Tell Me Lies (15 page)

The she remembered.

She heard her name again. Treva. Treva was downstairs with the girls. She pulled the vanity away from the door and stumbled down the stairs. Treva, Mel, and Em stood in the hall, staring at her in shocked silence.

“What’s wrong?” Maddie asked.

“We tried to call,” Em said politely, looking more than a little scared, “but we got a busy signal.” She looked at the floor. “I guess that’s why.”

Maddie turned. Two chairs and the hall table lay on their sides, one chair leg broken where Brent must have crushed it chasing her. The phone from the table was strung across the floor, the receiver complaining in a nasal monotone. Em stepped around her mother and replaced the receiver. It began to ring, and she answered it and then said, “Just a moment, please.” She turned to her mother. “It’s for you.”

“Em, honey,” Maddie began, desperate for an explanation that might get that look off her daughter’s face. “Listen. I had too much to drink last night, and I fell over some furniture on my way to bed. That’s when I hit my face.” Her head throbbed harder; she must look like hell. “I’m sorry. You know I don’t drink, but there was a good movie on cable and I had a little wine and . . .” She shrugged.

“How about some breakfast, girls,” Treva said brightly. “Pop-Tarts. Something that will rot your teeth.”

Em handed the phone to her mother and turned in to the kitchen. Mel looked at Maddie in fear and amazement and followed.

“Not a good lie,” Treva told Maddie. “The cable went out last night. We had to watch videos.”

“Oh God.” Maddie turned to the mirror. “Oh,
God!”
Her black eye started on her cheekbone and went up to her eyebrow, broken in two places by gashes where Brent’s ring had cut her. “Emily,” she whispered. “Em saw this.”

“Hell.” Treva peered over her shoulder to survey the damage in the mirror. “I saw it and I want to throw up. What happened?”

“Brent hit me,” Maddie whispered, and then, as Treva sagged against the wall, her mouth open in shock, she finally answered the phone. “Hello?”

“What’s going on over there? Has Brent left yet?” C.L.‘s voice was happy, full of sunlight and sex. “I’ve been trying to call you since ten. You’ve been on the phone with Treva, right?”

“No,” she said, staring in the mirror at her face. Then to her horror, she started to cry.

“I’ll be right there,” C.L. said. “Wait. Don’t cry. I’ll be right there.”

“Look, I’m at my uncle’s. I can come over anytime. I’ll stay by the phone. Call me when I can come over. What happened? I’m coming over.”

“No,” she said, “I’ll phone you later,” and hung up while he was still arguing. C.L. was important, but how important, she wasn’t sure. Em’s importance, she knew for sure. She turned to Treva. “What am I going to do about Em?”

Treva was still staring. “How many times did he hit you?”

“Twice. I locked myself in the bedroom.” Maddie looked at herself in the mirror again and winced. It was still horrible.

“Dear God,” Treva said. “Go on upstairs and fix yourself up. I’ll distract the kids. Use lots of makeup. And you’ll have to wear sunglasses.”

Makeup and sunglasses weren’t going to work. Em had already seen her. “What do I tell Em?”

Treva sighed. “I don’t know. How about the truth?”

Hi, honey. Daddy beat me up last night.
Maddie shook her head. “I can’t. He’s her father.”

“Yeah, and he hit her mother.”

“Would you tell Mel if it was Howie?”

“I don’t know. Howie wouldn’t.” Treva sounded as close as she’d ever gotten to tears in public. “Get yourself cleaned up. What a mess.”

Half an hour later, dressed in an old work shirt and jeans, her face covered in makeup, her eyes hidden behind sunglasses, Maddie faced her daughter in the kitchen.

“You drank a bunch of wine last night,” Em said.

“Yep. Dumb me.” Maddie sat down.

“Why did you use two glasses?” Mel asked, not bothering to conceal her interest.

“Em’s Daddy had one,” Maddie lied. “He came home late and had one glass.”

“Mel, we’ve got to go,” Treva said, and then to Maddie, “Call me later.” She bustled her daughter out the door and into the car before Mel could make any other bright observations.

Maddie held out her arms. “Come here, baby.”

Em moved around the table and let herself be pulled into her mother’s lap. Then she began to cry.

Maddie cradled her and rocked her. “Talk to me, honey.”

“I was scared,” Em sobbed. “Everything’s been so awful, and everybody’s fighting, and then I saw your face and I was scared.”

“I know.” Maddie held her tighter. “It looks awful. I was scared when I saw it myself, but it happened before. Remember when I joined the health club and tried to lift too much weight and the blood vessels broke in my eye?”

Em stopped crying. “Yes.” She sniffed. “I’d forgotten that. But your face didn’t get all beat up.”

“That’s because I didn’t drop the weight on my face then,” Maddie said, inspired.

Em looked at her with lowered brows. “You dropped the weight on your face?”

“Yep. One of Daddy’s in the basement. I’d had a couple of glasses of wine, and I let it slip. Not too bright, huh?”

Em didn’t look like she was buying the story, but at least she’d stopped crying.

“I felt stupid,” Maddie went on embroidering. “I didn’t even know it was this bad until I looked in the mirror after you got here.”

Em pulled away and slid to her feet, suddenly remote. “You should see a doctor.” She wiped the last of her tears away with the back of her hand. “You could have brained yourself. Or have a concussion.”

“Maybe later,” Maddie said, relieved that the immediate crisis was over. Em would remember the furniture in the hall eventually and the lack of cable, but she was going to get hit with a zinger very shortly, her parents’ divorce. After that, smashed furniture would be the least of her problems.

The phone rang before she could clean or call Treva.

“Maddie, honey, it’s Mama.”

Maddie sat down at the kitchen table and tried to sound uninjured. “Hi, Mom.”

“I called earlier, but I got a busy signal.”

“I left the phone off the hook and got some sleep.”

“Well, that’s good. How’s that nice Sturgis boy?”

“What?” Her mother couldn’t possibly have heard already unless Bailey—

“I saw Gloria Meyer at Revco. She said you sat in the backyard with him for hours last night. Drinking orange juice and vodka.”

Maddie closed her eyes. Eagle-eye Gloria had even spotted the vodka. She must have used binoculars. “He’s fine, Mom.”

“What does he do for a living?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Just wondering. Why did he come to see you?”

“He came to see Brent.” That was something she’d lost her grasp on in all the excitement: what had C.L. wanted with Brent? Maybe it had just been a cover story to get to her. If so, good for C.L.

“Is he building a house here?”

Maddie sighed. “I don’t know, Mother. I don’t think so. I think he’s just visiting. He said he’d be here a week. He’s staying with his uncle Henry. He’s divorced. There were no children. He lives in Columbus. He drives a red Mustang convertible. That’s it. That’s all I know.”

“Well, really, Maddie. I just wondered what the man did for a living.”

“I’ll find out.”

“It’s not important, dear. They still haven’t caught the prowler.”

“Well, I’m sure Henry’s working on it. Don’t worry.”

“You know, I just thought. Gloria Meyer’s getting that divorce. Maybe if the Sturgis boy stays in town, you could introduce them.”

It’ll never work. He likes sex
. “Sure.”

“Gloria’s very upset.”

“Why?” Maddie asked obligingly.

“Because somebody told Wilbur Carter she was getting a divorce attorney from Lima—which, really, Maddie, is the only sensible thing she could do—and Wilbur got very upset because he is her mother’s cousin and family and all.”

Oh, hell. “How do you know all this?”

“Because Wilbur ran into Gloria on Main Street, right in front of the bank, just as Margaret Erlenmeyer was coming out of Revco, and he asked her about it, so Margaret stopped and pretended to look in the window, and Gloria denied it, so he’s still doing her divorce.”

“Interesting,” Maddie said, trying to sound not interested. “Wonder how that rumor got started.”

“I have no idea, but I’d heard she was getting Jane Henries. She’s very good, you know.”

“So I’d heard.”

“And then Gloria goes and stays with Wilbur.” Her mother’s tone implied
dumb as a rock.
“But then that’s Gloria. No more sense than a goose. Did you talk to Treva?”

“Treva is fine,” Maddie said.

“All right, dear. It’s just that that bowling-alley story seems to be true. How’s Emily?”

“Fine. Listen, Mom, I’ve got to go.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll be over to pick up Emily tomorrow morning. If you’re still going.”

Maddie sagged against the wall. All this and she had to see her grandmother tomorrow, too. “Of course I’m still going. Has there ever been a Sunday that I didn’t see Gran?”

Her mother’s voice was glum. “No, but I’m always afraid you’ll decide not to one day.”

And this would be the Sunday to do it
. “I will not decide not to.”

“You’re a good daughter, Maddie. I’ll see you tomorrow. Take care of yourself. Lock your doors.”

“You bet. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, dear. Get some rest.”

Maddie checked her makeup—still awful but better than the mess it covered—and went upstairs to look in on Em. She was curled up on Maddie’s bed with a book in her hands, but the telephone beside the bed was crooked, as if she’d just shoved it over.

“Grandma called,” Maddie told Em.

“That’s nice,” Em said politely.

Had she been listening on the extension? Maddie tried to remember if she’d said anything Em shouldn’t hear, but it seemed unlikely. She’d been talking to her mother, after all. Now, if it had been Treva . . . She saw Em steal a sideways glance at the phone and then back at her.

What was she supposed to do? Ask Em if she’d been listening in?

Em snuggled farther down in her bed and raised her book a little. So fine, she didn’t want to talk. Maddie took the coward’s way out.

“I’m going to straighten up the downstairs and call Aunt Treva and then we’ll have lunch, all right?”

“All right,” Em said, uninterested.

Downstairs, she picked up some of the debris until her head started to throb again. Then she dialed Treva’s number, listening to hear if anyone else picked up a receiver on the line. When Treva picked up the phone, Maddie said, “Is this a bad time?” and Treva’s voice exploded across the line.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? I’ve been sitting here
waiting
—”

In the background, Maddie heard a click. “Do you hear anybody else on this line?”

“No.” Treva sounded a little stunned. “Why?”

“I think Em may be listening in on the phone.”

“Trying to find out what the hell is going on at her house?” Treva snorted. “I don’t blame her. Is she listening now?”

Maddie stretched the phone cord to the bottom of the stairs. “Em!”

Seconds later, Em stuck her head out Maddie’s bedroom door. “What?”

“Go read outside,” Maddie said. “Get some sun and fresh air.”

Em didn’t look happy, but she nodded and went back in the bedroom and then came down the stairs with her book. Maddie ran upstairs and picked up the bedroom extension so she could watch Em in the backyard while she talked. “Okay, she’s outside and I can see her. Did my eye upset Mel?”

“Not as much as it upset me,” Treva said. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure. I was drinking last night.”

“With Brent?”

C.L.‘s face came to mind, and she wished he were there with her, to lean on and to laugh with and to just unload on. “Uh, no, not with Brent.”

“Was that why he hit you? Child bride turns out to be secret drinker? Found in love nest?”

“He found me coming in the back door. And I told him I knew about the other woman and he hit me.”

Long silence. “Well, it’s not my way of apologizing.”

Maddie screwed up her face as she tried to think, and her bruised skin screamed back at her. So much for thinking. “Treva, I think he hit me because I found out. I mean, I think he was scared, not mad. Or scared and mad. It was weird. It wasn’t right.”

“Well, that we can agree on. He shouldn’t have hit you. So is hitting something new or have you been keeping this from me, too?”

“No, never. Ever. He yells, he gets sarcastic, he leaves and doesn’t call, but he’s never hit me. Or Em. He’s never even paddled Em. He—” The doorbell rang downstairs and she stopped to listen to Em tramp through the house to get it. “Somebody’s here. I have to go.”

“Wait a minute. Where did you go in the Caddy last night?”

Em called from downstairs. “Mom, there’s some guy here to see you.”

“Hold on, Treva.” Maddie put down the phone and went to the top of the stairs. “What?”

“There’s somebody here.” Em moved aside so that C.L. could step forward and look up at her. He was smiling, and then he wasn’t, anger chasing horror across his face.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he said. “What happened to you?” His concern and anger wrapped around her, and she was treacherously glad he was there.

“I’ll be right back.” She ran back to the phone. “I’ll call you later,” she said to Treva, “I’ve got company.” She hung up while Treva was saying,
“Wait a minute.”

Downstairs she could hear C.L. say, “Hey, sorry about the profanity, kid. I just wasn’t ready for your mom’s face.”

“Me neither,” Em said. “You were better than I was. I cried.”