From Cradle to Grave (28 page)

‘What’s that for?’ Fitz asked pointing to the choke collar which Astrid had removed from Morgan’s neck and absent-mindedly rolled around her hand.

‘What? Oh, I found this on the beach.’

‘Your hand is bleeding,’ he said.

‘Is it?’ she asked.

‘Let’s go back down on the beach,’ he said.

Astrid demurred. ‘I think I’m going to go home.’

Fitz took her by the upper arm. ‘No. I need you to come with me.’

Astrid felt the shock of his young body close to hers. She had become spoiled by the intoxication of young flesh and for one moment . . . Then, she shook off the thought. This was not Guy. There was no ecstasy to be had, here. ‘I’d rather not,’ she said archly. ‘Really, Fitz. I’m surprised at you.’

Fitz was not responding politely. ‘Let’s go down on that beach and look,’ he said in a menacing tone. Without waiting for her acquiescence he shoved her forward and down through the dunes and across the sand they went.

‘Morgan,’ he called out. There was no answer.

He looked over at Astrid, who was watching him pityingly. ‘What?’ he said.

‘Morgan?’ Astrid shook her head. ‘She’s not for you. You deserve better.’

‘Where is she?’ he demanded.

Almost involuntarily, Astrid’s gaze rose to the sea. Fitz felt something cold clamp down on his heart as he turned to where she was looking, and saw the pale face, like a disc of concentrated moonlight, drifting out on the waves.

THIRTY-THREE

M
organ lay on an iceberg in Antarctica, where she lived as a princess among the polar bears. It was a light, white world, where the rays of the sun were so bright that you could hardly stand to open your eyes. She was asleep, although she could see all around her and hear all that was said. The polar bears were talking, saying that in a very short time she would have some special visitors. Though they didn’t say who the visitors might be, Morgan somehow knew, and her excitement was fantastic. It was going to be her parents, and she knew she had to awaken to meet them. It was difficult to awaken though. She felt heavy and weighted down. Her royal robes were as dark as seaweed and they seemed to keep her pinned to the iceberg. She had to get up, to get ready to see them. She had to make her home ready for these most wonderful of visitors. But what would she serve them, she wondered? What sort of refreshments would she ever find in this cold, empty place? She was wracking her brain, trying to think what she could offer them when suddenly she heard their voices.

‘Morgan, Morgan.’ The voice came from far away, and something told her not to heed the voice. Not to listen. In her dream, she opened her eyes, and saw her mother’s face, and her father’s face, their tender eyes, with light surrounding them. But they were not speaking. They were not calling her name.

Morgan opened her eyes and saw nothing but darkness and felt the water enveloping her, crushing her with its coldness. She could not feel her feet, her limbs. Her heart stopped from fear. Started again.

‘Morgan.’

It was a shout. Someone was there. She turned her eyes toward the shore. Fitz. He was coming through the water toward her. Froth surrounded him and he pushed it away, pushed the water away, pushed everything away and willed her, with his eyes, to hang on.

‘Don’t,’ she wanted to say, but her lips were too numb to move. She felt detached as she watched him surging through the water, as if it were someone else he was trying to reach. She herself was already far away, going home.

As if he could divine her waning will, he shouted, ‘Morgan, don’t quit. Wait for me.’ She wondered what he meant by that, but she couldn’t ask him, because her face was frozen, stiff. The waves around him broke against his chest, leapt into the air. A spray of water fell on Morgan’s face like steely pellets, striking her. It seemed that he was far away for a long time, and then, suddenly, he was beside her. He grabbed one sodden sleeve of her jacket, and pulled her until he could get his other arm around her. Then he drew her to his chest. She felt the heat of him, the warmth of him. The life.

‘Stay with me, babe,’ he said. Holding her, he began to push toward shore. Every step was excruciating. She felt as if her hands, her limbs would break off in the water and float away. He was gasping for breath and she could feel the beating of his heart through his jacket. ‘Stay awake,’ he said. ‘I’m bringing you in.’

She tried to speak to him, but her lips wouldn’t move. How did you get here, she asked him in her heart? How did you find me? She wasn’t sure if her life was leaving her, or returning. There was one thing she had to tell him. She forced her blue lips to move, and it felt like they were cracking, falling from her face. ‘Astrid.’

‘What babe?’ he asked. ‘I didn’t hear you. Did you say Astrid?’ He put his ear close to her mouth.

‘Poisoned me,’ she whispered.

Fitz threw his head back. ‘That bitch,’ he cried to the stars. His anger seemed to give him added strength. He pulled her closer and crashed through the waves like a ship’s prow. In the distance he heard sirens, and he thanked God he had thought to call the ambulance the minute he saw her in the water. Astrid had not tried to stop him. She fled. His eyes searched the dark beach but Astrid was gone. There was no one and nothing to be seen except for the flashing red lights which had just appeared beyond the dunes.

‘Ambulance is here. We’re almost to shore. Don’t nod off,’ he warned her. ‘Stay with me.’

Lucy looped the two leashes around her hand and allowed herself to be carried down the sidewalk. Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to wear roller skates, and have the dogs pull her. The minute she got up some steam, she told herself, they would turn around or get tangled up in one another, and that would be the end of it.

Lucy knew what her father would say if he could hear her thoughts. Be careful. You’re weak. You’ll fall.

She glanced up at the house and saw Julio, framed by the front window, and it made her smile. That’s what he knew. Her father had no idea how brave she could be. But he soon would. Lucy waved to Julio and he nodded and smiled back at her, but he couldn’t wave because he was in the process of putting up curtain rods. He said the house didn’t look right without curtains, and that they needed to go shopping and get some. That was the kind of person he was. If there was something wrong, he fixed it. Almost like Astrid, only a man. She knew she should be grateful to her father for this house, but in truth it had always been such a burden to her, with all the chores she was always avoiding or forgetting to do. But not anymore. Not since Julio.

‘Lucy . . .’

Lucy jumped at the sound of a soft voice in the darkness. She looked all around.

‘I’m here, in the car.’

Lucy turned to look. She hadn’t noticed her stepmother’s car parked down the block. But there was Astrid, at the wheel, the car window open. Lucy went over and bent down to talk to her stepmother. The dogs barked their displeasure at the interruption of their walk. ‘Astrid,’ she said. ‘Oh I’m so glad you’re here.’

Astrid’s face looked strange – wild-eyed and gaunt. ‘I need to talk to you,’ said Astrid. ‘I’ve had an idea.’

‘Me too,’ Lucy exclaimed. ‘I wanted to tell you. Why don’t you come in?’

‘No, listen to me,’ said Astrid impatiently. ‘I’ve been thinking about this, and there’s only one thing to do. You go get Julio, and throw your things in a bag. We’ll set out for Mexico right now. Tonight.’

Lucy’s face crumpled. ‘Oh, no. We can’t . . . Julio’s hanging curtain rods.’

‘Curtain rods?’ yelped Astrid. ‘You don’t need curtain rods if you’re leaving town. Come on. Hurry. I brought money. Lots of money.’

Lucy frowned. ‘Astrid, I can’t.’

‘You have to,’ she said. ‘Once Dick finds out, do you know what he’ll do? Do you understand about these temporary visas? If he fires Julio, and you know he will, he will drive him directly to the airport and not leave until he is on a plane to Mexico. Without you. You will never see Julio again . . .’

Lucy shook her head. ‘Even if I wanted to go, I couldn’t leave my dogs. That’s what I was thinking about after you left earlier today. If hiding the truth from my father means leaving my dogs . . . Well, I won’t just leave them. I can’t. Not for anything.’

Astrid’s silvery eyes were wide and frantic-looking. ‘We’ll bring the dogs with us. We can manage somehow. But you have to hurry.’

‘I can’t do that,’ said Lucy slowly. ‘Besides, now that we’re married, Julio can stay here, can’t he?’

‘It doesn’t work that way,’ Astrid snapped. ‘Lucy, you’re being a fool.’

Lucy straightened up, holding the dogs’ leashes close to her chest. ‘Don’t say that to me,’ she protested. ‘That’s not right.’ She turned away from Astrid’s car, and Astrid jumped out of the driver’s side, slammed the door and followed her up the path.

‘I didn’t mean it like that, Lucy,’ she said. ‘Forgive me. Please.’

Lucy stopped on the front porch steps and looked at her ruefully. ‘I thought you of all people would never talk to me that way.’

‘Darling, I apologize,’ Astrid pleaded.

‘You always told Guy not to be cruel to me. But just then, you were being cruel,’ Lucy accused her.

Astrid reached out her long, thin hands and pressed them together, almost like she was praying. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Lucy, I just want to do this for you. Help you and Julio to get away so you can be together. I can help you.’

Lucy’s gaze softened, and she shook her head. ‘I know. You always did take care of me. But I started thinking, after you left earlier. I don’t really want to leave here. Not now that I have Julio. This is my home. If it embarrasses my father that I’m married to a Mexican who washes dishes, too bad. I mean, Guy was Mr Perfect and he married Miss Perfect and look what happened.’

Astrid looked at her helplessly. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I’m saying,’ said Lucy earnestly, ‘that what I have to do is tell Dad the truth. We’re always trying to protect him, you and me. But maybe we would be better off just to tell Dad these things.’

‘No, Lucy, you can’t,’ Astrid said wearily.

‘Yes, I can. And I’m going to. To tell him everything.’ Lucy glanced at the front window, and Julio, on the other side, seemed to sense her gaze. He bent down from the stepstool and waved at her, pointing up at the curtain rods, now in place. Lucy waved back, and gave him a thumbs up sign. Lucy looked proudly at Astrid.

‘Actually, I already have,’ she said.

Tears sprang to Astrid’s eyes. ‘No, no,’ she said. ‘You didn’t.’

‘I called him and said I had something important to tell him,’ said Lucy stubbornly. ‘I told him to come over. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.’

Astrid hesitated, and then she walked up the steps to where Lucy stood. Astrid studied her for moment, with a wistful gaze. Then, she embraced her tenderly. ‘You’re right, darling. Don’t listen to me,’ Astrid said. ‘I’ve done everything wrong.’

Lucy looked taken aback. ‘You? Oh, heavens. You’re the best person I know.’

Astrid wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. ‘No. I’m not. When you realize . . . you’ll hate me.’

‘That’s crazy,’ said Lucy. ‘I could never . . .’

‘I have to go now.’

‘No wait, Astrid. Dad is on his way. He’ll be here soon.’

‘I’m sorry. I have to go,’ said Astrid. ‘Right now.’

‘Don’t you want to be here when I tell him?’ Lucy asked. ‘For a little moral support? I could use it.’

Astrid put a hand to her mouth and shook her head. ‘I can’t. Listen, when he gets here just tell him . . .’

‘Tell me what?’ said a voice beyond the arc of the front porch light.

‘Dad,’ Lucy said. ‘You got here just in time.’

Astrid turned to face her husband, her face alight, her lips ready with a lie. ‘Dick. I’m so glad to see you. I was just on my way home.’

Dick stepped forward, out of the darkness, flanked by a policeman on either side. His normally bronzed face was ashen, and his sandy, surfer’s hair shone gray under the porch light. He gazed, flinty and unflinching, into his wife’s eyes. ‘Really?’ he said. ‘I would have thought you’d be trying to get away from here. Maybe, flee the country.’

‘Why would I do that?’ Astrid whispered, her eyes fearful.

Lucy looked from her father to her stepmother in surprise. ‘How did he know? Astrid, did you tell him?’ she demanded, confused.

‘Is this your wife, sir?’ asked one of the cops.

‘Yes, it is.’

The cop walked up to Astrid holding a pair of handcuffs and reached for her arms. ‘Astrid Bolton, you are under arrest for the murder of Drew Richard Bolton and the attempted murder of Morgan Adair.’ He began to recite her legal rights.

Lucy’s eyes were wide. ‘Drew? Wait! That’s not true . . .’

‘You have the right to an attorney,’ the cop said.

‘Dad! What is going on? This is a mistake. Dad, tell them. Astrid . . .’

Astrid looked sadly at Lucy, and offered the policeman no resistance. ‘I’m sorry, darling,’ she said.

Dick stared at his wife, but he spoke to his daughter, shaking his head.

‘Don’t listen to her, Lucy,’ he said. ‘Every word she ever said to us was a lie.’