,” I said as though

I’d never felt anything other than friendship for him.

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“It’s important to me you’re all right with it,” he said.

I didn’t want him to say another word. I was afraid he’d say

something about Andy. I looked at him then as though I had

no idea why he was so concerned. As though I didn’t share

those concerns. “It will be fine,” I said.

“I’m not proud of—”

I put my fingers to his lips, then dropped my hand as quickly

as I’d raised it. “Let the past stay in the past,” I whispered.

“Please, Marcus.”

He stared at me a moment, long enough for me to turn away.

“Okay,” he said. “You don’t need to worry.”

Marcus became a fixture in our lives and on the island. He

moved into the most unlikely of the properties he and Jamie

had inherited from their father: one of the Operation

Bumblebee towers. He added on to the three-story tower,

remodeling it with amazing speed, painting the exterior a sea-

foam-green with white trim.

He was respected at the fire department, and he and Jamie

loved working shoulder to shoulder. I respected him as well.

I knew how difficult it had been for me to get sober in a structured rehab environment. The fact that he’d gotten straight

with only the help of AA earned my admiration.

As for me, I felt as though I had my cake and was eating it,

too. I loved my husband, but I also loved being around Marcus

once it was clear he’d keep his promise not to bring up the past.

I loved his spirit and sense of fun, and any attraction I felt for

him I filed neatly under
i
for
in-law.

With Andy in preschool, I took a part-time job in a dermatologist’s office. The rest of my energy went into fetal alcohol

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projects—developing a Web site, writing a newsletter and

speaking occasionally at a medical or education conference.

Maggie and Andy loved it when I went out of town on a

speaking engagement because Marcus would stay at the house,

and he and Jamie would take them to the movies and play

games with them and feed them pizza and other junk food that

was forbidden when I was around.

About a year after Marcus moved back to Topsail Island, he

picked me up at the Wilmington airport when I returned

from an out-of-town conference.

“Where’s Jamie?” I asked, surprised to see him waiting for

me in the terminal.

“He and the kids wanted to sleep in, so I volunteered to

come get you.” He took my rolling carry-on and pulled it

behind him as we walked toward the exit.

“Did y’all have a good weekend?” I asked.

“Great.” We were walking across the parking lot toward his

pickup. “Only I deserted everybody yesterday to buy a new

boat.”

“A new boat?” I laughed as I got into the passenger seat. I

rolled down the window to let in some of the sticky June air.

I’d flown in from New York. It had to be fifteen degrees hotter

in Wilmington. “What was wrong with your old one?”

“It was old, that’s what.”

We pulled out of the parking lot, and he told me about the

movie they’d watched the night before and how many times

they let Andy win at CandyLand.

“Maggie’s such a little honey-bunch,” he said, looking over

his shoulder to change lanes. “She’d let Andy win every time

if she could.”

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“I know,” I said. “I worry about her that way.”

“Well, I don’t think you have to
worry
about her.”

“I think she has Jamie’s…you know…his
empathy
thing.”

“Oh.” He understood. “I hope not.”

I was thinking about his statement—that he hoped Maggie

didn’t have Jamie’s overdeveloped capacity for empathy—

when I realized he’d fallen silent.

“Thinking about your boat?” I asked him. “Have you named

her yet?”

He licked his lips, flexing his hands on the steering wheel. “I

have to ask you something,” he said as if he hadn’t heard my

question.

Oh, no.
Was this why he’d wanted to pick me up at the

airport? I’d finally relaxed about the subject of Andy’s parentage; Marcus never seemed to concern himself with it. Finally,

though, the question was coming, and I braced myself.

I watched his Adam’s apple bob in his tanned throat. “I

thought it would be okay when I moved here,” he said.

“Thought what would be okay?” I asked cautiously.

“I thought I had my feelings for you under control.”

That was not what I’d expected. “What are you talking—”

“Stop.” He glanced at me. “Don’t say anything. Just let me

talk for a minute, okay?”

“No,” I said. “I—”

“Every time I see you, my feelings get stronger,” he said. “It

doesn’t have anything to do with the past, all right? It has to

do with the here and now. Not with the people we used to be.

We were both sick then. Now we’re healthy and…I admire

you, Laurel. The way you deal with Andy. The way you’ve

taken on the whole FASD cause, and—”

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“Marcus, please don’t,” I said. “I mean, thank you. For the

compliment. I admire you, too. We both turned our lives

around. Let’s not do anything that could screw that up again.”

“I’m in love with you.”

“Please don’t say that.” I looked out the side window, not

wanting to see whatever had been laid bare in his face.

“I’ve been fighting it all year,” he said, “and I’m tired of

fighting it. I need to know if there’s a chance. That’s all I’m

asking. You tell me there isn’t and I’ll shut up and never

mention it again. But I need to know if you’d ever consider—”

He shook his head. “I’m not talking about an affair. I wouldn’t

do that again. I’m talking about you and me, out in the open.

With you divorced from Jamie.” Although my gaze was riveted

to the side of the road, I felt him looking at me. “I love my

brother,” he said, “and I hate the thought of hurting him, but I

don’t know how to keep my feelings for you hidden any longer.

Every woman I go out with…I keep wishing she was you.”

“Marcus, please stop!” I said, turning to face him. “I won’t

ever divorce Jamie. He stood by me through so much. He—”

“Are you saying you have feelings for me?” he interrupted.

“That if it weren’t for Jamie, you’d—”

“I love you like a brother-in-law,” I said.

“I don’t think I believe you.”

“Why not?”

“I catch the way you look at me sometimes.”

Had I been that transparent?

“I love Jamie, Marcus,” I said evenly. “He and I have a family

together. Please support that. Don’t…” I let out my breath in

frustration. “This year’s been so much fun with you here.

Please don’t mess it up.”

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He was quiet for a moment. “You’re right,” he said then.

“Absolutely right. I’m sorry, Laurel. I had to ask.”

“Now you know.”

“Now I know.”

An awkward silence fell between us. Finally I spoke.

“You need to find yourself a woman who’s free and who’ll

love the dickens out of you,” I said, wondering how it would

feel to see him touching, loving another woman.

“You’re right,” he said grimly. “I’ll do that.”

The next day was Monday and both Marcus and Jamie had

time off from work. The sun had just broken over the horizon,

sending a pink glow into our bedroom, when the phone rang.

Jamie answered it from his side of the bed. I listened to his

groggy end of the conversation.

“Yeah,” he said after a few minutes. “I’d like that.” He set the

phone back on the night table.

“Was that the fire station?” I asked. No one else would call

that early.

“No. It was Marcus.” He sat up and swung his legs over the

side of the bed.“I’m gonna meet him at the pier and check out

his new boat.”

“Now?”
I asked. “It’s your only day to sleep in.”

“Yeah, but look outside.” He motioned toward the sunrise

and I could understand his desire to be on the water. He leaned

over to kiss me. “You go back to sleep. I won’t wake the kids.”

A few hours later, Marcus called me from the police station

in Surf City. He was sobbing, and I could barely understand

him. There’d been an accident on the boat, he said. A whale

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had lifted it into the air, tossing him and Jamie out. Marcus had

searched the water, trying to find his brother, but had to finally

give up.

I hung up the phone, trembling and nauseated. The kids

were right there, and I did my best not to show the terror I

felt. I called Sara to come stay with them, although she was

nearly as upset as I was. She blew into the house with six-yearold Keith and hugged me, crying, while the three children anxiously tried to figure out what was wrong.

I sped to the police station and when I looked into Marcus’s

eyes, the eyes of the man who only the day before had asked me

if I’d leave my husband for him, I realized exactly how well I

knew him—well enough to know that the story he was telling

was a lie.

THE PROBABLE CAUSE HEARING WAS SCHEDULED for

Wednesday, two short days away and too soon for my

comfort. I knew that the hearing could literally mean the

end of Andy’s freedom forever, “given the seriousness of the

charges.” Dennis sounded more and more certain that Andy

would be bound over to adult court, and less and less certain

that he would get any sort of reasonable bail. That meant

he would stay in prison until his trial, which could be

months, if not years, away. His sentence could be life

without parole.

“He can’t get the death penalty, though,” Dennis said, “so

don’t worry about that.”

What an asshole! I only needed to worry about my FASD

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son getting life in prison. I should have gotten a new lawyer

when I first started having doubts about Dennis.

I thought he should make a case at the probable cause

hearing that Andy shouldn’t be bound over to the adult system

because of his FASD, and I tried again to educate the lawyer

about the disorder, but it was like trying to educate Andy

himself. It was as though Dennis’s brain shut down when I

talked about it now.

“It’s a very weak argument,” he said. “It used to hold water

as a defense, but now every Tom, Dick and Harry claims their

mothers drank before they were born. Andy’s IQ is in the

normal range, he’s not insane, and he knows right from wrong,

and that’s what the judge will be looking at.”

“Whose side are you
on?
” I was losing it with this man.

Every time I spoke with him, I felt panic bubble up in my chest.

“You’re not hearing me! First of all, I’m not talking about his

defense.
I’m talking about why he shouldn’t be tried as an adult.

He may be a teenager and he may have a IQ in the normal

range—the
low
normal range—but he
thinks
like a child. I’m

an expert in FASD. I speak to groups about—”

“You’re his mother,” Dennis interrupted me. “Your expertise doesn’t count.”

One night a few years earlier, I woke up and saw Jamie sitting

on the edge of my bed. I was probably dreaming—it had