The China Doll (22 page)

"Jessie’s angry," Richard said, though his
expression didn’t change. "She’s still mad about everything,
including my screw up."

"That seems like a good sign, don’t you
think? Did she see Doctor Wolfe?"

"She did. I think she’s going in again at
eleven. She rather likes the idea of replacing Professor Hazlett’s
class with this." Richard twisted his lip. "What do you think of
him?"

"Me? Well, I’ve only had two sessions with
him, but so far...I don’t know. He seems to take a much stronger
point of view than I thought a therapist would." She shrugged.
"Maybe I’m just being defensive because I’m hearing myself say all
these things and I get to hear how crazy it sounds after all. What
do you think?"

"I haven’t actually had the pleasure yet, but
Jessie seems to like him. It’s just that...yesterday she was very
aggressive with me."

"I don’t think you can blame that on the
therapist."

"No, I suppose not. Would be nice though.
But...she was very defensive about Tom. She insisted that I didn’t
know what I was talking about. She accused me of making everything
up."

"Maybe Jessie likes the idea of at least one
good parent. Speaking of which, how is your mother?"

"I don’t know."

"Richard—"

"This doesn’t change anything."

"She’s your mother."

"And he was my father."

Miranda was too tired to fight at that
moment. "Alright then. What about Zainab?"

Richard sighed and put his head on the wall
behind him. "She took her stuff."

"I did notice that. Have you spoken to
her?"

"What would I say?"

"An apology would be a good start."

"I don’t know what to apologize for. Is it
that I didn’t marry her, or that I didn’t break up with her?"

"You tell me."

"I don’t know." He shook his head. "I don’t
deserve her."

Then Miranda smiled. "You know Richard, of
everyone I know, I never expected that you would have to say that.
Because the Richard I know is caring and honest. He’d never just
fall into something like this—not without thinking about it."

Same thing that Emily had said. "What’s your
point?"

"I know what you did, and you know what you
did. And we both know that you can still fix it." She squeezed his
arm, then left.

~~~

Lucy was on her way out to her ten o’clock
board meeting when she heard a knock on the door. She assumed it
was a delivery man, but her assistant showed Richard in. Lucy
smiled. She gave her bag to her assistant. "Please put this in the
car." She paused. "And perhaps you should call the chairman’s
secretary and tell her that I’m running late."

Richard stayed where he was. "Sorry, didn’t
mean to interrupt your busy schedule."

"It’s not a problem," Lucy said. "They’ll
have quorum without me."

"But your vote usually carries so much
weight, doesn’t it?"

"I think I can be spared. But you—you’re the
one who’s been so busy lately. Your company—so much
responsibility." She touched her watch. "But you’ve always handled
your responsibilities so well. Your responsibilities—and everyone
else’s."

Richard’s expression didn’t change. "I’m
sorry, this was a mistake." He turned to walk away.

"Richard, please don’t go," Lucy said. He
felt her hand on his arm and turned around. She felt a pang when
she saw the bitterness on his face. No one else ever noticed it.
Perhaps they thought it was something else. Or maybe it was only
for her. Maybe that was a start. "I think we need to talk."

"That’s just the thing, Mom. I’m not sure
what I’m supposed to say right now."

"You must be very angry with me."

"It’s past angry, Mom. And disappointed—that
doesn’t work either."

"I hope you’re wrong about that, son. Because
you’re entitled to both." Her eyes didn’t waver. "I never knew that
you knew."

"I’m not stupid, Mother. I’ve always
known."

She squeezed his arm. "You’re not stupid at
all. You...you’re the spitting image of your father, of course. And
you’re kind like he was, and you have much the same interests. I
was always so impressed by that. But you’re not like him otherwise.
He always needed to see the best in people; that’s how he was able
to love them. Spoiled little Annabelle, domineering Gerald. But
you’re like me. You see what’s right in front of you, and you stay.
You love things even when they’re not everything you wish they
were."

"No, Mom. I’m like you in that I’ve learned
how to lie and shut myself off from the people I’m supposed to be
the closest to." He seemed like he was going to choke. "And now I’m
going to end up just as alone as you are because of it."

"I’m sorry about Zainab. I know you love
her."

"What good does that do? Ah, God!" Richard
grabbed the chair in front of him. "Jessie pointed out what a
bastard I was last night, and she’s right. Emily told me that
everything before doesn’t excuse what I did, and she’s right too.
And Miranda told me that I knew exactly what I was doing when I did
it, and that I did it on purpose. And they’re all right, Mom. It
doesn’t matter what you feel—it matters what you do. And it doesn’t
matter if you’ve always tried with other people, because you don’t
get to carry over that credit with someone else." He was crying
now. "Well, you shouldn’t. But Zainab let me. She knew. She knew
how hard everything was with Michael, with Jessie. She knew how
lonely I was." Lucy felt her chest tighten. "And she loved me for
all of that. She never asked me to do anything for her. She saw
something that no one else ever saw, and she liked it. I made her
happy, just as I was. And she made me happy. She’s the one who went
above and beyond the call for me. She trusted me, even when she
knew she shouldn’t. But I just can’t handle a good thing because
I’ve never had it, so I had to go screw it up on purpose so it
wouldn’t get ripped away from me. And now here we are Mom." He
wiped his nose. "Any words of advice?"

"You hurt her, Richard," Lucy said gently.
"But it’s something you can fix."

Richard snorted. "Miranda said that too."

"Miranda’s not as foolish as she lets on
then."

"We can’t choose whom we love, Mom. You
should know that better than anyone else."

"Oh, Richard." He looked away. "How long did
you know?"

"I always knew," Richard said tersely. "You
lit up whenever she was around in a way you never did for Dad or
for me. I hated her whenever she was here because I was so jealous
of how happy you were around her."

"I tried so hard, I really did."

"He worshipped you, Mom."

"Should that have made things easier?" she
asked. "Because it only made things worse. I was never going to be
what he thought I was, much less what he wanted." She put her hand
on his back. "But you did make me happy, darling. You have to
believe that. You were such a sweet little boy, and so bright. I’ve
always been so proud of you."

"Is that why you couldn’t stand to be around
me?"

"I felt so awful about what happened with
your father, and I knew you held me responsible. I just didn’t know
why," she said.

"You got sloppy, Mom. It’s one thing for me
to know, but did you have to let him find out?"

"I never...Richard, I never flaunted anything
in front of him."

"But you couldn’t stop yourself, could
you?"

She took a deep breath. "He never suspected
anything, I swear to you." She looked away. "And does it make you
feel any better to know that it ended as soon as he died?"

"Too little, too late."

"I’m sorry for that too."

"No." He shook his head. "You got sloppy. He
found out, and that’s why he shot himself. He was fine when he woke
up that morning, but he was heartbroken that afternoon. You did
that. He found something, he must have."

"There was nothing to find, ever."

"Then what?" Richard demanded. "How did he
know then?"

Lucy narrowed her eyes. "Tommy must have told
him," she said at last. It was the only thing that made sense.

"Why would he do that? What did he have to
gain?"

"I loved him, but Tommy was a bastard."

"Then how could you be so awful to
Josie?"

"Richard, you didn’t see her clearly."

"Jesus Christ!" Richard shouted. "After
everything your precious Joanna said, you still can’t wrap your
head around Uncle Tom being a wife-beating rapist? I saw what he
did to Josie and Jessie that night, and I saw how terrified Josie
was of him every time he was around her. How could you not have
seen that?" Lucy didn’t say anything. "But you did, didn’t you?
Because we both see what’s right in front of us. And you didn’t do
anything."

Lucy closed her eyes. "My father wasn’t like
that. My mother never touched us. Tom was always a little bit mean,
but…" She looked away. "He used to beat me up when we were little,
but I fought back so he stopped. He was easy to stop. Why couldn’t
she make him stop?"

"Josie was at least a decade younger and tiny
compared to you. And he raped her—obviously she couldn’t stop
him."

"Because Joanna said so?"

"Mom! You think Josie married him because he
was so charming?"

"He was very wealthy."

"You know what? Grandpa Gerald was right—you
and Dad were perfect for each other. You saw what you wanted to see
too. Anyone who didn’t hate her could see that she wasn’t a
gold-digger. There was only one thing she cared about, and that was
Jessie. Oh, who cares!?!" He threw up his hands. "She did fight
back, Mom. Do you approve now? She had no friends, she was in
constant danger and that monster was hurting Jessie. She did what
she had to do."

"Oh my God—"

"No, don’t. Don’t be shocked, don’t be sad,
don’t be angry. You—and Alex, and Dad and everyone who had two
eyes—might as well have watched while he beat her. And you would
have watched while he killed her too—and Jessie. What was she
supposed to do?"

Lucy felt sick, but she didn’t waiver. "He
was my brother."

"Then you should have stopped him."

"I tried to stop Michael."

"Don’t you dare!" Richard shouted. "They are
not the same. Michael almost did something unforgivable, but I
stopped him. Because when it comes to family, you have to get your
hands dirty sometimes. But he didn’t beat up little girls and their
mothers because it was fun."

"Didn’t he try to hurt your friend after
that?"

Richard was silent for a moment, seething. "I
didn’t know about that until after Alex sent Michael away."

"Because you can’t be there all the
time."

"Then you have to work that much harder when
you are."

"I couldn’t do anything with Michael. Alex
tied my hands. He went to rehab a few times—that was my idea, and I
happily picked up the bill. But it didn’t do anything. And you saw
what happened when I tried to go to the police."

"Then let’s hear it for Alex accidentally
doing something right. Which corrupt cop were you planning on
paying off to screw Michael?"

Lucy sighed. "So the punishment for
wife-beating is death. What’s the punishment for murder?"

Richard threw up his hands. "You didn’t have
to work so hard—someone did the job for you, and just the way I’m
sure you would have liked."

Lucy was indignant. "Have you been thinking
all these years—"

"Right—that’s beneath you. Letting her sit in
prison for years—a constant reminder of a family scandal..." He
scoffed. "I think you’ve proven what you’ll do to preserve your
reputation."

"I did not have Josie killed, and I never
asked Detective Teague to either. I wanted him to investigate my
brother’s death after the police concluded it was an accident. I’m
sorry now I hired him, but he was the original officer and I
thought it would be easier."

"And he needed the money."

"He needed the money. And I promised him more
if he could bring charges against her—not if she ended up
dead."

"Congratulations anyway. You got your pound
of flesh—and you created another monster."

Lucy sighed. "Is Jessie alright?"

Richard shrugged. "I think she hates me now.
That’s good, right?"

Miranda was at her desk at ten-thirty when
her phone rang. She sighed. It was Michael. She hit the Ignore
button and went back to work.

He called again. She ignored it. Again.
Finally, her work phone rang. She glared at it, then picked it
up.

"Michael, I can’t do this right now."

"Please don’t hang up."

"Fine." She tightened her fingers around the
phone cord. "But let me just cut to the chase. Yes, I went home
with Alex last night. Yes, he still wants to marry me. And yes, I’m
thinking about it—seriously."

"We’ll talk about that later," he said
stonily. "That’s not why I called."

She looked at the receiver. "Then what?"

"You can’t see Doctor Wolfe anymore."

"Oh, so you get to see a therapist but I
don’t? I think you’re underestimating how messed up I am now."

"This isn’t a joke!" Miranda was used to
Michael’s urgency, but this sounded different. "When did you last
see him?"

"Yesterday. After I ran into you."

"And what you said last night—about closing
your eyes—did he say that to you?"

"What? Who?"

"Doctor Wolfe!"

"I don’t…" Miranda remembered. She swallowed.
"It’s none of your business. Don’t I get a little bit of
privacy?"

"Okay, you were talking about me," he said
quickly. "About what?"

"It wasn’t about you!"

"Alex, then?" Silence. "Were you talking
about sex with Alex? Hmm. I guess I got that right last night."

"Just shut up!"

"Sweetheart, you can’t see him again. He’s a
dangerous man."

"Michael, are you sure?" She was tired of
pretending she didn’t trust him. She looked at her watch.
Ten-thirty-five. "Oh, no."